Not A Whole Lot of Quality In(n) Darien, GA

I thought hitting Darien, GA would be the halfway point for our journey to Uncle Joey's house. Savannah seemed to short and Brunswick seemed a tad too long. Tim won't 'let' me drive, so I had to think about my tired old man and how long I should keep him driving.

When I made the reservation, I requested a whirlpool. Tim's been working hard for so long, I thought he deserved a nice, warm, bubbly bath. When we got to the hotel, I asked the lost looking girl behind the counter if I could get a room with a whirlpool. She seemed confused and finally said 'we have one but I'm not sure it working'.

Great. There goes my big plan.

Instead, we get a double room on the second floor. We get to traipse through the lobby with the dog and the cat. Lovely.

We head out to the pool as Mi-Mi can't shut-up about the pool. She's been reading the billboards for the last few miles and pointing out all the hotels with pools...'let's go to that one! it has a pool...NO????? Waaaaaaa! I wanna go to the pool!!!!!'

So we finally hit the pool, which feels GREAT. It's nice and warm despite not seeing any electronic devices that would actually heat the pool. Nor, as Tim noted, do we detect any chlorine. Tim is advising the girls not to purposely put water in their mouth.

We are hootin' and a hollerin' having a great time when a fella walks into the pool area. I think he's a potential guest, checking out the pool, but what does he do? He sits down in one of the pool chairs and watches us. Tim acknowledges him with a 'what's up' but the dude sticks around for a good 15 minutes.

After the pool, we head out to the restaurant next door: Smokey Joe's BBQ. I get really excited because the on-line menu looks great. Once we walk in, I think 'uh-oh, I bet they have no booze'. That ends up being my answer to "Dine in or take out?" 'Do you have booze?' And the waitress points out all the domestics they have bottled up.

Hmmmm...domestics. I. Am. A. Beer. Snob. And domestics are not in my repertoire. Unless it's Pete's Wicked Ale or some micro-brew. And sure, Budweiser is no longer truly domestic, but I haven't drank that crap since high school.

So I had a Bud Light with Lime. It was that or a Coors Light. They had an Amber Bock. Next time, that is what I'll order. But hopefully, there won't be a next time.

We had one of the pissiest waitresses in Darien, GA. It was as if I came in to purposely piss her off. Well, we had about three or four women come by to give us food, drink, whatever, but pissy girl was the 'main' one.

And the menu was nothing like the on-line one. It had all the meats: beef, pork, ribs (of both types), chicken and sausage. The on-line menu stated it had andouille sausage so I asked the pissy girl if that's what it was. Duh. 't's just sausage.'

OK. Get me the beef.

And that's what thi food was: just a big ole pile of MEAT. The green beans, while tasty, had meat in it. MEAT MEAT MEAT. I like meat but my god, this was ridiculous.
I brought most of my meat back to my carnivore dog. I was done. With the food and with Darien, GA.

We won't be back.

P.S. The on-line menu was a menu for a Smokey Joe's BBQ in Darien, *Connecticut*...

Heart-Shaped Box by Joe Hill

I decided to pick this novel up based on its being awarded the Bram Stoker Award for First Novel in 2007 (better late than never, right?).

When I picked this up at the library, it was thick paperback. It reminded me of all the books I read in my teenaged days: thick, small print, paperback novels full of horror: my genre of choice then. I could smell the smell of paperbacks in the small bookstores I would venture into, floating aisle to aisle, looking for a great book to engulf my psyche.

Overall, it was a very entertaining book. I didn't get scared. But I did get into it a bit towards the end.

I don't know if with age, I have grown tired of these types of books, or if they are different than what I read as a teenager. I truly believe it's the former since this book, IMO, would have been well-loved while reading in my younger days.

And although it was enjoyable, it was not believable...even for a scary book. I know, i's a work of fiction, but I need a little more blur with reality and I couldn't get that from it.

Jude Coyne is an aging rock star who has very shallow relationships with people, especially women. Currently, he has a young fan that he calls "Georgia" as his mate...based on the state she came from. Before her, Florida, Tennessee, Alabama...

