Living Happily Ever After
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Unexpected Wife

Date: April 1, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

This is not a joke or a test of the emergency broadcast system. For anyone who logged on today for a word from me, my apologies. I thought I’d switch things up in honor of April 1st, April Fools and to accommodate the requests from readers who have asked for a formal introduction to my husband. I figured after six months of dating, a 10 month engagement, one year of marriage and everything else…it’s about time! This is no April Fool’s joke. Ladies and gentlemen, here he is: Mr. Mike Ramsey. (Formerly known as #5.)

“Do you ever hear a song that immediately transports you back to another time in your life?  Not to just a small memory of the first time you heard it, but it literally takes you to where you would swear you were, in that place and in that time?  It happened to me a few months ago.

I can’t remember the song (and that’s a good thing) but it took me back to the first few months after my separation. When I was living in the basement of my best friend’s home.  The song reminded me of waking up that first morning, on a mattress on the floor, and looking up at the unfinished ceiling thinking, ‘This nightmare was not a dream.’ Once again I felt that sinking feeling in my chest that my whole world had fallen apart and was never going to be the same.  What a horrible feeling!  (Now you know why I don’t want to remember the song.)

Thankfully, these days I’m singing a different tune.

You’ve read how Andrea and I met—the whole Spaghetti Factory thing—after we found each other on the internet. I am so thankful we did! You’ve read of the awful things that she and the kids had gone through: after she told me her father’s unexpected death when she was a teen and about the Ponzi scheme that led to her divorce, I asked her why she wasn’t on medication! (Ha!) What you may not know is how genuine Andrea really is. And that the way she comes across on the blog is the way she really is in life: an amazing, down-to-earth woman who knows who she is. Each day she tries her best to reach her God-given potential. I love her for that, and for many other things. One of my best friends summed it up so succinctly when she said, “Andrea is good for you, Mike!” I agree.

I’m sure in five years, although there may not be one song in particular I remember from our dating time (she kept me too busy dancing to too many tunes to have just one memory!) I know that every time I hear a song from our dating I will be whisked back to those great memories and feelings and remember what a lucky fellow I am.

Yes, when you are Bachelor #5 you definitely need someone “good” for you.  And I got the best there is. My “unexpected wife.”

House Rules

Date: March 21, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“If you develop rules, never have more than ten.” (Donald Rumsfeld)

I’ve been asked to share my house rules. By request, here they are.

1. Family first. This means family first, friends second and family takes priority. We love each other and will seek to spend time with each other to make happy memories and strengthen our bonds for the future.

2. Participate in family meals, unless at work, school or church activity, because studies show families that eat regular meals together have more successful children. Please keep all food and drink, except water, confined to the kitchen area.

3. Be respectful of one another, communicate without yelling or profanity, strive to be cheerful, kind and pleasant. No slamming of doors, borrowing without asking, stealing–and please clean up after yourself (leave no trace!) Remove shoes upon entering our home.

4. Honor curfew because “after midnight you’re on the devil’s time.”  (That’s what my parents always told me, and my grandparents taught them.) No sleepovers, instead you may participate in “late nights.”

5. Attend church on Sunday, mid-week church activities, participate in church recognition programs.

6. Music, movies and video games are to be family appropriate. No “R” ratings. No internet use without a “buddy” when parents aren’t home.

7. No alcohol, cigarettes, drugs or their usage in the home or out of the home. Family members will submit to drug testing at the parents’ discretion.

8. Practice the life skills that ensure self-reliance: 1. emotional health (family members will go to counseling at the parents’ discretion); 2. financial health (don’t go into debt, eat at home as much as possible, pay 10% tithing, children save 50% of their earnings for college, parents will provide opportunities to develop talents as financially able, no allowance given–everyone is required to help with tasks around the house as it takes every family member to keep our family functioning and our home running smoothly); 3. physical health (eat at home as much as possible–not only is it cheaper, it’s healthier, go to bed at the appropriate time for your age established by parents, stay active); 4. get an education (your job is to focus on your education and learn all you can and do what you need to do to earn good grades); 5. work (everyone of age to work will have a job).

Clearly, “There are some good rules and there are some lousy rules.” (Harold Pinter)

But that’s life at our house.

And here’s the philosophy behind the rules:

Parenting is no popularity contest. As a parent, it’s my job to do everything I can to help my children be successful living our family rules which in turn will prepare them to be successful adults and enjoy happy and successful lives.

