Okay, so suffice it to say the FB got her due. Oh, she had Gorton for a time, and made my life absolutely miserable. There are many stories I could tell but I’ll spare you the unpleasantness. By the time she realized he was pretty slovenly and not nearly as wealthy as he had once been or at least she thought he had been, she became the miserable one.
For a time they lived in her nice house just above the slums, but by the time her divorce was final, and her house was sold, they had to move into (oh, my god) a TRAILER…not that there’s anything wrong with trailers.
Meanwhile, I pulled the old ‘frying pan into the fire’ stupidity by hooking up with Mr. Gorgeous; sold my house to a con artist; moved in with Mr. Gorgeous, dragging MoFM along, totally screwing up her life AND mine. Not much thinking went on during that whole period of time which was approximately 2 years. I think.
A few months before MoFM and I headed off to DC, Gorton left CA and moved to a farm in KS his Great Aunt had left him. FB was supposed to accompany him. Evidently she did originally (and I didn’t hear this from her) but she didn’t like it in KS and people in KS didn’t like her, so she returned to CA. On MoFM’s and my journey (Thelma and Louise) to DC, we stopped in KS (see how stupid I am??) to see Gorton. He was very happy to see MoFM and was quite cordial. He filled our Ryder truck with farm fuel, let us sleep there, fed us, and we were on our way the following morning. It was very strange. Let’s face it, the whole story is strange.
Showing posts with label lessons learned. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lessons learned. Show all posts
Monday, January 19, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
RE: More From MoFM's Storied Past
In case you are wondering how I could have put MoFM through all the shit we went through, I will attempt to give you some insight into the reality of all that transpired.
I lost my ever-lovin’ mind when the separation took place. (see Do you know what you’d do?) The fat bitch that caused all the turmoil was a ‘friend’. We had known her for 20 years. I met her when I worked at a local bank and she and I were both pregnant with sons. Over the years she kept appearing it seemed, from out of nowhere. A few years after I’d left the bank job I went to City Hall for some reason, and there she was behind the counter. A few years later and after we’d started our construction business I found her behind the counter at the Camp Pendleton contract office. I would run into her at our kid’s soccer games.
As Gorton’s alcoholism got worse and worse, he was spending less time at home, and when he was home he was a total embarrassment to the kids. I asked him to get help. He refused. He started spending the night at our office. I have to admit it was peaceful without him. Being a Veteran he could have received all the help he needed. That didn’t happen. Instead, he moved in with one of our employees and his family. I reckon I just kept hoping he’d miss us enough to get help and come home. Meanwhile, the business was going down the tubes. Entities we’d worked for over the years wouldn’t even allow him to bid jobs. A couple of years prior to all of this, business had gone downhill enough that I decided to get a real estate license to help the cause. At first I made some pretty cool sales. I was in my car most of the day, everyday. My pager was going off day and night. The kids loved it because I had a computer. That's another whole story.
As I drove around North San Diego County I would continuously see Gorton in strange places. As far as I knew, we didn’t have any jobs locally, but naïve as I was (am) I didn’t give it much thought.
One evening I got a phone call from a soccer player-friend on my team. She says ‘what was Gorton doing with ‘fat bitch’ at her son’s baseball game in San Diego?’. I was surprised, and explained that maybe he’d run into her down there somewhere, and she said ‘come watch the game’ and that there was likely nothing to it. I know, naïve may not be the word.
Then my car was stolen. (not the best years of my life) I loved that car. It had all my real estate stuff in it. I had to find it. The cops immediately found my son’s backpack, which had been in the trunk of my car, in front of a dumpster at an apartment complex nearby. The next day I took our Chevy Blazer out on the hunt for my car. I was determined to find it, and I did, in the same apartment complex. I pulled up behind it, saw a kid walking up to it with my keys in his hand and chased the bastard. I couldn’t catch him, so I called the cops, then I called our office to let Gorton know I’d found the car and asked him to bring me the extra keys. He wasn’t there, but our secretary said she’d track him down. The cops thought I was in on the heist because I found the car and they hadn’t. Unbelievable BS. They took my statement and left. I was there for another hour before Gorton arrived with my keys. I parked the Blazer and began the drive out of the complex. You’re not going to believe this next line. The fat bitch was standing on a corner inside the complex. Surprised to see her there, I said ‘what are you doing here?’ to which she replied, ‘showing a client an apartment, I see you found your car’…to which I replied something happy, but I have no idea what. I was just glad to have my car back.
