How Did I Get Here?

First, let me apologize for the lack of daily reports. The last few months have been crazier than normal. This time of year already is difficult with the holidays and obligations but add to that, the Guard was let go from his day job so there has been a focus on finding the next day job while keeping the prison from falling apart. That is not meant as a request for sympathy but rather an explanation of where any free time has been spent the last few months. But the prison still runs and the prisoners still need a guard so the show goes on. 

I have a group of friends, call it a support group. We knew each other mostly from a previous life when none of us were Guards. We commiserate and exchange stories, many with the unspoken question of 'How did we get here?'  None of the stories are anything that we ever read in any of the countless parenting books we received when we announced our new side jobs as Guards. Grand guards just smiled the smile of knowledge of the road ahead-- of the challenges that will be faced, with the silent chuckle of what they know. Kind of like why guys will always laugh at sophomoric humor like groin shots or flatulance. Grand Wardens smile and think about the good that is young prisoners. It's the quintessential difference at the core of our beings based on simply the difference between having the Y chromosome or not. 

Today at Garfield Prison we are in our post Christmas hangover. Toys are everywhere. The dining room table is full of art projects and partially assembled Legos. And, with this being the northern hemisphere, it is winter. And since we are in the NE US, one day will seem like August with wa weather, and 12 minutes later we will be freezing. And when that happens, cue the trips to the Dr office for a myriad of potential ailments. 

#3 started with a runny nose on Christmas Eve. Felt a little warm. Then she started with frequent trips to the bathroom all day on Christmas. Like every 10 minutes type frequency. So off to the Dr we go. The Warden and Guard are experienced so we know it may be a possible urinary tract infection and we make sure she has ample supply to test when we arrive at the Dr--  she complained the whole way there she had to pee. Of course she can't go once the nurse confirms the need for a test and while I am holding a bottle under her bum. But, tue trip was not a waste to the bathroom as she did poop while I am holding the cup... Without warning. Get cleaned up, see Dr, make plans for testing back at the prison and then she says she has to go. She manages to pee all over my hand as I try to catch enough to test.  So now we wait to see what the results yield. 

So, how did we get here?  How come no one told me there was a possibility that I would end up, at 44 years of age, catching poop and being peed on by a prisoner who has not worn a diaper in well over 2 years?  That information would have been VERY useful. 

The only consolation I have is that because of my age, one of these prisoners may be changing my diapers when they are my age. Hopefully they can find the ironic humor in it and don't just decide to suffocate me in my sleep before I can exact my revenge. And they can ask themselves how THEY got here.  

Cutting deep, and right to the bone

It has been a rough few days here at Garfield Prison. #2 developed a fever and rash over the weekend and was diagnosed with strep throat with a side of scarlet fever. But, thanks to Alexander Fleming, we have medicines to combat that, and they work fast on youngsters. 

24 hours after diagnosis and the start of antibiotics, #2 is back at full strength. Perhaps that strength was gained by passing the strep onto the Guard. Yep. The Guard has it too. Joy. 

Headache, chills, sore throat, all the good stuff. But the Prison still needs a guard. The Warden is off at some secret society of uppety ups so here we are. Trying to entertain the prisoners with recordings of the Voice. Was going ok until a fight breaks out. #2 started a fight with #3. #2 was sent to his cell and he was pissed. 10 seconds later a mini prison riot nearly erupts and the Guard gets hit in the head with something as the following is screamed multiple times; "I am going to PITT!!"  Yeah, that stab in the back was deep, painful and right to the bone. The prisoner knew what the effect would be. 

The prisoner threw this:

The back story is this: The Warden attended Pitt. The Guard, Penn State. We are truely a 'Prison Divided' when it comes to college sports and the subtle hints at our attempts of brain washing. 

Maybe the hints were not so subtle since this backlash at punishment cut so thoroughly to the bone. That hurt. Made the guard swallow hard (inflicting serious physical pain in the process due to the strep throat I might add), regain composure and let the comment slide. The object pictured has now been stored away for safe keeping for a future date. I think that date will be #2's wedding where the favor will be returned. 

Time for a time out to set the record straight

Please let me take a moment to step away a bit from the normal posts. 

This space has been used in a way to vent the frustrations of the Guard in his duties within the prison while trying to controll the inmates. By shunning the socially acceptable norms of referring to the Guard as Dad, the Warden as Mom and the prisoners as children, this blog was meant to attempt to portray the sometime dark, dirty, and sometimes hidden struggles of raising a family with small and energetic children. By assuming the alter ego of the Guard and not referring to the prisoners by name, it was meant as a way to create a satirical look behind the closed doors and curtains during the most trying of times. 

Parents love to brag about their children. With the popularity of social media, many parents will post the cute stories, pictures and events within their family. Dirty laundry is normally not something you want to share since we all want the world to see how proud we are of our children. But as most parents will tell you, there are those trying times times that are just plain frustrating. 

I have taken some indirect heat for some of my stories here. Speaking as Dad now-- my children really are great. They are smart, funny and creative.  They are very supportive of one another, and have a great bond as siblings. They love each other, and they love their parents. And their parents love them very much. And there is tremendous pride when we watch them interact with the world around them and watch them grow, learn, and mature. 

My point in all of this is that if you are reading this blog, know that it is intentionally one sided, and there are some (not many but some-- I am not creative enough to make this stuff up from thin air) liberties taken with the stories. It is meant as satire, but more importantly, as a means for me to verbalize and laugh at the hard times. As someone who does not communicate well, and who typically bottles up frustrations to the point where I am like a fresh bottle of Coke that you shake really hard, this little space here allows me to slowly releive some of that pressure. After a particularly trying situation, the act of turning it into a story is almost therepudic. 

So, the moral of this post is really that like many blogs (or anything on the Internet it seems), the lines between fiction and non fiction are very blurry. And this is done intentionally here.  The Guard and his prisoners represent one small aspect of our life. Life as a father with his children represents a much larger portion of our life, but that portion is not what this blog is about. There are many good and funny stories, but they just don't fit the spirit of this space. I am sorry if there are some of you who want to hear the positive and funny stories. I will try to sprinkle them in, but truth be told, I try to enjoy the good and funny situations in the moment. The bad, well, this allows me to escape and take a break for a few moments so I am not that massive exploding Coke bottle.  

Why?

I have held the job as Guard for over 6 years now. Not a long time in the grand scheme of things, but long enough to ask myself 'why?' A lot. Each day. Multiple times a day. 

It is often in a slightly different context, but the underlying theme is almost always relating back to the behavior of the prisoners. 

Why do we get such glowing reports from teachers at their vocational training, yet their behavior within the prison walls is so utterly horrible?

Why do they agree, after a 10 minute lecture, that they will behave, yet a mere 27 seconds after that agreement, the armistice treaty is forgotten and world war 3 commences?

Why do Legos, no matter how long you spend cleaning them up, always seem to find themselves directly under a bare foot in the middle of the night?