My efforts are based on my belief that basic needs (love, food and shelter) are a child’s right and I’m happy to provide them. But I believe everything else is a privilege and must be earned as children prove themselves through their obedience and performance (i.e.. their obedience to our family rules, academic performance, a good attitude, self-control, good behavior and good choices that show they are trustworthy, successful at enjoying their current level of freedom and privileges and are ready to attempt to be successful at the next level.)

Wrong choices, disobedience and setbacks based on behavior and poor choices result in consequences. I hate letting children experience consequences! As a person, I think it’s miserable to have to refrain from helping my children out of their troubles and as a parent, it’s painful to watch, but because I love them I have to allow them to learn from their mistakes. I think it’s the only way to help them learn to be successful. (And I’d much rather have them “fail” while they’re young, than continue to fail as adults because they didn’t learn what they needed to. I’d much rather have them get an “F” in elementary school for not doing their work, than have them lose a job as an adult because they weren’t doing their work.)

My parenting is somewhat based on love and logic. (My thanks to Jim Fay and Foster Kline, proponents of “Love and Logic.”) There are rules and expectations and there are consequences, consequences that will bring happiness and privileges when children make the right choices and other consequences should they choose disobedience.

My children have some input as to their consequences. For example, if they don’t clean their room possible consequences (some brainstormed/chosen by me, some chosen by them) include: temporarily losing their bedroom door until the room is tidy again, me coming in with a trash bag and collecting all of the mess into the sack and then they have to earn things back item by item by doing small extra jobs for me, me helping them clean their room and in return working extra time for me for the same amount of time I spent helping them do their job, or being “grounded” to their room until the work is done. I try to have the consequence connect to the choice. The key is to provide consequences both of us can live with and to providing more than one option/consequence so they have a choice. I also always try to have one of the consequences be a ridiculous option that makes them laugh, if I can.

And because I think there is far too little of people taking credit for their choices in life (it seems like everyone always wants to blame someone else), I’ve always made it a priority to teach personal responsibility as well. I want my kids to own their mistakes and not seek to blame others for their misfortune. When my oldest was little and experienced a time out he began to accuse, “YOU are doing this to me! YOU are making me have a time out!” so I quickly learned to teach him the role he played in it. I’ve even been known to ask them, “Who brought this upon you? Who actually is doing this to you?” just so they realize it was their choice that landed them their consequence.

And the whole “it’s not fair” thing doesn’t fly at our house, and never has. When my older children were little and shared that with me, I was quick to agree: “You’re so right! Life isn’t fair! We already know that, don’t we? If life were fair, I’d have a dad!” (I’m such a terrible mother to dash that childhood dream that life is fair. Sadly, that’s one thing my children have known at an early age although I had to laugh one day when a young child in my home uttered that and another young child, not much older, agreed, “Yes, life isn’t fair! If it were, mom would still have her dad.” I guess I taught that one a little too well, huh?)

But the great thing about all this? It’s all up to my children! I show them the way and help establish expectations and consequences with them, but they get to choose the type of life they live; they get to choose to be successful or not— and they quickly see that it’s much more pleasant to buckle down, get their work done, meet their responsibilities and enjoy freedom and privileges instead of choosing painful consequences and loss of privileges that result in childhood misery and woe! (I know, I know, my children aren’t going to have any stories of having to walk to school through two miles of snow but they WILL have stories about having me as their mother, I’m sure! And if those don’t suffice in showing they were sufficiently traumatized by the misfortune of their life in the parenting department, they can always play the losing-everything-to-a-Ponzi-scheme card! Lol. Just kidding. Hopefully they will always seek to be forward looking and choose to see how they’ve been blessed by the hard stuff to become even better than they would otherwise have been rather than dwell on any misery that came their way.)

But there you have it: what I do and why I do it. Aren’t you glad you don’t have to live at my house?

Oh. I should add that I try to do all of the above with humor, lots of laughter and hugs and love, without yelling (I am NOT a fan of losing control to the point of yelling or getting physical in a negative way) as well as dancing with my children whenever possible!

“Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music.” (Angela Monet)

The 2nd Time Around

Date: June 18, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Like I said, things with Bachelor #1 were ending. We ended up seeing each other one more time after the night he told me that to continue seeing each other was too painful for him, but I planned ahead. That last week, as I sensed things were ending, I decided to try the online thing again.

