The Monster.

Last month during my hunt for somewhere to live closer to work I wondered if I was being too cautious about not wanting to live in town because of my exes. I know I can be overdramatic about things. I wanted to move so badly that I put my concerns aside and called on a few places.

I’m so thankful none of them worked out.

Yesterday during lunch I found out ExH1 followed someone to a bar, got into a fight with them and attempted to pull a gun on the person.

Excuse my language here.

What. the actual. fuck.

ExH1 is a drug addict who has a recent history of car theft (while high, claims/thought he was allowed to borrow) and breaking into houses (his sister’s) to steal pills (his niece’s ADHD meds). I get that he was close/related to the people he committed the other crimes against but still. How is he not doing any sort of time? Has he not been sentenced yet? Have the charges been dropped? Where the sentences that soft?

The possibility of me ever moving into town dropped to zero. It’s highly unlikely I’ll even go out with friends there. The thought even crossed my mind not to move closer to work at all. Screw thinking that I’m being too cautious. Yes, I realize not moving is extreme. Yes, we’ve been divorced for nearly 15 years. But who would have thought he would have contacted me & my family and asked out my sister after 12-13 of those years? Who would have thought I would have had to still deal with him at all just 9 months ago? I’m not taking any chances.

I get that in the short time he was clean that he was a nice guy and a lot of people loved him. But what I don’t get how people can still label him as a “good guy” and still defend him after everything he’s done. How can they not see that after at least 30 years of struggling with various forms addiction (and having a mother that’s been an addict since she was a teen) that the monster isn’t going to give up with what appears to be one hell of a nasty fight? I’m not saying they should give up on him. Keep praying and pray hard. But I suppose the difference between being in a long-term relationship with him and him putting on a lovable front is that you see this isn’t something he stumbled on in the past few years. You know he it’s something that’s been with him most of his life, and it’s just getting worse.

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We are Living in a Material World and I am (not) a Material Girl.

Once upon a time I was an impulse shopper. If I wanted something, I bought it. If I felt like treating myself to a night out of town or going to an event, I’d do it without batting an eye. That version of me was around less than 2 years ago. That version of me seems so foreign.

Now I have to talk myself into buying things I need… things like shoes, clothes, fall & winter jackets and curtains. When it comes to something I don’t need, I have a multi-week internal debate so I can rationalize spending the extra money. If I do manage to talk myself into it, I feel guilty for the splurge.

Translation: I need and want stuff. I have the money to spend. I have too tight of a grip on my savings to do so.

Dear Santa,

No… I’m not writing another letter asking for a Wonder Woman Tutu. Eff that. I give up on asking Santa for that tutu year after year. I’ll make my own freakin’ tutu, dammit!


Today I came across a post from one of my favorite crafty bloggers. She randomly found a childhood letter she wrote to Santa that was published in a book. She recognized her handwriting, one of the items on the list and her name. How cool is that?!

It got me thinking… Would I recognize one of my letters to Santa? I know there’s no way I’d ever recognize my childhood handwriting. I recall some of the items I asked for but mostly because they remained the same from year to year. The thing that would make a letter stand out would be my name. The spelling of my first name is not the most common version. However, if I had to guess, I’d bet I signed my letters using “Kit-Kat” instead. I’m a little sad that I don’t remember.

What I do remember is the time I found my letter stuffed in the truck’s glove box because Mom’s drunk of a boyfriend at the time didn’t bother mailing it (or at least a better job at making sure I didn’t find it). THAT I remember. I bawled my poor little eyes out what seemed like forever.

I Splurged A Little.

After some work bonuses and other stuff, I had a nice increase to my income. I’ve debated on purchasing another TiVo for quite some time so I bought one last week. I rationalized that I’ll save money over Time Warner’s crap DVR service and I won’t have to deal with their not-so-user-friendly-UI cable box anymore (it’s so frustrating and slow that I stopped watching cable at my apartment). So, now that my brand new, beautiful TiVo shipped, I feel guilty for the splurge. I felt the same guilt when I bought my TV earlier this year. Both reduce frustration but watching my dollars go bye-bye makes me sad.