Why do prisoners always find that one permanent marker to place their autograph on a newly painted wall, when there were 7,357 washable markers to choose from?

Why do they feel the need to be so shy and quiet in public, refusing to answer questions of friends and family in a audible level that the human ear can detect, yet in the comfort of the prison, the volume increases to ear destroying levels?

Why do they insist on all talking at the same time, with volume quickly escalating to a crescendo that can only be overcome by an even louder demand to stop?

Why do they insist waking up at the crack of dawn on the weekends, yet on school days, it is like raising the dead to get them to wake up?

Why is the response ALWAYS 'why?' when they are asked, then requested and finally demanded to do the simplest of chores?

Why will they insist they are full after eating dinner, yet go directly to the refridgerator to look for more food as soon as they put their plates away?

All these questions beg self reflection of my own inner struggle with my own 'why?'--  why did I ever wait so long to become a Guard?  I will be near 60 by the time the prisoners are on their own. The answer is then obvious when I ask myself why I am jealous of cohorts who have survived their sentences and are planning to watch their prisoners become Wardens and Guards.  

There are many more. Many. Many. More.   Rivaled only by the questions that begin with 'How in the....?'  And those questions will be reviewed some other day--  world war 7 needs a peaceful truce negotiated.  Again. 

It's a rude world outside these prison walls

Warden's orders are that the Guard and #2 and #3 need haircuts. Go. Now. 

Arrive at usual place. Our clan is closely followed out of parking lot by a 'to-be' rival prison group. Guard holds door for prisoners and rival clan pushes past us in our moment of kindness and rushes to counter to get in line first, putting in the names of her and all her 4 snot nosed prisoners ahead of us. Our reward? An hour wait. We leave before Guard becomes leading story on the 6 o'clock news. 

Go to next place. Packed. Another 60 minute wait. Nope. 

Third place?  Empty!  Score. Until we stood at counter for 5 minutes, finally leaving when Guard over hears one of the 'stylists' state that she wished it was closing time because she hates cutting kids hair. No problem, we hate you too. Buh-bye. 

Now we are at the fourth place. 5, then 6 then 7 minutes with no one greeting us (and they are not busy either), and now we are in search of our next stop. 

Fifth place will surely be our salvation. We are greeted immediately and told there is 'at most' a 20 minute wait. Awesome right?  42 minutes later with no end in sight and the prisoners (who were surprisingly really really good) start to complain of hunger. And they are correct, it is past chow time. So we leave. 

Five strikes and we are out. No hair cuts and one very frustrated Guard who has exceeded his patience quota for rude and nasty people. Back to the sanctity of our prison. Hair cuts will come another day. 

Maybe this is our answer:

Summer is over. Back to the grind.

Summer is over at the prison. 1&2 boarded the bus this morning and were shipped of to vocational training, otherwise known as 1st grade. 3 moved up to pre K in anticipation of her becoming old enough to attend vocational school next year. 

Here are the neighborhood prisoners loading up for training, being sent off by some of the younger prisoners. 

It has been a long and busy summer, evidenced by the Guard's lack of time to chronicle their adventures. 

In typical GP (Garfield Prision) fashion, procrastination levels are always high. School shopping was squeezed into the last two days before school. But in equally typical GP fashion, the prisoners arrived at their send off point on time, well dressed and with proper supplies. 

The summer was a blur. 1&2 spent a week with their GREAT Aunt and Uncle in Virginia and 3 spent a week shuffled between her Aunt and Grandmother (we are forever in debt to you all!!). The Warden enjoyed a week vacation while the Guard spent time at a conference in San Diego. All told, it was a fun time away from GP for all. 

The summer also included some time spent with friends from Florida who came to visit, and with a buddy from Ohio who stayed with us for a long weekend. Sprinkle in trips to the granparent's pool and the daily attendance of summer camp and the prisoners had a pretty solid summer. 

There have been a ton of stories that would have played well in this space, but old age and the pressures of the day job and as Guard have led those stories to fade into oblivion. I do have one story that I find funny, but in 10 years, I doubt the prisoner will be happy.  So here goes. 

#1 is our nervous thinker. She thinks about everything and worries more than the other prisoners. Starting the new school year has provided a high stress level for her over the past few weeks. #1 has a, um, delicate digestive system. We have battled her system that results in, um, clogged plumbing. The summer was carefree and her plumbing worked well, until about a week ago. Plumbing backed up, and the process to clean it out takes some time. We were really close to being on the good side of the problem with everything working properly to avoid any potential first day issues. Until #1 started to worry about the first day of school. The worry started early in the day but really hit it's apex while she prepared for bed. Her tummy hurt. She powered through and fell asleep. At 2 am, #1 was at my bedside. She was nervous, couldn't sleep and her tummy hurt. She crawled into bed and almost instantaneously fell asleep. Well, not completely asleep. Her digestive system went into over drive. How a pretty little girl like her can create what she created is beyond comprehension. The smells.... Oh.my.gawd.  It woke the dead (me!). It curled my hair and watered my eyes. Didn't seem to phase the Warden, but I also acted as a large mountain separating the Prisoner and Warden. All I can say is wow. WOW!  Anyway, I love her. I did tell her about it in the morning, and she was not only not embarassed, but thought it was hilarious and told the other prisoners about it. Yeah, life with young prisoners and potty humor. 

Anyway, now that the prisoners are safely stowed away for the training year, I will try to get back in the habit of providing timely status reports. 

Glitter = Bad.

No, this is not a review of Mariah Carey's movie. Although I never saw it, I can't imagine the movie being any worse than our glitter experience. Wait, it's Mariah Carey. It could be close. 

Talk among fellow Wardens and Guards eventually evolves into what is easier-- males or females.  

My take, boys are easy. The real only reoccurring complaint with #2 is that he refuses to wear nice clothes-- anything with a button. Dirt is fine. He has some semblance of toughness. Other than aim in the bathroom, hygiene is simple. 

Females?  Complete nightmare. Drama. Hygiene issues that most Guards are not equipped to deal with. Feelings that can spin on a dime. Constant debate on clothing choices, especially when color is involved. 

But the worst?  Well, today at least, glitter. 1 loves her crafts. 3 follows suite and wants to do what ever 1 does. While shopping yesterday, the Warden picks up some crafts. 1&3 very excited. They state they want to make crafts on their own, without supervision. 

Biggest mistake EVER!  Well, maybe the choice of craft was the biggest mistake. 

Glitter. 

Glitter is evil. Much worse than play doh ground into carpet. Worse than crayons on walls. Not even close to marker stains on clothes. Nail polish on carpets? Easy. Even worse than nail polish spilled on granite counter tops (which leave a stain until your favorite granite guy tells you how to remove the stains). 

The prison will never be the same. Glitter is everywhere. I am not sure, but this may have been some special type of glue glitter. It comes off nothing. 

It is attached to 3's scalp. A swim in the pool (I would be concerned about the pool filter but I don't think any actually washed off), shower with high pressure concentrated stream on her head, hair dryer until her hair almost started to smolder (I know the limit from experience). Still a ton of glitter on her head. 