I still wasn’t sure, being new in town and single and commuting to work in another city, how to meet and make local friends. The one Sunday meeting, and the one singles dance, hadn’t helped me. The online option was the only one
I knew to try.

The second time around, I was optimistically hoping to last longer than 24 hours. I felt much better prepared. I had some dating experience under my belt, the rebound relationship had come and gone, and I went into it expecting some unusual surprises so I didn’t think I would be as shocked (and afraid) at what came my way!

So, before my last date with Bachelor #1, I switched to a different online site (I’d heard there were “better” people on there) and signed up online.

I posted my picture and info, and then, like watching stock move up the Dow, began to see the activity around my bio. The site shows you who is checking out your profile. The numbers can be unexpected–200+ men in 24 hours is not uncommon. I couldn’t imagine there were that many people trying to meet people. And at all hours of the day.

The online traffic was something I was careful of. So although a lot of people posted picture of themselves with their kids, I didn’t. As a mother, I didn’t have a single picture of myself without at least one of my children in the frame, and I wasn’t about to take special pictures just to post online, so I just made sure I was alone in anything I posted on a singles site. It required some careful cropping.

I heard from some men who had contacted me my first time online–I guess they’d switched sites, too, or they were on multiple sites!

I heard from widowers.

I heard from men from all backgrounds, all across the country, and even some from the Baltic. I think the quest for international friendships is huge online, based on some of the profiles that came my way that specified up front: “If you don’t speak English, don’t even bother contacting me!”

I even heard from celebrities. (Well, their pictures anyway!) There was one man I was pretty sure was using pictures of Guy Ritchie, Madonna’s ex-husband, for his profile. And several others I think were posting professional modeling photos, of other people, as theirs. It was entertaining!

I’d walk into work each morning, and my team wanted to know how the online situation was. I gave a few co-workers my password so they could have a good laugh at my online contacts, and it was a source of entertainment during many a lunch hour.

I gave my sister my password, too, so she could occasionally check things out on my behalf and make sure she felt good about things. (I trust her judgement.)

But eventually, sharing my password with so many turned out to not be so good. I started getting frustrated messages from men that I was online and not responding to them when in fact, it hadn’t been ME online! I explained I had lots of friends in my corner, helping me and giving me input. THAT went over well–scared quite a few men off! But that was o.k. by me. Given the public nature of my divorce and the whole unexpected life, financial devastation, destroyed credit, four children…my life was not for the faint of heart and I knew it. If men couldn’t take some degree of a lack of privacy, after all I had lived through, they weren’t for me!

And, just what I was hoping for, I heard from local men too.

Hello, Bachelor #2. Or should I say, “Bachelor Bee Gee”?

First Date

Date: June 7, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I guess you could call my first experience with “internet dating” entertaining. It was so entertaining, in fact, I lasted less than 24 hours on the site! Here’s what happened.

I woke up the first morning after signing up to an inbox full of messages from men. Strangers. And before I could even read the first one, the IM window popped open and a man was there talking to me, live, online.

I didn’t know WHAT to do but through trial and error, quite a bit of error, I figured it out. The man was a lot more computer savvy than I was (or he’d been single a lot longer!) because every time I typed something, I accidentally canceled the chat session, but the man gamely contacted me again and opened a new window. I typed my apologies, tried again, and eventually learned how to IM to some degree.

What I remember most about that conversation was sitting in front of my computer screen and laughing out loud. The sound of real laughter, coming out of my mouth, was a shock to me. I realized it had been a long time since I’d laughed and truly meant it. The man had a GREAT sense of humor. I think my laughter was a shock to the whole family. A few of my children who were in the house when I was chatting with the man, came into the room to see why I was making that noise they hadn’t heard, for real, for quite some time.

The man told me a little about himself, asked me about myself, asked for my phone number (I didn’t know what to do about that either, I wasn’t expecting that) and when I hesitated, he gave me his phone number and asked me to call him. He also asked me out. He told me there was a huge, bi-annual singles dance at a local university that night, and he was game to take me if I felt ready to go to it. I told him I wasn’t sure what I was ready for. He was understanding about that, told me to call him that night if I changed my mind, and we left it at that.

Meanwhile, my sister and her friends from high school were in town and getting together for dinner that night. They’d invited me to join them and my sister arrived to pick me up. As soon as I got in the car, she asked me what I’d been up to.