He is also a collector of morbid oddities: a noose used to hang a man in England, a snuff film, all kinds of similar items sent from fans.

But his assistant finds a ghost for sale on eBay and they pay the Buy It Now price of $2K for said ghost.

The ghost arrives in the form of the dead man's suit, wrapped in a heart-shaped box. And then, the haunting begins. Almost immediately, the ghost appears and it becomes apparent that the ghost will not leave until Jude Coyne and Georgia are taken with him.

Reading about Jude's transformation from shallow rock star to what happens in the novel is really good. Georgia" becoming "Marybeth" is also really good. The interaction between the ghost, Craddock, and Jude and Marybeth, eh, lukewarm. Wasn't scary for me vs. just 'special effects' (via words) and gore.

Still, an enjoyable novel but hoping to find one that will scare the bejeezuz out of me.

My Favorite SYTYCD Routine: Week Four

This week was amazing. I think every one of these dancers are pretty incredible. However, I only have one that stood out for me as my favorite. I liked them all, though. But I did get really tired of Mia Michaels listening to herself talk. Is it just me, or has her ego just quadrupled and she thinks she is the shit of all shit? Love her routines but give me a break with your fucking attitude...

BTW, this Kayla and Kupono routine was choreographed by Sonya Tayeh, who I fucking LOVE!!

(b)Racing for the Fall

I decided that I would do the Second Empire Grand Prix Series in the fall.

Basically, it is a series of eight races that run (hehe) from September to December. Participants earn points for each race they participate in, plus how your time compares to the winning time. The minimum number of races to participate is three, with a max of seven. There are only eight races this year; normally, there are nine but the Second Empire 5K Classic, which is usually part of this series, has been moved to the Spring.

I inadvertently placed sixth one year...or something that was pretty good without winning anything. I only found out when a friend of mine sent me a congratulations e-mail. I raced in several of the series' races without knowing it and actually placed! And I don't believe I even ran the full seven max, so I'm pretty excited about it for this year.

The races I plan to do are the following:

* September 13: The Magnificent Mile
* September 27: Anna's Angels 10 Miler
* October 10: Triangle Run/Walk for Autism
* October 25: The 5K Run for Healthier Babies
* November 7: Free to Breath Lung Cancer 5K
* December 5: Jingle Bell 5K Run for Arthritis
* December 12: St. Michael Jolly Elf Trail Run

The Jingle Bell Run may interfere with the half marathon race that I was planning to do this year. It was on December 6th of last year, so I am assuming it will be the same weekend as this race. I would have skipped it if I had two to skip (nine races vs. eight) but since I am missing one of the races in the series, the Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving Day (I will be enjoying the mountains again this year), I don't want to miss another one and be one short. If that's the case, then I will need to find another half to run. (I was eyeballing one in Key West in January...:))

There may be a couple I may add to the calendar. Of course, this seems plenty but I enjoyed the Neuse River Bridge 10K and I'd love to make a weekend trip of it in beautiful, cozy New Bern. Then there's the local favorite, Old Reliable, that I can usually be peer pressured into...so we'll see. I would, however, would really like to find a December half marathon nearby.

Taxing My Movies

I received this PSA from Bill Peebles, owner of our local theaters The Colony, The Rialto, Six Forks Station and Mission Valley. Apparently, NC wants to increase the taxes (about .40) on movie tickets. Perhaps to the above average salaried person, this is nothing, but IMO, movie tickets are high already and increasing it only hurts the regular joes who seek entertainment...especially in our present economic times.

It appears that our legislators are not able to cut the State’s expenses so they are considering taxing movie admissions. Please take the time to print, fill out the attached post card, and drop it by one of our theatres. Or email your representatives.

If this tax passes, I will have no other option than to add this to admission tickets. I will also have to add the concession tax as well.

Thank you,

Bill Peebles

So I am passing this information along for you all to consider: nomovietaxes.com.

Things that Go Screech in the Night

Brenna the dog woke me up at 4:30 this morning. I happily jump out of bed and tell her 'good dog'.

