In which I am at a loss.

So. The VCB, for the first time ever, asked me not to call him.

He's THAT angry about this.

And I don't know what to do. I tried backing out of the new house (which technically I *can* do since even though I gave the owner a deposit, I haven't signed a lease yet and the deposit is fully refundable.)

That didn't make him any happier. He insists that I move, anyway.

A few months ago we were looking at another house, together. But for various reasons that didn't work out. The conversations we've had about "us" since then haven't been all that rosy. The past few weeks have been difficult and we actually had a conversation about not being ready to commit to things as they currently stand.

Obviously, we weren't talking about getting married or moving in together in any specific timeframe. Which doesn't mean I thought those possibilities were off the table so to speak, just that it wasn't in our immediate future. There's been no talk, no daydreaming or fantasizing about a future together, or a wedding, or anything at all beyond the upcoming weekend and whether or not one or the other of us will have our kids. (well, that's not exactly true. There's been none of that on his part...which is rather a discouraging place to be with the man in your life when you're really close to 40 and really love your partner, but I digress...)

I thought that when I tried to talk to him about the possibility of the new house, he told me that I had to do what was best for my kids. I never once heard him say anything that was close to "Please don't do that" or, "I don't want to wait that long to live with you"...even though I talked specifically to him all day Friday about how I was waiting for word on the job so that I could apply to rent the house. He says he didn't know I would actually DO it.

And now that it's happening, he is angry. He says I have chosen to disregard our future and move on without him. He points to my previous blog post that said I "knew" the move would be for more than a year. Which wasn't my intention at all. When I wrote that, I somewhat stupidly was thinking I'd be out of my lease by the holidays next year, and if we were in a better place together, we could plan to spend the kids' school holidays moving in together or getting married.

I did the best I could with all of the variables I had to factor in, within the time frame I had to make a decision in. But leaving him behind was never part of my plan. I thought that giving us some more space and time- in which he wasn't feeling pressured to help me financially or to commit to me, or to move us forward- would be a good thing. A good place to build something better for everyone involved.

I thought this was going to be a positive move for my family, and thus a good thing for he and I. But apparently, that light was a train after all.

Because I'm kind of busy...

• The house, it is under contract!!! This is excellent news even if I am not making much money on it. It will be done. Finished. OVER. In less than a month! YES!!
• The kids are very excited about the idea of moving, mostly. The whole changing schools thing is causing some heartburn but I am confident it will be fine.
• The VCB is really upset that I made this decision. In my mind I had tried a few times to talk to him about it and he'd told me to "do whatever was in my kids' best interest"- which clearly, this IS, despite my having mixed feelings about putting off any commitment between us for a year-....but in HIS mind, I went ahead and made a unilateral decision about the future of our relationship without discussing it with him. To be quite fair to him, he has made a million decisions over the course of the past year that prioritized the relationship, even when it was really unpleasant or inconvenient for him. So I see why he is upset, but I just don't know what to do about it. I don't mean that to sound flip, I really wish there was some middle ground that would make the situation better.
• I am pretty sure things in life generally work out the way they're supposed to, and if we are meant to be, we will be fine, even if we have to go another year under separate roofs.
• The garage sale is turning into a Major Undertaking. I have so much crap I am ready to get rid of, and not move, it's just insane. I need weeks to get this done, plus a shovel and a bonfire and a large truck.
• If it rains Saturday I may throw myself off a bridge.
• Jackass took Austin to a Metallica concert Saturday night. I am livid.
• My landlord was furious about me moving but I may have already found him his next tenant. So maybe everything IS working out for the best.
• Or maybe the light I see at the end of this ridiculously long and twisted tunnel is the headlamp of another train.
• We shall see. Stay tuned.....

Solitude

It's late Friday night, the kids are with their male parental unit, and the VCB has his kids. This means I am home alone.

