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Financial Hardships Increasingly Instigate Divorces
By Joe Larson
Financial stress and difficulties are the number one reason why couples get divorced. Financial stress occurs in almost every marriage, but is divorce the solution? I for one, don't think Read more...

Divorce

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Financial Hardships Increasingly Instigate Divorces
By Joe Larson
Financial stress and difficulties are the number one reason why couples get divorced. Financial stress occurs in almost every marriage, but is the solution? I for one, don't think it is! If you and your spouse can conquer the bills and debt, you'll end up with a stronger marriage.

Divorce is also the main cause of bankruptcy. A big debt can break up your marriage, but how can you possibly see a benefit to your wallet when you

your spouse? Many couples neglect budgeting, savings accounts, and even financial talks. will not be the solution to the problem; it will only add to it. Not only is costly financially speaking, but it costs you the lifelong mate that you were committed to long before money issues became problematic. Did your vow of "for richer or poorer" mean nothing?

Find the problem and work together to fix it. Avoid having to go through this costly and painful crisis. Screaming and pointing fingers never accomplishes anything. Instead of fighting, focus on the task at hand. Take responsibility and learn to control your financial situation, instead of letting it control you. Revise your situation, so you can determine what needs to be done. Diligently stick to your budget, in order to help stretch dollars and track expenditures. It will help you determine where it's necessary to spend money and what expenses can be scaled back or cut out all together.

You should then open a savings account with a bank in your area. The advice I usually give my clients is to open a savings account across town so, they don't feel tempted to make quick withdrawals from it. They will have more time to consider their decision to take money out as the travel the longer distance. The better plan is to have a predetermined amount taken directly out of every paycheck and deposited directly into a savings account. You need only begin with a small amount, but make it a goal to add the most you can each time. Unexpected bills and emergencies occur so be prepared to use your savings on these.

If we are wise with the money that we have been blessed with we, will please Jesus by not living in bondages of debt. The Lord is all knowing and gives us the power to handle what he has given us in a wise and effective manner. When we pass the test by proving ourselves responsible with little' he will make us responsible for much. When we are spendthrifts or don't care for the possessions he's given us, the Lord will take them away, and we do need to understand this.

If the stress and lack of money comes, don't panic. is not the answer to the problem, nor is placing the blame on your spouse. Sit down and write it out. Revise your situation so you can begin to determine what action needs to take place. Phone creditors to inform yourself about hardship programs. Take a temp job part time in order to make ends meet. Get in touch with a credit counselor to see if they can help you. Together you can work through this, but separating will only cost you more money and a lot of heartache.

Additional Resources
Divorce Law: An Introduction
By Gunaseelan
Divorce is a complex area of the law, and one that varies depending on the jurisdiction in which the case is being hears, which is usually the jurisdiction of domicile for the Read more... Additional Resources
Prenuptial Agreement
By Susant
Prior to marriage, one way to look at a prenuptial agreement is that you are planning for your marriage to fail before it starts. However, another way to look at it is that although we marry Read more...

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The Big One
In three days, I hit the big one…I turn 40.  I’m not freaked out about the number…I’ve earned every year.  I have a great career, a place of my own, great relationships with my kids, family and friends so I’m thankful.  I have no game plan and that has me more freaked out than turning 40.  Last year, training for the two marathons kept me focused.  My dance class recently ended and I just ended a non-relationship…although I still have to tell the guy.  I’m writing another book, but its months from completion and lately I’m feeling uninspired. I like having goals and a direction, but what do you do when you have what you want?  My life is where I want it to be.  Is it right to complain the only part missing is a companion?  I feel like I’m being greedy or ungrateful for wanting to find someone to share the fun stuff with.  I am and should be enough for myself and my kids.  Maybe that soul mate crap doesn’t happen after 40 and I blew my chance. I’ve learned a lot about myself in the last few years since leaving Mr. Hyde.  I wouldn’t change it and I don’t regret the difficult choices I made.  I’m comfortable with who I am and my life.  My worry is I’ve become so self-sufficient I haven’t left room for a partner.  I don’t put up with BS.  When a guy starts playing games, I’m done.  If he gets too clingy, I’m done.  If he mentions marriage, moving or any significant changes, I’m done. A guy friend of mine asked me the other day why I cut things off at the two month mark.  