I Will Be Calm at the Hearing Tomorrow

I will be calm at the hearing tomorrow.*
I will be polite.
I will not tell the court family assessment person** that really, he should just butt out.
I will not call PdeFF a used douchebag, no matter how accurate that description is.
I will dress conservatively.
I will not swear, even if the person to who I am speaking really does need to be informed that he or she is a fucking asshole with a brian the size of a pea.
I will be calm tomorrow.
I will talk about my girls and how wonderful they are. Hey, that will keep me reasonably calm. See how I solved this problem?

*It's informal, with no immediate results. Just informational, really. Except it's my kids' future that is being informally looked into, so no stress there.
**Assigned to all disputed custody cases, nothing special here.

Smoke Oozing from My Ears, Nose, and Mouth

It's a pity I can't breathe fire. That would be a useful physical trait to have. PdeFF, pathetic schlub that he is, has done something really stupid that will cost lots of money in legal fees. I can't go into detail; he's trying to get sole custody (huh?), but I'm speechless with fury (not wordless, however, obviously).

At the same time, I'm almost paralyzed with fear that his moronic stunt (it involves the girls and custody) will succeed. I know, intellectually, that it won't, but I sometimes stop and wonder: his attorney has clearly advised him that he has a reasonable chance of success. In my mind, and the minds of those who advise me (friends, counselors, etc.) he hasn't got a hope in the world. Fighting this issue will cost me a cool $5,000 at a minimum (well, there go the house proceeds).

Proof of why I'm having the husbandectomy. He kept saying: "Things can stay as they are, but I want the guardianship.*" Despite our acrimonious split (Okay, having the sheriff come and remove him while serving him with the restraining order evicting him temporarily and ordering him to not hit me again might have added to the anger), we've managed to deal pretty well regarding the girls. And we reached an agreement about that, which he declined to sign.

So now, to court, with a full custody evaluation, experts, etc. Like that will be good for the girls. TigerGrrl is old enough to be able to figure out why all these people are asking her questions. If he can't see that such interactions aren't in her best interest . . . but that's the whole damn point.

*Not the correct word of course, but his position is that he doesn't mind having me be with the girls and taking care of them, he just wants decisionmaking and financial control. Like I would fold on the "decisionmaking" issue. What country would he leave them in next summer? Oh, I'm just going to go fume somewhere else. Fume, fume, fume. More steam exiting the ears.

Three-Day Weekend

Today is the last weekend of the first weekend of real, grown-up summer. As a child in the U.S., summer began the day school let out for the summer, normally somewhere between June 15 and June 25, depending on snow days. Now, as an adult, this weekend, Memorial Day weekend, marks the start of summer.

This is good. The girls and I went swimming at the local athletic center twice. Nice outdoor pool. Crowded, but we had fun. We went to the zoo, and we went to the U.S. Marine Corps Band's Memorial Day concert at Wolf Trap. GaahGirl really liked the 1812 Overture, as well as all other music played. Best part of zoo and concert? Free. I love the D.C. area. So much is available to do at no cost.

At the incredibly good fireworks after the concert, TigerGrrl and GaahGirl cuddled and whistled (really) at the fireworks. I'm exhausted now. It will be restful to return to work tomorrow.

Seen or Heard in DC

As can be seen in my newly updated sidebar, I have started my "Zip It!" blog, which is actually entitled Seen or Heard in DC. Anyone with any appropriate information about overheard conversations, inappropriately displayed confidential or personal documents, or other actions demonstrating a lack of knowledge of what public space is and how one should behave there, please feel free to email me at Foilwoman at gmail dot com. You will be serving the greater good. Thank you.

I'm Not Really Going to Do This (But I'm Thinking About It)

Here's the fantasy/scenario. As my meek mild middle-aged alter-ego travels about my fair city, disguising the wonder that is moi, FoilWoman, I will no longer protect the identities of the totally retarded who display inappropriate details of their personal and professional lives in front of me. I will start a random "award" to the person most deserving of losing his or her privacy.

Accountants, no reviewing your clients' private tax information on the Metro.

