Isn't it Ironic?

I started this blog as an effort to relieve my stress. An online diary, someone I can talk to the minute I start to feel overwhelmed, without judgement or differing opinion. Ok, so maybe my readers ( Hi guys!) will judge, and will have differing opinions, but really, this is all about me, so I can ignore you if I want to. Hmm, that sounded a little callous. But, jeez, it's not like I'm sleeping with you people, I don't have to be nice if I don't want to. So there. Anyhoo, the irony part is this... the second anything happens that causes me stress, the first things I do are panic, cry, analyze every single minute aspect of the issue with John, including every possible hypothetical what if scenario, and sleep a lot. In other words, I run screaming in the opposite direction from my poor neglected blog.





So what am I stressed about this week? Well, work for one. It's been a very busy week, which has been very nice, but it leaves me with brain-numbing exhaustion, making me not want to do anything that requires even the slightest hint of effort. Secondly, we got a gym membership this week. I am already feelign the pressure. Partly, it's an attempt at weight loss, which is good, but adds stress because all I can think about is failing. Partly, it's an attempt to aleiviate some of the depression. Everyone says exercise is good for that, so I thought I would give it a try. But so far, all it's done is trigger the social anxiety. I feel like everyone is watching me, and I'm fat, ugly, and stupid because I don't know how to use the machines. I know that it would have been easier to just get equipment for home use, but I know myself, and I know I'd never use it. This way, I'm forced to. John's emplyer reimburses us for the cost of our membership, but only if we go at least three times a week. Otherwise, I'm eating the $100 a month. So, no presure, right?





And for the grand finale of stressers, I got an interesting phone call yesterday morning. First of all, our phone rarely rings, and NEVER in the morning. And who should it be? Why, my ex husband's wife, of course. Wait a minute, what? I haven't talked to either one of these people in over 4 years, and I can't honestly remember a conversation I've EVER had with her. And, last I'd heard, they had separated and were filing for divorce a couple months before my last conversation with Jerk Boy. Well, it appears that she was calling for several reasons. First and foremost she was calling to warn me that Jerk Boy may be fixing to intrude in my life yet again. It seems she was filing for an annulment for him, because their separation was never legalized. Basically, he just moved out and they never talked again. In the course of trying to serve him, he told her he wouldn't give her anything, including his new address, until she sent him all the old files from OUR divorce and custody battle. What in the world that has to do with his and her relationship I have yet to figure out. So, she figured that he wanted all that stuff to start the battle all over again with me. Also, she was calling to apologize to me for not believing me and heling him drag us all through a year of hell over our daughter. To which I frankly replied, "Well, you're not the first. You're the third one of his girlfriends that has called me after you all broke up and said the exact same thing." And that's the truth. It's funny, he's very good at weaving a spell of bullshit, but he makes it smell like a rose. But once you get the slightest whiff of pooh pooh, you suddenly realize that you're living in a house made of cow patties.

Nonetheless, John and I both think that Jerk Boy's hesitation comes from another factor, and we are hoping it has very little to do with us, but who knows, really? People are unpredictable. And really, if I had thought him capable of even half of what he put me through last time, I would have at the very least went with the good lawyer to begin with. But, one of the benefits of having the good lawyer, even it he was late to join the party, is that he put us in a fantastic position if we ever need to fight again, so here's hoping any new battles aren't nearly as brutal as before. Wish me luck....

Please excuse my absense

I have been incredibly busy at work the last week, and I was so freakin exhausted this weekend, I barely moved off the couch. I'll go ahead and throw a little something at you I started last week, and I'll finish it in a couple days. Bear with me, it's gonna be another busy week.



Weddings......