Since ReMax was an expensive place to be a realtor I decided to go with a locally owned shop, with lower overhead. The first day I’m on the job at this company, I realize the fat bitch is a realtor in this office. Unbelievable. We become ‘lunch buddies’ and ‘caravan buddies’ and talk about all kinds of shit. She convinces me to move my desk into a double office that has opened up. Our desks face each other. She is constantly asking me about Gorton, and if he’s getting help and how he’s doing, and on and on. She tells me all about her rotten marriage, and that she’s getting divorced, yada, yada, yada. All the time I’m thinking, I do not want to go through that, I just want things to be good again. Of course at this point I have no idea that something is going on between her and Gorton. Nor do I to this day have any idea what year it may have actually begun.
Early on a Friday afternoon, it was St. Patrick's Day, I get a call from Gorton. He says he has to go to China Lake to do some finish painting over the weekend. Not an hour later, fat bitch shows up late for a lunch date we had. She said she'd been visiting a sick Aunt. (I know, how naive can one person be?) I asked her if she still wanted to go to lunch, to which she replied 'no, I have to go home and pack (one of her kids) for a soccer tournament up north.'
Okay, so this got me thinking about the last few months of odd things going on. Seeing Gorton in odd places, and suddenly realized it was sometimes near where I thought fat bitch lived, other times near hotels. The phone call from my friend.
It was pouring rain that day and I was to pick MoFM from school. I drove to the school, and asked one of her friends to take her home. I drove straight to our office to see if Gorton was still there. He wasn't. I went up to his office. Sat down at his desk and opened a drawer. Holy SHIT. There, piled high in the drawer were cards and letters from the fat bitch. Love, love, love. I was devastated. I made copies of all of them.
~ This is when I should have immediately gone to a lawyer. California is a no-fault divorce state, but by God, when you come up with evidence like I had, you have a pretty good case for a few years of alimony. I probably could have even sued the fat bitch. (I believe in North Carolina or one of those states, if you can prove infidelity, you CAN sue the bitch) ~
I wrote Gorton a simple little note and left it on his desk. Placed all the gushy love letters and cards back in the drawer, and left. I don't remember much after that. I know Gorton called me Sunday night when he returned. All he said is 'I'm sorry you had to find out that way.' I said 'gee, how did you WANT me to find out?'. This was simply the beginning of the end.
to be continued......
I lost my ever-lovin’ mind when the separation took place. (see Do you know what you’d do?) The fat bitch that caused all the turmoil was a ‘friend’. We had known her for 20 years. I met her when I worked at a local bank and she and I were both pregnant with sons. Over the years she kept appearing it seemed, from out of nowhere. A few years after I’d left the bank job I went to City Hall for some reason, and there she was behind the counter. A few years later and after we’d started our construction business I found her behind the counter at the Camp Pendleton contract office. I would run into her at our kid’s soccer games.
As Gorton’s alcoholism got worse and worse, he was spending less time at home, and when he was home he was a total embarrassment to the kids. I asked him to get help. He refused. He started spending the night at our office. I have to admit it was peaceful without him. Being a Veteran he could have received all the help he needed. That didn’t happen. Instead, he moved in with one of our employees and his family. I reckon I just kept hoping he’d miss us enough to get help and come home. Meanwhile, the business was going down the tubes. Entities we’d worked for over the years wouldn’t even allow him to bid jobs. A couple of years prior to all of this, business had gone downhill enough that I decided to get a real estate license to help the cause. At first I made some pretty cool sales. I was in my car most of the day, everyday. My pager was going off day and night. The kids loved it because I had a computer. That's another whole story.
As I drove around North San Diego County I would continuously see Gorton in strange places. As far as I knew, we didn’t have any jobs locally, but naïve as I was (am) I didn’t give it much thought.
One evening I got a phone call from a soccer player-friend on my team. She says ‘what was Gorton doing with ‘fat bitch’ at her son’s baseball game in San Diego?’. I was surprised, and explained that maybe he’d run into her down there somewhere, and she said ‘come watch the game’ and that there was likely nothing to it. I know, naïve may not be the word.
Then my car was stolen. (not the best years of my life) I loved that car. It had all my real estate stuff in it. I had to find it. The cops immediately found my son’s backpack, which had been in the trunk of my car, in front of a dumpster at an apartment complex nearby. The next day I took our Chevy Blazer out on the hunt for my car. I was determined to find it, and I did, in the same apartment complex. I pulled up behind it, saw a kid walking up to it with my keys in his hand and chased the bastard. I couldn’t catch him, so I called the cops, then I called our office to let Gorton know I’d found the car and asked him to bring me the extra keys. He wasn’t there, but our secretary said she’d track him down. The cops thought I was in on the heist because I found the car and they hadn’t. Unbelievable BS. They took my statement and left. I was there for another hour before Gorton arrived with my keys. I parked the Blazer and began the drive out of the complex. You’re not going to believe this next line. The fat bitch was standing on a corner inside the complex. Surprised to see her there, I said ‘what are you doing here?’ to which she replied, ‘showing a client an apartment, I see you found your car’…to which I replied something happy, but I have no idea what. I was just glad to have my car back.
