mynextmistake

I’ll see what I can do.

No, he’s a secular asshole. I was a bit surprised to see the butt grab, but I imagine it was Josie’s husband’s way of showing off the fact that he’s now allowed to touch Josie because they’re married (ala JB dry humping Michelle at the mini golf course). I like what i’ve seen of Josie. I think it’s interesting that she was the first of the girls who managed to both finish school and get a real job while still at home and unmarried. I imagine she got some pushback on that from her parents. Her husband is a plumber, right? Where I live they can make very good money. They could have a nice life if they don’t have three thousand kids.

Classy. But one of my cousins had a wedding picture of him with his head up his new wife’s skirt, so it could be worse. Those Rodrigues kids look so unhealthy. For a while there was a blog post going around on Facebook about how this woman fed her family of 7 on $300 a month. I remember thinking how scant their meals were (one roast chicken with two cut up potatoes and a few carrots fed all seven with enough left over for soup, and she stretched one pot of lentil soup with no sides into two dinners for all 7) and her kids looked way healthier than any of the Rodrigues. These kids must be eating virtually nothing to look as bad as they do. Too bad they don’t go to a real school — at least then they’d get breakfast and lunch.

He looks like Jill just got out her medical things and gave him a surprise prostate exam.

Yeah that’s Jessica. I wonder if Jessa ever feels frumpy wearing her shapeless swing dresses while her mother-in-law and sisters-in-law are wearing normal tops and skinny jeans.

Derick looks like he has some experience “grabbing the drumstick,” if you know what I mean. Maybe Jill needs to make him watch Jeremy’s infamous sermon.

They took her to a... doctor? Like a real one with prescriptive authority? And then they gave her antibiotics? They actually cared appropriately for one of their children? Whoa.

Day 912. Today Yaaay and I were awoken by the male guard, who came stumbling into the hovel at 6 a.m. smelling of cheap perfume and loose women. He mumbled something about a study group with Becky from the third row before collapsing, fully clothed, onto the bed in the guard quarters and falling into a deep slumber. I was hoping that this would provide me an opportunity to escape, as the childlike intellect of the female guard is no match for my own, but my hope was dashed when she removed me from my cell and immediately placed me into restraints. Blasted woman! After we got our morning ration of hardtack and swill, Yaaay asked if we could watch the parade on television. I was expecting a regulation military parade, but instead I saw a spectacle unlike any I have seen before. Large crowds of people marched down the street followed by giant inflatable animals and sequin-bedecked women dancing on improbably high heels, whom the female guard repeatedly referred to as “Nike.” It was most peculiar. After the parade, the female guard said she was going to make dinner. She removed me from my restraints and told Yaaay to watch me, and then went into the kitchen. Finally I had my chance! For weeks I have been hoarding the empty cans that are left after each day’s food rations have been prepared. By fixing them together with a small portion of my daily meal, which is always most vexing to eat but makes excellent paste, I had fashioned a rudimentary ladder which I had secreted in the broom closet. I waited until I heard the whirl of the electric can opener, carefully retrieved my ladder, and placed it against the wall under the air vent i identified several days ago. Just as I had mounted the first step, Yaaay rode a small bicycle into the side of my ladder, breaking it into several pieces and depositing me into the floor. Curse him! I was so close to freedom! Fortunately, the male guard was still sleeping and the female guard was trying to figure out which ground meat to add to her vegetarian lasagna, so neither of them noticed my escape attempt. The cans themselves blend in so well with the rest of the detritus on the floor of the hovel that I am not worried they will give me away. I will try again soon. As for now, I will replace this journal in my new hiding place amongst the untouched books the male guard bought for “law school” until I have the chance to take it up again.

I’m not gone permanently! I’ve got some life stuff that needs all my attention for now, so i’m here very infrequently and when I am i’m mostly just lurking. I will try to do another Sam’s diary post soon though, they are a big stress reliever to write!

Okay, nowhere did I say Jill is a good parent. She’s not. I just don’t think a few offhand comments about a pumpkin are that big of a deal. With that, I’m out y’all! So long and thanks for all the snark. I hope you all have a lovely holiday season and enjoy time with your friends and families. ?