Just me, the Mac, two BlackBerries (really, don't ask) and the Mifi modem in my wrought iron bed. A cat or two may try to sneak in here since their usual bedmates- my daughters- are gone, but a swift kick quickly reminds them that they are Not Welcome in my room.

Today was brutal and exhausting and awesome all rolled into one.

I was productive. I got the garage cleaned up, ready for the garage sale except for sorting kids' clothes by size and pricing everything. There's still a bunch of stuff in the house I need to part with- more clothes and about a thousand books, and don't get me started on the baskets and dishes. (I was a Henn Consultant for years. I have about 5o place settings. And more baskets than I can count.) I should be able to cull most of what I want to get rid of this week and be ready for the mother of all yardsales next weekend.

But the whole day was spent waiting, waiting, waiting....

It was like a concentrated version of the past year and a half.

My realtor had emailed that there was an offer (a serious offer, he said) about to come in on my house, which never showed up.

I was waiting on that job offer.

And wholly dependent upon that was my waiting to be able to submit a rental application for the House of My Dreams.

Like all good things, the HoMD doesn't come without it's price. I have spent all day pondering the price, and whether it's one I am an idiot to pay.

See, the VCB and I have been in negotiations for months. The whole "Where is the relationship going?" talk that every couple gets to a point of having. Both of us were renting month-to-month and freely divorced as of earlier this year. We had looked at houses together. I had thought for quite some time that my next move would be into a house with him.

And obviously, that's not what happened. The VCB and I have had some ups and downs. We aren't ready for the next step yet, as much as my heart aches to say otherwise. So instead of stagnating and waiting in limbo, in a place that makes none of my kids nor me happy, and frankly, never has been more than a source of misery and a symbol of all that we lost, I am moving forward, alone. I am signing a lease, by myself, on a house that isn't compatible with the VCB's 'house dealbreakers'; a house that I will be living in for at least another year, but probably longer.

It's a great house, in a great town. I am beyond thrilled that I finally get to live there (even if I am a tad nervous about having neighbors again after ten years in the sticks.) It just doesn't have a VCB in it, and for that I can't help but be terribly sad.

I'm sick of sleeping alone.

And now for a bit of good news...

I got the job!

AND THE HOUSE!!!!!!!!

Thank you, Universe.

Now I am going out to celebrate :)

Phantom pain while waiting

There's a lot swirling around me today.

I'm working on cleaning up THIS:

(Don't judge me, haters. It wasn't this bad before I started "cleaning" it. Sigh) So I can have a garage sale and get rid of (read: not move!) all this crap.

Meanwhile I am waiting for:

Word on whether or not I have been hired

Dropping off the application for the rental house of my dreams, if I am hired, look below-great, right?

While cleaning, I found my wedding dress in a box. My thousand dollar confection of beaded ivory silk brocade, a true fit-for-a-princess off the shoulder ballgown with a six foot train. The dress was a size two before they took it in so much the seamstress was worried she would massacre the beadwork. I had not set eyes on that dress in over a decade, so of course, like a moron I tried it on.

Fucker still fit. I couldn't (can't) believe it.

And while I was zipping it up the thought came to me, that the last time I wore this dress, my grandfather was holding me in his arms and laughing, dancing with me and telling me he loved me, smiling and proud.

Have you ever just collapsed under the weight of a memory that real? I did. I sank to my knees on the floor in my gown and cried.

I don't know what to do with the dress. I don't want to keep it but because of that memory, I don't think I can let it go yet either.

Don't mind me, I'm just dreaming here...

I have a job interview tomorrow. Unbeknownst to me I applied at a company owned by friends of the VCB. When I told him where the interview was (mostly to make sure that the ex hadn't done business with the company; if he had, I figured it wasn't worth going to the interview) he called the owner and took the guy to lunch.

Supposedly the job's mine "as long as I'm not retarded or anything." Which is not to say I am counting any chickens; there are many variables still in play- like hours, pay, etc.