Since ReMax was an expensive place to be a realtor I decided to go with a locally owned shop, with lower overhead. The first day I’m on the job at this company, I realize the fat bitch is a realtor in this office. Unbelievable. We become ‘lunch buddies’ and ‘caravan buddies’ and talk about all kinds of shit. She convinces me to move my desk into a double office that has opened up. Our desks face each other. She is constantly asking me about Gorton, and if he’s getting help and how he’s doing, and on and on. She tells me all about her rotten marriage, and that she’s getting divorced, yada, yada, yada. All the time I’m thinking, I do not want to go through that, I just want things to be good again. Of course at this point I have no idea that something is going on between her and Gorton. Nor do I to this day have any idea what year it may have actually begun.
Early on a Friday afternoon, it was St. Patrick's Day, I get a call from Gorton. He says he has to go to China Lake to do some finish painting over the weekend. Not an hour later, fat bitch shows up late for a lunch date we had. She said she'd been visiting a sick Aunt. (I know, how naive can one person be?) I asked her if she still wanted to go to lunch, to which she replied 'no, I have to go home and pack (one of her kids) for a soccer tournament up north.'
Okay, so this got me thinking about the last few months of odd things going on. Seeing Gorton in odd places, and suddenly realized it was sometimes near where I thought fat bitch lived, other times near hotels. The phone call from my friend.
It was pouring rain that day and I was to pick MoFM from school. I drove to the school, and asked one of her friends to take her home. I drove straight to our office to see if Gorton was still there. He wasn't. I went up to his office. Sat down at his desk and opened a drawer. Holy SHIT. There, piled high in the drawer were cards and letters from the fat bitch. Love, love, love. I was devastated. I made copies of all of them.
~ This is when I should have immediately gone to a lawyer. California is a no-fault divorce state, but by God, when you come up with evidence like I had, you have a pretty good case for a few years of alimony. I probably could have even sued the fat bitch. (I believe in North Carolina or one of those states, if you can prove infidelity, you CAN sue the bitch) ~
I wrote Gorton a simple little note and left it on his desk. Placed all the gushy love letters and cards back in the drawer, and left. I don't remember much after that. I know Gorton called me Sunday night when he returned. All he said is 'I'm sorry you had to find out that way.' I said 'gee, how did you WANT me to find out?'. This was simply the beginning of the end.
to be continued......
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Tagged...7 random things - yikes...thanks, WM
sorry i've been so quiet. guess i could lay it on work, or being tired when i get home, or trying to stay away from blogging long enough to finish reading a book i started weeks ago...this blogging stuff can become very habitual.
so here goes...7 random things about me (you may be sorry you tagged me)
1. i absolutely hate my skin at this age. it's not my face, 'cause i kinda expected it to get craggy and stuff...but it's the rest of the body that disgusts me! the saggy arms, the 36-long boobs, the brown age spots, and worst of all...the belly. always had trouble controlling the belly after kids, but this is ridiculous! 'course, if i'd get off my ass and do some walking/running/more bike-riding, it might help.
2. i was never racist until i lived in dc for 13 years. there's an attitude here that i never saw in California. i always thought african americans were intriguing because i really didn't know many. having worked with them the last 8 years has been a real eye-opener. i doubt there are many other places in the US where their attitude is so bad. seems they truly believe they're owed something!
3. i'm a glutten when it comes to potatoes. mostly mashed, but baked are a close second. guess i could be called a 'potato woman', as opposed to a 'meat & potato man'.
4. i generally thank God on a daily basis for stuff...for feeling good, for not hitting a pedestrian that darts out in front of me (happens a lot downtown), for not hitting the asshole who pulled out in front of me (generally a cab), for beautiful weather, gorgeous sunsets, spring...the list goes on.
5. i would like to date, but men my age are too old. it's funny that women younger than me date men my age...yuk! it would be difficult to date because i wouldn't want to lose any chance of my ex not giving me my due when he dies! not that he'd give a shit that i dated, but just that he's vengeful enough to make sure i wouldn't get his retirement or SS, even if i just dated. trust me, he'd find a way to cut me out.
