National Daughter Day

I would post a picture of my only daughter on Facebook today to celebrate National Daughter Day but... My only daughter decided eleven years ago to delete me from her life. Even though her birth certificate clearly states my name as her mother, I apparently am not and never was. Damn I wish I had known that before I spent all those hours pretending to be something that I was not, according to Miss Christina Marie.

Making progress

I finally found someone to fix the ceiling in two bedrooms and inquired about some future jobs. After paying for a new roof and siding a few months ago I decided the sooner I attended to gutters front and back the better. The installer has been found and the details are being discussed. Now if I can just find someone to help with the yard work I will be set.

Is it worth it?

For the last week I have been thinking about whether or not it is worth my time to keep writing this blog. I can see that people are reading it, but nobody comments. I feel as if I am in a room talking to myself.I wonder if anyone really cares what I have to say?

Prisons

I just started a new Kindle book and within a few pages it brought back personal memories. The main character is a female lawyer who is checking out her first pro bono case, behind prison bars. Her journey to check out her charge reminded me of the times I have walked down the local prison halls. No it isn't what you think!

Both my daughter and my oldest son have in the past or now work for a local prison. Twice I have toured Core Civics as a guest of my children. It was a women's facility, but now houses men. My daughter worked there several years ago and my son has been on the staff for the last seven years. The last time I visited the prison I set off the alarm system. After some time my daughter realized it was due to my hip replacement, which is titanium. At least I gave everyone a laugh. I knew I wasn't guilty of anything. Another laugh this tour gave us was when my young grandson decided to plop down on one of the cots in a cell. 

We actually have three prisons in our town. I have at one time or another been in all three, as a visitor. I think the scariest time was when I was walking down the halls of a men's facility with a guard and several prisoners were walking down the hall headed towards us. This visit was to offer one of my books. It didn't work out as most of the inmates, at the time, only spoke Spanish. 

I also visited the prison that now houses female inmates, again offering one of my books. That one freaked me out because of the several gates one has to go through to enter the facility. It really got my attention!

So that's my personal experience behind prison walls and it is as close as I ever care to be.

Are we related?

Lately I have been having a problem accepting some people who have turned up as DNA matches. In discussing the problem with a trusted friend she made a comment that made perfect sense to me. She said, "DNA makes you related, it doesn't make you family". Applying this thought to my current situation clears up a lot of mental stress for me. 

As I have said before, family is more than biology!