The “Bad Husband” Chronicles

Just another day for you and me in Paradise

Archive for the ‘Pets’ Category

One day “goodbye” will be “farewell”

Posted by mozziestarlet on February 26, 2009

After months of anticipation on my part, the day finally arrived last Saturday for the bad husband’s departure.  He packed his things (and his bruised ego) and made his trek back to his home town.  I stopped by my home last Friday night to check on things while he was out, and for the first time in such a long time, I could see the semblance of my home beneath all the clutter and junk that I was forced to live with during our marriage.  The shadow of my once beloved solace lingered beneath the piles of boxes, and I felt giddy by the thought of actually being able to return home again.  And at 11am last Saturday morning, that’s exactly what I did.  I gathered my things from the parental units’ home where I’ve been living these past months, and headed home. 

When I arrived, there was an eerie silence in the house…a thickness that you could almost feel hanging in the air.  I gazed around and was overcome with a range of emotions.  At first, I felt such relief and excitement at the realization that I was actually going to be able to be home again; the home I worked so diligently to have and maintain all these years.  As I assessed the surroundings, I felt a horrible sinking feeling creeping up from the pit of my stomach and felt tears well up in my eyes.  Even though I had waited for this moment for months, the realization of finality swept over me like a tidal wave.  I cried for about an hour, realizing later that this was and is simply part of the process of grief, acceptance, and ultimately, recovery.  Despite how nonchalant my tone may appear at times throughout the blog, don’t let it fool you.  Divorce is a horribly gutting experience and one that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.  And if you’re like me, prone to wear your heart on your sleeve, the experience affects you even more so than the ‘Average Joe’ who may think of divorce as an ‘easy’ solution to a seemingly insurmountable problem.  Solution?  Sometimes.  Easy?  Not hardly.

So, for the past four days and with the unbelievable help and support of my family, I’ve moved back not just into my house, but my home.  As the old proverb says, “Home is where the heart is.”  I couldn’t agree more.

“Always be careful when you abuse the one you love
the hour or the day no one can tell
but one day ‘goodbye’ will be ‘farewell’…”

 – Morrissey

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Hilarious TGIF email, compliments of my ‘Wondertwin’ younger brother

Posted by mozziestarlet on February 20, 2009

A classic email between me and my younger brother, who works in IT support.  Enjoy and happy weekend to all!

 

From: Mozziestar
Sent: Friday, February 20, 2009
To: Her ‘Wondertwin’ younger brother
Subject: Hey bro!

What up, shottie pimp?

 


From: Her ‘Wondertwin’ younger brother
Sent: Friday, February 20, 2009
To: Mozziestar
Subject: RE: Hey bro!

 

Just working.

So, this lady sent her laptop in and said it “stopped working on its own.” I turned it on and nearly puked it smelled so badly once it got hot and the fan cut on. Turns out, her little dog puked on it while she had it in her lap and she didn’t want to get in trouble. 

*sigh*  


From: Mozziestar
Sent: Friday, February 20, 2009 2:29 PM
To: Her ‘Wondertwin’ younger brother
Subject: RE: Hey bro!

 

HILARIOUS!!!!  Did she actually admit to it or did you recognize the smell from memories of our family dog?

That is so funny!!   *ROFL*


From: Her ‘Wondertwin’ younger brother
Sent: Friday, February 20, 2009
To: Mozziestar
Subject: RE: Hey bro!

 

Oh no…I grilled her and told her that it smelled like DEATH. She started to get upset and told me what happened. I was like, “WHAT?!! THAT’S SO NASTY! You could’ve TOLD ME!” 

People are just…SO unbelievable sometimes!

*sigh* x 2

 

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Poll position

Posted by mozziestarlet on February 19, 2009

pole20position3

Okay readers, here’s your chance to have your say in the future of the ‘Bad Husband’ Chronicles blog.  So, please vote in the poll and let me know what you’re thinking.  Should I stay or should I go now?  Don’t fret, I’m fairly thick-skinned and can handle rejection. *boo hoo*

Feel free to leave any comments, suggestions or ideas on the direction you’d like (or not) to see the blog take in the future.  Thank you for your feedback, and as always, your faithful readership.