Cracks of hardwood floor now sparkle. 

Tracks of sparkle on virtually every carpet. 

Considered using the kitchen table for the fire pit after scrubbing and scraping did not remove the majority of glitter. Pressure washer?  Yep. That finally did the trick. How may people have used a pressure washer on their kitchen table?  I did. 

Garfield Prison is a constant battle for the cleanliness department, but over the past 24 hours, there was a concentrated effort to remove glitter. It was unsuccessful to the delight of the prisoners-- for different reasons. #2 thinks it's funny the other two were scrubbed so hard and is happy when he is not in trouble. #1 is happy her hard work of bedazzling #3 was not washed away. #3 is happy because she thinks her hair is still pretty. 

Guarded and Warden are just tired. 

I wonder if 'real' prisons deal with these issues. I am guessing no.

The lesson for today is: Irony

Now that summer is here, the prisoners are shipped off to summer camp. The prisoners are enjoying life. Activities every day. Fun with friends. It's summer. 

Today's activity was some sort of 'messy art project'.  They raided my closet for old tshirts, packed flip flops and were off. 

Upon pick up, #2 had paint all over his sneakers. And he was quite upset, informing me we needed to buy new sneakers immediately. #1 was quick to point out the fact that her sneakers were fine because she used her flip flops while painting, but took the opportunity to state that if #2 got new kicks, she should get new ones as well. 

After informing #2 that he would NOT be getting new sneakers (I am still of the mindset taught by my mother-- new sneakers are purchased just before school, not at the beginning of summer), the conversation progressed.  Guard: 'Why didn't you use your flip flops?'  #2: "Because I would get laughed at."  G: 'Then why do you think you need new sneakers?'  2: "Because they have paint on them and I will get laughed at."

Irony. Perfect teaching moment?  Sure, let's give that a shot. 

12 minutes later, teaching moment had past. We are home, tears have been shed. 1&3 used the opportunity to push buttons, confirming his fears he would be laughed at. Total and utter disaster of a conversation. Irony, not iron. No, you don't iron your clothes with irony. Oh nevermind. Let's revisit this in 10 years.

So there I am, cooking dinner and scrubbing paint off sneakers. Damn paint won't come off. Oh well, he is a boy and the sneakers are beat up anyway. A little black paint over the red and he won't know the difference. 

The real lesson-- that school is going to be questioned why they would use paint that is not water soluble.  It doesn't way off the legs, hands, arms or hair either. I swear that day care centers hate parents. 

And let me digress for a minute: Our prisoners go to a day care that has traditionally had a pre Mother's Day 'Tea with Mommy' and pre Father's Day 'Donuts with Dad'. Sounds sweat, right? It totally is great to go there and spend time with the prisoners. But, they schedule it 3 hours before the end of the day, requiring the Warden or Guard to take work off early to attend (and who CAN'T attend?  I'm not a monster), and there is no possible way that you can even think about going back to work after that, so the prisoners come home early. So the day care gets to close early because they totally know that there is no way a parent can say no to something like this. 

Irony. It's everywhere. 

Happy Father's Day!

It has been quite some time since I last wrote. I have thought about it some, and each time my conclusion comes down to one common denominator. Winter. 

This past winter of discontent fueled much of my inspiration to write. The Polar Vortex coupled with a steady stream of nor'easter storms, put a serious cramp on the available areas that the prisoners could have safe access too. The back yard containment area was under feet of snow. Any voyage beyond the walls of the prison required hours of preparation and cold weather gear installation.  And the results of that time invested in installing cold weather gear was a few fleeting moments of time beyond the walls of the prison before, at minimum, one prisoner would become cold, loose a glove, get hit in the face with a snow ball, or worse, have to go potty. 

The dreadful 'bundled up potty break'. Anyone who has done this maneuver knows. They know that this will require you and the subject to remove all winter clothes, get to the latrine and then reverse course as quickly as possible. All the while, a silent prayer is made but never answered-- don't let there be another needed potty break just as you get dressed to rejoin the prisoners. The other prayer is that while you are attending to one, the others encounter some sort of cold and potentially dangerous situation that quickly deteriorates due to the lapse in direct oversight. 

But I digress. This was not supposed to turn into a PTSD fueled flashback to leave me shivering and drooling in the corner. No, this was meant to be an update of the past few months where I have neglected this space and not contributed any writing. I have tons of excuses, all correlating to the enhanced work requirements that a prison needs once the snow melts and the tempature begins to hover increasingly closer to triple digits. 

Summer is here. School is officially out, a week plus past the scheduled date due to the harsh winter. The oldest prisoners have completed their first year of school. The youngest is about to turn 4. It appears in the last few weeks that the 'terrible twos' that lasted way, way into her third year, may be showing signs of weakening. Just like the Polar Vortex that seemed to remain with us to create a winter of epic proportions, our terrible two vortex is loosening it's hold. Not completely mind you, but there are rays of hope shining through. 

Today is Father's Day. Or-- the day that everyone says nice things about dads and where moms allow us to do virtually nothing all day while quietly cursing the day and counting down the minutes until it is over so that lazy man can be cursed at again for not doing what we are supposed too. 

Digressions. I did it again. 

The sun is out, the grass is green and the prisoners want to go to the pool. 

Happy Father's Day everyone and thank goodness summer is here. 

Until the next time I get a few minutes to write... Guard Out. 

Apple doesn't fall far

Lights out time at the prison. In what I can only hope is typical in prisons like this, lights out is not as easy as flipping a switch. Rather, if signals a seemingly endless parade of prisoners for one last 'thing'.  Water. Bathroom. A hug. A kiss. And many other endless excuses to squeeze an additional nanosecond from the bed. Some nights are the simple things. Some nights, something unique happens. 

Tonight was, uh, unique. #3 comes down for her 'good night kiss'.  She kissed the Warden and Guard. Then went back to the Warden who had her feet up, and proceeds to kiss her shoe. The Guard tells the prisoner not to kiss shoes because they are dirty, like the floor. The Warden shoots a look. And before she could say it, the prisoner was kissing the floor. What did the Warden say?  'She is my daughter, of course she will now kiss the floor'.  

But, #3 had to up the stakes. She proceeded to kiss nearly every single inanimate object in the room within 3 foot of the floor.  Probably 50 kisses. 3 has the ability to take everything to the next level, and never disappoints. 

 

April Flurries bring.... Ear infections?

One day it's 80 degrees. The next it's rain with the threat of snow flurries. It's no wonder that #2 has an ear infection. Actually, it is a wonder the other two don't. 

Day starts with a trip to the dr. #2 has te infection that has caused a perforated eardrum. Joy. Dr tells him that it will ooze for a few days and he will be contagious. On the transport back to the prison, the word contagious was dissected. He knows not to get close to the other prisoners. 

Guard retrieves #1 & #3 from vocational training. In the transport, the status of 2 is discussed. 

