Last night I wrote a letter for the first time in many many moons.

I can't remember the last time I wrote a letter. I am quite sure that when I moved to Amsterdam I wrote a few in the beginning, but after that I stopped writing letters and relied on email almost exclusively.

Now, nine years later, I wrote my first letter since. I pulled out some dusty stationery, bought some stamps, and wrote to a woman I do not know in Alabama.

We joined a little penpal party, organized by one of my favorite artists, Susie Gharemani. So I write Alabama lady, then she writes me back, then we'll get another name and write another letter. And who knows? If we like each other and continue to enjoy writing, perhaps we'll even – GASP – write each other again!

I used a thick paper with flowers pressed within it. I told her how I got married last year, and how we've had four children in our home, and how I knit these days like a woman with a mission, and how I thought I'd see so many shows this month but I didn't. I told her how Ronnie the Bear and David were napping on the sofa whilst I wrote. I asked her what kind of music she likes and if she has any travel plans for the upcoming year.

It made me wish I had the addresses still of the penpals I had in elementary school. I had one from Sweden. Her name was Katja. And I had one from Hong Kong that I very much wish I could even remember her name – she wrote the sweetest letters on Hello Kitty stationery and things like that.

I wonder if kids do that anymore. Probably not, huh? What a shame. It's a pretty amazing thing, when you are so little and your world is so small, to get letters with stamps and handwriting from far-away places. It has a special way of expanding your horizons. It's not just a piece of paper – it's a whole world.

I just got out of a bath, the first I've had in as long as I can remember. This morning before work I did all the right kind of laundry – I cleaned the sheets, towels, blankets, and bathrobes. During my break I went to Bed, Bath, & Beyond (which I avoid generally, because it's like Ikea, I feel really compelled to buy things I don't need) and got us a much needed new duvet & down mattress cover with a couple of gift cards we got for the wedding.

So here I sit, clean, smelling good, wrapped in the familiar pink terry of my bathrobe, giddy about the big fluffy bed waiting for me in the next room. THIS SLEEP IS GOING TO BE SO GOOD, Y'ALL.

But I'll write a bit and knit a bit. I want to be sure I really WANT IT by the time I lay down.

Since all the kids are gone, I've noticed a huge change in my tension level. Also my ability to roll with things, as well as cut myself some slack. I don't feel responsible for anyone's happiness but my own now. Wow, that's nice.

I even see it in things like how I clean. When the kids were here, I was hyper-sensitive about mess, because OH MY GOD WHAT IF THEY CALL THEIR PARENTS AND TELL THEM WE ARE SLOBS AND THEN THE COMPANY HAS TO TAKE THEM AWAY AND WE''LL BE THE DEVIL and so on and so forth. But now it's all cool; it's fine; if I walk by something that needs to be put away elsewhere I might grab it and put it away, but I MIGHT NOT. And that's ok because i'm not worried about someone judging me on it.

I guess I almost took it too seriously in some ways – I was extremely aware that how we lived and how the kids lived in our house would forever shape how they viewed another country. It was a crushing responsibility, to be honest. One I recommend, but not to couples early in marriage. And not one I'll be repeating soon, at least long-term. Working with these kids, it's always a chance we'll have one for a week or two here and there.

And honestly, I'd probably be less and less that way as I did it more. Though I think David would put the smack-down on that real fast should I suggest it in, say, the next five years.

At any rate, I'm slowly making the house our own again. I sold the bunk beds and mattress, so there isn't a place for kids anymore even if we wanted them. I moved the desk and bookshelves into the big bedroom in the back, though I don't have the desk set up yet (just did that 2 days ago). The middle room, where the desk was, is now a proper dining area. EXCITING! We have a decent place to play Scrabble and other delightful board games. I think this weekend I'm going to paint and re-arrange the front room, though that's still on the drawing board as to how we can rearrange it and it WORK.

And now, for knitting. Good night, dear friends and stranger friends. Good night.

Well, I had a crappy and wonderful weekend, and it turns out I didn't want to blog. So I guess I broke my streak. But that's ok. I'm a bit back in the habit now. I'll write more later today.