Keep shining,

Mozziestar

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No patience for ‘the patient’

Posted by mozziestarlet on February 18, 2009

Like sands through the hourglass, so are the diminishing days remaining until the ex-husband is forced to move out of my house.  Knowing this man and his predictable behavior all too well, I’ve been expecting last minute shenanigans on his part to make his final departure as much as an ordeal for me as possible.  What you have to understand about the ex-husband is that he is the most incapable, or rather, unwilling individual when it comes to taking care of his own business.  He lacks the common sense that most of us take for granted, and he fully capitalizes on it by insisting that he ‘can’t’ do this and ‘can’t’ do that.  That’s been the case since the day we were married…. Mr. Can’t Never Could.  So, I always ended up being the one to take care of everything from paying the bills to getting the groceries.  He was even too lazy to learn how to access his checking account or get simple directions for a doctor’s appointment.  It was always, “Babe, can you do this for me?  You’re so smart and can do it so much faster than I can.”  Blah, blah, blah.   Dealing with his nonsense has been the most annoying and trying thing for me, but I remind myself that it will soon be over and any effort made on my part will ultimately result in his faster departure. 

The simple act of his leaving has been a major hassle for me.  I’ve been the one scheduling his moving arrangements, giving him money for the trip home, and reminding him of all the things I know he hasn’t bothered to think about.  Now his latest predicament is that he “just can’t get everything loaded and ready to move until Saturday,” and given that he’s ordered to be out by Friday, he’ll “have to sleep in his car on Friday night.”  Well, boo hoo.  I must tell you that the ex-husband’s mastery of the art of playing ‘the patient’ should earn him an Academy Award.  When I use the description ‘the patient,’ I mean to say that he always insists on being the one who requires constant help and support from the wiser and more knowledgeable, ‘doctor.’  He’s always the weaker party; the patient that must have his hand held through every trial he faces.  Truly, it’s not only nauseating, but ridiculous.  To think that this man has made it nearly 47 years playing this act astounds me.  Will he ever face his responsibilities and handle things himself or will he simply find another ‘doctor’ to treat his unfortunate shortcomings?

Ugh.  Who knows and frankly, who cares?  I certainly don’t.  The only dose I’m willing to give my ex-husband, the eternal patient,  is a large shot of reality.  So, ex-husband…suit up, stick your arm out, and get ready to be stuck.  This doc is through making house calls.

h61 

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Last night I dreamt that somebody shoved me

Posted by mozziestarlet on February 17, 2009

shove-on

As readers of the blog, you are all aware that I typically have the most bizarre and vivid dreams during the few hours of actual sleep I enjoy each night.  Usually, I awake to a sheet storm of twisted blankets, misplaced pillows and the ever-creeping comforter at the   foot of the bed.  I’m often amused by the seemingly random nature of my dreams and their possible meanings, so I consult my Dream Dictonary Doctors at www.dreammoods.com for further clarification and interpretation.  Last night, I had another doozie of a dream, where the now EX-husband was pushing and shoving me, mumbling and stumbling not-so-nice words in my general direction.   Given that he is down to his final week of living in my home before he’s given the boot once and for all, I suppose I’m harboring a lot of feelings of uncertainty and general anxiety about it.  Will he leave quietly and peacefully or will he pull his usual ‘I’m the victim’ dance and try and harass me as much as possible before his time runs out?  Given my experience with him over the past seven years, I think the latter is most likely.

So, what does all this pushing and shoving signify, oh great and powerful dream wizards?  Hmm, let’s see…

“Push”
To dream that you are pushing something, symbolizes energy, effort, encouragement and a new drive to succeed in life. Consider also how you are someone in your life may be a ‘pushover.’

To dream that you are pushed or being pushed, signifies that you are being pressure or feel coerced into doing something. Alternatively, it implies your need for perfection. You may be finding that you do not have enough time to complete a task.

