Stacey Lannert's blog

If one must learn from mistakes, I've learned a lot.

I made a huge mistake the other day that involves a tanning booth. I’m sure you know where this blog is headed.

Riding around in the convertible with the top down is a beautiful thing. Everything is so open. But putting the top down creates weird tan lines. I teach aerobics, so I am in front of full length mirrors at least 10 hours every week. I began to notice the pale, pale legs, and the tanned upper body. I decided to do something about it. I went to the tanning booth.

I went to my first ballgame in 20 years recently. The experience was amazing! St. Louis has a new stadium that is simply gorgeous. I watched the game from behind home plate, nine rows back. It was wonderful.  Plus, the Cardinals won!!!

I bought a new car. The experience was hell. I knew the Beater was not going to make it much longer, so I began my search about a month ago.

I went to dealer after dealer trying to find a car I could afford that I would also want to drive. Didn’t happen. All the cars on the lots were overpriced, and I did not (nor do I still) understand the fine art of haggling.

I found Black Beauty on CraigsList. I checked the postings late at night and was the second person to request to see her. The owner emailed me the next day. A few back and forth conversations later, I went to see her.

It breaks my heart to tell everyone this, but The Beater has passed on. (See photos of her here.) She went her last mile for me on Saturday and then gave up. On Sunday, she started with a whine and then expelled a black cloud. It was over, I needed to let her rest in peace.

Admitting that my car was deceased was extremely hard. I loved this car. She gave me a freedom I had forgotten how to believe in. We became close traveling down the highway, just her and I. She might not have been much to look at, but she was mine. All 324,000 miles of her.

I cannot even begin to describe how wonderful it feels to sit on the front porch and drink a cup of Folgers first thing in the morning. I do not take for granted the gorgeous setting, the aroma of the coffee, the feel of the ceramic mug in my hand and the sound of the birds chirping.

In prison, there was not a front porch. We couldn't drink coffee in ceramic or glass mugs. We had no coffee makers--it was instant only. I would have to wait in line for the microwave to make mine, and that often led to aggravation. I could be in line behind 15 people--or behind someone making a gourmet microwave meal for 30 minutes--when all I needed to do was heat up a cup of water and add some granules to it.

I have spent the last 18 years being emotionally closed off from the majority of other human beings, definitely from members of the opposite sex. Before that, I was a teen, confused, hurt, and unable to open up to others because of all the horror I was living through. I never really learned how to open myself up and how to share myself with another human being.

My friends and family held a surprise birthday party for me last Saturday night. I have no idea how they pulled it off. I can usually unearth any plans made for surprises, and my sister did almost give it away. Yet, when I walked in the door, totally unsuspecting, I just about peed my pants when they yelled, “SURPRISE!” I did jump back in fright. Was that really fair to do to a woman who spent the last 18 years in prison?

Click, click, click, click, click, click, click.

The rollercoaster pulled itself up the wooden track, defying gravity with the help of heavy chain and wheels. Click, click, click, click, click, up the hill.

Nothing, hands up in the air, sudden drop. Wind in my face. Scared, amazed, thrilled, terrified. Did I just scream? Wind in my face, rushing, speeding, no thought, turn, thrown against the side of the car, turn again. Did I just giggle? Flying, rushing, free, free, free.

Hi from New Jersey. I'm here learning how to do more of the technical aspects of our website. It's wonderful to see this website--what I dreamed of--taking shape and growing daily. I'll be back home tomorrow.

I went to Six Flags last weekend, which was a return to my childhood dream place. I lived for the day when my parents would tell me we were going there. I would not be able to sleep for days beforehand due to excitement and the mere hint that I might not get to go if I misbehaved was enough for me to wear angel wings until the trip.

As one can probably imagine, I was starved for attention while I was incarcerated. Have you ever seen Birdman from Alcatraz or The Green Mile? You know those crazy characters that adopt unusual pets? That was me.

I was always bringing animals into my prison room that I knew I could not keep. I brought in frogs, a baby bunny, a bird with a broken wing, a kitten, baby turtles and even a lightening bug. These creatures all had one thing in common: I called them Buddy. I gave each the same name because I knew that I could not keep them. And I could've gone into the hole for smuggling in the animals.

Some things were worth the risk.