Once back at the prison, the guards worst nightmare of unintended consiquences occurs. 3 inspects every piece of dirt, asking if it is the sickness in 2's ear. 2 chases 1&3 around prison, knowing they don't want to get sick. Screaming ensues. 

Dinner is finally prepared. 3 is off trying to steal desert. 1&2 finally sit down, at opposite sides of the table, and daily gossip from vocational training starts. Someone got glasses. They thought she was lieing about it. Someone stepped in a mud puddle. 2 missed music class. 1 fills him in. Conversation is in adult fashion but with kindergarten topics. 

Only 3 more days of contagion. Will the prison survive with only one ear infection?  8 ears exposed yet unharmed. What are the odds?  My ears hurt now, but I am certain it is from #3 screaming she has to poop. Better go wipe. 

Baseballs and broken glass

It has been over 5 years since the Warden and Guard moved into the Prison on Garfield. In my introductions to my immediate neighbors, I apologized in advance for any future broken windows and assured them I would make sure that if any were broken, we would make it right. Perhaps it was foreshadowing. Perhaps it was the strong winds this past Saturday. Perhaps it is the Guards inability to throw a baseball like he did when he was younger. Regardless, glass has been broken. 

#1 and #2 have started their sporting careers by joining a T-Ball team. We have spent much time in the back yard suplimenting the lessons they have learned at practice, and sprinkling in our own instructions. Saturday was no exception. They had a late afternoon game scheduled, so a mid morning batting and fielding practice was the perfect activity for a nice spring day. 

After some BP, the Guard took it upon himself to demonstrate how to create pop ups to yourself. It was a skill honed decades ago in the Guards childhood home yard. But, it had been some years, and the prison yard is much smaller than where he grew up. And, the Guards parents were always smart enough to park their cars in the garage or under a carport. Until this extremely windy day, the Guard had never broken a window (with a baseball). There was the fish tank he smashed the one (and only) time he tried to ride a skate board. 

It only took a few throws. Quite efficient actually. Ball goes up. Ball comes down. Guard catches it. Ball goes up. Ball comes down. Car catches it. 

Car gets an alternative air conditioning system. #1, #2, and #3 immediately run to tell Warden. Joy. 

Maybe the polar vortex and resulting cabin fever really did wonders to protect us against ourselves. 

The car has been fixed. It will be used a a lesson for the prisoners. And it will be used by the Warden for days, weeks, months and years as yet another example of my boneheaded actions. I can take quiet solace in the memories of stories of her youthful discresions and just pray our prisoners don't live up to our legacy and examples. 

Opening Day!

It has been a while since the last post.  Many of you few but faithful readers have asked what the deal is.  Well, I don't have a great reason other than to say I just wasn't feeling it for a while.  Work, life, life and life got in the way.  I have not been doing this for a while, but I got to a point, call it writers block if you will, but I just did not feel the creative juices that I felt when I started this.  No worries though, I did not dry up like a desert and the previous creativity was not a oasis never to be found again.  It was just a drought, and like my basement that was dry for most of the winter, the creativity is back, just like the water level in my basement.  This blog will continue to be the sump pump for me (sorry for the metaphor, the sump pump in the prison basement has been working overtime).

Opening day means a lot to baseball fans. At Garfield Prison, it has become a tradition to watch the game, have some hot dogs and popcorn and enjoy the game as a family.  It is probably the only game each year where all 5 of the prison's inhabitants will watch a full game together.  It is certainly the only game where everyone is excited to watch an entire game.

Aside from the start of baseball season, Opening Day represents so much more when you take a step back and analyze it. It is a signal of spring, even if Mother Nature isn't always a baseball fan. It is a fresh start. 162 games is a long season for sports, but each year, it starts over. Every team, every fan starts again on equal footing. 0-0. Everyone tied for first.  At the end of the game, half of the teams will be in first place, and the others will be a half game out of first.  The cream will start to rise to the top, but for right now, everything is equal and fresh.

Each year opening day means more and more. As the prisoners get older, their understanding of the game increases. The oldest two are playing t-ball and all have, so far, been in lock step with the Warden and the Guard in our love for our Phillies. #2 slept with his stuffed Phillie Phanatic. He named his newest stuffed animal Chase after his favorite player. #1 has her pink glove and spikes. Each batting lefty to the dismay of the warden, but each with a level swing and unexplored potential.

As a kid, baseball was Little League practice and games. Wiffle ball in the yard with the rules tweaked for wherever we were playing. Ball gloves strapped to our bikes. Baseball cards traded. Countless cards inserted into the spokes of our bikes. Hours of summer time spent playing baseball in one form or the other. 

As I got older, baseball meant less and less as life changed. It was always there, but it did take a back seat to life until it once again started to become an important aspect in life. But this is the great thing about baseball. The fresh start. It is always there. Always willing to accept you back, no questions asked. Come on in and sit back and enjoy the game. 

This year, the fresh start, the first indications of spring and the new beginning represents even more to the Guard.  #1 and #2 have started playing t-ball and they have embraced it with excitement.

To say the winter was difficult is an understatement. Many of the comical incidents have been chronicled in this blog but for this guard at least, the winter was a personal struggle. The details of which won't be discussed here, but it has become very evident that a change was needed.  The change needed is being addressed, and much like the fresh start of baseball with Opening Day,  a fresh start for the Guard is occurring as well.

So, Happy Opening Day!

Some of you will think watching baseball is like watching paint dry, but sometimes it is really kinda nice to step back, smell the roses (or the fresh cut grass, hot dogs grilling, popcorn popping and all the other smells of summer) and just watch the paint dry.

Let's PLAY BALL!

Prisoners, nail polish and tears

The Guard knows better. When #3 quiet, nothing good can happen. 

The day started early. Much too early. But the prisoners were excited. They knew that the day would bring them to the state's capital and admission into a hands on science museum. They were up early and ready for adventure. Typical Saturday morning chaos ensued. 

With breakfast out of the way, the prisoners were loaded into their secure transport. With the possibility of a phone call from the Warden, the Guard attempted to pair his new phone with the transport. Attempting to do this via the vehicle's voice detection capabilities proved troublesome--  Guard should have known that the prisoners would try to talk to, and thoroughly confuse, the 'nice lady in the car that speaks to us.'  Transport unloaded. Prisoners secured. Phone paired. Reload transport. All in the name of hands free convienence. 

The outing was successful. Nonstop questions while in transit. What is a state capital?  What is a governor?  Do you know him?  Are we there yet? Will you ever be a governor? I need to go potty! Why is the river so wide?  Why is there ice on the river? I need to go potty! Can we go ice skating? Are we there yet? Can we live in the governors house?  The house is so big, does he have a lot of kids?  Who cleans the house?  Are we there yet? I still need to go potty. Why is the top of the capital green? Are we there yet? I NEED TO GO POTTY NOW! And so on and so forth. 

Arrival!  The Whitaker Center for the Sciences and Arts would soon have no idea what hit them. 