I just don’t see this as the enormous affront to Izzy that you do. I really don’t see any mean spiritedness in her comments about the pumpkin.

I have admittedly never been to a pumpkin patch, but I think maybe she was saying he didn’t pick the pumpkin as in he didn’t pick it off the vine? Instead he chose one that had already been harvested and was up on the fence? I mean, he obviously picked it out regardless of where he found it, so I don’t see how she’s mocking his choice by saying it was on the fence. It’s not like she started chanting “your pumpkin sucks” or berated him for choosing an easy pumpkin or something.

I think black shoes with that dress could look really weird and clunky. Kinda like Michelle wearing those black clogs with everything, including formal clothes. Maybe a nudie-beige suede shoe with a more reasonable heel?

With those parents, how could he not?

Day 523. Today has been the strangest day I can remember since the beginning of my captivity. Upon awakening, I was released from my cell for the morning meal period. After placing me in my restraints, the female guard put a boiled egg and a cup of water on my tray. As she was writing down the recipe for the water, the male guard came into the room and said he had to travel to a distant location called “class.” After he left the hovel, the female guard turned on the computer and told my fellow captive, Yaaay, that we were to spy on the male guard as he went about his business in “class.” She then spent several minutes staring at the screen and angrily casting aspersions on the parentage and chastity of someone she called “Becky in the third row” as Yaaay fidgeted beside her. Fortunately, just as she was about to put her fist through the screen, the doorbell rang. She admitted an older female guard whom I have seen a number of times before. Yaaay immediately embraced the guard, who he called “grandma Cathy.” Grandma Cathy informed the female guard that it was time to leave for our annual recreational activity. They took Yaaay and I to the car and placed us in our restraints, then drove a short distance to a place such as I had never seen before. It was full of captives and guards as well as a huge quantity of hay and piles of some kind of gourd. After they removed us from the car, they placed us in one of the gourd piles to take yet another propaganda photograph. For a moment I hoped that I would be able to cause a gourd avalanche and escape in the ensuing chaos, but the gourds proved too heavy to move. Curse these weak toddler arms! After that, we rode an extremely curious “train” built from metal barrels and scrap lumber. Apparently Yaaay’s attention was wandering, because the female guard repeated his name over and over during our excursion, rather like a deranged and inarticulate parrot. After we exited our makeshift car, I was again placed in restraints for the rest of the day, I suspect because Grandma Cathy had noticed my earlier attempt to escape. It was most vexing. I shall have to remember that she is brighter than the other guards and behave accordingly. After walking through through the gourd jungle once more, we were returned to the car for our ride home. Upon arrival we ate a casserole made from frozen potatoes and sodium and were placed back in our cells so the female guard could resume her surveillance of the male guard and his female classmates. I will once again hide my journal in a safe place (I believe the pile of dirty towels on the bathroom floor, which has remained untouched for two weeks, will serve this purpose well) and will resume my chronicles when I am able.

To be fair, staying away from his kids is probably the nicest thing Derick could do for them. If I were them i’d be grateful.

I do think it’s nice that Jill and Cathy are close. Cathy is a crazy zealot but she comes across as way more loving and caring than Michelle. I think that without Cathy around to help in Derick’s absence, Jill would probably spend every day moping around the apartment watching Derick’s lectures and making voodoo dolls of his shorts-clad female classmates. With Cathy around to help she only spends some of her days doing that, and the rest of them doing ordinary things like going to her brother’s wedding and taking the boys to the pumpkin patch.

Derick isn’t the first conservative Christian to go to law school, though. He’s probably not even the most conservative. All he has to do is read the cases and be able to explain their reasoning on exams. He doesn’t have to personally agree with it. I’m sure he had classes that challenged his beliefs at OSU and he made it through there just fine. I admit I am a bit surprised that Derick chose the U of A instead of a Christian law school like Regent University. If his goal is really to be a legal warrior for Jesus, I would not have expected him to choose a secular law school. The cost difference between state and private schools is usually pretty low for professional programs too. Maybe Jill put her foot down and told him she wasn’t willing to leave Arkansas.