Attorneys, don't work on anything labled "Attorney-Client Privileged" and expect it to remain so (or expect to remain employed).

Individuals, if you show your address, phone number, account number, social security number, or total lack of any sense of discretion, privacy, or self-protectiveness, trust me, I'll publish that information.

Policemen (and yes, it was men), do not talk about upcoming arrests on the Metro. You don't know who I am. Either you are lying, and making up a story, or you are so abysmally lacking in common sense that, well, I can really come up with an analogy for how stupid that is.

Government employees with security clearances: And I will say, I haven't seen any "Top Secret" documents, but I have seen some labelled confidential, and some from government legal departments, where my comments regarding confidentiality and privilege remain true. Please, please, please, "Highly Confidential", "Confidential," "Secret", or (heaven forfend) "Top Secret" are labels, that while wildly misapplied nowadays, should be respected.

Here, I'll say it for the thousandth time: If it's supposed to be private, secret, confidential, hush-hush, eyes only, top secret, privileged, or just plain undisclosed, keep it that way. Public transportation is, sit down for this one, public, so anything you do there, well, assume it is no longer private, secret, confidential, hush-hush, eyes only, top secret, privileged, or undisclosed.

The same holds true for windows. Shockingly, people can and do see through them. If you have a desk on a ground floor, people outside your window can see the things you leave in plain view in your office. The same holds true of your home. If you live on, for instance, St. Asaph's Street in Old Town Alexandria in a townhouse, and you leave all your tax information on your antique writing desk at the window from which the hoi poilloi can glance in on all your pricey possessions, they can probably also see the social security numbers (and other numbers) on that tax return.

I've never liked the incredibly quaint showy offy townhouses where people are encouraged to look in and admire the homes of strangers. More people than not don't seem to realize the environment is that of a fishbowl. I really have seen too much stuff over the past few weeks. Next time, I'm giving the address and personal information I can glean of the moron on St. Asaph's. It's a lovely house, too. And it's owner paid over $35,000 in interest alone on the home mortgage last year. Or at least that's what he said on his tax return.

Really, I'm seriously considering printing the identities and personal/business/legal data of the next few people who overreveal to me.*

*Yes, that's ironic coming from me.

What Is So Rare As a Day in May

Maybe in England it is the June days that are rare, ever-come perfect and blissful. In New England that is certainly true. But here in the DC area, May is the perfect month. Maybe that's why I like it here so much. The perfect days are in my birth month. In northern New England, I've had snow on my birthday. Here, no.

Today was a New England summer day. As was yesterday. Sunny, cool, the air fresh, the wind blowing, but not too hard. Driving down the George Washington Parkway to Alexandria to see SNV, Ex-Marine Fred, and CNL. SNV and I walked to the King Street Metro from her house to collect CNL at the King Street Metro and then we walked into Old Town for lunch and then a little bargain basement shopping at Ross. I got a few things for the girls for under $20 and felt very pleased with myself. The back to ChezSNV for a restorative glass or two of wine. We're not wine snobs. We're still drinking Chardonnay, nice and oaky.

I don't like shopping much, but it was a treat to find a bathing suit for the GaahGirl for $4. The pool opens next weekend and I want her to be able to swim. But what's the engineering behind swim diapers? I just don't understand how they work. But I got some so that GaahGirl, TigerGrrl, and I can go swimming at our building's pool when it opens. Think of the happy splashing and paddling soon to occur.

Really, I need a new name for GaahGirl. She has such a range of vocalizations: "No!" -- her favorite; "Nenenenenenenene" accompanied by a big goofy grin and a head shake; "Doh" followed by "woof" for a sighting of a dog; "DohDoh" for dormir (sleep); "shuffa" for chausseurs (shoes); "Mama" for me; "Boh" for book; and a little two syllable chirp, "badu" or something like that, for thank you. Also, "lalala" for her latest book (boh), cleverly entitled Moo, Baa, La La La. Let me tell you: that's a tale of great complexity. (The cow says moo, the sheep says baa. Three singing pigs say la la la.) You're left on the edge of your seat. What will happen next? Do you think the fact that pigs actually say "Oink", at least in the fantasy world of kids books will come out? Or do you think that the actual "vocalizations" of our porcine neighbors will be described? Sort of like Mama snoring: "Snnzllfgrplt." You tell me.

