I didn’t go to jail yesterday, and other notes.

I tried to, but I didn’t.  I prayed my morning prayers, and stretched my morning stretches, and ate my morning cookies, and cuddled my not-just-morning family.

Then I dressed in warm clothes because county cells are supposed to be cold.   I put all the money I have in the world inside an envelope and went to see a lawyer, to see if he’d be willing to turn me over to the sheriff on account of the fact that there’s a warrant out for my arrest.

It seems tacky to make them come to you, and for what reason? So you can use up resources that are already so sparse? So you can live in nail-biting fear?

No, we were prepared.

In fact, we’ve spent a good deal of time over the last three years thinking of nothing else.

When I arrived, the lawyer threw a curve ball in my path by pretty much refusing to give up.  He said he could talk the bail down to $18,000, and that if I took care of that– he’d defend me for a fee that basically equates to a pro-bono for a lawyer of his caliber.  He asked me point blank if there was any chance of raising the $18,000– and right now, I feel like there’s a snowballs chance in Hades.

But, something about the way he asked reminded me of the countless of times I’ve raised over that amount for other causes.

Of course, those were real causes that benefited lots of people, not just a single person in mild need– but I couldn’t help think, “Maybe”.  I had 48 hours from that moment, and the clock has only been ticking since, and now with 30 hours left, I’ve raised:


So, not quite there.

Still, I tried.

* * *

I wrote a last post for you all, to be posted once I go into custody.  It’s a goodbye post, that some of you have already read– a basic farewell thank you note.  Dave will post it when there’s an official sentence, when it’s official that I’ll be out of regular contact with the internet for (hopefully, just) a year.  That’s the minimum sentence, I believe, and I’m hoping for it.

A year in internet time is a decade in offline time, and who knows if I’ll even be Rarasaur when I return.

I sent the post out for feedback, from the dear friends I could think of off the top of my head.  I’m sorry if you weren’t included and should have been.  You know who you are.  I have no excuse except that my new email box doesn’t have a bevy of email addresses stored and I didn’t know how much time I had left.

Kozo (to whom I’m linking here, but if you don’t follow Kozo already and you read me, then you’re doing the internet wrong) replied and said the note was lovely, but that I should leave you with truth, not with vague references.  The truth heals, you see– not just me, but others who may cross my path.  Since I met him, he hasn’t been wrong, and he has never pushed me in a direction that didn’t ultimately soothe my soul– and since this will likely be the last of his peace-love-truth-oriented challenges I shall undertake– I plan to do this one right.

There won’t be poetry, though. My soul’s all out.

* * *

Nearly 4 years ago, before I started this blog, I was harassed by my former employer.  Then, I was accused on embezzling tens of thousands of dollars.  With every contact from a lawyer, the number seemed to go up.  I think it was at half a million before I ran out of steam and resources to fight.

By resources, of course, I mean money, and willpower, and energy, and faith.  It costs a lot to claim innocence, especially in the face of accusers who represent everything that people want to believe in.  Handsome, white, wealthy, surfing, church-going Boomers with a booming business.

I feel like I was never given a fair chance, but I suppose it doesn’t matter now, because, to put it bluntly, I give up.  I plan to face the situation, sans resources, and deal with the statistically low probability of success.

My biggest fear now is facing a judge who expects me to explain how it was done.

Well, there was a unicorn... and, ummm. I'm a terrible liar!

Well, there was a unicorn… and, ummm. I have no clue, I’m a terrible liar! Can’t I just sign something?

But I hear that’s not how it’s done anyway.  Thank goodness.

You may be wondering why someone who is innocent would give up, and that’s a fair question.  It’s one I would have asked myself four years ago.


The truth is, it’s really hard to fight.  The cost (not just financial) literally cripples your family and friends.  It gets to where you don’t even want to go out anymore, because you have to face people who you owe money to (even if they don’t care).  It gets to where you don’t want to order a soda because you feel like that $1 could go back to the person who loaned you the money in your time of need.  It gets to where phone calls from you stress out people’s children.  It gets to where you’re eating other people’s leftovers, and worrying about lice, and washing pennies in public fountains.  It gets to where accidentally miscounting Monopoly money makes you vomit from shame.