Paper airplanes with launching pads. Water tables. All sorts of hands on activities soon had the prisoners quickly overwhelmed and excited. They did not want to leave, and already asked to return. Success. 

A pit stop on the way home to visit family provided some entertainment on the rest of the trip home. We were greeted with questions about he prisoners. Yeah, the prisoners don't know they are prisoners-- and don't know what a blog is. As soon as we left, 'Why did Cousin Guard call us prisoners?'  Well guys, there is this thing called a blog and, well, I tell stories....  Nevermind. Cousin Guard is just crazy. Who knows what she was talking about...  (Just kidding Cousin. Or am I?). End of conversation. 2 miles later-- all prisoners asleep. Living in the 'now', this Guard just went with it. Living in the now requires one to not consider the ramifications of what will happen when you are further down the road. One last pit stop for the Guard to buy a bottle of his favorite adult beverage and all the prisoners were back safe in lockdown. 

Dinner time. Breakfast clean up time. (Guard rules. No Warden) #3 quiet. The silence is soon interrupted by the unmistakable smell of nail polish. Oh no. Yep. Apparently #3 does not understand the difference between nails and toes, and feet, and hands, and arms, and elbows. In the time it took for the smell to migrate from one part of the prison to another, the nail Polish was used as body paint. And floor and carpet paint. Not good.

Nail polish confiscated. Tears dried from confiscation. Dinner consumed and cleaned up. Bed time costume change complete. Netflix on. Three prisoners with a one thousand mile stare, near complete exhaustion. One guard torturing the prisoners and not allowing them to sleep yet. The transport naps are too much a risk to allow for an early retirement this evening. Cannot allow for yet another early morning tomorrow. Strongly considering painting all windows black to confuse prisoners with lack of sunlight. 

Day 2 of Warden's absence down. No casualties. Minimal damage to prison. Day 2 is a success. Even the prisoners think so. 

Curses Polar Vortex! Curses!

Day 3,582 of the polar vortex. Or so it seems. Warden is off to Florida again and the promise of warmer weather. First full week of school since, well, this year (full meaning every day, with no delays or cancelations). 

With the Warden flying the friendly skies, the prisoners were good and were treated to dinner at their favorite Mexican joint for burritos. In a scene earily reminiscent of my Army days with a certain roommate, AS SOON AS WE RETURNED home, ALL THREE prisoners ran to the bathroom for their daily constitutions. Thankfully the prison is equipped with 3 commodes. The air handling system in the prison apparently needs some work though. Time to change filters. I mean WOW!

#3, being the youngest and slowest was relegated to the stall furthest from the main gate of the prison, and where the Guard and Warden typically reside. Since prisoners are hardly ever in there, adult hygiene products are not overly familiar to them. Specifically, feminine hygiene products. #3 discovers a box belonging to the Warden, proceeds to open one of the 'things' inside and then systematically quizes, embarassed and stumped the Guard who was woefully unprepared for the line of questioning. Yet one more example of how the Guard will miss the Warden while she is gone. And the prison is only 6 hours into her absence. Seat belt is on, the next few days may get bumpy. 

The prison finally seems to be healthy and running at full strength. All prison inhabitants suffered from a vicious and unrelenting stomach bug over the past ten days. The longer it went on, the stronger it became until it hit the final casualty the hardest. The final mark? The Guard of course. Days of being puked on  and cleaning and attending to the others ended in a vicious attack, putting the largest strain on the plumbing and ventilation systems in the prison. This is also the reason the Guard was negligent in providing timely daily reports. 

Prisoners have requested to end the week with a Cailou marathon. With an undermanned prison staff heading into the weekend, and yet another, potentially major, snowstorm predicted to start next week, the guard may be in need of a straight jacket and padded walls. Thankfully #2 has decided that he would like to forgo the Cailou marathon and watch baseball instead. Spring training Grapefruit League game is set to tape to save the day. #2 shale receive extra food rations and privileges for his request. There is hope after all. Bonus is that there will be a weekend game against the Yankees so the brainwashing of hatred for all teams New York can continue. He has already laid out his Phillies gear. Proper prison management in full effect! 

Blowing the stink out

The prison was dank. The prison was disease filled and the state of the prison no doubt fueled the cabin fever that had been evident for months. The prisoners needed fresh air as much as the prison itself did. 

The morning started as normal-- prisoners up too early and meal demands nearly exceeding the Guard's ability to keep up. Breakfast is triage. Keep the food moving and don't let the prisoners get enough for to allow them to start their terroristic activities but not enough that they are screaming for more food 13 seconds after the cleanup has concluded. It is a battle each morning but more are won than lost. 

Being a weekend, the prisoners needed some physical training and a chance to blow the stink off. What started as times laps around the main floor of the prison turned into an outdoor marathon consisting of timed sprints to the bus stop and back. 

Little did the guard know that at the bus stop, the melting snow revealed the remains of someone's spilled valentines day booty. After the second lap, the prisoners conspired to form a search and rescue mission to retrieve the discarded candy. In a scene strait out of 'Stand By Me", the prisoners gathered needed supplies-- mainly the doll stroller, pushed by #3. Once again the spidey senses of the guard were piqued enough that he decided this trip should be chaperoned rather than watched from his comfortable guard tower. During the trek, which was slowed by #3's short legs and unwillingness to push her stroller through any puddles, the guard overheard the hushed discussions of the rumor of a stash of candy at the stop, that had previously only been seen by #2. Upon arrival, the rumors were confirmed. Thankfully the guard had been there to stop the prisoners from digesting what remained of the candy. At some point some sort of animal had also enjoyed the find, so this booty was not fit for prisoners-- all of whom have dealt with the stomach bug over the past week. Disappointed, the prisoners returned to the prison. 

Fumigation activities ensued and the prison was opened to fresh air. The polar vortex is approaching yet again and will be here by next weekend, coinciding with the Warden's next trip to Florida. Emergency preparations are underway. They consist mainly of plans of lots of this: 

Send your good thoughts and prayers. And hopefully the guard can find something a bit darker than what he is preparing with. 

I'll send an SOS to the world...

Back to our regularly scheduled prison programming....

1:22 am. 30 minutes after the silence of the prison was pierced by the violent screams of a prisoner, the Guard is now channeling old school Police. The calming voice of Sting is what is needed to sooth the frayed nerves. Message in a bottle. Check. 

Apparently the vicious stomach bug has not been irradiated from the prison as once believed. #1 awoke the cell block with screams that suggested an exorcism was immediately needed. Brave attempts by the Guard to sooth the inmate did not prevent the appocolpyse from occurring. 

Veterans write about the sights, sounds and smells of war and how those sights, sounds and smells can never be forgotten. Although the cell block was not a deadly battlefield this evening, a war was fought.  The sights, sounds and smells from this event can never be unseen, unheard or unsmelled. 

What exited #1 was not human. Multiple trips to the commode, close examination of a trash can and a final failed attempt for one last trip to the commode resulted in a toxic mess for the Guard with clean up lasting what seemed like an eternity. 