So Far (Farther On)

Actually, a very prosaic post today. I awoke, took the babysitter to the Saturday Dentist (really a nice dentist, I may switch the girls and me to that dentist as well) and oversaw the tooth build-up and a second (yes, you read that right) root canal. Fortunately, the second tooth hadn't abscessed and exploded her head yet, but hey . . . preventative medicine, right?

Remember, brush your teeth and drink your fluoridated water. The babysitter grew up without fluoridation or regular access to dentistry. Not good. Middle class American children (my children) get access to dentistry.

Then, grocery shopping, laundry (three loads so far), picking up and dropping off shoes at the shoe repair, spring cleaning/organizing, and cooking up orange broiled chicken breasts ($4 for 2.75 lbs for the chicken, last sell by date, tomorrow). Next, more organization and mending. Maybe I'll do my hair, too.

It's a beautiful day, and after running around, I'm sitting in the living room with the patio door open, listening to the birds chirping in the tree outside my apartment. I can smell the chicken cooking and hear the birds singing. Of course, the birds are also crapping on my and my neighbors' cars, but they still sound nice.

No big evening plans. I'm just taking it easy. Next weekend is a three day weekend with the TigerGrrl and GaahGirl, so I'll be absolutely exhausted (and happy) so I need to rest up in advance. I have a skirt or two to mend, and then maybe I'll pick up some knitting for the first time in two or three months. That would be good.

Quotidian things. Or at least, routine weekend chores. And I myself on a swiftly tilting planet, stand before my glass and tie my tie. Actually, shave my legs, comb my hair, dress, and face the day. I'm 45 years old. Soon enough, I will have no grandparents left alive. The fact that nuclear Grammy is still going strong is great, but her memory is fading a bit. She's allowed, at age 94. She confuses my dad, the FoilDad (BigGrampa) and his brother, BigBob. Her grandchildren with names beginning with the letter M have become interchangeable. She loves them, she's just not sure who's who.

FoilMormor turns 70 this summer. It will be a big celebration. She's already had one bout of cancer involving removal of a body part. Her mother and father died at 80. My mother's sister and my favorite Aunt is in her sixties and has had Type I (or whichever type is the really bad type) of diabetes since 1970. Her vision is fading a bit. NSLOS needs back and uterine surgery this year. Her previous three spinal surgeries have caused painful scarring which now requires yet more back surgery. She's also been having month long menses and things like that so a hysterectomy or at a minimum uterine surgery threatens and looms. Like she hasn't had enough medical crap. Of course, all this surgery should have happened last fall, when I was moving out (no-one told me, they didn't want more crap landing on me) but then NSLOS got a blood clot and was hospitalized and then put on coumadin (sp?). No spinal surgery on blood thinners, that's for damn sure. But she needs the surgery.

Anyway, LOS and I are sort of looking at one another realizing: we're not too far from having no buffer between us and the future. Of course, I tell myself, FoilMormor is going to live a long, long time. So is my Aunt. They bike, they hike, they swim in Maine waters with grandchildren. They boss their husbands around. They've got lots to live for.

It's scary though. I don't want to be the only one who knows how to make homemade marzipan, vanille kranse and klejner. I like having FoilMormor there telling me how to do it correctly. I'm not ready to step up to that heavy responsibility.

LOS and I were discussing the hold the Harry Potter books have. She remembers a summer day when her youngest son (now taller than me, with Yeti-sized feet and a very deep voice for a fourteen-year old) at the cottage by the pond swimming in the water with a school friend, but insisting that LOS read and keep reading the latest Harry Potter book to arrive. TigerGrrl is just in the second one. She snuggles into me, and insists that I use my Hagrid and Snape accents. When someone is described as having an expression or tone of voice, she requires that I demonstrate it. Maybe I'll be able to get her into Laura Ingalls Wilder's books or Lloyd Alexander's books soon enough. I love reading to her.