I know she needs to go out as I noticed she was taking an especially long time the evening before to do the deed.

I take her out and wait. I notice she starts eating grass. Well, I don't want her to eat grass because this leads only to one thing: grass comes back out the front door.

I scream a whispered scream "BRENNA! STOP IT!" Imagine, she does not listen to me and continues the buffet of grass.

I run down and shake my finger at her. This does not seem to work either. Finally, I resort to nudging her away.

It was about this time that Brenna and I both heard a horrible, horrible screeching scream.

WTF? Brenna said the same thing. I could see it her face. A face I have never seen before on her.

The screeching-scream continues. I am trying to place what possible evil incarnation it could be and how close it was getting to me...forget the dog.

It sounded like a cat being skinned alive. I swear. And the only other thought was a cat dying and screaming and writhing in pain. Yes, I have a demented mind that puts actual images of such things in my head. Especially at 4:41 in the morning.

These screeches continue for an agonizing 10-15 seconds in length, with approximately 2 seconds of break. And this went on for maybe a minute. Do I need to map out an equation for this event?

In my life, I have never heard of such a creature. I thought: maybe it's a wallaby (or some Australian animal). Don't ask me why I thought that (well, there is an escaped/kidnapped wallaby in the area, so that may be how the thought came to my mucked up mind) but remember, it's early in the morning...although by this time, I am wide awake.

I went back to bed pondering it more (and more and more and more...get to sleep, will you!). A screech owl. That must be it. That's why they are called screech owls. I go to sleep thinking I've solved the puzzle.

But I just checked and screech owls, apparently, don't screech. They hoot. Well, I heard one screech and it was a duration of ~3 seconds and in those three seconds, it sounded nothing like a cat being skinned alive.

Any other ideas?

Brace Yourself

What do you think about braces? Do you think there seems to be a lot of children with them? Are there that many problematic jawlines out there?

Perhaps there is. But I can't help but reflect on 'my' generation.

I didn't have braces. My teeth are actually aligned well. I have good genes, I guess. But the bottom front teeth are crooked. I would literally beg my dentist to give me braces. But I was always told that they weren't an issue and therefore, unnecessary.

Out of my pals through elementary and high school, there were quite a few with braces but I would say the non-braced folks outnumbered the braced ones.

My husband also did not have braces.

And over the years, I hear about my friends who did wear braces: a lifetime of upkeep by wearing a retainer, that at some point, becomes forgotten. Some folks talk about how their teeth have uncrooked, although not badly, but they aren't as straight as they were after braces.

It seems, once going with braces, it's a lifetime of care.

And now, it seems to me, that there seems to be a rite of passage in dentistry: braces are assumed to be the next step in dental care.

And I'm not buying it. Literally.

CJ had an orthodontic exam last week. We were told she would need braces. I could see an overbite, although it's not an overbite. They showed me 'flaws' but seemed to hold back in pushing me with the sales pitch. You know "tip-toe" the sell.

And the sell? About $5800 for braces. Yup. Fifty-eight hundred dollars for braces.

My dental insurance may cover some part of it but certainly not all. What do people do when they don't have dental insurance? It's not that unusual to NOT have dental insurance.

Anyway, I'm not sold. I think it's a crock. I have always thought that and then my other pediatric dentist (who I love but had to dump because of the shitty front-desk help) started in on it when CJ turned 10...'it'll be time to see an orthodontist about her teeth'.

But the biggest thing, and the worst sales pitch anyone could make, was when we were leaving the orthodontist and the saleswoman (not the orthodontist) looks at Mi-Mi and says 'This is good practice for you for when you go through this!'

Hello? She's six and you know nothing about her teeth! But the expectation you have is that she will endure this too, because that's what you guys do: provide braces no matter what.

Unless we are told by ten orthodontists that CJ has a jaw mis-alignment that warrants the need for braces...vs. aesthetically pleasing smiles...it ain't happening.

Besides, as I told my book club pals the other night, I'll let her decide when she's old enough to pay for it herself.

