When mom put me in jail

When I was four or five, mom took me to the police station. It is possible that this is something that I had asked her to do for me. While there, the officers showed us around the station, including putting me into one of the cells and closing (but not locking) the door. The cell contained two bunks that were basically shelves attached to the wall, and a toilet in between. I thought it was great, but I didn't like the idea of using the toilet without a door.

I am considering doing the same for Ali. Maybe this weekend.

My Apologies

I am getting worse at maintaining this. My apologies to all. In part, it is because I am running out of good stories that are suitable for the open internet. I have stories that are unsuitable because they involve others in a manner that would cause unhappiness, anger, or lawsuits. I have others that cannot be told here because they are too personal. I have ones that would likely only men something to me.

That said, I still have stories that would work here, and God knows I have photographs that could keep this thing running for years.

Right now, though, my main problem is that I am too busy. I have too much on my plate. I will continue to update the blog but, for now, it cannot be at the same original pace.

One thing that can help is if you all share your stories. I need your help. Sylvia, you have never needed this kind of push, and I appreciate your help more than you know. Everybody else, get crackin'.