My heart stopped. Not only had I done something totally impusively, planning to keep it a secret (but that got ruined by my inability to even load my own picture onto the website, so my teenage son now knew) and now I was going to have to tell my sister! I knew she was seriously going to doubt my sanity.

I said, “You will die at what I’ve done. You’re not going to believe it, and you’re going to think I’m insane.”

She looked at me with some degree of trepidation and said, “Uh-oh. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

So I did. “I signed up on an online singles site.”

Her reaction wasn’t what I’d been expecting. She screamed, clapped her hands and was clearly enthusiastic about it. She told me, “Andrea, I’ve been thinking the whole 1 1/2 hour drive up here how I could persuade you to sign up online! I really think it’s what you should do. I’ve thought it for awhile and have just been waiting for the right time to broach that subject with you. All of my single friends are online. They tell me it’s how you meet people these days. I am so glad you did that!”

I still needed reassurance. “So you don’t think I’m a lunatic, then?”

She assured me she didn’t think I was. And we drove to dinner.

I hadn’t seen her friends since approximately 1988, and there I was, walking in to meet them for the first time in years after living through some of the biggest humiliations I’d never imagined existed–at least not in my life. I was a little apprehensive about what questions they might ask (I was still thinking secrecy was the only option I had to go on to rebuild a “normal” life) but I should have known better. Like all childhood friends, they were exactly the same. Open, friendly, caring…and no one asked me about anything I didn’t volunteer or want to talk about. (In fact, I found out later one friend didn’t know anything about my situation. She was confused about some of the comments I had made but never even asked for clarification.) All of them very good women.

At some point in the conversation, my sister told them about my online experience and the potential date I had that night. They all told me I should go. So with four cheerleaders in my corner, I picked up the phone, called the man and asked, “Is it too late to change my mind?”

He was kind, said it wasn’t a problem at all, and told me he’d pick me up at 9:45 p.m. I hung up the phone and thought, not for the first time that day, “What have I done?”

I also wondered about lots of other things: what was I going to wear, was I crazy to meet a stranger, would I be safe? But my sister assured me she had a good feeling about the whole thing, and the man, and we were going to follow through with it. We raced home after dinner so I could get ready for my first date in decades.

It was a surreal experience to be getting ready for a date, a date with a stranger no less, for the first time since 1989. Thank goodness I had help–my sister AND my teenage daughter–helping me select the right outfit, talking to me while I did my hair, choosing my jewelry, debating with me about what shoes to wear, etc… In some ways, it was the 80s again. (Well, the 80s plus one. I NEVER imagined I’d be getting ready for a date with the assistance of a daughter!)

And before I knew it, I had a text that the man was outside waiting for me. (I’d asked him not to come to the door as I had children.) I walked out to face the consequence of my decision. Nothing like walking out the door to go on a date…with four sets of eyes of your children watching…and your sister watching…and I was pretty sure the neighbors were too!

He stepped out of the car, introduced himself and shook my hand, opened my door for me, and we headed off to a singles dance!

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I Didn’t Have A Clue

Date: June 2, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I was ready to escape the loneliness, my children had given me their permission to date, and I didn’t have a clue how.

And then impulsively, late one Friday night, I checked out an online singles website. Websites (heck, even the internet!) hadn’t been invented the last time I’d been single and I admit, over the years I’d been very suspect of those types of things. And then unexpectedly I became like the many others I’d heard about–I signed up! I didn’t have a clue what I was doing, I only knew I planned to keep it a secret.

You had to provide information about yourself, information about the type of people you were interested in meeting, and you had to post a picture. My plan to keep the whole online a secret was already blown. I didn’t know how to load a picture onto the site! So when my oldest got home that night, I had to ask him to help me. He handled my request with absolute class, grace, and not a single comment…until he had finished loading the photos and was heading to bed. He couldn’t resist teasing me a little bit, and with a wink, wished me “good luck” in my “internet dating.”

I was mortified. Internet dating. Is THAT what I was doing?

Shaking my head at myself I went to bed. I didn’t have high hopes for “internet dating.” Simply having to resort to that made me feel like an even bigger loser and I added “internet dating” to the list of failures: formerly married to a criminal, hadn’t had a clue about His Ponzi scheme activity EVER, divorced, single mom, credit ruined, financial devastation, starting over at 42, etc… In some ways, the list was growing. Not exactly the direction I had hoped to be heading.