But now I'm going to go read to myself. And have the luxury (truly, for me right now, a luxury: thank you birthday present-giving friends, thanks to those nice and embarrassing, but still cashed, checks, I'm having nice food and drink this natal month) of a glass of wine and some cheese. No whine, just wine. A nice switch.

Home Alone

Actually, the babysitter is here with me, but the kids are with their father. More dental work tomorrow, that's for damn sure. Why do root canals take three weeks to complete?

I am enjoying being able to stay up a little late, drink a little wine (just two glasses of Tempranillo), and relax. I have to get up early to get the babysitter (poor thing) to the dentist, but I can sit and relax.

I've been doing a lot of people watching lately. Of course, attorneys still do privileged work on the Metro (trust me, boys, no matter how expensive your suit: if I can read the damn thing, it's not privileged and you have screwed up). I saw a man in a suit hunched up in the stairs outside my employer's main office building. He was actually in the fetal position. Lots of women wearing see through shirts. What's that about?

Today in History

Actually, Today in History is a column (feature?) a friend of mine who works for a news agency does. But today in my history is a good day. At least, it's a good evening right now. I've had dinner (a nice Castillo de Jumillo tempranillo, some nice manchego cheese, and a baguette) and am still sipping some I've-sold-the-house-and-am-not-being-quite-so-careful for just a bit. Actually, I'm still being quite careful, but I have allowed myself a trip to Calvert-Woodley wine & liquor store.

This won't last long, but I'm enjoying having some nice plonk that isn't too expensive. So: tempranillo is quite nice. It's a Rioja wine and has a nice rich flavor.

I'm also enjoying Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, an e-book sent by His Eminence last year sometime. So I'm slow. Sue me.

And I have home-made chocolate sauce heating up on the stove. Life is good.

Notional Selflessness

Just a bit ago, I got a small amount of proceeds from the sale of the house, and I paid my attorney and my accountant and one long overdue credit card bill (sadly, not the only one). I still have money in the bank.

I allowed myself to buy myself a meal out last week, and was able to contribute a little bit to Innana and my evening o' theatre at the Landsburgh. I bought TigerGrrl some Harry Potter books and squirreled away some other birthday presents for this summer.

My biggest expense, other than the attorney, to date: my babysitter's root canal. Yes, broke me just paid for someone else's expensive dental procedure. Well, I kind of had to. Her head was about to explode. She couldn't eat or sleep for pain.

Not really a selfless act, either. I cannot replace this woman, and an infected and abscessed tooth can, eventually, kill you from the infection. She's one of the many happy uninsured people in this great land of ours and simply wasn't going to do anything since she couldn't pay for it. I told her she had to do it or she might die and that she could pay me back out of pay over the next year. We found a dentist open on Saturday who started the process. The abscess is drained, the nerve to the tooth removed, and this Saturday there will the process of creating a cover and a permanent filling.

However, on Thursday and Friday, my daughters' babysitter could not eat or sleep and simply wept (they were with PdeFF, he didn't notice). She called me, we got her taken care of, and yesterday and today my daughters were with a healthy young woman whose head is not about to explode, which I think is a good thing.

In addition to this, I've met with the financial aid people at my daughter's school, called the public school I would most like her to attend to see if I can get her in, and had the girls for the weekend. I'm tired. More of that to come, stay tuned on this channel.

Just Too Much Going On

I can't even keep up. I did have a nice get-together with Innana to see The Persians at the Shakespeare Theatre, but otherwise it's been a bunch of crises, one after another. Also, TigerGrrl has decided that Harry Potter is the be all and end all, and I'm reading to her every night. I'm exhausted. Maybe a longer post with all the details (trust me, you'll be bored to tears) in a day or so.

Gritting My Teeth (No Stiff Upper Lip Here)

One of the most amazing things about this past year, especially since moving out of the former ChezFoil, has been the willingness of lendors to offer credit. I'm broke. With child support, health insurance, and other expenses, I'm hard pressed to pay my ongoing bills (utilities and the like) rather than credit from marriage and the like. Yet they are still offering more credit.

