I’m tired.
I’m wearing shiny blue spandex.
I owe North Caroline four dollars.
You know, it’s been that kind of a day.
But the bookends, they were nice.
The morning was lovely. Full of the sun, full of this state park that the locals call Seven Thousand Acres; full of glimpses of deer that were so quick as they bounded into the brush that I pretended it was centaurs I was seeing instead.
But the middle of the day…Oh, my.
I saw my accountant and I did not get good news. I told myself not to cry, but it was like telling yourself not to sneeze when the world seems to be that library-esque atmosphere that depends on absolute silence. Cause then BAM! you’re sneezing and why did God have to make sneezes so loud?
So I am sitting there, furiously wiping my eyes and not making a sound, trying to act interested in the somewhat patriotic poster that is to the left of my accountant’s head, when he starts to tell me to just calm down, that it’s gonna be okay.
Which is kind of the kiss of death while attempting the great magic trick of not crying when that’s all you want to do.
And then he hands me tissues.
And the thing about tissues is that I don’t think my family regularly used them while I was growing up. I never really know what to do with them. I mean, I wipe my tears away with my hand just fine, thank you. But when someone goes to the trouble of locating that pastel colored box and then hands it to you, there’s some sort of reciprocity expected.
So I awkwardly blow my nose and then, not finding a trash can, hold the used tissue for the rest of my stay.
And my accountant, he’s so nice and well, he knows about what I’ve been going through–having known me for a couple years now–and he always tries to be really encouraging when he sees me. Tells me I’m looking good and things like that.
But still, the news is discouraging and he keeps asking me what he can do. But short of–I don’t know, a generous donation on his part–I just tell him that it’s okay, to just let me sign the papers and be done with it.
The good thing is that by the time I leave, I don’t want to cry anymore. I realize that in the grand scheme of things, this latest news really isn’t so bad at all.
And then I get a phone call from the jewelry dealer with whom I am about to meet at Grotto Pizza, a place I worked for a day and then quit, but that’s another post. He’s about to look at my stuff and hopefully buy it, but when he tells me that he’ll be wearing a black button down shirt, but it won’t be buttoned, I have to stifle a laugh.
And wonder just what the heck it is I am getting myself into anyway.
I finally see him, and true to his word, his shirt is not buttoned. Though he does have an undershirt on and there is some chest hair popping out the top, so there’s that. I say hi, which is apparently another way to say, Please kiss me, cause that’s what he does. I don’t mind though; he’s super Italian, Joe is, and I can tell that is a normal thing for him.
Plus I haven’t been kissed in a while.
Just kidding.
Well, I haven’t been kissed in a while, but it’s not like Joe’s kiss made up for it or anything.
Anyway.
And oh, I can call Joe super Italian, because I am Italian. Though my quarter Italian blood would probably not be classified as super Italian.
Anyway again.
He looks at my jewelry and immediately asks if I was engaged. Actually, married, I tell him, and then I get that look, the one that says something to the effect of poor thing. And then he asks me what happened. So I give the short answer: He’s not who I thought he was. He makes sad noises and asks me if the diamond in my ring is real.
It better be, I tell him, but at this point nothing would surprise me.
He tells me that he’ll give me $160 in cash for all my jewelry and I don’t care enough to go anywhere else and try to get a better deal. He explains that engagement/wedding bands have almost no resell value and that jewelry stores mark them up by sometimes 1000%. I believe him without even caring if it’s BS or not. And as I watch him weigh my painfully light jewelry, I decide that if anybody ever proposes to me again, it’d be nice if he gives me a solid gold bowling ball. You know, something that will retain it’s value and be good and heavy on that scale.
He asks me one more time what the guy did. I can tell he wants a story, so what the heck? he doesn’t know me at all; I give it to him. I tell him the ugly details. Not all of them, but the gist, anyway. He is satisfactorily shocked and appalled.
As he kisses me one more time before I leave he tells me, You’re so gorgeous you won’t have a hard time finding somebody at all. I think to myself that I’ve already had somebody. That I’d like to specify somebody awesome now, if that’s okay.
Oh, and the spandex. Right. I’m wearing spandex because I took a modern dance class tonight. And then on my way home from the class, I had a conversation with Drew. It started out about the phone or something, but it ended with him telling me that he got a certificate of divorce in the mail. Which is not exactly the way I wanted to find out, like we were in it together, or something.
But apparently I am divorced and have been since April 7th. And after I found out, I was wracking my brain, trying to figure out what I did on the 7th anyway, cause whatever it was, I was doing it as someone who is officially single.
Remember. I prefer single over divorced.
