The Poop Burrito

It’s been one week since what would have been my 5th wedding anniversary.  As was expected, the day, and the days that followed, came and went with no acknowledgement of that day or the 5 years since.  Except for Facebook.  Facebook is this really exceptional time keeper, reminding you exactly what you were doing on this day x many years ago.  So basically every day this week, FB diligently reminded me about the tristate adventure that was my honeymoon 5 years ago.  Since DDay, I haven’t been a big user of this social media platform.  I’ve stayed clear of constant reminders of the life I was living.  I did not want to catch glimpses of fun family outings, declarations of love made by adoring husbands, squishy new babies wrapped tightly in between two blissful parents, former family members who I now simply observed through social media and, of course, diet updates, weight loss photos and gym selfies.  So basically Facebook is an asshole and one big trigger. Read More

Happy Anniversary; the year of the wood

Friday May 13th, 2011 seemed like as good a day as any for my 3rd and final walk down the aisle.  Technically, it was only the second time down an aisle as Temple weddings are a smidgen different than any you’ll see on TV, but still.  Being slightly creepy and paranormal obsessed anyway, I wasn’t deterred by this purportedly unlucky day.  On the contrary, I had previously married on rather lame days without much luck of an eternal companion. 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