It gets bad, and it gets bad quickly.

I have no interest in recreating that pain.  The blogosphere has taught me so much about my own strength, that running around like a chicken without a head trying to fight for “the truth” just seems nutty.  Instead, I’m looking for it to just be over, so I can rest easy, and not be looking behind every rock for a shadow.

The fears that kept me clawing and fighting last time are no longer with me, thanks to all of you.

I am no longer worried about not finding a home once I have a prison record– there are forgiving souls like y’all everywhere, who would accept me even if I had committed the crime.  I am no longer worried about not surviving prison– I am strong.  I am no longer worried about fixing the justice system, one truth at a time– it’s not my job, and the idea that I’m living in a perfect America is maybe one of the ideals I have to let go of.

I am no longer worried about Dave, at least, not the soul-eating fear that once plagued me.  He will find a way, and I know many of you will be there to help him.  He has a world-wide net of friendship, though I warn you he won’t be easy to get a hold of at all times.

When he’s upset, he’s a little like this:


I suspect that there are many introverts out there who know what I’m talking about.

I will miss you, terribly, and giving up Rarasaur feels like losing a dear friend.  Even in that loss, though, I can hear my own heart– and that is a strength I owe entirely to you all.

I suppose you could say, I am at peace.


I am innocent, and not embarrassed to have suffered through this, or to have lost. That’s another thing I learned from you.

This is something that happened to me, and I’m not going to sit in squeamish silence and let it own me.  This is my story.  I own it.

I am NOT a victim, I am a survivor.

Or at least…
I will be.
One day.


If you’d like to help ease my worries, you can spread the word in case someone has the means to donate money or food, or the desire to purchase some of Dave’s paintings.  I am hopeful that the donations can be used for my well-being while I am unable to look after myself. I am hopeful that the donations will allow my husband a breather, where he can figure out a way to ensure the survival of my cats.  I am hopeful that the donations will force him to stay connected to the ‘sphere, so that he will have a web of 24/7 friendship to see him through the darkest moments, and to remind him of his brightest moments, and so that the link to here will remain if when I’m able to return. One day.


I know some of you have aching hearts right now, as I would if I read something like this about you.  I wish I could be here to comfort you, but I won’t be– so instead, let’s go over some Rarasaur lessons together, alright?

Take the deepest breath you can.  Then take one more.

Now let it go.

See? You are capable of so much more than you expect.  And so am I.  Let your worries about me fade away.

Wiggle your hands around.

Be dazzled by the miracle that is your perfect body!

Press your hands to your heart.  Do you feel the heat and rhythm?*

It is as constant and warm as my gratitude for you.

You are loved, and you have changed my life for the better.

Now that you’re unbeatable, try to remember what I asked of you oh-so-long-ago.  I want you to laugh.  So laugh, joyfully and with strength.  I can hear it, and it brings a smile to my face.

* Also, if there’s no heat or rhythm when you press your hands to your chest, you just might be a vampire.  I’d get that checked out if I were you.  It doesn’t make my gratitude for you any less real.  Just, more invisible-y.


Thank you for those who have already taken the initiative to spread the word, and those who commented with love to them.  Many have reached out through Facebook, Twitter, email, etc– and I wish I had the time to gather your posies, but alas, time is one of the many things I am short on.

Love, however, I have in abundance, thanks to you. Your kind words humbled me, and honestly, I couldn’t reply because it would make me cry and the crying is bothering my cats. Still, I love you all.



Also, Dave and I both were nominated for the BlogHer 2014 VOTY awards.  Obviously, we won’t be in attendance, but I have to say– seeing us listed together made me cry some happy tears.  It reminded me that, minus the whole prison thing, it’s been a pretty good May.




Comments will be closed here.  When my final post is posted, I will leave the comments open, just because I might one day come back to read them.  One day.

If you need to contact me, or need more information about what’s going on, my husband Dave/Grayson will do his best: GraysonQueen.wordpress.com

Be gentle with him, and be gentle with yourself.



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