The Teacher

My dad is many things. He is a banker, a business man, an expert at making scrambled eggs, he is a lawyer, a petroleum engineer, a fan of Westerns and double chocolate brownies, a man with impeccable rhythm and dancing skills and a pretty incredible grandpa. He also bought me a horse when I was 12. An actual HORSE. How do you top that, people? And if that weren't enough to make you want to copy his resumé, he is also a teacher. And he is putting this to work at his new digs.

But first, let's get a little back story, shall we?

The oil and gas industry is booming right now. If you don't believe me, just call up anyone in North Dakota and they'll tell you they have a rig in their backyard. I heard a statistic the other day that truck drivers are getting paid $150,000 to drive oil rig trucks right now. $150,000. That's a lot of money. Shoot, I am just a mullet away from becoming one myself!

Hailing from the oil-filled state of Oklahoma, my dad was working in this industry as a petroleum engineer during the oil boom of the late 70's and early 80's. And for the past year and a half, my dad has gone back to this industry, loving the people and the work that is associated with it. And his employer loves him too, enough to put him on extended leave during this time instead of looking for someone to replace him. That blows my mind; yet another testament to how God is working.

My dad is also surrounded by a lot of men who have little to no education, and with a felony record, have little to no hope of finding a job once they are released. Some of these guys are repeat offenders and their prospects of finding a new line of work is slim. This need became evident within the first 24 hours of my dad being at Camp Alamosa. So he decided to do something about it: he began teaching classes on how to work in the oil and gas industry. And he began by opening the book of Genesis and talking about how the world was created.

At his first class, five guys showed up. At his second, this number nearly doubled. I have a feeling by week 4 he may need to ask the warden for his own office. If my dad wasn't cool before, he is wicked cool now. God is using my him to give these men hope. And there is nothing more powerful than hope.

Camp Alamosa

On Sunday, my mom and I went to Alamosa again and this time we brought Sam and Noah with us. There's nothing like a little testosterone to make this week's trip entirely different than last's. And this became painfully obvious when we stopped three separate times for beef tacos. How is it that boys can eat so much and yet I am the one that needs to wear Spanx?

 My world is so unfair.

The trip was beautiful and uneventful and we made it to Camp Alamosa just in time for lunch. We have decided to rename the corrections center "Camp Alamosa" in an effort to help Noah understand where my dad is living. Since it doesn't look like a typical jail and because he is able to walk around and sleep in a bunk bed, "camp" seems like the more appropriate word.

And besides, telling your fellow first-graders that your grandpa is at camp is much cooler than saying he is in the clink.

Dad looks great. He was wearing jeans and sweater and was so happy to see us. He also introduced us to one of his new friends, who was gracious enough to find us some chairs to sit on. They call him "Bama" since he is from Alabama and he looked like any nice, normal guy that you would see in your neighborhood: blond, curly hair, jeans, flannel shirt, nice smile. I think dad said he had a couple of children back home. I will write more about my dad's new friends soon. There is just so much to tell about them.

Dad had gotten permission to leave camp for three hours, which reinforced my absolute confusion over our correctional system. HOW IN THE WORLD can they let my dad go to Walmart (or any other place for that matter) and yet they won't let him come home? It boggles the mind, folks. Boggles.

Regardless, it was great to walk around with him and shop for ink pens and laundry soap. It almost felt like he was going away to college. Afterward, we went out for Mexican food and ordered tacos. Obviously. I also read him many of your blog comments and emails. He was overwhelmed by the support. Your words matter, my friends, so keep them coming.

Before we knew it, the three hours were up.  My dad was patted down, blew in a breathalyzer and waved good-bye. And we promised we would be back next weekend. But next time, hopefully without the tacos.

Ticked

I'm a little ticked off today.

Okay, make that a lot ticked off.

My dad should be at home.

The judge should be exiled to a remote island full of snakes.

And I would like to sleep through the night.

I do not like this situation at all. I kind of want to scream and kick something. And I have a plethora of very choice words in my head. "Dang it" not being one of them.

Life. It isn't fair. Not one bit.

I think I will just sit in a puddle of mad today and wallow in it for a while.

Socially Awkward

It's confession time.

Apparently, in my attempt to be more transparent and vulnerable, I have also become more socially awkward. And that is exactly what every single, 31 year old girl wants to be.

I am not sure why this awkwardness is becoming more apparent in my life right now, but it is out in full force. I am thinking I could be a Saturday Night Live skit by next weekend.