Can I make a confession to you all? I read romance novels. Yes, I know, they are the literary equivalent of SPAM, but you know what? I don't care. I love them. Especially the Regencies, circa early 1800's. I don't know if it's just because, as an adoptee, I have never really felt like I belonged anywhere, and so it was easy for me to imagine myself somewhere (and someone) else, but maybe because I have never had the restraint of saying "Yes, those are my real actual parents and there's nothing even remotely fantastic about them," I've been able to easily imagine myself as a long lost princess, or duchess, or whatever. Even knowing some of the story behind my adoption, it just gives me more ammunition for my little fantasies. For a long time though, I stopped reading them, because I stopped believing in love, and romance. And all I read for years were sci-fi and fantasy novels. Still full of imagination, but not so sappy and predictable. And then about 6 months ago, my local bookstore was out of anything I had any remote interest in, so I picked up another romance novel. And instantly spiraled right back to high school. I now have a slight obsession (OK, fine, a big obsession) with them again, in particular those by Christina Dodd, Julia Quinn, and Anne Gracie. We're talking staying up until 3:00 because I can't put it down, reading 2 books a day or more, hiding them under my desk at work and reading at the dinner table obsession. What does all that have to do with weddings? I'm getting there, bear with me. I recently (OK, about 5 minutes ago) discovered the website of Christina Dodd, and as I was going through her old blog entries, she had one discussing weddings, and what funny, highly entertaining things have been known to happen at those events. And it invited her readers to respond with their comments, and all I could think of was that I have never been to a wedding.
I guess that's technically not accurate. I have never been to a wedding as an adult. I was a flower girl in several weddings before the age of 5, and I attended my cousin's wedding when I was 7 (which, by the way, was the biggest, most beautiful event I had ever seen at such a tender young age, and set the bar for the wedding I wanted to have when I grew up). Oh yeah, and I was the maid of honor at my mother's third wedding, when I was 14. A marriage, by the way, that lasted less than 6 months, and I had actually forgotten about until just now. Other than that, the only weddings I have ever attended have been my own. And those were such spectacularly horrifying events, I really try not to think about them very often. And being the little drama queen I am, here are the stories, in all their gory detail, for your enjoyment:
Wedding number 1 -
When I was 16, I had a "falling out" with my parents. I was living with my dad at the time, and when he told my mom what I had done, she insisted on putting me on the next plane back to her. I disagreed, but there was nothing I could do about it. So to Colorado I went, with my little 16 yr old heart full of hatred for the world, but most especially for my mother. A few months after my move, I met a guy through an online bulletin board system (this was back before the "internet" was really popular, I am older than dirt, people). My mother hated him, with an irrationality that was actually kind of distrubing. She refused to be introduced to him the first time he came over to meet me in person. She refused to speak to his face when he picked me up for our second date (she just screamed at the back of his head as we were getting in the car "You better have her back in time or I'm calling the cops!"), and I think it was after two months of dating that she finally would look him in the face, but even then, she wouldn't talk to him if she didn't have to. So why did I date him? Well, obviously, because she didn't like him. Isn't that why any girl dates an inappropraite boy? So we dated for several months, before I finally had enough of his crap and dumped him. Mom and I started getting along again, and all was well. Then she went on vacation by herself. And by chance, somehow the word got to him that I was alone at the house, so he showed up, got me in world's of trouble and I ran away with him because I didn't know what else to do. Long story short, we were broke, stupid, and stuck 2000 miles from home with no food, no shelter, and no way home. So we called home, admitted what idiots we were and begged for permission to come home. And my mom refused. She told me that I had my choice, I could either move back in with my dad, or marry Loser, but no way could I move back in with her. So, expecting sympathy and tears, I got rejection. And I made the worst decision of my life - I said "Fine, I'll marry Loser. So there." So we got the money to come home from his aunt, and three days later, my mom picked me up, took me to the courthouse, otained a special license, and marched us both down the street to the little wedding chapel and told them I was there to get married. I was wearing jeans and a Western dress shirt, which, while nice, was not exactly equal to the Cinderella style wedding dress I had planned. And the chapel? Ummm, let's just say, not quite equal to the big beautiful church. As we trudged apst the rather startled patrons of the video store to the back room, I heard several people wonder what on earth was happening. Then the video store owner announced to the store she would be back in 10 minutes to check people out, but she had a weddin' to perform first, and anyone who wanted to watch could. So surrounded by my mom, his parents and his cousin, and all the strangers who wandered in wanted to rent a movie, I exchanged vows with the boy I really didn't even like, all to get back at my mother. And as I watched the minister/video store owner read the sermon, little white flecks of spittle flying out of her mouth and onto my hand, all I could think was "Wow, this is one crazy dream. I never have nightmares, what's that all about?" And then, she said "You may kiss the bride," and I kept thinking, "ewww, lady don't touch me," and Loser grabbed me and kissed my check in this pathetic little peck (he said later he couldn't kiss me on the mouth in front of his parents), and out the door we went. We walked about three casinos down to the Midnight Rose, went downstairs, and for our wedding feat, we ate lunch at Wendy's, and then everyone left. The end.