Oh, and solid gold bowling balls over diamond rings.
And after hearing that news, I needed to walk very far. I needed to see some beautiful things and listen to the sound of water rushing by, I think. I needed to be reminded that I am okay, that I am me, that life is good.
So I did. I walked for a long time while my phone was blowing up with texts from a cast of stars who care about me. And I never did get to change out of the shiny blue spandex.
Which is why I texted my friend at one point, telling her that I am sitting against a tree while wearing shiny blue spandex, laughing about that while crying at the same time. The animals must think I’m cray-cray.
And then that friend, Lindsay, she came over. She helped me bake a terrible batch of cookies that I was trying to make for my nice accountant. Well, I wasn’t trying to make terrible ones, that’s just how they ended up. And Lindsay is an amazing cook, but I unfortunately did some faulty math before she got there and added something like 14 cups of flour to the batter when it had only called for 8.
Oops.
Maybe my over indulgence with the flour was due to the fact that my spandex are so tight. Or that my day has been a doozey. Or that it has been a long time since I’ve been kissed, you know. But those cookies never did see the inside of an oven. Instead, they are inside a trash can, poor little wasted things.
But I am not.
Inside a trash can, I mean.
I’m alive and I think there’s a lot of room for good things in my life. Maybe even better than my shiny blue spandex pants. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say definitely better than my shiny blue spandex pants.
I know, call me crazy.
Well, according to your blog, you were either visiting a Chapel in the Woods or at the beach on April 7th, depending on whether you posted before or after midnight… either place, I think, is fitting for you and this unexpected transition. Either a peaceful, sweet cozy place of repose, reflection, and spiritual discovery, or the edge of a vast ocean of possibilities and unfathomable depths. I’ll take either. But for you, let’s go with both.
Sorry you had a humdinger of a day. But hey, at least you inspired me to use the word humdinger unironically in a sentence. And that’s something. Now this Joe character, I’m not sure about him. But I hope you spend that $160 on something you love. Like hey, how about a plane ticket out here!??? It’s just a little more than that, you know? Oh, but there’s that tax bill. Hmmm…. that stinks. Tell Uncle Sam you have a brother to visit.
Yes. I will certainly tell Uncle Sam that I need to see about a brother. And a sister. And a nice and a nephew too. And Joe was actually quite nice, as it turns out–but definitely a character. And actually–it turns out I was at the beach for the day. By myself. How fitting. And I really like the idea of standing at the edge of a vast ocean of possibilities and unfathomable depths…I love it, actually…Turns out April 7th was a pretty awesome day.
And glad to give you the opportunity to use the word ‘humdinger.’ In this case, it fit like a glove:)
Oh, and I’ve told you privately, but let me declare it publickly. (And old fashioned publickly, like medievel city squares and town criers and all that, as evidenced by the K in publickly.)
I’m very proud of you for going through this immensely difficult legal transition. I know the process is not easy, especially without a lawyer, and you’ve really shown a lot of grit, determination and courage. Way to go, I know it was never easy…
And now you’re single, but only in a marital sense, because you have a whole posse ready and willing to back you up… (And don’t worry, you’re no divorcee in my mind.)
Oh and three cheers for Linds! So weird that just last night she was here, and tonight she was baking abominable cookies and hanging out with blue spandexed you.
lol about abominable cookies and blue spandexed me!!!
And three cheers for Linds, indeed!
and thank you for being proud of me and saying it…But I also gotta give some mad props to Christian, who helped me immensely through this papery process of getting life in order in order on paper in order to get my life in order and LIVE IT. Also, you helped me too. Remember that conference call between the three of us? Ha that was funny. Nothing like a conference call about divorce between friends/siblings to brighten the day!
In order I do in order remember in order that phone call in order it was actually kind of in disorder because of the horrible disorderly reception in Topanga.
In order.
And yes, Christian gets a CA style shout out for sure.
Yeah Christian!
He’s got mad paperwork skillz!!!
And in order for me get a divorce it was you and Christian doing all the talking and figuring and it was me hoping I could slip away soon in order to put some mascara on cause shoot, I had places to go.
blue spandexed you should be an action figure! It would come with a tree playset and one button would make it cry and the other laugh. It was be awesome. And Joe the Jewelry Dealer would certainly think it gorgeous, too.
Haha just to clarify, I was NOT spandexed when the deal went down with Joe the jeweler.
Oh but you’re right about one thing: It was be awesome.
In order to move forward in life, sometimes we need a little help from our friends. I know this ALL too well in my own life, and am so glad that I was given the chance to be part of the redemption story in your life. You know when you see a friend in need and you just have to sit by helplessly? I hate that.