I said by then I know whether it’s going to work long-term.  Game players are bored by then and serious guys are picking out china patterns.  He gave me a look, I dropped my guard and answered honestly…two months in, and I start to have feelings.  I look for an out so I don’t have to risk anything.  Game players are easy…ask ‘where is this going?’  And they disappear almost before the sentence is finished.  Serious guys are too intense so they are relegated to the friend zone. My friend looked me in the eye and cut right through the bull.  He told me to stop being afraid because I may be cutting something really great short before giving it a fair chance. He’s right.  My birthday gift to myself is to continue being true to myself, but to open my heart, mind and take more chances in life. There will always be something more we can learn about ourselves and I hope as the years continue to fly by, those lessons never stop.  J     
All Good Things Come To Those Who Wait
It took daughter's science project to teach me a lesson -- and a good one at that. In my never-ending quest for self-improvement (and yes I have plenty of it to do), I try to always give credit where credit is due. And in this case that credit goes to the Fedster. I admit that last week I was hasty and rushed to judgement when he didn't have his half of daughter's science project done on my timeline. I realize that it's unreasonable for me to expect that the Fedster do things when I want them done, especially since we're no longer married. As a single independent man, when he gets things done is at his discretion. Even if I don't necessarily agree, I respect that. Last night was the inaugural finishing of daughter's year-end science project. J-Fed and daughter had finalized Mars over the weekend, and it was up to J-Fed to put the finishing touches on the 3-D project. We waited for the arrive of Mars with bated breath. When he arrived, I was blown away with the magnificence of Mars and its two balls, I mean moons. It goes without saying that J-Fed put every minute that he invested into the project to good use. Mars was carefully crafted with canyons, volcanos and all of its other fine features. The moons were neatly sculpted to closely resemble Diemos and Phobos. It was like the Sistine Chapel of science projects, and J-Fed was the Michelangelo. I had no idea he had it in him. It was obvious that he had taken pride in helping daughter perfect the visual aspect of her project. Although I had been pretty pissed about the delay, I realized in hindsight that it would be his helping hand that daughter would remember 10 years from now -- not the time frame in which he did it. She would recall the time that her father went out and spent a whole bunch of money to ensure she had an out-of-this-world science project that was second to none. Heck, she'd probably even tell her kids about it one day. As daughter practiced her oral presentation, the Fedster listened closely making sure she got all of her facts correct. She beamed as he praised her. It was definitely an A for effort. Ask daughter and she'd probably give her dear dad an A plus. The only A I got was one for ass, an ass for assuming that because he didn't rush through his part of the project it wouldn't be every bit as good. When I carried daughter's project into her classroom in the morning, all eyes were on daughter and her replica of Mars. "They're looking at my project," she whispered proudly. It was one small step for man; one giant leap for the Fedster.
J-Fed The Space Case
The assignment was simple -- create a mere model of mars by Friday. I had given J-Fed his marching orders a week ahead of time, well in advance of the project's due date. Would he be able to tackle this mission to mars or would he leave me believing once again that he really was from outer space? If you guessed the latter, you're absolutely right. My favorite spacecase let me down once again, but he did it oh-so-gracefully. I learned a long time ago about the dangers of procrastination. I had spent far too many long nights trying to complete projects at the last minute. It was a bad habit of mine in middle school, high school and even college. After years, no decades, of doing things at the midnight hour, I finally changed my evil ways. And as a parent, this was a characteristic I wanted to instill in my children. If they learned no other lesson from me, this one would be etched in their heads forever. It would be the most important thing my 8-year-old learned in third grade. Too bad my other child, the Fedster, missed the memo. Lucky for me, I'm the conductor of the homework train. So when it comes to major projects, I have a timeline in place the day my daughter receives the assignment. Usually, I handle the undertaking of acting as daughter’s assistant myself, but since this three-pronged project included one artsy-craftsy element, I figured I'd invite the Fedster along for the wild ride. I figured it would make him feel a sense of pride by getting involved. A bigger mistake has never been made. Well, I take that back -- a bigger mistake was once made but quickly rectified with divorce papers if you get my drift. Back to the drama du jour. The Fedster was supposed to start the said project last weekend just three days after he receive his assignment. But somehow Sunday rolled around