I'm not taking it, and have switched to a cash basis for the forseeable future. I really don't see any other alternative. The worst thing is that PdeFF and his lawyer seemed determined to ensure that there are no assets left to split. Really.

It's worth whatever the price to just leave, but to have to write a check for $5,000 to my lawyer (and know that more checks are in the offing) really galls me, as we had reached an agreement on just about everything except property, and now he's going back to custody. He doesn't have a chance of winning sole custody, but I do have to respond to his arguments. Which costs attorney time and money. At least I have some to spend on lawyers' fees. But I really can't stand that I'm being forced to spend it. And I feel that whole "bitter divorcing woman" feeling sinking on me. Even when there is no likely benefit to him, PdeFF can waste assets with the best of him. If he keeps this up, all the house proceeds that I got will got for legal fees and I'll still have unpaid bills. Grrr.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Yesterday was definitely a mixed review day. Things didn't start off well, as, even though PdeFF and I reached a custody agreement earlier in the month, he is continuing (???) to pursue information to challenge custody. Like seeking all my counselling medical records. I don't know what he hopes to gain except annoy my therapist. I have freely admitted my diagnoses and the medicines I take. It's not in dispute. And he has a diagnosis of psychosis, so in a battle of the experts, he's going to look like a loon and I'm going to look like a woman sufferring from depression when under stress.

He also took all the deductions (kids, home mortgage, taxes) on his tax return. He earned $14,000 last year, so those deductions are wasted. My lawyer is demanding an amended return. My accountant (Why, with as little money as I have, do I have an accountant? Because of PdeFF's batshit insane and stupid actions, as evidenced by this lastest behavior.) is doing the calculations to see what we need to do to amend his return, which will allow me to file my return. Grrr.

But then I got to see the Professor and talk with Uber, and I had a lovely dinner with Innana. We went to The Evening Star Cafe and had a lovely dinner. And then SNV and ex-Marine Fred joined us for dessert. So all's well that ends well, or something like that. Anyway, FoilMormor sent me a bicycle pump for my birthday, Big Grampa sent chocalate, and my super-Aunt sent a Talbot's gift certificate (I can buy a new dress!). I had a lovely time with friends, and PdeFF's behavior just emphasized why I left him.

Forty-Five

I will be very glad when today and my forty-fifth year end. This last year has not been one of my better ones. I do think, under stress conditions, that I tested rather well. But let's not do that again.

I am grateful that:

(1) The girls are with me and well.
(2) The house sold.
(3) I got out of the house in one piece and reasonably sane.
(4) There is a hope I may be able to rebuild my financial situation before 2016.
(5) I'm spending tomorrow evening with Innana.

That'll do tomorrow. Remember, tomorrow, tell me how youthful I look.

But I'm Doing All the Right Things! (Life Sucks, Then You Die)

I'm bluer than I would like to be. I'm bluer than anyone who hasn't swum in a vat of indigo should be. I haven't felt this low, well, since leaving PdeFF.

I knew that the half life of energy and vim and vigor I had upon leaving PdeFF would fade. I knew that. That doesn't mean I like it.

I have to come up with a plan of action for my 46th year, so that I feel like I'm getting back on track. My main plan: live through the remainder of 2006, until my divorce comes through. Hope the real estate market in DC crashes, especially condominiums and townhouses. Buy low, finding an opportunity in someone else's misery. That's a plan, right?

I know most of my mood is due to my upcoming 45th birthday and the fact that my girls are with PdeFF. Also, I have made no knitting or guitar playing progress of late, and that gets me blue, too.

I've been taking Zolof at 75 mg. a day since meeting my shrink almost two weeks ago, an increase from 50 mg. Once it's been two weeks, I get to increase to 100 mgs. Maybe that will help. Tuesday, I get to jump it up.

