Funeral, Angering Prison Guards and Still Waiting for the Baby

We made it to the funeral service and back home without going into labor.

Kyra has been having a tough time with Grandma Frieda's death. She seemed not to be affected much by the news at first, but that night she started crying at bedtime. She said she was crying about an old stuffed animal of hers (named "Boo Bear") that she had placed in the crib for her brother many weeks back. She was suddenly worried she was never going to see Boo Bear again. We had a talk and what was really bothering her quickly became apparent - knowledge of what had happened with Grandma Frieda had sunk in.

We've had a few talks about Frieda and the grief that Kyra is feeling. She seems to be dealing pretty well with it overall. Kyra made cards for Frieda by cutting and decorating construction paper, writing the words "Kyra", "Mom", "Dad" and "Nana" on the pieces and gluing googly eyes to them. This morning we placed Kyra's cards in Frieda's coffin along with the photos of Frieda's cats and great grandchildren that had been placed there by other relatives. The service was well done and now Frieda is back with her husband Bob, who passed away a couple of years back. When our son is born, we're giving him the middle name Robert in honor of Bob.

On the way home we passed by the prison that had once held Amy Fisher. Prison articles are popular for Dark Destinations (because there are usually a ton of stories with each one), so I pulled over across the road from it and snapped a few photos. I immediately had a corrections officer pulling alongside me in a big blue truck and telling me to "Git!"

I understand prison guards having concerns, but there are no signs posted condemning photography or stopping along the road. It is a residential road. In fact, we were parked right in front of the house my wife lived in as a toddler right across from the prison. I'm aware of my photography rights and was well within them with what I was doing. However, I'd already gotten enough shots and am not in the habit of arguing with surly liver-spotted prison guards (especially when I have a woman in the car who could go into labor at any time). We mosied along and had an otherwise uneventful trip home.

Now we should be staying put at home until Eljah decides to be born finally.