So, you ask for "the details" . . .

"Take one slimy, greasy, slick criminal defense lawyer and one sociopathic ped-o-vile . . . between the two of them, there probably isn't much of a heart, maybe only a little bit of aorta." - Doc Manette

Anyway, the DA called me the week before vileman's trial to inform me that vileman was going to plead guilty in exchange for three years and I wouldn't have to testify.

A few days before his plea jail time hearing, I heard from the lovely lady (the lady who showed up with vileman's records at my temporary order hearing and the divorce hearing) letting me know that the nice man (the detective) wanted to talk to me.

I had a nice conversation with the detective. He said vileman's lawyer had a "heart to heart" talk (See first paragraph of this post) with the vileman about plea bargaining instead of going to trial, because the case was "airtight" and if he went to trial, he would probably end up doing the maximum of 10 years. (Sorry, very, very long sentence.) The detective seemed very pleased that vileman was going away for awhile.

Vileman must have had second thoughts about going to jail, because he showed up almost two hours late for his hearing.

***

With vileman out of the way, I was able to join facebook as . . . me!

One Man's Pain is another WOman's Glee

$11,888.00 paid to a divorce lawyer
$4,140.00 paid to counselors
$601.00 out-of-pocket expenses for divorce (travel, lodging, copies, postage)
$1,485.00 in moving and storage fees

Cost to see the vileman's mug shot Tuesday night, on the website where he was booked on March 8th to begin serving his 3 year sentence . . .

Priceless.

Sand Through the Hourglass . . .

Time is running out for the vile one.

Soon, I shall close the last chapter of this horror book.

I'll keep you posted as it might still be delayed by a few weeks.

Snow!

It's been a long time (approximately 5 years) since I have seen snow and yippie! we got it today!

Sorry all you blizzard victims but I'm like an 8 year old when it comes to snow.

****

On February 1st, (weigh-in day), I was happy to see that I had maintained my weight loss from December. I weighed exactly the same as I did on January 1st. Though I didn't lose, I didn't gain either. Not even an ounce. And that makes me happy!

I Am My Own Worst Enemy

First, let me say a big old thanks to Cammy, Jill and Cindy for their great suggestions and help with my resume. I used every single suggestion and have started to get a few nibbles from the new and improved resume and kick but(t) cover letters.

Now, if only someone other than me did the interview!

I am no longer articulate! (My gray matter is as smooth as glass.)

And apparently, I have the skills of a good politician . . . as in not answering the question asked and instead talking about something different and nodding my head in agreement . . . at the same time.

My favorite thing is to call the company I'm interviewing at by the wrong name!

Man, you should see the look on the interviewer's face when that happens!

If anything, I might have a career in writing a book on "NOT what to say or do during job interviews for dummies".

****

I have had a sinus/cold thing going on for the last 6 weeks.

Now if I were auditioning for a role as Rudolph, there wouldn't be a problem but going to a job interview with a shinny red nose (because it is so chapped that I have had to resort to rubbing Aquaphor around the nostrils) is very unattractive.

"No, I rarely call in sick . . .cough, cough."

****

I'm worried most about (should a job offer be offered my way) asking off for vile's trial. I guess I will cross that bridge when I'm lucky enough to have a job.

Bruised Butt . . . Not Battered

After I posted yesterday and sent off an email, I ventured down the stairs to warm up my coffee and on the fifth step from the bottom . . . I fell down the stairs. It wasn't a movie prat fall but(t) a fall landing on my butt, legs stretched out, as if I was riding a snow saucer down a hill . . . thump, thump, thump, thump . . . thump.

It was a 4.8 on the Richter scale.

As I sat on the floor, stunned, I immediately thought "please God, don't let my butt be broken".

I got on my hands and knees and pushed myself up, though my bottom was feeling some pain, I'm pretty sure the extra padding kept the tail bone from breaking.

But(t) it still hurt.

Walking it off by pacing around the foyer, I was overcome with relief that nothing was broken and begin to laugh hysterically. The thought of going to the hospital with a broken butt would have been too embarrassing. Of course, had this been Reuben's time, I would have been a celebrity going into the hospital with a Reuben-isque broken bum. Back then, the doctors would call in nurses, interns and orderlies to admire my awesomeness of dimples, lumps and bumps . . . but(t) the reality is, I'm living in the 21st century.

The grouchy nurse, angry that a size 14/16 was staring her/him in the face, would yell down the hall for all to hear . . . "were gonna need bigger gauze!"

Also, I was relieved I wouldn't have to explain the cough syrup on my breath, as I had just had a hefty sip of Delysm 12 hour cough syrup* for a nagging cough I have had since mid December. (*I'm pretty sure Delysm doesn't make one groggy nor does it have a warning that one should not operate heavy machinery or walk down wood stairs with socks on.) Phew, no rumors of me being "under the influence" to deal with.

But(t) the moral of this story for me is this: something (the straw) did happen and it didn't break my back or butt. I survived and giggled out loud at my misstep. And once the coffee mess was cleaned up, I realized I didn't implode! I chose to carve out some relaxation time for myself.

So I made a cup of herbal tea and took the other stairs with carpet (to soften any falls).


P.S. - Very brusied but(t) not broken!

That Girl

Lately, I have felt that if any more straw is thrown on this old camel's back . . . implosion might occur. Then, I spoke with my big sis yesterday morning and she told me to start telling myself or chanting "this is only temporary, this is only temporary".

She also reminded me of a conversation that I had on June 25th when I asked my then husband "Is this the only phone call you can make?"

Jailed vile husband: "Yes!"

Me: "Then you made the wrong phone call." Click.

I need to channel that girl who was so strong and smart that horrific day.

Off to go chant . . .