and J-Fed still hadn't even accumulated the supplies he needed for building his replica of mars. Let's see -- a newspaper, some water, a balloon and some paint. Doesn't exactly seem like rocket science to me? But what do I know. Plenty. Do you know why? Because I spent an hour every night last week working on the report aspect of daughter's project with her. In fact, by Sunday afternoon, the report part was written, edited, photocopied and bound with a stunning title page and a neat plastic cover, all courtesy of Kinkos. As daughter admired her handywork, I espoused the virtues of time management and doing things ahead of time. You see, daughter is in dance classes almost every night of the week (by choice) and this weekend was extra rehearsals for the recital, as well as a birthday party on Saturday. That meant if daughter wanted to participate in all of the incidentals, the entire project had to be completed and sitting on our dining room table for a Monday morning delivery. Sadly, daughter got sacked with a sad excuse for a lab partner. Despite going over to her father's house for the last couple of nights, the art aspect was hardly done. In fact, the last time I laid my eyes on J-Fed's efforts it looked more like a giant mothball than a replica of Mars. But what do I know? Oh that's right -- alot because my part of the project is DONE. Two nights ago, the Fedster contacted me in a heated frenzy. He had finally gotten off his can and gotten the supplies. He informed me that when all was said and done, he’d spent $150 on the supplies to build Mars. WHAT?!? $150. Was Mars suddenly made of gold or what? What in the hell could possibly cost $150 to make Mars. A balloon he could probably rouse for free at the local grocery store. A newspaper was no more than a dollar. Water was free, and a jar of paint would probably set him back a whopping $5… and that’s for the crème de la crème. Boy, if there’s a way to spend money, leave it to J-Fed to find it. I couldn’t believe he had blown that kind of wad. He tried to explain to me that he’d now have the supplies, including a hot glue gun, for further projects. Um, Elmer’s Glue anyone? J-Fed was wrong. He wouldn’t need supplies for future projects because there weren’t going to be any… at least not for him.  You see, tonight was the final straw. I needed the Fedster to complete his part of the project because daughter still had to work on the oral part of the presentation. And this was a problem because there was no way for me to work on the oral part of the presentation if she was over at HIS house being sidetracked by all of the other distractions keeping him from his work on Mars. Pathetic. If you ask me, it was pathetic and I couldn't be more pissed if he urinated in my new armoire. Oh I know, that was so yesterday, but bad memories linger for a lifetime. And so does their source apparently. When I explained to J-Fed that he was screwing up the timeline, he became completely incensed as if it were an issue for him to go by a schedule. What in God's name was I thinking? He informed me she had ALL weekend to work on the project. Ahem. Hello in there???? The whole point of getting it done early was because she DIDN'T have the time to do the project. What part of that repeated diatribe did he not listen to? I'm guessing all of it. So here it is Wednesday night. Mars is half-finished. The oral report hasn't been started. And I'm realizing that perhaps daughter's biggest coup for her report would be to bring in her own father on Monday. After all, she's probably the only kid whose father is from another planet. A+ for daughter. F- for J-fed.
Dance Class Don't
I’ve been busy with my family, friends and occasional dates so I wanted to do something fun for myself.  I signed up for a Latin dance class.  Learn the Mambo, Salsa and Meringue in four classes…well, at least start to learn it! At the first class, I was the youngest person there (by at least 15 years).  Since I was also the only one who didn’t bring a partner, I was paired with the teacher.  Bonus!  I was going to get first hand lessons dancing with the teacher.  I was excited until he decided to rotate partners a few times.  My next partner didn’t speak English and was timid.  I’m the woman, but someone had to lead, so I did my best to count out the steps and nudge him the right direction. My next partner reminded me of my sweet grandfather but this guy made sure I knew my place.  “I’m the man.  I lead; you do what I tell you.”  Alrighty then.  He spun me around the dance floor and he and his wife had me laughing and really enjoying the class.  I could hardly wait for the next week. The following week, I chatted with the older couple waiting for the second class to begin when a few new people filtered in.  Another unpaired woman joined the class so we partnered up.  Since it was her first class, I volunteered to be the ‘man’ so she could learn the basics.  Things went fine for 10 minutes until a late-comer walked in.  The teacher walked over and said “Great news!  We have a man you two can take turns dancing with.”  He was young, Latin and pretty good looking…nice!  I danced with the teacher while the new girl took a ‘turn’ with the new guy.  When the teacher said to switch, I nervously got into starting position with the new guy.  And then we tried to dance…ugh.  He told me to stop looking at my feet.  He told me I was too stiff.  “Loosen up.  