1:36 am:  Clean up complete. All that is left is to remove the 'stuff' from the prison. Having responded to the exorcism from bed, the Guard was not fully clothed during the response and clean up. In his tired and dazed state, he exits the prison for the 50 foot walk to the trash cans. 

The trek out doors in the middle of the night was meant to be quick. A jacket and boots were put on with the idea that it was a short trip so the bare legs should not be effected by the cold air as the trip would be fast. With thoughts of the bed kept warm by the Warden, the Guard cuts corners to get the job done quicker. Shoe laces untied, the guard exits the prison and heads down the path through the prison yard. On each side of the path is approximately 18 inches of hard frozen snow. Remnants of the 37 snow storms that have hit the area. 

The toxic waste is deposited into the trash cans. The cold air is starting to wick at the exposed legs of the Guard. He hastens his pace back towards the prison. In an instant, a New York second, the blink of the eye, the Guard finds himself off the path and deposited into a hard and cold snow bank. Immediately he realizes that the shoe laces to his boots really should have been tied, or at least tucked away. Cutting corners results in those corners cutting you. 

Message in a bottle. 

Message in a bottle. 

I'll send an SOS to the world. 

Sick kids but work goes on....

When I started this blog I had every intention to always refer to our family the way way I have been doing. But right now, I take a break from that. 

My daughter is sick and it breaks my heart. But the #3 got me. 'Dad, I have to poop. Please carry me'. Halfway across the room, it wasn't poop she needed to get out of her system. From my ear to my knee. 2 minutes before a conference call that I HAD to be on.  Took those 2 minutes and cleaned her up and then got on my call as she fell asleep.  So the mess sat on me for an hour. So for that hour and change today, she was my daughter and I was her dad. Hopefully she returns to her ornerary self soon so she can go back to being an inmate and I can be a Guard. 

Next post will be back to our regularly scheduled programming. 

School delays, stomach bugs and ice jams

Is winter over yet?  Seriously, this winter seems to have lasted 2 years already. 

In addition to the normal chaos in the Prison, we had our typical daily (it seems) winter storm roll through last night. Nothing major, just a few inches. Enough for a 2 hour delay for school, and enough to require shovels to be broken out again.  Considering yesterday was a school holiday that was used as a makeup day, I shouldn't complain about a delay. At this point there may not be much left of summer vacation.  

Overnight was a different story inside the prison. Complete chaos. 1&3 decided that they no longer wanted the contents of their stomachs and expedited the removal of contents through the same routes that it entered their bodies. It was like there were multiple exorcisms. Many times. While in bed. Little sleep for the Warden and Guard as it required middle of the night clothing changes, bedding changes and even a few baths. 79 loads of laundry and 2 sick prisoners for the day. And of course, #2 threw a 'it's not fair' fit when he learned he had to go to school by himself. 

Becoming seriously concerned with the status of the prison roof due to ice dams in the gutters. Spent hours staring at (shouldn't my glare melt ice?), thinking about and researching how to make our gutters function again but I got nothing. Nearly a foot of snow on the roof and the gutters are starting to show the strain and the ice is even trying to rip them apart. I guess it could be worse because some of the neighboring prisons are in much worse shape. I just can't help but think about how all this snow will melt someday (I hope!) and end up in our basement or worse. 

I guess this scene is pretty typical.

Test

874HSPCGHNTE

I've lost it and Cailou is to blame

This winter is really becoming difficult. Outdoor exposure is limited and activities are quickly becoming old. Cabin fever has set in long ago. The remaining crutch for survival is the boob tube (a term my mother used frequently and I only now fully understand her meaning behind the use).

My disdain for Cailou has been well documented over the years and it has only gotten worse. There is just something about that little bald kid that grates at the very being of my soul. 

But I have now lost it. Officially. Totally. I blame the Sprout channel, YouTube and the makers of Cailou. And I blame the inmates of this prison. How do I know I have lost it?

Exhibit A:

That was a text message conversation between me and the Warden from earlier today. 

Water boarding inhumane for terrorists?  Strap them in front of an endless stream of Cailou and I guarantee they will break. Quickly. 

I am not alone in my thinking. I have spoken to fellow Wardens and Guards with inmates who feel the same way. It is not just a local feeling either. Just put 'I hate Cailou' into google if you don't believe me. 

Exhibit B:

The funniest sentence I have ever read to support my argument: Cailou is French for Shut Up.  Brilliant. http://www.howtobeadad.com/2012/10864/caillou-french-shut

The prosecution rests. 

Bathing suits, bowling pins and aliens

Every morning gives rise to new beginnings and adventures at Garfield Prison. We just never know what we will encounter. 

After another game of wakeup chicken, the Guard blinked once again and ventured into the common areas to discover what awaits. The 'blink' was driven by a number of factors. #1 had already awoken us to show us her crafting creativity. This morning it was a picture collage that was created after finding a stash of hidden pictures that had not yet been secured in photo albums. Multiple pictures were cut up an collagued together with copious amounts of tape ( thankfully not the duct tape). High points for creativity, low points for destruction of some good pictures. 

Upon venturing deeper into the prison, it was discovered that #3 has a severe case of cabin fever. She had rifled through her closet and found bathing suits. Instead of dressing herself in weather appropriate clothes, she mixed and matched 3 seperate bathing suits for her outfit. And talked of swimming and water. It was also soon disvovered that her beach for the day is her bathtub where water has been introduced. 

Like a race car, our motto is 'sit down, strap in and shut up.'  Just go with it. 

Last evening we were extremely lucky to engage the services of a local teen so that we could escape temporarily. The Warden and Guard were able to escape to do some bowling. Four on four, boys against girls. Who won?  Well, apparently not all bowling pins are created equal. While on paper the boys won 2 of 3 matches, the Warden insists she was the winner because she individually beat everyone on her team each game, and beat the Guard 2 of 3 games. I'll just leave it at that. I am sure I will catch heat for even the suggestion that I infered that she was not the winner as she believes. 

We really are lucky though to have found an extremely smart and good sitter to help us. Upon return she have us the report of the bed time interactions, which, to her credit, was handled much better than this Guard would have likely handled it. Her creativity is really what makes me mention her at. She left us with this hilarious staging of some of #2's toy aliens. 

That is good stuff right there!!

Snow forts and water balloons

Snow. Again. 537th strait day of snowfall I swear.  This time a dusting of 3 or 4 inches. Not much to get upset about this winter. At least it covers the yellow snow and piles of dog poop from strangers who walk their dog past our home. No doubt they stop to clean up after Fido but then hear the extreme chaos coming from within the prison and decide they should get out of the area fast. Can't say I blame them. 

The 4-5 foot piles of snow made the perfect platform for the Guard to provide some institutional instructions on how to dig tunnels. Unlike true prisons, here at Garfield, we encourage our prisoners to consider escape. 