Naturally, after reading this, I reflect on what the Dream Dictionary Doctors might say in response to my latest doozie:

“Dear troubled, yet ever faithful, Mozzie,

Thank you once AGAIN for consulting The Dream Dictionary for further clarification of your latest slumber-ific experience.  Upon first analysis, we were hoping that the person being shoved in your dream would be your ridiculuous excuse of an ex-husband and not yourself.  When are you going to stand firm and realize that you have no reasonable excuse for feeling worthy of being mistreated?  Until you come to this realization, there is little we can do to assist you further.  We appreciate your CONTINUED visits to our website, but for heaven’s sake…get a clue, will ya?  And as always, we keep an immediate refferral on file on your behalf to the nearest mental health facility.  Best wishes for your new life’s adventure, The Dream Dictionary Doctors.”

*SIGH*

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“The past isn’t dead. It isn’t even past.”

Posted by mozziestarlet on February 10, 2009

I’ve always had a particular affinity for this quote by William Faulkner, often finding myself amazed by the truthful simplicity of it. Like many of you, I’ve spent a considerable portion of my adult life being a prisoner of the past, frequently feeling stuck between something and nothing. Have you ever wondered why the memories you yearn to recall seem distant, yet the ones that you struggle to forget always seem to be top of mind? Perhaps, it is the pain that is associated with these memories that makes them so difficult to forget? So often, I joke that if I could just have a lobotomy to remove all of the unpleasant memories and experiences I’ve endured in my life, I’d be ‘okay.’ What I’ve come to realize through my journey is that experiences, both good and bad, shape the person that we are. Without these, I wouldn’t have the clarity that I have now or the direction for my future happiness. I suppose that sometimes, we have to lose in order to gain insight, understanding, and ultimately, contentment.

So, what got me thinking along these lines today? Well, I was surfing Facebook this morning and stumbled upon ex-husband #1’s profile. Granted, it has been eight years since our divorce and we have both gone on to live our separate lives. I found myself browsing his photos, many of him and his new wife traveling the world’s finest cities, and I started to reflect on the life we once shared. He obviously is happy now and found whatever it was that he was searching for and felt he lacked during our marriage. I thought about how much I tried and how many sacrifices I made to be a wonderful wife to him through those years. Why wasn’t it enough to sustain his love and commitment? Is it possible for one person to seem right for you, but for you to be the wrong choice for them? It’s matters like these that make love and marriage such a three dimensional concept. You may love someone, and they may love you back, but there is always that third element of uncertainty looming above you. Will your love sustain the test of time or will it one day be deemed ‘disposable’ by one of the parties involved?

I haven’t begun to find the answers to questions like these, and quite honestly, probably never will to my own satisfaction. I suppose, in one regard, I am happy that he has found contentment in his life. But, being completely human and fallible, I do feel a twinge of resentment. I resent that he gave up on us. I resent that he not only discarded our memories, but went on to replace them with new ones. I realize this is part of life’s natural progression, and that in time, I too will do the same. But at present, past memories, both buried and those at the surface, seem to haunt me with endless regret. Even though I accept my life’s winding road with all its twisted diversions, I do get weary from the travel. Sometimes, I just wish that my path was straight and narrow, with a tangible destination in mind; an end goal to serve some greater purpose. That way, one day I can look back in retrospect and say, “Oh, now I understand why that happened to me.” Until then, I’ll continue on life’s journey and hope that a little understanding will come with each new day.

 

As Robert Frost so eloquently wrote in 1920:

 “I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I —

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.”

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25 Random and nonsensical things

Posted by mozziestarlet on February 3, 2009

1.  I’ve always been in love with new school supplies.  Every Fall, I buy a new collection of glitter pens, smelly markers and notebooks.  This year I bought a hot pink Trapper Keeper.

2.  When I was in elementary school, I wanted to be a geneticist.

3.  I first realized I was a writer when I was eight years-old.  I wrote a novelette entitled “Savannah” when I was eleven years-old.

4.  I have a habit of  nicknaming those close to my heart and rarely call them by their ‘real’ names.

5.  I was on a clogging team until I was thirteen years-old.  Look out Michael Flatley!  Inevitably, it was having to dance to country music routines that diminished my interest.  

6.  I have loved dogs all of my life, but didn’t actually own one until I was eighteen years-old.  He was a mutt I named Sambo.