Pretend you are melting like butter.”  I apologized and kept trying.  Even though I felt ok with my efforts, the new guy was unimpressed.  “The girl before you got this right away.  She had real rhythm.”  Gee, thanks.  He proceeded to tell me he already knew how to Salsa, but was only taking the class to learn the official steps to the other dances.  Great, I was dancing with an expert. He continued to berate me.  “You are the woman; you should be moving much more than me.  Feel the music.  Your hips will know what to do.  Just let loose.”  I tried but come on…if I knew how to do it, why would I be taking the class?  He even stopped me at one point and indicated an elderly couple.  “Watch her…she’s doing the steps right.  Watch how she does it so you’ll know what you are doing wrong.” Frustrated and sweaty, I kept scanning the room.  Where the heck did the other girl go?  I wanted to switch back.  The teacher and other woman stayed on the other side of the room and I finished out the last 45 minutes of the class with Rico Suave. By the end of the class Rico was slightly less critical.  When class ended he said “We should go dancing sometime.”  What?  Was he kidding?  “Why?”  I said, “I stink.”  He said he knew a few Latin clubs where we could go dancing.  I tried not to laugh.  Was this guy serious?  Dating tip:  if you are interested in asking out your dance partner, don’t spend the whole evening criticizing her dancing and then act surprised when she says ‘no thanks.’ Can’t wait to see what happens this week…
The Dating Game
Dating is fun…I forgot it’s supposed to be.  I went on a ‘grown-up’ date last week.  Our local art museum has an after 5pm event on Friday evenings.  I sipped wine, listened to a live band, and strolled around looking at the amazing art.  I’ve added the evening to my list of favorite dates.  Not necessarily for the guy who took me there, but for the actual date. I’m a one date wonder…I proudly admit it.  I’ve been married and divorced 3 times…I’ve seen a lot of male behavior and it’s difficult to fool me.  I took an extended break from dating because I didn’t want to become too jaded.  When I started dating again recently, I had a few dating doozies like the guy who asked what my favorite sexual position was as I was taking the first sip of my first drink...choke…what did you say?  Or the guy who spent the entire date telling me how psycho his ex was…she’s crazy, she treats me like crap, my friends hate her, but I love her…do you think she’ll ever call me again? A first date tells me everything I need to know.  Within 10 minutes, his motivation becomes obvious.  So I was worried I’d never make it to a second date.  I’m self-sufficient, emotionally stable, and happy with my life…is wanting the same in someone else too much to ask for? Art Museum guy was actually a second date and I had a third date the other day with Trivia Night guy so it’s possible.  Instead of worrying about being jaded, I should gratefully recognize those early warning signs and make better choices.  
I'm Going To Do It
I have finally made decision. Prince Charming (P.C.) and I have been apart for quite a while now.  We have been talking and emailing, and I have seen him twice, but we haven’t been living together. He’s been working out of town, and I have been going to school in another state. Now that P.C. has had some time to change, and I have had some time to focus on school we are getting back together. I know not to get too excited because I don’t want to set myself up for disappointment, but I am going into this feeling hopeful. We will be moving back in together in the next few weeks. I don’t really like putting a time limit on it, but I’m thinking we will see how we feel again at the end of 2010. This time without him has been good because I was able to spend a lot of time with my friends, and focus on school without being stressed out from arguing all the time. However, I think time with him can be good too. I will just make sure to have a balance between my own life and our life together.  I’m giving us one more chance because I don’t want to have regrets later on in life. However, I know what I can and cannot live with. If he starts going back to his old ways I will be sad, but I know I won’t hesitate to leave and I won’t regret it.
Happy Anniversary To Me
Two years ago today, I walked away from Mr. Hyde.  My friends drove two states to help me throw all my junk in a U-Haul truck and bring me back home.  Talk about dramatic life change! The decision wasn’t easy, but it was the right thing to do.  I’ve rebuilt myself and my life in the last two years and I’ve never been happier.  I’m exactly where I belong and need to be.  My kids, family, and friends surround me and I’ve accomplished things I never would have dreamed I could do two years ago.  I ran two marathons, started my own business and I’m writing a book again. I feel all the areas of my life have settled comfortably -- well all but the romantic part.  I took a break from dating for the last couple of years so I could focus on other areas. Now that everything else has fallen into place, eventually my love life will too... no rush though.  Two years ago, I chose to be with someone I’ve been acquainted with all my life, but never really got to know and that's myself!  I don’t need a man to complete me -- I complete me.  Guess I finally found my soul mate after all. Happy anniversary to me! 