No. I’m not sure why so many people think he’s going to flunk out. Jill’s as dumb as a sack of hammers but Derick graduated from college with a decent GPA. He’s an idiot in a lot of ways but he’s not book stupid. He’s at a third-tier law school, not Harvard. He can make Cs with a minimum of effort. It wouldn’t surprise me if he leaves because he can’t stick to anything longer than a year, or because Jill makes it too hard for him to continue, but I don’t see him getting kicked out for poor grades.

Are you sure it wasn’t just Jill’s attempt at a homeschool lesson on electrical circuitry? “Mama, I don’t think it works like tha...” “shut up, Nurie. Bring me my Plexus and go land a man.”

When I was in Peru I fell in love with a soda called Inca Cola. It’s like liquid heaven. I was so excited when I discovered our local South American grocery sells it that I bought about 12 bottles.

USDA portions are usually 1/2 to 3/4 of a cup of cooked vegetables and 3-4 ounces of protein. The problem with applying these to a family like the Rodriguezes is that you’re supposed to have multiple portions in a day — at least 3 of protein, 6-11 of grains and starches, and 5-10 of fruits and veggies. Does anyone really think these kids are getting near that much food? These children aren’t just thin, they’re emaciaited. It wouldn’t surprise me if this platter was all the food they got all day.

We took our daughter this year. We talked ahead of time about how one acts while in a polling place. She behaved perfectly until she escaped from my husband, pulled back the curtain on an (occupied) voting booth and yelled “boo!” The very nice older gentleman in the booth was quite understanding, but I was mortified. Next time we take her she’s going to be on a leash.

I don’t think we can really conclude that they didn’t have those things based on one picture of what someone left on their plate.

Check out the JD and Abbie thread for context. Oh, and this is the last one i’ll be able to do for a while, so enjoy! Day 496. Today was a very curious day. I was removed from my cell only slightly after dawn by the female guard. After serving a breakfast “casserole” tasting of canned soup and sadness, she and the male guard loaded Yaaay and I into the car and secured us in our restraints. Based on the clothing with which we were provided, I assumed we were to spend the day toiling in one of the nearby chicken yards. However, when Yaaay asked them about our intended destination, the male guard said we were going to a wedding in a neighboring fiefdom called “Oklahoma.” After a very long journey, during which our male guard prattled incessantly about the years he spent in Oklahoma cavorting on a field in a giant fiberglass head, we stopped briefly at an establishment my captors called “Chick fill it.” They ordered a large paper sack of fried food, the dregs of which they fed to Yaaay and I without freeing us from our restraints. Oh, how I long for a green vegetable, or a piece of fruit that does not come from a can of sugary syrup! After finishing their peasant’s repast, the male guard continued to drive and in a short time we arrived at a large building filled with other captives and their guards. The wedding itself, a curious spectacle in which two people stood on an altar while an old man discussed their reproductive plans with the audience, took only a few moments. I looked for opportunities to escape, but none were forthcoming. Our captors then put us back into the car and drove us to another location. It appeared to be a large garage decorated with crepe paper and photos of the man and woman from the altar. As I stood watching the male guard eat from a plate of fried meat and donuts, I noticed an airplane parked outside the garage. The female guard said that it was the vehicle in which the couple from the altar were leaving for their honeymoon. At last I saw my chance! If I could manage to secret myself in the cargo hold, I could accompany them to their destination and sneak away unseen. I started making my way toward the plane, mentally calculating the amount of torque I would need to apply to the lug nuts on the cargo hold in order to open the door. I was almost to freedom when I was rudely seized by an unfamiliar male guard who smelled of Axe body spray and desperation. He proceeded to physically restrain me for several minutes while requesting passers by to take our photograph, undoubtedly for use in yet another propaganda piece. He then insisted on returning me to the male and female guard, who returned me to the vehicle and put me back in my restraints for the long drive back to thr wretched hovel in which I am imprisoned. Once we arrived, I was immediately returned to my cell, where I finished this entry. I will now hide this journal inside the vegetable steamer in the kitchen, where I can trust it will lay safely until I can take it up again.