Love, Felony Style

I've told you about M2 before, haven't I? She started at the probation department about six months before I did, so she's been here a little over 13 years. I've previously described her as stubborn, spiky-haired and able to make grown men twice her size tremble in fear. She sort of reminds you of how Cruella DeVille might be after she found the Lord.

M2 was one of three perennially single officers - she, Rose, and myself. The three of us have all gotten married in the last few years - first Rose, then me, then M2. This proved a source of consternation for our defendants, many of who were convinced we were involved in an ongoing menage a trois. They based these assumptions on such irrefutable evidence as our tendency to eat lunch together several times a week.

My father has performed all three weddings and of the three, only mine wasn't a secret. He did Rose's wedding twice - the first time in secret and the second time a full show for friends and family. The big payoff came at the end of the service when instead of the usual pronouncement of "husband and wife" they revealed that they'd actually gotten married three months earlier. It certainly made for a more interesting than average receiving line.

M2 called me up one day and asked for my father's phone number. I guess after growing up as a preacher's kid I learned not to ask questions because I gave her the number and promptly forgot all about it. A month or so later she showed up for work all martimonized, having had her wedding dinner at the Dairy Queen in Friona, Texas with only my parents in attendance.

One day last week M2 came into my office and collapsed in a chair.

"Oh. My. God." M2 is almost never flustered. "You are not going to believe this."

She told me when she went out to the waiting room to collect her first appointment of the day, a tall, wiry black man asked to speak to her. She asked him what he wanted. He told her he would like to speak to her in her office, not the waiting room. She asked his name but he declined to give it until they spoke in private. She was somewhat exasperated, and told him she had other people to see. He could wait until she was finished if he wished. He said that was fine.

When he finally did get to M2's office, the first thing she wanted to know was his name. He told her it was Bobby Cole. She immediately remembered him - he'd finished up a 9-year felony probation almost 2 years ago. His wife divorced him about a year ago (after finishing two felony probations herself) because she finally figured out she'd be better off without him.

"What did you need to talk to me about, Mr. Cole?"
"Are you married?"

Its hard to catch M2 off guard, but that did. Speechless, all she could do was hold out her left hand and show him the ring.

"Well, I saw you at the post office on Friday, and I thought it was fate. I knew I wanted to see you and ask you out." He sighed. "I guess I should ask - are you still married?"

M2 found her voice and reassured him that she was most certainly still married and thoroughly uninterested in him. Bobby was somewhat deflated and got up to leave. When he was out the door, M2 reached for her glass of tea because she "needed a drink". Just as she took a swig, he stuck his head back in the door.

"By the way, what's your name?"


When M2 told me this story I couldn't stop laughing. Not only is Bobby a convicted felon with a failed marriage and a dead end job, he is sixty-three years old!

Hair Today...

This is a photo from 12 1/2 years ago.

The Hanging Judge was swearing me in as an Officer of the Court. Just like a police dog. I'm not posting this because I really miss The Hanging Judge. I'm not posting this because The Hanging Judge is now just a little old man lawyer. I'm not even posting this because no one could masticate posterior the way The Hanging Judge could. He gave the best speeches when he got angry. His right eyebrow would go to wagglin' during testimony and you knew somebody was in for a major butt-chewing.

My all-time favorite speech always started with these words - "Do you see that tree right outside the window?" Then there were the two or three months following his visit to Huntsville to tour the prison system. He would lecture the defendant in great detail about the wonders of the Texas prison system that awaited them in that fair city of Huntsville. "...and that horse has been specially trained, so that when you slow down or get lazy, that horse will bite your..."

But none of that is why I posted this picture. I posted it because I got my hair permed last night. I am once again a poodle-head! My hair is only half as long as it was in this picture. I'm feeling all red-neckish about it. Why? Because I went to the Wal-Mart Beauty Salon so Wanda could work her hairish magic.

Wanda. At Wal-Mart. Isn't that great?

I love Wanda. I'd been going to the same hair-lady for years - Rita. She was ok, but try as she might, she could never get my hair to perm after I had my thyroid "fixed". I had considered going somewhere else but geeze - I hate the drama of looking for someone to do your hair! But Rita has decided to sell her business, so now I had to find someone. I moped around and whined about it at work.

Rose told me to go see Wanda. She had just started working at the cozy, comfy beauty shop I had considered going to anyway. But why should I go to Wanda, I asked? For one thing, Rose explained, she is my cousin. Who knew?

Wanda's grandmother and my grandfather were cousins. That makes us practically twins. And I don't even know her last name. Wanda is tall and thin and occasionally blonde. She is the only member of her immediate family that has managed to stay out of jail and off drugs. She's working hard to help her husband make a living and be a productive member of society. And she sounds a lot like Woody Woodpecker when she talks.

She gave me the best haircut I've ever had! I was thrilled! And she promised she could work some mojo that would make my hair take a perm again. Wanda knows all and I am a true believer.

The only fly in the ointment - she had to move to Wally World because she wasn't making any money at the comfy cozy beauty shop. It was way off the beaten path and the girl who'd been the big money maker for the place had moved on, taking most of the clientele with her. So, Wanda sucked it up and moved to where the action is. I sucked it up and got my hair done at Wally World.

It's not the greatest, but Wanda still is. She asked me who to call at the police department to report someone for cooking meth. She told me about how her husband is working construction in Amarillo and when he gets home he cooks for their son so she can work evenings and make more money. She told me she's hoping to make tons of sales this week so she can get a commission bonus. She was proud of the fact that she'd already paid all her bills for the month so this check will be the only money she has for Christmas and she's hoping for the extra commission. She talked about her son who is having a really tough time in school, but how she is thankful that he is doing better than before.

She even mentioned that I looked sort of tired. And I was. I'd spent the whole day listening to dead beats and losers - people full of excuses. It was really nice to listen to someone who doesn't have much , works hard for what little they do have and is proud to be able to do so. Hell, I even bought that $10 bottle of shampoo on the way out.