Go Ahead, Catch Me

Today was my second Chase Run.

I've been pretty scared about doing this one again. The first one hurt and I don't like to hurt.

And yet, this is something I have been trying to overcome. The fear of hurt. So I can run past my comfort zone. I'm a chickenshit. I like to run races...comfortably. Is that too much to ask?

So I am scared to do it but I want to do it. I want to overcome this fear. But I'm scared to hurt.

"Sandbagging" is a term to refer to someone who claims to run slower than they actually can. This is actually a negative term but personally, I am OK with being a sandbagger.

I'd like to be given a slower time and run a little faster than that. I don't want to be held accountable for a fast time.

And having a coach doesn't help me sandbag.

I offered to do an 8:45 pace or slower...she decided to have me do an 8:35 pace. That's what I get for trying to be a good client...you know, make sure I make her look good by making my time?

Well, I did (make her look good). But based on HER time. I ended up averaging an 8:25 pace, even 10 seconds faster than the fast pace that Coach B had me going. And it's 13 seconds faster than my first Chase run.

So what does that mean? I can run faster than I think I can.

But it also means it hurts.

The first two miles were great. But it's sort of a downhill start. And I know this. And yet I couldn't hold my pace back. I tried. I looked at my watch a zillion times trying to get out of the 8-teens. I didn't want to feel dead at the end.

At the two mile turn-around, that's when it all hit me: this is hard and I'm hurting and I *still* have two miles to go.

I try to think of nothing. I count, which I do anyway, but I am really thinking about my numbers now. Counting with a rhythm.

During the run, I knew one of the runners was behind me. He quickly got to me about 1/4 mile in but didn't pass me, so I realized he was drafting off me. It didn't bother me and truthfully, I needed that to keep me going.

After about 2.5, he passed me, and compadre Felipe also caught up with me and passed. I didn't care. Every GD one of them could have passed me and I wouldn't have cared...well, just a little. And I probably would have cared when it was all over.

Anyway, from mile 2.25 until 3.80, I wanted to bag it. Stop. Walk. Let all the MFers pass me. I don't care. GO.

But I do care. And I don't want to bag it. I think of vague events I've seen on reality shows, where contestants give up because it becomes too hard. I didn't want to be one of them. Imagine. Inspired by a reality show.

I also thought of Tony Horton and one of his many encouraging quotes "Do the best and forget the rest." So I was trying very hard to forget the rest.

And I did it. I don't know how I made it to the end. But I did.

And I SPRINTED to the end. I heard someone behind me and in the back of my mind, I thought "OK, I cannot let HIM catch ME." And I didn't. So that was the .15 left of the chase run that I decided no one would catch me...all the rest was up for game.

Triple Play

Today I had three workouts scheduled: P90X, a 3-4 mile run, and a wallyball tournament match.

I also have no babysitter this week and Tim works in the great outdoors, so the girls came with me to work. This limits where I can get my workouts in.

And when I say "limits" I mean I HAVE TO GET UP EARLY AND DO ONE OF THE WORKOUTS. Sure, I could wait after work but I have to be honest with myself: when I get home from work, I'm not going to want to do a workout.

So I got up early (which I don't like to do...I love my bed) and started on my Chest, Shoulders, Triceps routine. I had done half of this workout last Monday, which would have been my week 5 of the P90X program, but since I skipped all of the rest of the week's routine, I am beginning week 5 again today.

This one, like all the other ones, is hard. Twenty-five freaking exercises, every one of them works you to the bone. All different types of push-ups and funky weighted exercises. Don't get me wrong: I love it.

But it's not over, if you truly want to follow the routine to the hilt. After the workout that kicks your ass, it's time for a 15 minute Ab Ripper X. *Only* eleven exercises...at 25 reps each. And if it's on one side, then it's technically 50 reps.

But I did it and now I have my run and my wallyball game to contend with.