J-Fed: A Real Pisser
They say things aren't always what they seem, but I think that's debatable. If it walks like a drunk and talks like a drunk, it must be a drunk right? Well, the answer is wrong, according to J-Fed. The last year or so J-Fed has been on his best behavior, and by best behavior, I mean he hasn't beencompletely irrational. He hasn't spent hours on end playing illegal video poker in a nearby gas station. Hehasn't bought any exotic disease-carrying pets for the children. For the most part, he's managed to come across as a semi-responsible adult who's fulfilling his duties as a father and ex-husband. Of course, all good things must come to an end, and it appears his run as responsible has briefly concluded. It was a Saturday like every other Saturday. I was running the girls to their dance lessons and tutor sessions. Meanwhile, the man child was busy at work. What he was working on, I have no clue, but whatever it was, it left him mighty tired. You see, J-Fed and I had agreed that the girls would likely go to his house around 4 p.m. At least that's how I understood it. So imagine my shock when the Fedster didn't answer his phone at 4 p.m. or 4:03 or 4:16 or 4:20 or 4:30 and so forth. I was dismayed, annoyed and a bit concerned that he had basically stood up everybody involved. By 5:08, I had packed the kids up and driven over to his house. I knocked to no avail. If I had my other set of keys with the key to his house, I simply would have let myself in, as I usually do. So after five minutes of me tap, tap, tapping at his door arrived Mr. J-Fed evermore. There he stood -- bad haircut at all. It was obvious that during his Saturday downtime he had made a stop the local butcher, er, barber shop. "WHAT?!?" he yelled. "Really??? What the hell, J-Fed? It's 5:15, I've been calling for an hour and fifteen minutes. You were supposed to get the kids at 4," I seethed. He flashed me a look of contempt. Or maybe he was simply trying to refocus his eyes after his long period of hibernation. I left 8-year-old daughter there and went back to the car to fetch our 3-year-old daughter in the car just a few feet away. The kids both headed for the bedroom. I stood in the doorway prepared to give the Fedster a major tounge-lashing when much to my surprise I turned to the left and saw him standing in the bathroom, pulling out his major man parts. I was completely speechless, which is saying a lot. Was my ex-husband really standing here pissing in front of me or was this some sort of hallucination? "Are you pissing???" I exclaimed. "I have to piss. So what?" he shot back. Not knowing what to do, I stood there, waiting for him to finish his business. He zipped up his pants as if we had just finished a discussion about the weather over a cup of tea. I knew this J-Fed far too well. This was the "I've been camping out at the local watering hole" J-Fed. My old nemesis had returned. It was the same J-Fed who had pissed in my brand new Rooms To Go armoire all those years ago.  My first instinct was to pop him upside the head, but I refrained from getting physical. I leaned into him. Ha! Caught red-handed. "You have been drinking. Are you freaking kidding me?" I exploded. "No, I haven't," he said, issuing his first denial. "Yes you have! I can smell it," I said. "I haven't been drinking... recently," he said slyly. "You're unreal. I can't believe you," I was highly pissed off, which is only slightly better than being pissed on. "It was one beer at lunch," he said looking annoyed. I was at a crossroads. To believe or not to believe. I looked at the evidence with which I had been presented. He had taken an extended nap (i.e. passed out). He had publicly urinated (hey, I saw it in the flesh, it being the act, not his member). He carried the scent of alcohol on his breath. Now granted, he didn't seem drunk. Sleepy yes. Drunk no. But this was J-Fed, and he was a master at pretending. After all, he had me convinced he wanted to stay married for five years. I bit the bullet. "Why don't I just take the kids home?" I said. "Do whatever the hell you want. You're going to anyways," he said hatefully. With that, I took the kids and left. It was a split-second decision that would have some serious ramifications, even if for a short period of time. I thought I was making the right choice. Immediately after I left, the Fedster called me and chewed me a new a-hole. He even used the B-word. This call was followed by a slew of nasty text messages basically telling me where I could go and what I could do to myself. The final message told me that the Fedster's mom had come over to his house for dinner -- so I had basically screwed her out of seeing the kids. He told me not to bother bringing them over, but that didn't stop me from hopping back in my car and driving back over. Once there, the Fedster was nasty and consistantly flashing me the stink eye. Truth be told, it got a little nasty. I called him an ungrateful S.O.B. He called me a judgemental bitch. By the time I arrived home to my boyfriend Mr. Ex, I was quite upset. I explained to Mr. Ex that I was certain J-Fed had been drinking because of the little piss party he threw in my presence. I wasn't so sure he was completely convinced so I dropped the bombshell. "He whipped out his wing wang and pissed in front of me," I told Mr. Ex. "Well, is that drunk or just classless?"  Mr. Ex begged the question before cracking up. He did have a point. It was less than 30 minutues before J-Fed and I had called a truce. He told me he felt insulted by my lack of faith in him, and I pointed out that he had gone to the bathroom in front of me. He tried to justify it with the fact he had only opened the door because he thought somebody was there inside the house. Yeah, somebody was there... and that somebody was ME! In the end, J-Fed and I didn't kiss, but we did make up. "By the way, you owe me an apology, Max Headroom," I said, alluding to the chop job he called a haircut. Maybe this time, I was only half-right. Or half wrong. Maybe J-Fed's glass had only been half full. This time around.  
