Tag Archives: Cabin

A thousand words…

30 Jun

With the divorce underway, and decisions on how we’ll split the assets agreed upon, it was time to put the house up for sale.  The ex did all the heavy lifting with getting the house ready, finding the realtor, and putting it up on the market.  In fact, when it sold, he did all the packing and moving.

He let me take whatever I wanted of course, but naturally, I didn’t want the photo albums of our 23 years together.

So when he said “hey there are a lot of cool pics in there, lets get them converted to digital!” I said “okay!”.  But the catch was, I’d have to get them converted, and he’d pay me half. Sounded reasonable…

Until I sat down with the albums and started going through them. I flipped through page after page of pictures of happier times, viewed through my tear filled eyes. I think I got through 5 pages before taking them back to the garage.

For the past year, I’ve kept one photo of he and I framed and hung on my photo wall. It’s of a time when we were last truly happy. We had just bought our vacation home in the mountains and were golfing that afternoon. We were leaving in a few days to go on a three week trip to Spain. Life was grand back then and we felt blessed for what we had and our future together.

They say a picture speaks a thousand words. I suppose that’s true. Maybe one day, I’ll be ready to hear them again. For now, they need to be left in that dusty corridor of my memory for now.

Happier times - thankful for them...

Happier times – thankful for them, but still…


No more cabin…

11 Apr

Last August, on top of me renting a condo, we lost a renter in one of our Georgia properties. So our expenses just went way the fuck up. And to this day, there is no renter in that property, which means we’re losing a shitload of money every month. (And don’t get me started on the break in last month where thieves stole the goddamned copper out of the walls. Fucktards.)

That's a shit load of snow!

Meanwhile, neither the ex or I were particularly attached any longer to our weekend home in the mountains. This was, after all, the place where we thought we’d retire. So the ex and I decided we gotta sell it. Unfortunately for us, we bought in June of 2007 (drum roll please?). And the current market value is $200,000 less than what we bought it for (hand me a fucking tissue please?).

Anyhoohaw, we debated for quite a while about whether we should risk our credit in order to staunch the money bleed that was happening. In the end, decided to short-sell it. Clearly, we had a great case for hardship. And just as clearly, we had a great goddamned cabin. The same day it listed on the MLS, an offer came in.

When my realtor called me, she told me “um, you need to know that the offer came in from people you know…”

I was just shocked and sad, and then pissed that these carpetbaggers were going to benefit from our loss. But we signed the offer anyway. And the bank approved the sale and are forgiving our debt.

Now, the time for moving our stuff out has begun. Last weekend, my bestie and I went up there to get all my clothes and start the process. This weekend, the ex will do the same.

Then… the following weekend (or two) we ALL will be up there together, figuring out who gets what, what to sell, what to leave behind. It’s going to be an interesting time, considering this was, after all, the home we bought to retire in.

On an uplifting note, the fact that the ex and I are friends, and joke with each other, is a fantastic thing. I still feel the love and respect that made us a great couple and wish him every happiness in life and know that regardless of this next step in moving on with our lives, that we will have memories of happy times not clouded with anger and bitterness because it was time to move forward.

Please raise your martini with me… “To the cabin, may you fall apart in the hands of the carpetbaggers” (friggin assholes.)

Alternate toast “I hope next winter it snows 10 feet. Enjoy that slippery driveway, dirty carpetbaggers.”


I can’t sleep…

10 Jan

Well not enough at any rate. Either I’m too busy mind-fucking myself or the dogs are restless, or I’m drenched in night sweats. Whatevs, the end result is: I can’t sleep.

The other night Sparky seemed mad at me, which is ridonkulous because I bought all sorts of delish doggy treats for our week up the cabin, spoiling this doggly with tasty bits of bacon-y, cheese-y, meat-y morsels and tons of mommy-lap-time.

So I was a bit miffed that he slept at the end of the bed. All night. No midnight cuddle with me and the next morning, he seemed mad and sad again. I took him out for his morning ablutions (read: pee and poo outside please) and he was walking sideways, like a crab. Sorta. Back hunched upward, his head angled to the right.

I figured puppy probably swallowed a snausage whole and it was blocking his happiness. If you catch his my drift…

So no more treats today little fella until it passes.

Except by nighttime, he was still in a bad way. He started whimpering every time one of us attempted to pick him up or once when we tried to kiss his head. My inner dialogue was at war.

Rational me: He’s fine, it’ll pass. Pun intended.

Freaked-out me: OMG, did he eat a chicken bone, or what if it really WAS a full snausage and it won’t digest? Could he die from being constipated?

Rational me: You didn’t have chicken for dinner plus he drank water, he’ll be fine.

Freaked-out me: This is serious. He could DIE! And in DEAD SPARKY.

Sparky kept getting up, whimpering, trying to find a more comfy position and by 2:30am, I convinced Rational Me that he WAS gonna die if I didn’t do something.

I called the local vet – who was Rational, but because she can’t see him, she doesn’t know what’s going on. She agreed to meet us at the hospital.

We bundled up both puppies in a blanket and got there at about 3:30am. Her big concern was his bladder, which would be seriously bad news. She needed to check to see if he was blocked. Guess how? Yerp, a catheter. Which freaked me the eff out and apparently was inserted 8″ into his “you know whatsee”. I didn’t even know he had 8″ available…

Dribble dribble, good news, his bladder is just fine. Rolling my eyes, I knew this – I have pictures to prove said prowess.

