No one could steer me right but Mama tried.

Sunday was the annual trip to prison. This year Jean went with me. I believe she was having doubts about the whole thing at first, but then she also was the one to give me a wake-up at 5:50 that morning. So we hit the road while I inhaled 2 Red Bulls. We had a great journey down there with lots of lively conversation. She was talking about some folks that she knew that did prison outreach and how they had said that Angola was pretty depressing. I had to explain to her that going to Angola on a regular day certainly might be depressing as far as prison outreach on death row is concerned, but we were going on a rodeo day and there would be a good time to be had by all.

I think that she understands now that rodeo days are days that an inmate can be a somebody in the eyes of a person living in the free world, either in a form of an inmate cowboy, performing onstage in a live prison band or hawking their wonderful handmade arts and crafts. Those are the days that a prisoner at Angola can be labeled something other as a cold blooded killer. I wish I could really explain how overwhelming it all is. That is, the fact that in dealing with most of these incarcerated people are just regular folks, although most are poorly educated, who made some bad decisions in their life and acted out in violence. Most of the residents at Angola will die there, serving life sentences, never to see the free world again.

The amazing thing about Angola is that an inmate has the choice to make a better life for oneself, even if it is inside the prison. That decision is entirely up to the inmate, with much hard work, self-discipline, good behavior and attitude, one can become a trustee. Most of the trustees do indeed make their home a better place in rather creative outlets. Some may write for the prison magazine, which absolutely anyone can subscribe to and is published without censorship. Another might choose to be a disc jockey at the "incarceration station". Others may study full time at the on-site seminary, or work in the pro-shop at the inmate operated 9 hole golf course, which is open to the public, with a completed background check of it's public vistors, of course. Other trustees may simply be content with working on a landscaping crew (which I will attest does a beautiful job) or repairing farm tractors in the shop. I recently found out that it is mainly the maximum and medium security inmates that are the ones out working the fields, growing garden variety crops for prisoner consumption.

I am aware that I am rambling about my facsination about Angola, so now I will focus more on what this entry is really about, which is our trip there.

Let's see, Jean was saying something about being depressing when we approached the front gate from a 20 mile hilly trek off the main highway that goes into St. Francisville. I received my contraband list at the main gate and drove down the prison road flanked with carefully tended flower beds, large live oaks while black angus cattle grazed inside of white split rail fences and then onward through a small cypress grove. As Jean soaked in this scernery with amazement, she had a change of heart about all the beautifully "depressing" conditions. We turned onto the road to the arena and followed the directions the guards gave us to a parking area. Bring that it has rained the night before and the wet ground was soon rutted with mud. So you know what that meant. I put my husband's truck in 4 wheel drive and we got to mud-hog to our parking place! WOO-HOO!

We approached the admittance gate to the arena, our tickets were torn and we were up in that prison party. We were there for about 30 minutes when we became separated as Jean became distracted by a funnel cake stand and I started shopping for hobby craft. We soon found each other and browsed at more arts and crafts before I sprung for lunch at my favorite booth, Toastmasters. They serve the most yummy baked potatoes with butter, sour cream, shrimp, crawfish and cheese. We sat by the stage where the an inmate band that was playing a sort of funk-gospel blend were jamming on that one song for about 10 minutes and savored every bit of our lacto-pescatarian meal. Then we finished looking at the hobbycraft. Jean and I both scored several cool and unique items before we decided to leave.

As we were departing we passed the Angola museum/gift shop (which I have never been to) and at Jean's suggestion, stopped in there also. There are some horrific photos of how the prison was back in the 40's (think about the Auchwitz concentration camp for a good comparision) and a mock cell where the free folks can get in and pose for a fun photograph. There is also a huge alligator gar that hangs from the ceiling, an antique horse drawn hearse on display and a small contraband weapon exhibit which includes a homemade shotgun. Jean and I snacked on homemade jelly and pepper sauce there at the museum/gift shop which is also made at the prison. She purchased souveniers for her kids, like boxer shorts, golf balls and a deck of cards, before we hit the road.

Jean told her husband that he would have enjoyed the trip and they are thinking about the possiblity going next year. Of course, if my husband was to come and if Fred's promises come to fruition, then the men folk will definetly want to stay for the rodeo. Jean also stated that she would have liked to seen the rodeo this year, but even with leaving before the rodeo for an easier commute home, making that trip in one day is entirely exhausting for me. So, we are kicking around the idea of getting a bed and breakfast cottage for the night at a local plantation or maybe just hotel room in town. We'll see...

Hello, world, here's the song that we’re singin’ - C’mon get happy!

I have heard of close-knit families before, but in my opinion, this concept is somewhat peculiar. Yes, there is more than one toilet in there with no stalls whatsoever and a baby changing station. Then again, the clan that pees together just might stay together.

Sitting on a pebble by the river playing guitar, wondering if we're really ever gonna get that far.

Meet the kitty that followed me home last night. He is a nice enough kitty, but he does demonstrate some behaviors that concern me. For example, he is already practicing spraying the furniture and loves to claw up my everything. Sofa, chair, carpet, bed, me, you name it, this cat has practiced ripping it to shreads. Oh, another thing, Oscar would love to eat him for breakfast. That is a problem too.

I kind of thought about taking the kitty0 here, http://www.rchs4cats.org/index.htm so that he may be neutered and find a nice home, possibly with a family, but that's a little sad, since the kitty has already found a home with me. I just think it's not fair to Oscar that I would have another pet, when I can't even have Oscar living with me since we are still yet to erect a fence for him. And anyone who has ever met Oscar simply knows that Oscar is the MAIN MAN. Period. Oscar enjoys being chauffered around in the back seat of the car. Oscar truly believes this is his life and everyone else merely exists in it. Oscar's mama (me) occasionally collects points in her favor when she scratches his boo-hind on the right spot. His favorite treats are sloppy joes and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He has been been staying with my Dad, but I usually pick him up on Saturdays for a slumber party. Honestly, I can't picture the kitty in attendance at our little sleep-overs.

I have a little sad news to share, MamaCat was diagnosed with breast cancer this afternoon, so please remember her in your thoughts. She will be scheduled for a mastectomy very soon. I will keep post as soon as I find out more.

Noises to see and colors that sound. Voices from nowhere and yet so profound. Naming of colors and places that just can't be found. I'm in a rainbow.

Is it just me or does the world seem a little bit judgemental these days? I find myself living among the overly critical, and it's got me down. I went to the nurse practioner and she suggested that I try a new medicine. It's ok, but it's not wonderful.

My birthday came and went, but it was certainly not uneventful. Hubby had a candle basket delivered to the office and I rounded up in the usual gift booty of stuff in a container (this time a crate) from Jean. This year the stuff included a half-burnt candle shoved into a Jones soda bottle, a cow with a broken leg, a spanish lession on a vinyl 33 rpm record and ancient potato masher from the 1950s. Only Jean could get away with cleaning out some of her junk and calling it a birthday gift. Oh and the gang from the office took me out to lunch and my dad took me out to dinner on Sunday to celebrate. I was also serenaded in birthday fashion by Jean, her daughter Jaimee, her son Josh and Jaimee's exboyfriend, Eric. Actually the singing idea was Eric's and he was on the telephone, so Jaimee switched it to speakerphone and everyone in Jean's living room joined in. It was very funny. Honestly, I am quite lucky to live near such wonderful people!

Now I have to clean uo the yard which is not so wonderful. These leaves and acorns falling everywhere are messy. Then I run over the acorns with the car which proves to be even more messy. Keeping up a yard is almost as bad as the laundry and pumping gas because none of it ever seems to go away.