But the next morning I woke up to quite an unexpected surprise. I’m still not sure why I thought to check my email on a Saturday morning, that wasn’t my usual habit. (I guess maybe in part it was to see if I’d really done what I thought I had.) Nope. It wasn’t a dream. I actually HAD signed up online. And I discovered I had an inbox FULL of messages. I certainly wasn’t expecting that! I bravely clicked on the first one and opened it.

But before I could even read it, a man from the online site opened an IM window and began to chat with me.

WHAT had I done, I thought to myself. And my next thoughts were even more brilliant: How did that screen get there? What do I do? What is this IM thing? I’d never done anything like that before. But out of desperation, I became a quick study. (Thank goodness years ago I’d seen a movie, “The Perfect Man.” I remembered they’d IM’d in that movie, and THAT was how I figured out how to answer the man waiting expectantly for my reply.)

Hang on! The roller coaster of my life just took ANOTHER unexpected turn!

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Schmuck Of The Week

Date: May 25, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I read in the media one day that Shawn Merriman (my husband, at the time he was nominated for the dubious distinction) was the “Schmuck of The Week,” and in the forerunning for the “Schmuck of The Year.”

How does it feel to be married, or to have been married, to the “Schmuck of The Week”? It’s a little bit of a dark spot in the otherwise bright existence, overall, I like to think of as my unexpected life. But not as dark as some moments. Like another dark day of last August 2009, the day He was formally charged by the U.S. attorney’s office and taken into custody.

It was a necessary step in the administration of consequences of the crimes He committed by running a Ponzi scheme for 15 years and stealing approximately $20 million from multiple victims. (I’m not saying he didn’t deserve the consequences. I’m simply saying it was another sad, tragic day in what had become many since the revelations of the crimes He had committed.)

We were divorced, but He called me that morning (basically because He had no one else to call) to say goodbye. I felt as if he were saying goodbye before heading to the electric chair. We’d been living in limbo, to some degree, prior to that day and it had finally arrived. I knew it was coming. I just could NOT comprehend it had actually arrived.

I worked all day, tried to focus on my projects, and the minutes ticked by on the clock. It was a very long day.

Periodically (at lunch or on a break) I’d check the internet for media coverage–any word of what, if anything, had transpired a state away. Nothing. It was my secret vigil. No one knew that while I was working in Utah, my former spouse was heading to jail in Colorado. It was a challenge of epic proportions: to keep my mind on my work and the tasks at hand…while waiting for word and publicity of something so dark for our family.

And then late in the afternoon, although I had to have been expecting it because I’d been looking for it all day, suddenly…it was there. I had intentionally sought the information, yet I was stunned when it actually popped up on my computer screen! I’d been on pins and needles all day. I’d had a pit in my stomach for hours. For good reason.

The media reported the whole thing, including federal marshals “clasping handcuffs on the accused Ponzi schemer Shawn Merriman in federal court” and the courtroom of smiling victims errupting in cheers and applause. One victim commented, “That was us clapping hard.”

It sickened me.

I went in the bathroom and didn’t just cry. I think I threw up. I was filled with dread at what had transpired, and I was absolutely sickened at the behavior of some. What kind of people exult in the demise of another–regardless of what that person has done?

“How could man rejoice in victory and delight in the slaughter of men?” (Lao Tzu)

It caused some serious introspection on my part. I tried hard to think of anything anyone could do that would make me smile, clap and cheer at the demise of another. Thankfully, I couldn’t think of an instance. And I hope I never can. I think I will have lost some part of me, some degree of goodness or compassion or humanity (I don’t know what you call it), if I ever allow myself to exult in the tragedy and demise of another regardless of whether or not some may judge it to be deserved.

Another victim commented, “There won’t be justice.”

They’re probably right. I know I will never have “justice” in this life. And I’m ok with that. That isn’t why I believe I’m here; it isn’t what I am about. Even little kids know life isn’t fair, don’t they? If life were “fair” a lot of things would be different, including justice. But would we be better if it were? Would we learn what we need to know? Based on the behavior of those wronged by my former spouse, I have to wonder.

And in the midst of my musings, I had to commute home and prepare to face my children. I had to look in their eyes, and watch their expressions, I had to comfort them in their tears when they learned what had taken place that day.

Another strange state of existence that day was the fact that for the first time since 1989, I didn’t know where He was, how to reach Him, what He was enduring, how He was being treated, or how I could contact Him for the sake of our children.