I am trying to re-train myself to go to bed at a normal hour and I am failing miserably. The problem is Wednesday nights. Wednesdays I work 12-9, but then I want to work 9-5.30 on Thursday, which leaves this evening wherein I quit working so late that I still want a bit of time to myself, then LO IT IS SWIFTLY AFTER MIDNIGHT. 

I haven't gone into my office this week at all. First, I sort of was taking Monday off, then Tuesday and Wednesday came and I just felt lazy and like I also wanted to tidy up around the house while I talked on the phone. Which means I've been in my pajamas for, like, three days now. I think it's time David sees me in something other than flannel trousers. Also time for ME to see me in something other than flannel trousers. Blech. So I think I'll go in tomorrow. The damn cat always wants to sit on my key board when I work here anyway, which makes it awkward to type.

Speaking of cats, I notice that they are all asleep right now. Sigh.  I'm off to try and do the same.

Today I went to visit someone in jail. This was a first to me. And seriously, someone at the Lew Sterrett Justice Center needs to put together a page for their website for first time visitors, because let me tell you that shit is NOT friendly.

Visiting hours on Sunday are from 8.30 to 11.30. I woke up a bit later than I meant to, and got to Sterrett about 10.45. I didn't know where to go or what to expect, seeing as how I don't hang with the criminalz, but I figured there would be someone who could help me.

HAHAHAHHAHA! There is nothing helpful in jail! Just in case you didn't know!

I was pretty proud of myself, because when I left home I said aloud "I bet they won't let me in with this purse!" And David mumbled from the bed, "Are you talking to yourself?" And I said, "I'll just take my wallet! How clever." And David yelled, "Bring me queso!" And I said "I love you too!" and left.

Lew Sterrett is a sort of sprawling place, as places in Dallas tend to be, so I parked across the street and made my way up to the entrance. I put my wallet and keys through the x-ray machine, and said to the security guard running the thing, "Hi there! This is my first time at jail! Where do I go to visit someone?" He waved me to a window.

Once I got the location, etc. I headed down the long, soul-sucking, Soviet-era cinderblock-construction hallway along with about 10 pregnant women, 5 infants, and more questionable fashion choices than I could count. I got to the door I needed to go to, and the police lady and man there handed me a form.

"Fill this out," said Mildly Pleasant Police Man.

Pause, as I fill out form.

"You gonna have to take that wallet back out to yo' car," Stereotype Black Police Woman said flatly.

"Wha? Seriously? This wallet?" I open it up and fifteen receipts fall out.

"Mmmm hmmm. And you better hurry. You only got…" SBPW looks at her watch. "Ten minutes."

"Geez! Can you just hold it for me?"

Syncronized head-shaking.

"BLERG! OK fine."

I RUN back down the hall, and to the front door. Before I run out, I turn to the security guy.

"Hey! You didn't tell me I couldn't bring this wallet in when visiting!" I whined.

"Oh yeah, no, you can't bring that. Go take it to your car. Why you running?"

"They said I only have ten minutes and that's a lot of running!"

Security Dude rubs his chin. "I guess they are right about that. You almost out of time."

"Can I leave it with you? Please? I'm not worried about this getting stolen or anything… I don't have anything in it but receipts!" I open the wallet. Another 5 receipts float out.

"Well, I'm not supposed to, but…. ok."

"THANK YOU, SIR!"

I leave my wallet and run back down the long hallway to the table where I was before. Mildly Pleasant Police Man and Stereotype Black Police Woman are smiling and chatting until they see me, then their faces go blank.

"OK!" I smile. "I got rid of the wallet! Woo hoo! Now where do I go to see the kiddo?"

SBPW looks at my form, then looks at me. "ID please."

ID?

"But you just made me go put my wallet away!" I say incredulously. "You didn't tell me to keep my ID!"

"Gotta have an ID to come in." She looks at her watch. "And you better hurry. You only got five minutes."

"OH GEEZ YOU GUYS FOR CRYING OUT-" And I run back down the hall.

I grab the ID, run back down the never-ending hallway, and present it.

"Oooo! You sho' WORKED for this visit!" says Mildly Pleasant Police Man.

SBPW smiles at him.

Sometimes I really dislike cops.

Dealing with jail is not fun. I can't believe this kid. More to come. This is a lame entry, but it's been quite a day.