I'm nervous. I really like working for my friend as her husband, they basically pay me to write and talk to people- my two favorite things to do for FREE. And I have enjoyed being able to be home with my kids during this period of transition for our family. They really needed me here. Childcare would have broken my already stretched budget entirely, at $250/ week for after school care. Right now the plan, if I get this job, is to try letting them do the latchkey thing and see how it works. If it doesn't my mom has graciously volunteered to help out. I am nervous about that but I really don't see that I have much choice but to try it.

And.

I had to go to social services today and re-up my food stamps (they make you resubmit all your income/expense stuff every 6 months to stay qualified) and on the way I had to pass the office where this job would be located. Guess what I saw four houses down from the office, on the main street in the quaint, adorable town I have wanted to live in forever?

A "For Rent" sign in the front yard of a really, really great house. And of course I stopped and called the number. The owner was really kind, he had a key hidden and he let me go inside and poke around. It's available, it's affordable, it's adorable. And if we lived there my girls wouldn't have to share a bedroom, we'd have more room, be in a wonderful neighborhood, and we would be in walking distance of a library, a grocery store, a convenience store, a college, a farmer's market, a train station, two parks, a hair salon, a dance studio, three restaurants, the girls' school, and less than a two minute walk to this job. My kids would be safe there after school. I wouldn't need childcare.

I could see us really happy there, long term.

I know, wanting this is a really stupid idea for someone with my luck. I am practically inviting heartbreak, more disillusionment, depression. Surely the stars will never align to allow such a perfect set of circumstances to fall into my lap all at once. But damn, aren't we due a break in the near future??

Casualties

First, a little prayer of gratitude.

Oh Thank GOD it's Tuesday and my kids are back at school.

Thank you, thank you, thank you sweet baby Jesus. Amen.

PS: please let the next three day weekend fall on their dad's visitation?

It wasn't ALL bad, my mother took Autumn off my hands all day yesterday after taking one look at my crazy-eyes. I also decided that a few bucks' worth of flowers for the outside was a worthwhile investment in my sanity, and filled an old rusty red wagon with pansies and mums.

A wreath on the door and a quick sweep with the mower later and it no longer looks like an abandoned property.

But I'm really glad no passers-by can see the inside of the house.

The funny thing about trying to get organized is the mess you inevitably make in the process. Wow. Maybe that's just me though? I dunno. It always seems to get wayyy worse before it gets better, and I always seem to conveniently forget that when I decide to tackle these things. I am now up to my knees in laundry, I have three boxes of stuff I "found" in the garage and need to find homes for inside my house, and six bags of more stuff that are destined for the garage sale but haven't quite been removed from the house yet. And in the process of 'organizing' I have totally neglected the regular house stuff like sorting mail, taking out the garbage and doing the dishes.

I'm just going to play "Hey! look over there! flowers! not over there at those piles of stuff!!"

Or at this giant bruise on my forehead that I got when I walked into that shelf in the garage head on, that I couldn't see because I was wearing a baseball cap, and very nearly knocked myself unconscious yesterday. How long does the headache and slight dizziness last after a blow to the head, anyway?

This better be one profitable garage sale. I'm going to need the money to pay the medical bills to treat the random klutz-related injuries that I incur getting ready for the damn thing.

Three day weekend in progress.

So. Where were we? Oh yes. That court date I posted about earlier.

Yeah. Well. None of the three courts (J&DR, Circuit, General District) in our County knew what the hell I was calling about when I started trying to find the when/ where of the hearing with Giant Mortgage Company. My lawyer's office was closed. The Clerk of Court YELLED at me...nobody seemed to have any idea why my lawyer had insisted I be in court Friday. Long story short, I had a panic attack and puked by the side of the road and turned my ass around and came home. I hope my lawyer doesn't kill me.

So, that was fun.

Then later Friday I got a call from a very Friendly Policewoman from a neighboring county.

She wanted to make sure I hadn't committed a crime.

