'Wait...you bailed her out of jail?!'

Earlier today, I learned how to send money to federal inmates. In addition, Western Union charges $9.50 for the privelge. I do wonder where the monies that were seized in restitution are being applied. Surely, some of that could be used in the prison shops.

It is not a skill I am sure I want to add to my CV yet. I'm not embarassed or ashamed but I am sad and angry. What is the point of being responsible if it just means you're the clean-up crew? My inner 12 year old stamps her foot with frustration. It isn't fair. It isn't right or proper. 

After last night's visit in which my father stubbornly refuses to be vaccinated for anything, I can't even with the news he has been bailing people out of jail, just because. 

I'm still feeling pretty salty about that; it feels insulting, especially given that they didn't bail me out of the pokey that one night 25 years ago. Admittedly, it was that lamest shoplifting spree gone wrong. I mean, what was I thinking with the 25th Anniversary boxed VHS set of Lawrence of Arabia and PJ Harvey CDs? 

My one night scared me just straight enough to retire mybrather successful secondary market 

in stolen prom dresses and accessories.  Now, I walk away with so much as an accidentally palmed pen and I feel nauseous and overcome. Isn't life strange like that?

Having said that, I do still fantasize about not being clumsy self and being an erudite, agile jewel thief. Of course, I also fantasize about being wed barefoot in the fields, and living with in 2.5 hours of all of my favourite places and people. I know, I know what are these debutante fantasies? They are what me keep me going, on down the line, as Patty Loveless reminds me, whilst I drive the backroads back to the hotel, looking out over the cornfields, wondering what is so different in me that I can't just captiulate easily into expectation. Would that not be easier? Of course, we all know the answer to that. It is never easy to right to deny who we are and whilst I didn't ask to be a pilgrim or a pioneer-type, it seems that life in the margins is where I am happiest. 

I take 5 minutes, sometimes 10 just to catch my breath.  Today it was in Waynesville, the most haunted town in Ohio, also home of the most covens in Ohio, also home of some of the most quintessentially American moments.