A Quest for Balance

April 1, 2016

Ironically, April Fool’s day finds me writing about balance.  And if there’s one common denominator in each of my previous entries, it’s that I’m seriously unbalanced y’all.  Balance – “an even distribution of weight enabling someone or something to remain upright and steady.” Or Balance – “a condition in which different elements are equal or in the correct proportions.”  If you’re reading this and you know me, you’ve long since accepted me as your wobbly, lanky, uncoordinated, klutzy, grace-lacking friend/sister/associate.  And you still love me, bless you.  If you don’t know me, you should.  I’m a good time.  Mostly if you’re a spectator.  Watch me long enough and you’re sure to have a nice, hefty laugh as I attempt to maneuver my already tall personage that rests atop freakishly, long legs around on heels, stilettos, pumps, wedges in all their glorious forms.  These aren’t kitten heels, people.  More common than the stranger questioning my unknown and unidentifiable heritage, is the statement “I could never walk in those”.  Me neither, ya’ll.  But never will I be deterred by a rolled ankle or parking lot face-plant. Read More

My story starts here. Sort of

Not unlike many young Mormon women, I was married for the first time at entirely too young of an age. I went forward with naivety and hope that I was completely prepared for an eternity with my first real boyfriend. 14 years and 3 husbands later, I’m even more convinced of that. But 5 years into that marriage, #1 and I couldn’t see making it another month together. We envisioned a life of blissful date nights, unified bill paying, delightful couple outings to the grocery store, and more specifically never-ending, never-fading lust, infatuation and butterflies. Pff, ya’ll know how that works out. So we concluded in a very dooms-dayish resolve that perhaps it just wasn’t meant to be and each of us, along with our preschool son, would be happier, better adjusted and all around more whole if we parted ways and sought greener pastures. Read More

The morning will come

March 28th, 2016

It happened.  It wasn’t expected, it was slightly humiliating, mostly terrifying and humbling, and also probably many months in the making and, therefore, long overdue.  But it was also beautiful and comforting and everything that it should have been and exactly what I needed and a testament to love and friendship.  I broke down.  Not for the first time, but it was the first time that I didn’t do it alone.  That I reached out.  That I passively and hesitantly and very self-consciously summoned another to my rescue.

I’m fiercely independent and strong willed and life has given me reason to defiantly stand on my own.  I’ll handle it, so long as it has nothing to do with spiders or car stuff and maybe a small appliance issue, and possibly some other handy-man shit.  Otherwise, I got this.  And as a Cancer, I fix you.  I do the comforting by delivering precisely the right words or giving the perfectly thought out gift. Read More