A few examples:

1. On Tuesday, my sweet friend Jenn brought me dinner. It was an amazing gift and it was so good to see her smiling face and talk for a few minutes. Of course during this time I happened to shed a few tears (I have become a faucet these days) but I wiped them up and continued on with our visit. It wasn't until after she left that I looked in the mirror and I realized I had a little snot on my face.

As in snot. On my face.

What am I, a toddler?

I am really sorry Jenn.

2. Later that evening, my fabulous friend Melissa came over to hang out (it's true, I have incredible friends).  We made cookies and talked about babies and work and hair and justice, you know, the norm. And as she was getting ready to leave she said something funny and I am pretty sure I slapped her on the butt. No, I am serious. I think that happened.

But the question is WHY? WHY did that happen? The world may never know but I am pretty sure Melissa felt violated.

I am really sorry Melissa.

3. And then on Wednesday night I had dinner with my incredible friend Sara. Sara and I went out to a restaurant that had a revolving door. And everyone who knows about revolving door etiquette knows that you should never cram yourself into the same wedge as someone else. I mean, unless you just got engaged or you want to ensure your grandmother comes out on the other side, you should just wait until the next wedge swings around.

But not me. Oh no, I just stepped in right behind Sara and for three whole seconds I felt like I had just violated the code on how to be a proper human.

I am really sorry Sara.

So you see, folks, with every act of authenticity comes an equal but opposite reaction of extreme awkwardness. I apologize in advance if I offend you in any way or make you question your friendship with me. It is definitely not my intent.

It's just my freak flag flying high.

The New Bachelorette

I was at my mom's house for dinner on Tuesday when my dad called from the pay phone. That's right, there are still pay phones and apparently they are all owned by the Department of Corrections.

I picked it up and it was music to hear my dad's voice. We exchanged the normal stuff, you know, like "how's kitchen duty going?" and things like that and then he said:

"Hey Sarah, a few of the guys here asked about you the other day." He was referring to my visit with him last Saturday.

Me: "What? You mean the other guys who stay there with you?"

Dad: "Yeah. They wanted to know who you were."

Me: "And what did you tell them?"

Dad: "I told them you were my daughter."

Me: "Oooookay."

Dad: "And I am thinking you may have a few dates lined up the next time you come down here."

Me: "Wow, Dad. I am not sure what to say to that."

Apparently I'm a big hit with felons. Awesome.

His Getaway Car

My mom and I took a trip to Alamosa on Saturday to visit my dad and to take him a box of his things that he is allowed to have with him. It was overwhelming to see him. It had felt like months since that Monday in the courthouse yet in reality it had only been five days.

The facility is located on the outskirts of town and is made up of several buildings. But there is no fencing or barbed wire around it, which makes the thought of this being my dad's new temporary home much more comforting. And a lot less ominous.

I pulled in the parking lot and my mom went inside to check in. I sat in the car, checking emails and Facebook, not wanting to go in but also wanting to see my dad. But then something caught my eye and I looked up. And there stood my dad.

My mouth fell open and I dropped my phone. I thought he was supposed to be locked up in some small room somewhere?! I looked around. Do they know he is out here? I threw open my door, and whispered loudly:

"Quick! Get in, Dad! Let's go. We are almost to New Mexico!"

My dad just stood there and grinned. My mom laughed. Unfortunately, he could not go with me but he was allowed to come out to the car and walk around the facility.

Darn it! I am sure my plan would have worked.

He had on his white shirt that he wore under his suit and his suit slacks. He looked handsome, kinda like an Oklahoma James Bond with a slight twang. We were bringing him new clothes because he gets to wear his own, which is such a bonus because let's face it, a striped jumpsuit really doesn't look good on anyone.

They allowed us to stay an hour, which was an hour more than we thought we could since not all of his paperwork had been completed. However, the guys in the front office were gracious to us since we had driven all the way from Denver and we were allowed to sit in a common room with him and chat. It was pure heaven.

And then I reminded him that my license tag was up for renewal and I asked him if he could make me a new one. He said he would do his best.

He is such a great dad.

Rymer Tron 5000

He has come from the future to eat your candy.

He will also clean your lint trap if you ask him.

Just don't make him sneeze. It won't be pretty, folks.

But he does come in peace.

And will politely knock on your door if you have any leftovers from last night.

No one else in the neighborhood had a costume this cool. Even the nine year olds thought so.

Nice job, Rymer Tron. I hope the future is as awesome as you.