Also, I think the jewels that are coming your way in life will not lose their value over time!
whoa, sorry bout all those in orders…!!!
OH AND JESSICA OLLIE WILL BE VERY UPSET TO HEAR YOU SAY YOU HAVEN’T BEEN KISSED IN A WHILE. DID YOU NOT “REMEMBER!?”
Aaaaaah!!! You’re right!!! How can i forget???? The midnight kitheth!!! Being awakened by them…honestly? Best. Kisses. Ever. And they happened not just once, but twice.
I gotta get back to CA.
Wow you and I can really boost a comment count on a blog post, can’t we? Bloggers should hire us to make them feel special.
I know! Though I don’t mind doing it pro bono, I certainly wouldn’t mind charging a small fee for each comment either…though i suppose that would mean I owe myself some money right now…
If this makes you feel any better, I owe North Carolina four dollars too! Dag on “Chorus Line” Tour!!!! LOL We all have those days boo, you are not alone! I’m happy you have such an amazing family, and great support system. You are so blessed my friend! Here is to tomorrow, “It will be all over in the morning”!
And how bout alllllllllll those W-2′s??? Or are they W-4′s??? Whatever they are, I certainly have a lot of them!!! But yes, tomorrow is here already and it’s new and fresh and good:)
There’s nothing like a bit of news from an accountant to provide the cherry on top, is there? Do they ever deliver good news? …I am sorry for all the things that aren’t working out just right (cookies included!) on top of the big thing that didn’t work out just right, but I am glad you have so many wonderful people to see you through…
Thank you, Nina…and yes, so many wonderul people is not even a bit of exxageration. Are there two x’s in that word?? Oh well, not sure. But all the wonderful people include you and the others who send kind, encouraging, and funny comments my way. So thank YOU.
Jess..there really are so many more good things to come, i know it..i am so glad Linds came over and was with you..she is a special girl, for sure..just like you:) and i am proud of you, too..you have been so kind through all of this..so brave..so strong..i can’t wait to watch all of the good that is around the corner for you:)
And I’d have to include you in the list of special girls…for real, for real:)
shouldn’t joe have known if the diamond was real? I mean if he was a jeweler? whatever, I’m sure you were just glad to unload it. Your description of him is fab, I can just picture him, chest hair and all…
And 8 cups of flour!? You don’t mess around do you, that’s got to make like 10 dozen cookies!!! It’s a shame they never made it to the oven, cause baking is super therapeutic, maybe it’s a kind of aromatherapy.
Well Joe asked that before he examined it, so…and he did determine that it was real…but yeah, gotta love Joe!
And apparently I do mess around cause i basically doubled the amount of flour–an amount that was already excessive to begin with…and yeah, baking IS so therapuetic. Oh well. Next time, I suppose!:)
You forgot to add that in the middle of your “humdinger” of a day you taught some really cute kids to dance. And those really cute kids really love you! In fact, I heard that you’re “as cool as Jonathan.”:)
Also, Gary, who “doesn’t read blogs ’cause he doesn’t have time” keeps getting totally sucked into yours when I leave it up on the computer. He says he reads the first few lines and then can’t stop;)
Aww, thanks for the compliment. Or rather, i should say–complimentS. Both from Gary and your boys. And as cool as jonathan is what I’ve sways aspired to be–for as long as I can remember:)
Aww, so sorry about your crappy day. Here’s hoping your future days and cookies are spectacular.
Thanks, Mandy…and yes, I’ll cheers to that:)
Here’s to being alive, not in a trash can, and having room for a lot of good things in your life!
Here’s to all of the above, indeed!!!:)
What a crummy way for your fair state (whichever one it was) to let you know (or not know) of your change of status. If they make you pay for what you do not want, at least they could give some modicum of customer service.
Oh, and I wish I had known twenty five years ago that the way to get a free pass on kissing girls was to be “super Italian.” That could have come in handy. Does that work only for super Italians, or does it also work for other super ethnicities as well? Like super Eastern European?
well I did get the official notice today. I looked at it, agreed with it, and then put it away. After my parents’ told me I should probably make copies, of course. Conversations I never thought I’d have, but still–practical and helpful, I suppose.
And sure–you can claim any kind of super-ethnicity and (go back in time, I suppose) try it out…and please, PLEASE blog about it!
Ha. Yeah, right, like I’d leave evidence. You just want to trick me into confirming that I have a time machine.
Maybe it works for girls too, seeing as how you are super Russian and all.
I’m sad for all that you’ve had to go through—and continue to go through. You continually make lemonade out of the moldy lemons you have been given.