I decide that, since it's only about three miles, I would run before the game. I started around 11:10 so I have to make sure I get my three miles in before my 11:45 match. And I did. And it felt pretty good. Much better than yesterday's four mile run. Towards the end, I could really feel the heat of the sun and thought there would be no way I could run any amount if I had to start from this point (as hot as I was).

So I get to the locker room, towel off and put on the kneepads and different running shoes (one day, I'll get a pair of cross-training shoes...). I'm sweating like a fricking BEAST and wondering if it will ever stop.

I pass my opponent and she tells me that her partner is going to be late and I reply with an overeager "THAT'S OKAY!" More time for me to cool down.

So I wait, toweling off, stretching, drinking gatorade...rinse...repeat. I'm ready for the game. I think, in the back of my mind, that we could throw this undefeated team off kilter and pull off a win...or at least a one game win.

And it almost starts off that way. We are racking up some points. We are in the lead. I just think Carlos is a genius partner. Always looking to see where the opponent is and trying to place the ball. Me? I'm just trying to set Carl...or trying to get a killer serve over.

And I'm still feeling good. The one thing I love about wallyball? It's so fast paced. And there's always one point in the game that I feel it: my heart is racing, I'm out of breath, I 'hurt' and it's one of the greatest feelings ever. I doubt it's the same, but my analogy is when drug addicts first get that initial high...the few seconds they get and then it's done. That's exactly how it is for me: it happens early in the game and I recognize it when I get it and then...gone...but it's already pumped me up.

So I'm stoked. And then Carl calls a foul: he went for a ball and the other guy was over the net. Carl rarely calls anything, except his own fouls (in the net). And he is an honest guy...eccentric, but the one quality this guy has is that he cannot tell a lie...nor would he...he is honorable. So when he calls it, I'm sure he's right.

And he has called things in the past. And it's almost always a "okay, let's do it over". There is a 'gentleman's game' no matter how competitive we are. We do the same if we think a call is made on us and we disagree. IT'S A WORK LEAGUE FOR BUDDHA'S SAKE.

And what happened when Carl called the foul? The GIRL on the team contested it. Not just contested, but with a whiny-eight-year-old-tone "HE DID NOT!" Text doesn't at all relay the silliness of her tone.

But Carl didn't back down. He was right there. He knows what he saw. And the guy finally acknowledged a do-over.

So she serves again and guess what? During the actual play, she yells at Carl "*YOU* WERE IN THE NET"...think "nanny nanny boo boo"...and how you sing-song it? That was her tone. GOD I WAS PISSED. You don't knock Carl. My partner. And you stop being a douche bag. Is this how you fuckers win games? You bully people when they call fouls on you?

I found it condescending. The girl can play volleyball...and is a decent wallyball player...BUT THEY AREN'T THE FUCKING BEST. And I guess she played college VB or something, so she must be the authority on the game BUT THIS IS WALLY-FUCKING-BALL and I don't think you played in any nationwide wallyball tournaments.

I am just reminded about how bad sportsmanship can ruin a game. We lost. We lost badly in the second game. I wanted so bad to kick their asses after that, to show them that they ain't the shit they think they are. But apparently we aren't the shit I think we are :).

And they still aren't, in my eyes. Don't get me wrong, I'll play them again, but there won't be any 'good game' coming out of my mouth. If you can't play with respect, you ain't playing a good game.

Perhaps that is why we lost. I lost respect and I couldn't play a good game...yeah. I'll go with that one.

Today's Run

Today's run:

Positive: I ran.

Negative: Only four of my six mile goal.

Positive: I ran four miles.

Negative: I had tummy problems.

Positive: I ran four miles with tummy problems.

Negative: I felt nauseous.

Positive: Four miles is better than zero miles.

Observations: There were a group of non-city workers (i.e. teen aged boys, "dad" looking guys) working on the bridge at Lake Lynn. It seemed pretty admirable but I wondered if they had the OK from the city. I saw a few nails lying around and thought how pissed someone would be to get a flat tire riding over the nails.

Also, there was a bride and groom getting their pictures taken around the lake. At my second loop, they were actually seated on a bench by the greenway so I stopped as the photographer snapped away. I didn't want to ruin their picture with the scowl on my face.