SNV gave me some nice swiss chocolate with hazelnuts yesterday, and after I have dinner (baked potato, fresh brussels sprouts, maybe some roast chicken), I'll help Switzerland's balance of trade. I know some of the packages (nicely wrapped, like when I was a child) from Big Grampa for my birthday also contain chocolate (a necessary supplement to any antidepressant). Tomorrow my girls come home. I'm glad they aren't here with my now as I am absolutely in a lousy mood. But I'll cheer up when I see them tomorrow.

Unfortunately, today I just feel like climbing into a cavern and staying there. Got to get out of this mood.

Waiting Anxiously

BTW, I just had a nice conversation with the world famous (here anyway) Supercookie which cheered me up enormously. His computer has been down, but it's getting fixed soon (so he says). That's good, because we ladies need more salty goodness such as Cookie kindly offered to Innana here. It's good I had a chance to talk with Cookie, because tomorrow's a big day husband-ectomy-wise (I have a hearing in court), and I'm all keyed up.

Have I been preparing by reading the various court documents? No, no, no. I've gotten the makeup cleaned up off the bedroom carpet. You know, the makeup that GaahGirl applied with TigerGrrl's strategic non-intervention. I've done two loads of laundry. I've mended two dresses (clothes last a really long time if you just repair them). I did a load of dishes, and I changed the sheets on the bed. Can you say avoidance?

I never have as clean a home as when I have some deadline or other important chore to do. One more batch of mending and then to bed with me.

World Enough and Time

I will be forty-five years old soon. I feel younger than that, largely because my girls are so young (six and one and a half) and because my family is pretty long-lived. But still, three of my four grandparents died at age 80. My remaining grandmother, NuclearGrammy is still going strong at age 94, still radioactive, and certainly could open a can of whup-ass on you, no matter who you are; but odds are I'm more than halfway through my life.

Not a comforting feeling to be starting again, career-wise, relationship-wise, or anywise. At the same time, I know that rushing to catch the next best thing is not really how I want to be handling things. Even though time on this earth is finite and short.

Nonetheless, the urge to seize whatever is in front of me right now is quite strong. Carpe diem and all that. Right now, that's mostly enjoying my girls, and, since it's springtime, enjoying the lovely days. That's enough for now.

Don't Operate Heavy Machinery

Innana and I had a nice Saturday with the TigerGrrl and GaahGirl. Innana drove us up to Boiling Springs, Pennsylvania and we had a nice picnic by the town's lake. TigerGrrl fed ducks bread, and GaahGirl toddled in her drunken sailor fashion. We listened to a little open air guitar music, and stopped and got some pastries at a farmers market of sorts, and generally had a good day.

Sunday didn't go so well. The girls got me up early (before 7 a.m.) and we headed out to to grocery shopping on a very tight budget ($30 for food for the week, and I managed it). I got home and realized I had not taken my antidepressants or ADHD medicine. My doctor recently increased my Zoloft dosage to 100 mg, up from 50 (actually, I'm still in the ramping up phase, on 75 mg), and kept me on 50 mg of Adderal, plus the 12.5 mg of Ambien for sleep or sleepwalking as the case may be. So at 9 am, having fed the girls and done the weeks shopping, I remembered, I'm divorcing, I'm broke, I'm depressed, I need some medicine. So I took my medicine.

Here's the clincher: Who is the production genius who thought it was a bright idea to make stimulants (Adderal) and soporifics (Ambien) looking pretty much identical? The same shade of blue? Okay, the Adderal is a different shape, but with my glasses off? Identical. Thank goodness I took only two "Adderal" pills (what would have been 20 mg) rather than my regular three (30 mg)*. Needless to say, with 25 mg of Ambien in me, I was very sleepy. I brought the girls into my room to nap with me. Well, I'll be getting the makeup out of my rug sometime in 2007 or 2008. TigerGrrl told Innana (who stopped by, bless her heart) that she tried to tell me to wake up as GaahGirl painted the floor with the last of my favorite Lancone eyeshadow but that I kept going "Snzleflptd" or something like that.

Well, 25 mg of Ambien, and I slept about 1 hour. Then I woke up to a makeup covered carpet. I'm sure it looks lovely in that shade. I've got to make sure that doesn't happen again. And it won't.

*The other 20 mg at lunch.