We chatted for a few minutes, I (somewhat amusedly, until I realized that she was serious) assured her I hadn't, in fact, committed said offense- or, you know, ANY offense..... she said she didn't THINK I had, but hey, you know, just doing her job, she was sorry to have to bother me, etc...

That was....surreal. And really, damn.... just...wow. I don't know what else to say about it.

Except what else can I expect on a day when Obama wins the Nobel Prize?

Maybe it was a full moon. Or something. Shrug.

Saturday was an improvement of sorts, in that it featured a sexy man, and less police involvement. The VCB and I took my kids to the local Italian Food Festival and then the local Folk Festival. We ran into some friends, had a nice dinner out, and generally did our best to enjoy what would have been a really nice day. If my kids had behaved like human beings. Which they did not. Ahem. My daughters seemed determined to be as annoying as possible. They talked talked talked talked talked talked talked talked talked incessantly, and whined and asked about forty thousand repetitive meaningless nonsensical questions and had to pee every fifteen minutes and needed a jacket and a drink of water and a funnel cake and THIS, and THAT and hung off me like the literal fruit of my loins that they are, and just generally behaved like asshats of every imaginable variation for about ten solid hours.

Man, I love my kids sometimes. Saturday, however, the flow of motherly love was less than effortless.

It was so extreme that VCB quite sensibly -and forgiveably- 'opted out' of time with my girls today; instead, he and the boy did some male bonding in front of his (excessively large) TV over NASCAR. Meanwhile I took it upon myself to tackle some household tasks I had been ignoring, er, procrastinating about. Like sorting the two years' worth of outgrown/ out of season clothes in the girls' room. And cleaning out my van, which still had remnants of August and September's road trips rattling around inside, and a fascinating (and frighteningly revealing!) assortment of fast-food specimens fossilizing slowly under the seats.

Whereas the word of the day Friday was "Surreal"; and Saturday was "OMGWILLYOUTWOPLEASEJUSTSHUTUPFORFIVEMINUTES???" today can be summed up as "Ewwww".

It was A Very Gross Day overall. There's nothing like an archeological expedition under your kids' bed and under your van's seats to make you feel like a really grungy and disgusting slob. I cannot believe we have not all died of the plague yet.

And now I have at least a dozen bags and boxes of outgrown kids' clothes, as well as at least that many boxes/ bags of books, toys, and household items that I need to get rid of. I sense a garage sale in my immediate future. Or a bonfire. Honestly, while I do indeed need the money, a garage sale really seems like a giant pain in the ass. Maybe some enterprising burglar will notice I have nicely packaged all my excess flotsam and jetsam and haul it all away?

I didn't think so either. Damnit.

So. Let's review:

I tried, but didn't make it to court. Wtf, me?

I didn't commit a crime. (again! That's 14,003 days in a row of law abiding citizenship. Give or take a few leap years.) Yay, me!

My kids were really fucking irritating.

Despite this, I resisted the overwhelming temptation to sell them for a nickel/trade them for a good spot in the portajohn line. High five, me!

I am a damn slob and so are my kids. But I cleaned! Go, us!

But also I am too lazy even to want to sell the evidence of my slovenliness. For money. So, wtf, me?

Tomorrow the three day weekend concludes, so I shall reserve judgement on the weekend for another 24 hours. Let's all keep our fingers crossed that I continue to be a productive member of society, shall we?

Hi HO....

It's back to court I go.

Second time in seven days. Today I go to head off the foreclosure on my house (the one that I own, that Jackass had us evicted from and then failed to pay for as ordered.)

Last week the judge granted me an emergency injunction to stop said foreclosure; today is the scheduled hearing by the Giant Mortgage Company. I have to go and wave my injunction in their faces if they try anything funny. My attorney is out of town so I get to go do this all. alone. With a sinus infection, and antibiotics-induced GI issues (use your imagination, and don't bother being kind- it's gross.)