Now I just have to take a deep breath and go shopping for clothes, shoes/boots, jackets and curtains. If I don’t have too much of a stomach ache after that, maybe I’ll get some artwork to hang on the bare walls in my apartment.

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Best Birthday Gift Ever.

No more wishing.
No more wondering.

We’re back together.

I’m in the happy cloud that is expected from that sentence but it’s like a weight was lifted.

No more constantly explaining why I don’t want to date.
No more getting judged because I won’t date (and why).
No more confessions of feels from “friends” who just don’t get it.*

I can just… be.

*I love how it actually takes being in a relationship for that to stop. What is wrong with people? What part of “I love someone else” doesn’t sink in? It takes a lot of effort for me not to say, “If you cared about me as much as you’re telling me you do then have enough respect for me to shut the f**k up about it and every time you spew your feels I want to bash your face in because you’re a dick for putting me in this position… again.” /endrant

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No Means No.

One month ago I started this blog post. I found it in the trash.

I have these cousins. They grew up just up the road from us. The families were so close that we were like extended siblings. There were 13 kids combined, 8 girls and 5 boys. I am the youngest of the bunch. Being the youngest of that many kids, especially that many females, can get exhausting… even as an adult.

I got a text from one of the cousins a couple of nights ago as I was going to bed. “Are you looking for a boyfriend? I may have someone for you.” Looking for a boyfriend? Sheesh. First of all, I never had to look for a boyfriend. Second, if I was interested I’m too quiet and awkward for the whole set-up deal. This particular cousin and her sister made it their mission to set me up. I explained for the hundredth time that my life is too complicated to drag anyone else into it.

I stayed at work late last night to avoid heavy rain. On my way into town, I text my cousin to see what she was doing. She’s been asking to hang out and I always have a reason not to. I’ve used the excuse that I’m busy to avoid hanging out with her. Really it just makes me uncomfortable to justify my disinterest in the whole dating scene every time we visit. No matter how many times I tell her I’m not interested, she’s determined to hook me up. Beyond the fact my heart is with D, I’m less interested because she has absolutely no idea what my taste is in men. For example, their bankroll is near the bottom of my list but the top of her’s. Actually, “have the ability to support yourself honestly” is about the extent of my mental note about the money requirement.

Anyway. As a result, her husband told me that I am privileged, meaning I have an easy life. I suppose that’s an easy assumption to make.

As the night went on, I talked to my cousin about a girl’s night. She said something about getting all the men to come over and flirt with us. When I was sort of like, “meh” then explained that I hate when random men hit on me. I always have. It makes me uncomfortable. I hate it even more now that I’m not in a relationship (a traditionally relationship, anyway). Making this statement, combined with my disinterest in dating, made her hubby ask me if I was gay.

Good times.

Don’t get me wrong. I absolutely love my cousin. She’s a sweetheart and her hubby can be a hoot. I just don’t know how to get through to them about this whole dating/men thing.

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Thinking Out Loud #12


Bezhig (One).

So I can feel less like Count from Sesame Street as I count down (or up?) my Thinking Out Loud subjects, I decided to count in Ojibwe. This is the only thing I can actually say other than counting and various single words…

Boozhoo! Niin Waab-ahnanung’kwey nindizhinikaaz. Ma’iingan doodem.
(Hello! My name is Morning Star Woman. I am Wolf Clan.)

Niizh (Two).

We Are No Longer Enemies.

I am no longer enemies with the scale. I’ve come to respect it again. It’s not at fault for the poor choices I made during the summer. Poor scale got no respect.

I only lost .4 pounds this week but I lost 1% body fat. Yay! I’m quite certain the muscle gain is in my ass. At least that’s what hurt the most this week.

Niswi (Three).

Store No More.

These are coming out of the corner this weekend. The PVC thingies are my cheap knock-off version of the Lebert Equalizer. I’m going to paint them bright pink and add hand grips as soon as we get a less humid, not too hot or cold day (hopefully before the snow flies).

I needed to get a little strength and flexibility back before using them. Since I live in an upper apartment I really didn’t want to lose my balance & hit the floor, causing a ginormous sounding kaboom for DownstairsNeighbors. Continue reading

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