Girls' Nights Out

Tim was off in Brevard having a fun time doing adventure racing (camp). While he was out, I decided to make the evenings fun for me and my girls and try out different eateries.

Wednesday night was Chubby's tacos. We all agreed that it was fun and great but girls' felt it was just too spicy for them. This might have to be one of the work-lunch destinations for me.

Thursday night was supposed to be a little hole in the wall Chinese place called China Court, but the girls didn't seem to get their taco fix, so we went to El Dorado next. I'm not a fan of these types of places as everything tastes the same. The staff, however, was very flirty with me. When I left, one dude said 'See you tomorrow'. Yeah. That'll do it.

Friday night was my pick. I warned them early on: Friday is sushi night! I thought of a few places: Kanki's, because that was my first real sushi place. Sushi-Thai because that is THE first place I had sushi. And then Waraji, which is right around the corner from our house and is full of high praise. I decided to go local (they all are, BTW) and avoid the temptation (by my girls) to go mall shopping, and chose Waraji.

I had been to Waraji for lunch a few years ago. My memory of it from that moment does not match the memory of it from Friday's meal.

First of all: I won't say much about the sushi I ate. Why? Because it was good. It was delicious. But I have not ventured outside of my california-roll-with-no-roe, except to have the special cucumber rolls. So my opinion is EXTREMELY limited about sushi. One day, I want to try different things, but I'll need a lot of sake to help me out.

So I'll just be superficial and comment on the atmosphere: there wasn't any. I was sadly disappointed. I felt like it was just a very simple place, with simple decor, that did not match my previous, wrong, recollection of ambience.

Perhaps if we had sat at the sushi bar, or one of the four floor tables, I would have had a different take, but sitting at a table just felt like sitting at a take-out Chinese spot.

The waitress was extremely wonderful. At some point in the beginning of the meal, Mi-Mi's neck started to ache. She was brought to tears at how painful it was (like an odd twist?) and the waitress asked if she was OK. After explaining the situation, she would continually bring out warm wash cloths for Mi-Mi to set on her neck.

So, food: good...based on my limitations. Staff: great. Ambiance? Eh. Unfortunately, I would have rather gone to Kanki's and surround ourselves with the mall clatter.

Saturday I had planned on Bali Hai. But then temptation hit me and I envisioned a gayest time with my girls at The Melting Pot. But I have banned that place because it is so ridiculously overpriced...but I was serious about going and using the "priceless" commercial to validate the expense.

But CJ suggested Lone Star...well, that was my other option, and she acknowledged that's where she wanted to go.

Lone Star used to be close to "local". It was local to NC. Tim worked for them in Greenville and the Cary location. This was his first job after leaving the military. And the times he worked at the one in Gville are memorable.

And although, technically, our youngest is not named after these two girls, she does share the same first and middle names with two of Tim's co-workers.

So it's not hard to twist my arm to hit the place.

The meal was as you would expect: good and plenty. I did notice that the salad had more iceberg than usual. Cutting prices?

The restaurant was virtually empty for a Saturday evening, at approximately 8PM.

The manager was doing her table checks and seemed overzealous, like, 'I am soooo glad you are here because I'm about to lose my job'.

The waitress, while nice, was a bit over-the-top.

And again, because I must be so conceited, I felt like a couple of the male staff members were flirty. For instance, my wine was delivered to me by the bartender, much to the surprise of the waitress. No biggie but we had TWO bar orders -- a cherry coke (coke & grenadine with cherries) for my little lady.

Another dude picked up our cleaned up plates a few times, always chit-chatting.

Hey, I'm not complaining but, well, you know, seems a bit low...

But we enjoyed ourselves and I hope to introduce them to more local places, since I was unable to hit all the ones I intended.

And CJ, my picky eater, actually enjoyed her sushi. I don't know how she did it, but she managed to eat california rolls, with chopsticks, without the seaweed, crab and avocado.