Oh. And I woke up with my left eye all swollen shut and encrusted, I can only imagine wtf that's all about. But damn. I'm smokin' hot today y'all.

On the bright side, maybe they will take one look, assume I hired an actual Zombie to represent me, and reason that I am a Badass Bitch Who Is Not To Be Fucked With.

I am sure much merriment will be had.

Check me out, yo...

As my friends can attest to, I have a habit of wandering off midsentence, having been distracted by something shiny. I am always stumbling across cool shit, er, stuff, that catches my eye. Being broke hasn't really changed that tendency in me, it's just made it a little more...interesting.

Behold, Cheap Stuff That Doesn't Suck! A place for me (and you, if you're a budget impaired consumer-wanna-be like me!) to share our love of all things groovy and fabulous, and most importantly- affordable!

Got something cheap and cool to crow about? Leave me a comment about it!

Lost: one mojo

Every year since I was in high school, each October I have gotten a miserable sinus/ear/ throat infection that quickly moves south to toss a little bronchitis into the mix. I headed it off last year, somehow, I think maybe my body was all *Fuck you* to germs because it was already dealing with so much stress that it was afraid, (and rightly so) that I might use any excuse to just crawl under the covers and die.

This year apparently the sabbatical is over, and I am stuck with a lovely throbbing head, raw throat, fluid filled ears, and soon, a huuurrrkkkking cough that resembles a noise most commonly made by livestock.

I am going to lie around sluglike today, and make phone calls for work, and stay in my pj's. Maybe with enough ginger ale, sleep, vitamins, and Tylenol Sinus I will recover my lost mojo.

Meanwhile if you see her, please grab her and send her home!

Settling in, albeit reluctantly.

Now, I would completely agree with anyone who observed that since I have been living in the teeny rental house for oh, fourteen months now, that I probably ought to feel like it's my home by now.

But the truth is, I don't.

It's a small brick rancher, the smallest place I have ever lived in my life. It's half the size, or maybe even a third the size- of our old house. It has tiny rooms and, I swear, the smallest kitchen I have ever been burdened with- even my college APARTMENT had a kitchen twice this size. The barren yard and stained roof mean zero curb appeal. I can't afford to plant flowers, or paint, or put down nice rugs, or do anything that would make it feel like a home. I can barely afford the damn rent every month. Even heat and A/C are reserved for days I cannot possibly NOT turn them on.

I don't want to live here. I really, really don't. And neither do the kids.

But because Jackass threatened me, and harassed me, and refused to accept any boundaries; because he refused to pay support and drove his truck through through the yard to make a statement, and stalked me and would not go away; because he then chose to evict us the weekend before school started, from the house we liked that I could actually AFFORD, we don't have any choice.

I'm ashamed to say that I hope no one knows I live here when they drive by. Sometimes I don't bother to keep up with the housework, because really, dishes, or dust or dirty bathroom or whatever- it's still a crappy house, so what difference does it really make?

I don't ever invite anyone inside this place besides my parents (rarely) and VCB and his kids. Not even my brother and his wife- most of my friends have no idea where I live anymore. It's a huge embarrassment to me. There are things that would greatly impact my quality of life here- like some flowers outside, grass in the yard, a wreath for the door, and clean windows (they are full of bugs and- ick ick ick- yuccckkk!!! I cannot bring myself to touch them.) But being broke, and with cold weather looming, those are obviously, in no way financial priorities.

Yes, yes, I know- it beats being homeless, or living with my parents. It's better for the kids to have any home with me than be stuck with whatever tent or basement Jackass would provide. It beats foster care. I can still give them as stable and solid a routine, and as much love, with this roof over our heads as any other.

It's time for me to make this place into a home, and accept that we will be here for the foreseeable future. I need to start that transition internally, but I don't know how to find any joy in it; to accomplish it without a despairing resignation. This sense of limbo has become destructive and it's eroding my family's sense of unity, though, so it's time to embrace this as our reality and find some way to make it okay...for me, and for them.