6. i got 5 tickets from one cop in one stop. i beat all 5 in court, representing myself. the cop was a total dick! the judge must have known that. the judge was a woman.
7. i wish i had finished college, and gone on to become a lawyer. i would have only represented women scorned by their asshole husbands. i'd have been wealthy!
so here goes...7 random things about me (you may be sorry you tagged me)
1. i absolutely hate my skin at this age. it's not my face, 'cause i kinda expected it to get craggy and stuff...but it's the rest of the body that disgusts me! the saggy arms, the 36-long boobs, the brown age spots, and worst of all...the belly. always had trouble controlling the belly after kids, but this is ridiculous! 'course, if i'd get off my ass and do some walking/running/more bike-riding, it might help.
2. i was never racist until i lived in dc for 13 years. there's an attitude here that i never saw in California. i always thought african americans were intriguing because i really didn't know many. having worked with them the last 8 years has been a real eye-opener. i doubt there are many other places in the US where their attitude is so bad. seems they truly believe they're owed something!
3. i'm a glutten when it comes to potatoes. mostly mashed, but baked are a close second. guess i could be called a 'potato woman', as opposed to a 'meat & potato man'.
4. i generally thank God on a daily basis for stuff...for feeling good, for not hitting a pedestrian that darts out in front of me (happens a lot downtown), for not hitting the asshole who pulled out in front of me (generally a cab), for beautiful weather, gorgeous sunsets, spring...the list goes on.
5. i would like to date, but men my age are too old. it's funny that women younger than me date men my age...yuk! it would be difficult to date because i wouldn't want to lose any chance of my ex not giving me my due when he dies! not that he'd give a shit that i dated, but just that he's vengeful enough to make sure i wouldn't get his retirement or SS, even if i just dated. trust me, he'd find a way to cut me out.
6. i got 5 tickets from one cop in one stop. i beat all 5 in court, representing myself. the cop was a total dick! the judge must have known that. the judge was a woman.
7. i wish i had finished college, and gone on to become a lawyer. i would have only represented women scorned by their asshole husbands. i'd have been wealthy!
Thursday, March 13, 2008
leaving the mansion....
All this bs about the governor of ny…what the hell. I am amazed that people react to the stupid stuff men do! Face it people, they’re animals. They do what comes naturally. It’s always been that way. We shouldn’t be shocked by anything they do in regard to their sexual instincts, desires, or manifestations thereof!
What is pathetic is watching the wife of this current newsworthy asshole standing at the podium with him looking like a wounded puppy! She’s been ridiculed for being there, laughed at for being there, applauded for being there! Give me a break! It’s another one of those ‘what would you do?’ moments! This particular asshole has 3 teenage daughters. Daughters forgive their dads for nearly anything and everything they could possibly do. Trust me. I know this to be true! So…my guess would be that most women will forgive their spouses for just about anything. In the past women forgave because they were too afraid to be ‘out on their own with the kids’…Not so much anymore. Today some have better jobs than their spouses and are STILL afraid to lose them. In the big picture all (okay, only 99.9%) men are animals and will stray no matter what, women still think they can’t live without them!
‘We have to stay together for the kids’….’he promised he’d never do that again’….’he feels so guilty’….I think there’s something we all have to understand, here. Men will never change. We live with that, or we don’t bother with them unless absolutely necessary. (perhaps for our own sexual instincts, and stuff….)
So what should happen to this guy? Not that anything will. He is not only the governor of ny but he was born with a silver spoon (if you’re younger than dirt, you probably have no idea what that means or why people say it). It means he was born into wealth. So will he, like ‘johns’ caught on the street picking up hookers, go to jail? Nah. Will the hooker go to jail? Not likely either.
What is pathetic is watching the wife of this current newsworthy asshole standing at the podium with him looking like a wounded puppy! She’s been ridiculed for being there, laughed at for being there, applauded for being there! Give me a break! It’s another one of those ‘what would you do?’ moments! This particular asshole has 3 teenage daughters. Daughters forgive their dads for nearly anything and everything they could possibly do. Trust me. I know this to be true! So…my guess would be that most women will forgive their spouses for just about anything. In the past women forgave because they were too afraid to be ‘out on their own with the kids’…Not so much anymore. Today some have better jobs than their spouses and are STILL afraid to lose them. In the big picture all (okay, only 99.9%) men are animals and will stray no matter what, women still think they can’t live without them!
‘We have to stay together for the kids’….’he promised he’d never do that again’….’he feels so guilty’….I think there’s something we all have to understand, here. Men will never change. We live with that, or we don’t bother with them unless absolutely necessary. (perhaps for our own sexual instincts, and stuff….)
