All in Divorce
When the kids came along to have a house filled with Halloween decorations was appropriate. The trick-or-treaters that ventured up our walkway were assaulted by various forms of zombies and ghouls that reached from the grave to take hold of the little princesses and cowboys in search of candy.
I was exhausted. I went into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. I stared ahead and it looked like the walls were breathing. I fell back, but was too tired to sleep. This was a horrible day.
The funny thing is, looking back at that weekend now, this would be the good day.
My ex-wife, Arlene, and I have a very good relationship. Always wondered if we stayed together, would we have made it through the tough times and ended up in a good place.
Let me hand out this spoiler alert…
...the night before my wedding day, I thought, ‘How bad can this be?’
How bad indeed.
My youngest son is a really good cook.
He must get that from his mother because the last thing I want (nor can) do is cook.
I'm not sure why women would give me their numbers, even unsolicited on my part. When they do, and I reach out, why do they not return my calls?
We landed in Dallas almost an hour late, but still needed to make our connecting flight to Oklahoma City.
Re-Post from an earlier blog:
When I first was separated from my ex-wife, Arlene, my three kids were all under 10 years old. When Christmas came around that year I knew it was going to be hard — maybe not so much for the kids, but for me (selfish).
Everything from my ex-wife, messy house, and a certain German dictator were discussed
If you heard this one side of my cell phone conversation, what would you think?
"Hello, yeah, is he gone?"
(muffled reply)
"What? You said he'd be gone by 5:45. I'm not just going to keep driving around waiting for him to leave."
A good conversation is one of my favorite things. Conversations in bars are even better (just add alcohol).
Anyone who has read my blog knows I write about my ex-wife, Arlene, a good deal of the time. Now, before you think this is some angry ex-husband rant, you’d be wrong.
I was at my sister’s house a few years ago for a family function, not sure of the actual occasion, when my daughter Amanda, who was three years into her degree in journalism at NYU casually said, “You know, maybe I should be a doctor.”
When I tell people that my wedding song was U2’s“Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For,” I wait to see how long it takes them to realize I am joking. In hindsight, maybe it should have been.
