We had a good visit today with our friend in prison...and it only required the sacrifice of my underwires (in my new bra) to accomplish.

How many times have I been to this prison?  And yet, as I left the house on Thursday, the nagging thought that I was forgetting something did not translate into "prison bra."

I'm not sure what it is that one could do with an underwire that makes them so dangerous, such contraband that one must snip them out of the offending garment with fingernail clippers before entering the prison.

I could ask, I suppose.  But I fear I still wouldn't be any the wiser.

Like the kleig lights they brought in to comply with regulations when the prison started getting "lifer" inmates...and that still run (on diesel) every night even though the lifers are gone...the underwire rule is a vestigal remnant from days gone by.  Without logic or explanation.  And still and integral part of the California Prison system.

Ah well.  At least it was a good visit!  Cool weather, good conversation, vending machine munchies and at least a few hours where prison walls melted away in the pleasant company of well-worn friendship.

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