My Favorite SYTYCD Routines: Week Three

Kayla lost her partner Max last week, which I didn't particularly like (losing Max, not Max). But the first dance for her and her new partner, Kupono, was beautiful:


Janette and Brandon had a hot hip-hop routine. The hip-hop routines have to really be AMAZING for me to appreciate the art. I mean, I think hip-hop looks great but on this show, I expect a 'story' or something that isn't just flat out doing steps. This one, for me, was one of them...and Janette's outfit...DAMN.


And then the Paso Doble from Jason and Caitlin WAS FUCKING FANTASTIC! The judges found flaws but the music, the steps and those perfect bodies made this incredibly entertaining for me:


And then the group dance on Thursday's elimination show was pretty cool...and to one of Mi-Mi's favorite songs:

Picking Cotton: Our Memoir of Injustice and Redemption by Jennifer Thompson-Cannino, Ronald Cotton, and Erin Torneo

I have to curtail this post to the book. I can go on and on about my beliefs in the 'justice' system. For those that know me, I apply these beliefs to some of the high profile crimes. And this book, much like the other great book Bloodsworth, shows how mistakes can be made. The crux, I think, of this book is the fact that the victim, who so KNEW her attacker and made sure he would rot in hell, would come back and admit her mistake at identifying the wrong person.

That is what this novel is about.

And it's something I think more and more people should read about...make themselves more aware of: the fact that thousands of men (and women) are wrongfully accused and convicted.

There's the case of Cameron Todd Willingham, a probable innocent man who was executed in 2004, based on outdated arson theories.

And as Ronald Cotton states in the book, had he been convicted in the 70s for the rape that Jennifer Thompson accused him of doing, he could have been executed.

Instead, he spent 11 years in prison. He proclaimed his innocence, only to fall onto deaf ears. Who would believe him?

Well, someone did and those people were able to (eventually) use DNA in a rape kit to find the real rapist. The real rapist that had admitted to the crime to several people, who worked alongside Ronald Cotton in prison, and yet would never confess to the proper authorities to release the innocent man.

The book focuses more on the general aspects of how they felt, what was happening during the legal events. I thought it was extremely noble for all parties involved to come out and admit the flaws. Jennifer Thompson can truly relay the 'sorry' she felt for convicting an innocent man, for taking away 11 years of her life, for HATING him, because she KNEW IN HER HEART THAT HE DID IT. And yet, she was yet another victim of just a bad person: Bobby Poole, who was her actual rapist.

It's just an awful story that lends to a happier ending. I don't think the 'redemption' part - releasing a wrongfully-convicted man as quickly as Ronald Cotton was released - is that easy for everyone. Who wants to admit they were wrong? From the victim to the prosecution, it's embarrassing to stand up and say "Oops. We made a big boo-boo." But I'd rather see that -- and yes, they face the consequences of their bad investigations -- and release innocent people pronto.

But they don't. Currently, in this day and age, our system still limits DNA testing to prove innocence (or not). In other words, THERE IS DNA AND WE WON'T TEST IT because 1) the conviction is the conviction by a jury of their peers 2) the inmate has to pay for the test 3) some courts simply will not allow DNA testing.

It simply is a big ball of red tape and ignorance and, the attitude that 'this is the way the system works'.

This book gave us a happy ending. But the sad truth is that we are convicting on flimsy evidence. We are using some statistics to proclaim suspects: how many times do you hear the media broadcast '80% of the times, it's the spouse' (I made that up...but I've heard similar, without validity). So the '20%' that are innocent are already suspected and if your alibi is a little bit flimsy, think about how easily you can be convicted. We have that going on in Raleigh right now... I don't know if Brad Cooper is guilty or not, but the media and the Kary Keystone Kops seemed to be convinced he is guilty...now, it's finding evidence to build their case.

So I couldn't curtail this post to just the book. There's just too much going on in the country that makes me think 'why are we still following archaic methods? why are we still excited to quickly convict? what happened to innocent until proven guilty?' I missed my calling. I don't know if being a lawyer was my calling but it was certainly working for the innocent *and* convicting the guilty so they can rot in hell.