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Overdue Update

                                           

I know y'all have been just curled up in a fetal position, waiting to hear what's going on in my life, so here I am, taking pity...

Ahem.

I've given a bit of thought to just quitting this blog altogether, since there isn't all that much to say that has any importance. So many, many other people do it a whole lot better than I do.

But...I like the connection. Nice to feel I'm not just drifting around out there (even with Facebook, Twitter, and real-life relationships). This fills whatever void still remains. And I do go through phases in terms of my writing. Back when I really began focusing on this blog, in 2008, I was just brimming over with thoughts. I have a hunch that will start happening again at some point, so might as well keep my options open.


So here's the latest:

First: Wally. He's due to be released in November, close to Thanksgiving. The plan was, he would come here to Vollywood. Amenities would be thin on the ground, but at least he'd have a permanent address, a place to sleep, regular meals consisting of non-ramen nutrients, and someone to help him out with this, that, and the other. Sounded like a reasonably good plan.

The only condition was a somewhat hefty administrative fee that the state he's currently in requires to effect this transfer of his parole. His father, Doug, sent it a few months back. Rather than holding it in reserve in his account and exercising a modicum of self-control, Wally saw fit to spend it on whatever items he felt he needed. You see, he thought he'd be getting a tax refund. Never mind that the amount of the refund was something like a quarter of the total amount of the fee. He spent all but a small amount of the fee, and therefore, no parole transfer.

Yes, I understand fully well that prison inmates need "stuff" to trade and barter so that they don't go too far down the prison social hierarchy. I tried to keep a trickle of money going to him; he kept saying all he needed was a small amount for envelopes and stationery, and enough to buy a phone card. In all the time he's been behind bars, I have not gotten a phone call from him, in spite of filling out the required paperwork.

At any rate, the money's spent, his father is furious, and I'm of the opinion that Wally is charting the course he wants to chart. Meaning, he doesn't want to come to Vollywood, regardless of what he may say. Is this a blessing in disguise for me? Many people close to me seem to think it is. But of course, I have very mixed feelings. The one called "no control over the situation" is by far the worst.

Wally turns 23 toward the end of this month, and a few days later, it will be one year since he got arrested.

The job situation hasn't changed much, but it has at least not gotten worse. I had high hopes for a complete change of career during  June and the first part of July, but those hopes were dashed, and in typical fashion, I crawled back into my turtle shell and have not attempted any more job applications. Part of me is saying "C'mon, let's get this show back on the road," and the other part of me has her fingers stuck in her ears, chanting "Lalalalala, I can't heeeeeear yooooou..."

I did start doing horoscopes again. This is my advertisement. Read it carefully. If you're interested, drop me an email at the address shown on my profile.

Church: Busy-busy-busy. Early August, I let them put me back on the Board of Trustees, but this time I'm over a few committees of strong interest. So far, it's been fun. The "challenge" part of the job description appears to be rearing its funny little head. Egos abound. I will be reporting more as time goes on.

And that's the way it is, September 16th, 2012.  Best wishes to you, Mr. and Mrs. America, and all the blogs at sea.


Comments

Do keep blogging! The blogosphere needs you!

I wish your family well when Wally is released. It must be very challenging for you, and I hope he finds his way.

I understand completely how crushing it can be when job applications fall through. I just experienced one of those dashings of hope myself, something that I assumed was a sure thing. Bah! Work is overrated anyway!

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