Hot Head
Hell didn't freeze over, but the south most certainly has. While it's most certainly much, much colder in other parts of the country, I can't help but sit and wallow in misery as the temperatures drop into the 60s... inside my house. Yes, this early January cold front has left me bitter. It's not because of the climate, but more so because J-Fed once again lured me into the mousetrap with a small nibble of cheese and a whole lot of whine. 2009 was a year of ups and downs, but mostly ups. For the most part, J-Fed has been on his best behavior. He's paid his child support, and then some. He's been very active in the girls' lives. All in all, he's been part of the solution instead of being part of the problem. Don't get me wrong -- he still has his moments, albeit they're few and fleeting these days. Of course, it just so happens this was one of those weeks. It started about five days ago, just as old man winter blew through town. Living in the tropics, J-Fed was no different than most people, who've rarely kicked on their heat. So when a cold freeze moved down through the south, he was shell-shocked to find that his newish townhome had no heat. My phone rang about 9 p.m., hot on the heels of the front's arrival. "Dude, I have no heat," he cried. "It's arctic in here." I felt for him, I really did. In fact, it was mighty chilly in my own house. I was holding out until the last moment before kicking the heat on, as I didn't want my allergies to flare up. "Did you call the A/C guy?" I asked. I wasn't really certain what he expected me to do. Last time I checked, the word furnace wasn't tattooed on my ass. Sure, I was full of hot air, but it wasn't like I was going to keep him warm... that's what the the T.O.W.ster (the other woman) was for. Sure I felt bad for him, but a little chill to the bone would do him good. "Yes. And he can't fix until next week. Anyways, you probably won't hear from me tomorrow because I'll have frozen to death," he said solemnly. I pictured his 6'4" frame surrounded by a giant ice block, and for a brief moment, it warmed my cold little heart. I bid him good night and good luck and went off to roll up in my Snuggie. In reality, I could empathize as I was feeling a little frigid myself. A few hours later my mother Kuku dropped in. I had told her about J-Fed's plight earlier, and she sympathized, enough to offer him her space heater. When she told me of her goodwill, I fought off the urge to slap her silly. Sure, J-Fed needed the space heater but so did I. The frosty temps in my house were starting to cut me to the bone. When I mentioned that I could have used the space heater, she informed me had dropped it off at the Fedster's. "What about me?" I exclaimed. "Well, I didn't want the kids to burn themselves on it," she sighed. It was highly unlikely they would scald themselves on the space heater once they had been transformed into miniature blocks of ice. When I asked my boyfriend Mr. Ex if we should turn on the heat, he informed me that we had none. I didn't worry too much about it. I mean we live in a tropical paradise -- how cold could it really get?!? Very. Very. Cold. I learned within the next couple of days. Ironically, the temperatures hadn't dropped this low in 30 years. Lucky for me, my brother hit the local Wal-Mart and stumbled upon paydirt. He picked up two of the last space heaters. As soon as I heard the good news, a furnace was lit -- not in my house, but definitely in my heart. By the time the temperatures dropped into the 30s tomorrow night, I'd be so nice and cozy with my brand new space heater, one that would put that little hotbox the Fedster was using to shame. Just for ha ha's I decided to test the heater in the house, and to my shock and awe, warm air actually started blowing. I was tickled pink realizing that I could heat our entire house by simply adjusting the thermostat. Mr. Ex had underestimated the power of our unit. I giggled realizing that although J-Fed would have to remain in one room to stay warm, I could walk through my house buck naked and not be affected by the icy temperatures outside. In fact, I felt so confident in my heater that I decided to gift J-Fed with my brand new space heater. I dropped it off at his house and you would have thought he had just one the showcase showdown he was so over the moon. I felt like Santa Claus in January. And with a wrinkle of my nose, I returned to my home a couple of hours later. Imagine my surprise