So what should happen to this guy? Not that anything will. He is not only the governor of ny but he was born with a silver spoon (if you’re younger than dirt, you probably have no idea what that means or why people say it). It means he was born into wealth. So will he, like ‘johns’ caught on the street picking up hookers, go to jail? Nah. Will the hooker go to jail? Not likely either.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Do you know what you'd do?
having a child with very young children gives me pause. pause to reflect on when my children were very young. i had a fabulous, intelligent, gorgeous husband who gave me beautiful children, had a fantastic job, helped around the house (including cooking), and everyone loved him. what happens between the time the children are young, and when they start to mature, is way beyond what anyone can figure out. people change. children grow and change. shit happens. before i go further i have to say this man gave me the 'best years of my life'. he allowed me the freedom to learn to fly, and to persue nearly any other dream i might have had. him being the entrepreneurial man that he was gave us the opportunity to do and see things most young couples don't get to do and see. for the most part, the children were involved in all that we did just by being. they led stellar lives themselves. as teenagers they had vehicles, friends, and 'stuff' that most of their friends envied. amazingly, they've grown into wonderful adults. i attribute that fact to good genes, not how we raised them.
something happened in our marriage. i like to blame it simply on alcohol, but in reality the alcoholic he became was likely caused by the disease he caught while in viet nam...called post traumatic stress. the problem became obvious about 12 years into our wedded bliss. i won't go into the gory details. it was tough living like that for the following 9 years, for both of us. the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back came with the affair. i'm guessing it was his way of getting out of a bad situation; a life he couldn't quite handle.
so what would you do? i flipped out. i couldn't work for a year. i did really stupid things. i figured if he could have an affair and leave us for another woman, i could have a boyfriend, kinda like the frying pan into the fire stupidity! the boyfriend was a total loser. absolutely gorgeous, but stupid as a rock. some things just don't matter when you've lost every credible thought you've ever had. gradually i went down the road to destruction...of myself, my kids, the house we'd lived in for 17 glorious years. the hurt from the devastation was deep. i can't tell you what happened in my life over the following couple of years. i didn't do drugs. all that i went through during that time would make a lot more sense had i done drugs. i have no excuse except to say my emotions got the better of me.
why the emotions? why not see the reality, file for divorce, take the asshole for everything we'd worked so hard for for 21 years? i have no idea. it is just what happened. i lost it. i had loved this man totally for most of my adult life. him leaving us, no matter what we had to go through, was beyond my comprehension.
i read somewhere it takes 6 months for every year you were married to recover from a breakup. that's a little over 10 years in our case. that pretty much says it. it'll be 15 years on st. patricks day and i've pretty much been over it for the last 5 years or so.
leap to the present. i now see this estranged husband on nearly a weekly basis at my daughter's home. a few years ago he suffered some health problems and she convinced him to move close to her. he lives 80 miles from us, has gotten rather feeble, so he stays at her home for days at a time. this allows him to see his grandchildren. keeping in mind she was the only child left at home when the shit hit the fan and came with me when i left california for a new life, her forgiveness of her father is sometimes hard for me to fathom. i manage to be cordial to him. he's suffered more than he deserves, but sometimes i just have to attribute that to 'divine retribution'.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Snow day.....
DC doesn't get much snow, and the way people drive when it snows in DC makes you realize they must all be from a much warmer part of this country, or perhaps from some warmer country, period. Now, granted, I'm from a much warmer part of this country where snow only falls in the mountains 50 miles away, but for some unknown reason I don't seem to have a problem. Driving in snow is a simple process. First and foremost you have to watch the a-holes around you who think they can still drive 40 in a 25 mile zone and/or 70 on the beltway. I drive in the city every day and get really irritated at slow drivers, phone talkers, lipstick or mascara putting-on women, and food eaters, but in the snow? Not so much. I stay way back from the guy in front of me, and watch anyone behind or to the sides of me because I know what they're thinking....'I can go a little faster, this road isn't slick....woops!' and they're off the road. I don't want to be in the way when that brilliant thought goes through their tiny little brains. Ice is an entirely different issue. On Christmas Eve-Eve 1999 it took me 4 1/2 hours to drive from Reston to Rockville. The weatherman, in all his brilliance, had predicted freezing rain beginning at 8 p.m. I left work at 4, the freezing rain began at 4:15. The 4 1/2 hour trip taught me a couple of things: 1) VDOT should install porta pottys along 495 and 2) always go to the bathroom before leaving anywhere to get anywhere if there is the slightest possibility you won't get to where it is you're going within the next 4 1/2 hours.
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