Each prisoner got their own tunnel since they all fought over the first palace that was made to accommodate all 3 at once. They were much happier with their own little holes. 

After an extended stay outdoors, 76 pieces of clothes weighing about 123 pounds were soaking wet. The price of crawling in snow. But apparently the prisoners are enjoying water today. 

Attempted to make dinner. Once again, 1&3 were way too quiet but I am finding it is easier to give them a bit of rope to hang themselves before stepping in. Once again, my impeccable timing and spidey senses allowed me to know the exact time to walk into the prisoners bathroom. I walked in to find 1&3 trying to fill water balloons. Where they found them I am not sure. Thankfully they do not yet possess the manual dexterity to tie a balloon, or even stretch it over the faucet to properly full them. 374 balloons on the floor, all wet, all 'not working' to quote #3.  Minimal water because they were small balloons after all. 

The sun will come out tomorrow, or, my tummy hurts

You can bet your bottom dollar that the sun has come out, and we will move mountains (of snow ) to get out of the house. 

The sky is blue, the sun is bright and hope is on the horizon. Maybe not hope, but somewhere to take the prisoners for the day so some semblance of normalcy can return to this prison-- namely getting back to our day jobs. 

The snow has stopped!  I want to sing it from the highest mountain of snow (and let me tell you they are big!). 

Our cars are/were trapped in our yard. Our alley has not been plowed but a quick survey of the situation has shown me that someone made first tracks already, so we shall follow. 

That's all good. Got to work. Everything sort of back to normal. On a conference call for work and the prisoner vocational training center calls to inform me that %2 has a tummy ache and has thrown up. Looks like it's an early day. 

Pick up all 3, #2 looks like he has mastered the 'I'm sick and will look pathetic to prove it.'  But, it was not an act. Not sure if it was inevitable or it was the violent thrashing of bajaing through our snow and ice encased alley way but the car now has a new smell. And a new coating compliments of the contents of 2's stomach. 

In typical prisoner fashion, 1&3 were not disgusted but intrigued by it. They immediately begin to inspect and wonder what the mess was. 3; "what's the orange stuff?"  2; "we had carrots for lunch, I bet that is carrots."  And on and on. The conversation grew more descriptive and inquisitive but there is no need to relive it here. Some conversations should just remain within the walls of the prison, or prison transport in this case.

I am just hoping #2 is better by tomorrow. Have some chain gang activities planned. It's time they learned how to make snow tunnels in hopes they will know when to tunnel out of prison when the Warden and Guard are prepared to become empty nesters. 

Snow, snow and more snow

Guess what today is?  Surprise, another snow day. 

No idea how much, but it was a lot. So far. If I had to guess, 10 inches with the threat of more tonight. And more tomorrow, and Saturday, and Monday and....  Who cares anymore. 

The Warden had morning duty while I dug out with my trusty snowblower. Apparently I had too much 'fun' helping my neighbors and the Warden is not happy. But the two plates of cookies I received from neighbors were fine by me. And helping an elderly man clear his walkway was just something I felt I had to do. 

Upon completion, the Warden went to do some work and left the inmates to me. Luckily #2 is amusing himself with his electronics. #1 is bouncing between walls , helping to clean up after #3 and doing art projects. She got to spend some time with her grandmother last evening who has a very well organized craft room. This has motivated #1 to be like her. All out tape, markers and craft stuff is now squirreled away neatly in her room. Impressive actually. 

#3, well, she is always our challenge. Luckily she is sitting next to me writing notes in her notebook. But when I received a call from work, I had to step outside to answer it. 3 decides to clean our back sliding glass door. Nice right?  Except that she used hand soap that she poached from the bathroom. THAT was fun to clean up. Thankfully I learned my lesson and made her help me. If I didn't, I am positive that she would have destroyed something else and a never ending cycle would have ensued. Guard is finally learning how to deal with the inmates. It's about time. 

The inmates awoke excited to play in the snow, but after the initial dump, it turned to rain. And it continues. So no outdoors for them today. Just too wet now. It's not like it would have been fun anyways. With the snow we already had, plus today, the snow depth is up to 3's waist. And 1&2 would have struggled to play in it as well. It's just too deep which is crazy. 

#3 has been demanding to watch her favorite tv shows. Her favorites? Barney and Cailou. Just shoot me. The creators of those two shows should be public enemy 1 & 2. That little bald bastard Cailou is the most annoying thing on TV. If you have never watched him, count yourself lucky. This show will rot your brain. 

Here is what we awoke to this morning. The bottom 25% of snow on the table was there already. 

Nearly forgot--  the one benefit of the snow is that I actually get a workout. Here is my current result from my fitbit tracker from today:

Not too shabby. 

Another dog day afternoon

I never understood the term 'dog days of summer'.  I am going to coin the dog days of winter though. I mean, it is summer somewhere right?

After a brief business reprieve in our nations capital, I have returned home. I learned that in my absence the Warden enlisted the help of one of the inmate's favorite sitter. Her mom also happens to read my blog, so she came armed with a plan to teach the inmates a chant. I returned home last evening after braving the rush hour traffic of DC and Baltimore to chants of 'Attica, Attica, Attica.'  Classic. 

Winter storm Pax. I don't even know what to say. Typed that and stared at it for 5 minutes. I mean really, what can you say about an impending storm where the weather maps have tons of bright colors and your area is predicted to snow amounts in the double digits. Past 10, does it really matter?

The good news is that pitchers and catchers reported to spring training yesterday. #2 asked when we could go to a Phillies game. He overheard some sports talk radio during afternoon inmate transfer. I almost shed a tear when the Mets were mentioned and without prompt he made a raspberry sound. Indoctrination has taken hold. 

Just read this post and realized it's not the greatest. I am a bit short on prison material because of my professional time away. But don't fret, if Jim Cantore is correct, tomorrow's snow day will provide material. 

I was just interrupted by THE PHONE CALL. You know, the call canceling school tomorrow. Looking at my phone's history for this year, this number has called me more than anyone else. I swear, I need to meet the guy on the other end of the recorded message. Not quite sure what I would do though. His voice has become less welcome than that of an IRS agent. I want to do the recording one day.  'Hello parents. I am the bearer of bad news for you today. We don't want your inmates today because it's not worth it to us to venture outside only to arrive at school to control your minions all day with out the ability to take them outside to release their pent up energy. We don't want to deal with their boots and hats, and the snow they will track through our school. You deal with it today, we are closed and all teachers will be dancing in the streets while you pull your hair out.  Good luck. Don't call us, we will call you.'

The inmates have not gone to a full week of school since before Christmas. 

#2's favorite song is '104 days of summer vacation' from Phineas and Ferb. At this rate, we may be lucky to have 4 days of summer vacation. 

Freedom. FREEDOM. F R E E D O M !!!!

Yep, as mentioned earlier, I got out of town. Getting out of town was not the easiest though in typical Garfield Prison fashion. 