Not a fun day. Slightly less fun than having once had marital ties to the “Schmuck of The Week!”

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So Much For Anonymity

Date: May 20, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

We moved to Utah for a variety of reasons, the biggest being employment and that Utah is where things worked out for us to live. However, we had a few other motives too. Like the fact that it would be a clean break, a fresh start, and a chance to live where no one knew who we were, who we had once been related to or what we had just been through. Having had our brush with “celebrity,” not one of us was sad to leave the paparazzi behind!

But we had a few things NOT in our favor if we wanted to be completely anonymous. (And believe me, we were all so shell-shocked, that probably would have been our preference had we had a choice!)

Our first Sunday at church, our pastor asked for some personal information so he could request our church records from our previous congregation. I hesitated to give it to him so soon, wanting to make sure the divorce was final on church records so that my former spouse’s information was not transferred with ours. Although I hadn’t planned on it, I told the pastor a little of our situation to explain why I wasn’t ready to have him transfer our records yet. Poor man. He made an innocent phone call to get my birth date, and ended up knowing a LOT more than he was probably prepared to learn!

But that impulse to tell him our story when my plan had been to keep it quiet turned out to be a blessing. Less than a week after my conversation with my new pastor, he called to tell me it was good I’d told him my story; that a member of the congregation had come to him and told him he should google the new woman from Colorado who had moved in–that she had quite a story. He said, “Thank goodness you had told me. I was able to tell them I imagined you had moved here to start over and didn’t want everyone to know your past. I asked them to not share that information with others.”

So much for anonymity in the day of internet and search engines! lol.

On the bright side, I don’t know who the person was who googled me and shared it with the pastor, I never asked, but I never heard a word about my former life from anyone. To my knowledge, they honored the pastor’s request.

And then a few weeks later, after my former spouse had been taken into custody and placed in Colorado’s Jefferson County Jail, I opened the mailbox to find three letters from him. Mailed from jail. On the outside of each envelope, stamped in large letters, were the words “Uncensored Inmate Mail!” I looked down at what I was holding in my hand and all I could do was laugh! So much for anonymity. So much for a “fresh start!”

“This has been a learning experience for me. I also thought that privacy was something we were granted in the Constitution. I have learned from this when in fact the word privacy does not appear in the Constitution.” (Bill Maher)

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Prison Humor

Date: April 9, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

One day I couldn’t help myself. I researched federal prisons on the internet.

It was like a terrible car wreck off to the side of the road. I didn’t want to see it, but I had to look.  It gave me the shivers to even know someone going to prison.

I wasn’t the only one thinking about prisons.

My oldest son was too.  He came home one day to report that at school his economics teacher showed the class a prison in Georgia.  I couldn’t believe it.  What are the odds they’d be discussing prisons in economics as my son’s father was heading to one?

To my son, the Georgia prison looked like a nice hotel: glass walls with forest views, basketball courts, tennis courts, ping pong tables, and every cell had a flat screen t.v.

It was incomprehensible to me, and to my kids, that we knew someone heading to prison.

I also couldn’t believe I didn’t know where my children and I were going to live or how we were going to eat, yet He was going to have everything provided for him in prison! Never had the thought of prison sounded like a dream, but there was a tiny part of me that felt like He was getting off easier than I was.  His sentence sounded a lot less harsh than mine.

So my children and I joked about it.  (And I have to give Him credit.  He sat there and took our jokes.)

We repeated jokes like, “In prison, you get three square meals a day. At home, you cook three square meals a day and try to get your kids to eat them. In prison, if you have visitors, all you do is go to a room, sit, talk and then say good-bye when you are ready or your time is up. At home, you clean for days getting ready for your guests, cook and clean up after your guests, and hope that they will one day leave. In prison, you spend your free time writing letters or hanging out in your own space all day. At home, you get to clean your space and everyone else’s space, too, and what the heck is free time again? In prison, there are no whining children or spouses asking you to do something else for them. At home….stop me when I get to the downside of prison, will ya?”

But my oldest son made us laugh the hardest.  He detailed the prison he learned about in school to his dad and suggested He “make a reservation” for Georgia for the next several years!

I guess you had to be there. But I do know the laughter was a nice break from crying! It always is.

“With the fearful strain that is on me night and day, if I did not laugh I should die.” (Abraham Lincoln)

I knew the feeling.  We all did.