when I arrived home to find our humble abode wasn't so toasty after all. I look at thermostat that shouted a cool 64 degrees. I ran for the phone and called J-Fed. "I need the space heater back. Our heater isn't working," I demanded. "No way," he told me. "Come on, J-Fed. I don't feel well and I need the heater," I pleaded. "Sorry. Gotta go," With that he hung up on me. Really??? That SOB had not one but two space heaters -- one that belonged to me and one that belonged to my mom. And here I was layered up in three sweaters, jeans, two pairs of socks, a winter jacket and Snuggie. How could I have been so stupid? As angry as I was, I realized it couldn't stay cold forever. Of course, that didn't stop it from freezing for next three days. We're going on like the ninth day of cold weather. I'm sick as a dog. I haven't been warm since I visited the nearby Catholic church four days ago. I keep waiting for the warmer weather come, yet it hasn't arrived. Tonight I dropped in on the Fedster's to take back what was rightfully mine. At the very least, I could confiscate the smaller space heater. When I walked into his house, it was downright toasty. I could curl up on the couch and sleep for days, which is exactly what the big loser was doing. There he was sawing logs next to MY brand new space heater. I kicked the couch and told him to wake up. "I need one of the space heaters. I'm sick," I told him. "Sorry, the other one is at my office," he said matter of factly and rolls back over into a slumber. "You'll be fine." I waited until he was almost in dreamland again to try and snatch the heater. As I moveed to grab it, the heat radiating from the heater told me that wasn't not such a good idea. I told J-Fed to eat shit and die before slamming his door and going back into the cold, cold night. Maybe he would burn in hell after all.    
26-Mile Life Lesson
I had a go-to moment.  I finished a marathon…26.2 miles and I did it!  Whenever I feel frustrated, low or like I can’t get through something, I just have to remember the day I completed a marathon to realize I can do anything. The last year has been full of so many changes for me.  I haven’t blogged because I want to move forward and leave behind my past.  The divorce was final in April so I haven’t been Mrs. Hyde in 7 months.  The end was ugly…Mr. Hyde sent very personal photos & a journal to my parents.  My Dad, with a heart condition, opened that package.  It was hurtful and embarrassing, but despite his violation of the no contact order, I didn’t press charged or retaliate.  I held my head up and got through it. I had always thought it would be amazing to complete a marathon someday.  When a high school friend mentioned starting to train for one, I asked if I could follow the schedule as well.  What better way to test my own strength and endurance? I completed a half marathon in September but could 13.1 miles really prepare me for a full marathon? Two months later, I would find out.  My name was printed on the bib with my number.  The course was lined with supporters to cheer everyone on.  “Go Mrs. Hyde,”  “You are a rock star,” “You can DO this,” “You are my hero, Mrs. Hyde” were all things people cheered along the run.  I hurt my knee at mile 9 and was unable to continue running.  I was passed by Elvis, a guy who was juggling as he ran and the lady walking just in front of me stopped at the 20 mile mark to guzzle a beer from someone on the sidelines.  I limped as I walked the last 17 miles, but there was no way I was giving up. The genuine kindness of complete strangers restored my faith in people.  I was worried about running the race by myself, but not once along the way did I feel alone.  At mile 24, a woman walked beside me for awhile telling me this was my moment…I could do this, I was strong and if I could do this, I could do anything.  She came along at the right time and her words helped me get to that finish line.  I always thought I was strong, resilient, and capable, but when I finished that marathon, I PROVED to myself I am a tough chick who is strong enough to accomplish anything…and I can finish what I start.  Now that I know I’m capable, I need to trust myself to find a relationship worth seeing through until the end…no settling, no making due, and no giving up.  I have faith in myself, my strength of character and who I am.  When I’m ready, I will bring my complete self into my next relationship…and isn’t that the best way to start one?