Took 1&2 to see the Lego movie. Fell asleep twice. Each prisoner woke me once. They loved it. It would have been better had they let me sleep. I did check to make sure I didn't snore and they confirmed I did not. After the movie was over, a stop at the most evil place on earth was in order-- Toys R Us, or as I call it, Empty My Wallet. 

Upon return home, the snow started to fall. And the faster I packed for my business trip, the faster it fell. It fell until Baltimore. Travel was slow and deliberate and safe. I made it to DC and found a nice little church to say my evening prayer called the Churchkey. A little distilled water from Kentucky and fermented water from Maine with flatbread with some chicken sausage and  some Ponlano peppers. All that is sprinkled with text messages from the Warden who apparently needs another voice to help calm the prison block. 

So, I am free for now.  And this is what freedom looks like for me tonight;

Dr Jekyll or Mr Hyde?

After much reflection, I now understand better the challenges faced by parole boards. When prisoners face parole boards they present themselves in the best light possible so they can get out. 

Many of the same actions are present at Garfield Prison. Report cards have been received for 1&2. They were great. Something for the Warden and Guard to be proud of.  Both received the highest marks for respecting authority and for having good manners.  However, within minutes of marveling at the excellent ratings, the Guard was once again breaking up a fight and there was no respect for MY authority and manners?  Where did they go?

The birthday party for 1&2 went off without a hitch this weekend. And without surprise, the good manners and respect for authority was back. Until all the guests went home. If someone could

Explain this to me, I would appreciate it. 

Having a safe prison is important. We have ensured there are smoke detectors everywhere. Currently one or more have a battery that is almost dead. This is of note because it managed to wake the entire prison up way too early. It is also of note because I cannot find the offending device. I have stood under each one waiting for its chirp only to hear it come from somewhere else in the house.  This poses multiple problems. First and foremost is that it is extremely annoying. I have to find it so I can replace the battery, but while I am standing there, I swear it takes 5 minutes for a chirp. When not searching, they go off every 3 seconds. Where is that dang dead battery?

As each chirp happens, I become increasingly convinced that this is some evil trick employed by a member of my family that was present yesterday for birthday festivities. So now I am not only looking for a dead battery but also for a hidden camera and I am sure someone is watching and laughing. With my tin foil hat on, I question the existence of the white repair truck on the street outside the house. Surely some late night host will pop out and inform me this is an elaborate prank to be aired on the next episode of Punked. Or maybe I watch too many TV shows about special agents and survailence. 

The good news, for me at least, is that this evening I must travel out of town for two nights to attend a conference for work.  This blog may take a brake, unless the phone calls and texts from the Warden results in blog worthy material. The Warden is excited only because my snoreing will be 120 miles away instead of the standard 12 inches. 

The other good news is that they hyped up predictions of 18-24 inches of snow for today was a bad joke and we will only see an inch or two. So there should not be any snow days while I am gone. More importantly, there should be no reason for the Warden to need to shovel or worse, attempt to use my baby, the snowblower.   The forcast for the day after my return is a bit more ominous, but let's not focus on that.  

Paging Ben Franklin, Ben Franklin....

Woke up to no power. Guard should have anticipated this and turned off the prison alarm. He knows that the alarm will go off when the power goes off. 

#1 awakes to the beep and screams "It's my birthday!!"  Now the entire neighborhood is awake, including all the other prisoners. 

Time for breakfast. 

3: I want pancakes. 

Guard: Can't, no power. 

3:  Why?

3: I want waffles. 

Guard: Can't, no power. 

3:  Why?

3: I want eggs.  

Guard: Can't, no power. 

3:  Why?

3: I want coffee. 

Guard: So do I. 

3:  Why?

Birthday presents unwrapped. Yet another HUGE mistake. It seemed like a good idea to buy scooters for 1&2. But they want to ride them-- who wouldn't?  But an iced over everything outside presents a problem. And a garage full of cars that can't be moved until the ice is removed from the driveway is of no use. 

Heat will quickly become an issue. Start fire in fireplace. Easy task except when prisoners require attention. After 72 attempts, Guard is not any closer to having the fire started. Attempt 73 is the ticket. 

Now to begin our day. 

2: I want to watch tv. 

Guard: Can't, no power. 

2:  Why?

2: I want to watch play the WII. 

Guard: Can't, no power. 

2:  Why?

1: I want to watch videos on my iPod. 

Guard: Can't, no power. 

1:  Why?

Someone at Guards work: I want to have a web conference. 

Guard: Can't, no power. 

Someone at Guards work:  Why?

'Twas the night before....

A.  Prisoners 1 & 2 turning 6

B.  Apocalyptic ice storm

C.  Major leadership meltdown due to cabin fever

D.  ANOTHER snow day

E.  All of the above

F.  Some of the above

Bets are on E. 

Attempt at family dinner went awry. #3 decides it's party time. Everyone states what they are thankful for and what they did for the day. Everything going well until #3 decides she must thank God for her bodily functions for the day. Always one to bring the conversation into the gutter. 

Convinced that there is a conspiracy in place by laundry detergent manufactures. Current theory is they pump subliminal messages into the schools. These messages make these kids produce insane amounts of dirty clothes. Where do they all come from?

Paint is still being found and cleaned after previous days body painting. Floors, walls, tables. Trying to determine how to remove paint from the voids in granite counter tops. 

Lights out not going well. Prisoners understand the correlation between prison phone, Warden phone and Guard phone ringing within seconds of one another-- obviously it is the school calling for a delay or cancelation. Party time/riot insues. Obvious breakdown in planning by Warden and Guard. Must silence phones for remainder of winter. 

Steve Jobs is my hero. iPods, iPads, old iPhones.... 

iBribery. 

iPeaceandquiet.
iCangetthingsdonebecauseofthem.

iWouldbeinsanewithoutthesethings.  

iMaybeabadguardtousetheseascrutches. 

iDon'tcare. 

Being a Guard requires multitasking

9 inches of snow on the ground. Snow removal operations have been underway throughout the day. Because of the amount and weight of the wet snow, heavy machinery required for efficient removal. This requires Guard to leave inmates unattended for periods. 

Upon completion of one round of snow removal, guard discovers that #3 has found paint. What started as an attempt to create Valentines Day paintings quickly evolve into body painting. #3 covers large portion of face and hands. Unscheduled mid day bath required. #1 & #2 have done a nice job of cheering on her sister while ensuring they have not been coated  in paint in hopes they will not assume any blame for resulting mess. As is typical in most prisons, inmates are loyal only to themselves and the truth quickly is extracted. All share a part of the blame in the painting of #3. 

#1 has determined that the best method of torture is through gaseous emissions delivered with surgical precision. She entertains herself while simultaneously tormenting fellow inmates and potentially creating a biohazard in the prison. 

#2 has remained under the radar for most of the day. 

Somehow , the massive mounds of clean clothes that posed such a dangerous situation during the polar vortex confinement have begun to once again multiply.  The piles are not yet sufficient to provide Guard with appropriate cover and concealment. They will be left to grow more. Only so much the Guard can do in one day.