Anyhoohaw, turns out Sparky hurt his back, maybe from all that sitting up and begging or who knows, from all the belly scratches resulting in rapid hind leg movement. Either way, it was worth the emergency trip to the vet to find out a couple muscle relaxers would restore my puppy’s vitality.

As we climbed back into bed at 4am, all of us exhausted, I kept thinking (yes, thinking): I love my dogs: flaws, paws, pee and all. And I really need to get more sleep. And I need to clean the fridge. And the bathroom cabinet. Oh, and I need to re-do my nails. Maybe I should try counting sheep?

2011 in review…

31 Dec

If this was 2011, what the fuck will 2012 have in store?

Fuckety McMutherfucker. Yes, I just said that. And it fits the year in review.

Started out 2011 proclaiming I will rock my inner Xena, not taking shit anymore and fighting with some badass gladiator heels to boot.

I had drinks with a dildo model, started questioning everything, shared a shockingly funny story involving a big ole black dong, got my stilettos posted on a vodka website, went to a charity ski event and table top danced with a hot, young actor, found out some guys think it’s perfectly okay to share erectile dysfunction over morning coffee, told everyone how I got my brother arrested, and how my friend has a dominatrix in the family.

And that was all BEFORE I ran away from home in June.

Since then, I put BoldlyMocking on hiatus and created this blog, as a way to share my rebirth.

So since I left, here’s what’s been going on:

  1. I crashed with Juli for a week
  2. I realized I didn’t just leave my husband, I left my dogs
  3. I started dating the Rockstar
  4. I moved into a room in someone’s house, without a kitchen mind you
  5. I started paying attention to everyday sounds, like traffic, and wind
  6. I realized I didn’t mind killing my own spiders, but I still don’t like it
  7. I decided I was spiritual, if you can call reading my Sagittarius horoscope spiritual
  8. I realized I hate night sweats, and errratic visits from Aunt Flo
  9. I saw my doctor about sharp pains in my head and realized I wasn’t actually crazy
  10. I got lost on a hike and realized it was okay
  11. I decided I didn’t hate cigars
  12. I wanted an urban lifestyle
  13. I decided the urban lifestyle came with drawbacks and homeless people
  14. I moved into a suburban 790 sq foot condo with out-dated appliances
  15. I defended myself against the friends who judged me unfairly
  16. I found out the hubby is dating (and she’s an ‘older-shorter-fluffy-36D-girl’)
  17. I bought some risque “stuff” online and my neighbors received it
  18. I started to find myself despite the chaos
  19. I realized the hubby is still not ready to talk to me not to mention see my face
  20. I decided I quite like that the Rockstar is living on a sailboat in the SF Bay
  21. I moved into a 790 sq foot condo with fanfuckingtastic appliances

Thanksgiving and Christmas were special to me this year. Both were relaxed events, unlike the past and as I laid my head on my Mom’s lap on Christmas night, I felt a sense of peace and calm I can’t remember ever feeling.

I’m still scared. Having been married to the hubby for almost a quarter of a century, every experience feels bittersweet. Even now as I type this, I think back to 1:45p today, when the Rockstar and I were on our way to the cabin and we passed the hubby and his girlfriend. Picture slow-mo heads turning and eyebrows raised.

If I had one word to describe 2011 it would have to be REMARKABLE.

Tip toeing away…

17 Oct

Maybe they won't notice...

“Marriages don’t die with a bang. They quietly tip toe away and are gone before you know they left. Marriages die slowly under the gradually rising wave of distracted indifference.” I read this in Psychology Today and it’s very true. I just didn’t know how distracted I was and didn’t notice it tip-toeing away.

So anyhoohaw… last Thursday I went to the hubby’s house to pick up the dogs for a nice long weekend at the cabin with The Rockstar. (It was fabulous by the way! So much relaxing, hot tubbing, and cuddling with the furries!!) Now, the hubby warned me in advance that his new “roommate” was going to be moving in. You see, to offset some of my “living on my own” expenses, we both agreed that he’d have to rent the Guest Room at the house.

So he did. Rent the room that is. To a 28 year old woman. I met her. She’s shorter than me (I’d hate it if she were taller), about my size (which means she’s very thin) with long blonde curly hair. Did I mention that she’s 28 years old?

It got me thinking about how I feel about some woman living in my house (ok, technically it IS my house (half anyway) even though I don’t live there anymore). I mean, this woman is using my desk, playing with my dogs, and she’s got stuff in the kitchen too. So yeah, not sure how I feel about this new “situation.”

Speaking of stuff in the kitchen…

Last night I went back to the house to drop the dogs off. I told the hubby I’d be there around 5:30p. He asked me to text him when I was a couple exits away, so he could leave and not see me.

Yes, folks – the hubby doesn’t talk to me on the phone. Hasn’t seen me since I left 4 months ago. We talk via text and email. It works for now.

So I pull into the drive and I can see the kitchen lights on, the hubby leaning on the kitchen island counter with a glass of wine, and a bottle on the island.

I think to myself “Oh, wow. He must be ready to face me.

I gird my loins, check my lipstick (I am vain after all), grab the dogs, and walk in the front door.

I’m literally one foot in the doorway and call out “Hi There!” and I get no response.

What? Did he disappear?

Instead, I hear “Ohhhhh, hi Sparky” from the kitchen. From the new “roommate”.

Who, just as obvious, was drinking a bottle of wine in the kitchen with the ghost of my hubby.

I lifted my foot back out the door, closed it quietly behind me, and tip toed back to my car and left.

As I drove back to my condo I realized I wasn’t the only one who’s been tip toeing away. There appears to be a pattern here…