7.  There was only one true thing I wanted from my life growing up:  a family and children of my own.  I’m nearly 36, have been married and divorced twice, and have no children.  My older brother, who vowed a childless life of bachelorhood in high school, is happily married with five little ones.

8.  My pantry is stocked with sugar-coated cereals.  Captain Crunch with Crunchberries is my favorite.

9.  There are no movies in my DVD collection which pre-date 1980.

10.  I carry a Barbie lunch box to work every day.

11.  On the Myers-Briggs personality inventory, I am an INTJ, with the highest percentage in the “I (Introvert)” category.  Out of 100%, I scored 89% as an introvert.  This baffles nearly everyone who knows me.

12.  I have two true loves in my life:  my 11 year-old Cockapoo and Morrissey.  I first heard Morrissey in 1988 and have spent 21 years on his trail.  Both inspire me on a daily basis.

13.  I watch very little TV and usually only tune-in for Nip/Tuck every Tuesday night.  I have no explanation as to why I love this program, given that it represents much of what I detest in life.

14.   My hair has been nearly every color with the exception of black.  I am a natural blonde.

15.  My parents have been happily married for forty years.  In all honesty, I have never been.  My parents decided when we were born to call each other “Mama and Daddy” rather than refer to one another by their first names.  Even though we are all grown adults now, they still call each other this despite whether we are around or not.

16.  I know very little modern music and fluctuate between two channels on XM Radio:  the 80s and classic alternative.

17.  My favorite movie is “Somewhere in Time” (1980).  I’ve watched it hundreds of times, but sob like a girl each and every time.

18.  I detest baked beans, English peas and sweet potatoes.  Even as a baby, Mom couldn’t get me to digest these.

19.  I’m a bit of a clean freak.  I take two showers every day.

20.   I am the nicest person you will ever know with the most sarcastic sense of humor.

21.  I have travelled throughout the United States, but the one place I long to visit the most is somewhere I’ve never been:  England.

22.  I am far from a ‘girly girl,’ but I adore gemstones.  I have a large collection of stones in nearly every color.

23.  I always keep my nails manicured.  I’ve found that despite how lousy you may feel, having your nails done always makes you feel like a lady.

24.  I fall into the less than 10% of people who actually work within their college major.

25.  My favorite alcoholic drink is a Bass Pale Ale.  I’d rather have a cold draft beer more than any other tody.  My staple is milk.  It does the body good.

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The rise and fall of D-day

Posted by mozziestarlet on January 30, 2009

So, are you curious to know how things turned out as the next chapter of Mozziestar’s life unfolds?  Well, sometimes, words aren’t even required…

 

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Trouble loves me

Posted by mozziestarlet on December 5, 2008

Phew, what a crazy couple of days it has been at Mozzie’s pad.  Needless to say, informing the husband of filing the ‘D’ papers didn’t go over very well.  After four hours of what amounted to a one-sided lecture (from him to me), I managed to escape somewhat unscathed to the parental units for rest, reflection and a lot of TLC.  Just what the doctor ordered.  The most frustrating aspect of talking with a non-listener is trying to reason logically to them.  This is about as futile an effort as trying to solve the current economic crisis over night.  When things ‘go bad’ in a situation, it usually didn’t happen in 24 hours.  Typically, there is so much that led up to the event, so many little things which at the time didn’t seem insurmountable.  The problem with this is that eventually all of the little things add up into an incredible stack of teetering dominos.  If you stack the pile high enough, all it takes is one more domino on the top of the pile to send the whole mess tumbling down.  My situation with the husband is no exception to this analogy.

Being such a compassionate person makes the situation doubly difficult.  You see, when your life is a mess, it doesn’t just affect you.  It affects your parents, your immediate family, your friends, and even your sweet little snaggle-toothed puppy.  All who love you feel the heat and often get burned from it.  Divorce doesn’t just ‘happen’ to you.  The collateral damage ripples out to all who love you as well.  This is the worst part of it all and makes you feel like the lousiest person in the world for being so stupid.

 

Nevertheless, my situation is what it is and I am doing my best to take one day at a time.  I am thankful for my family and for always having a few people who I know I can depend on, despite my circumstances.  I am also grateful that once I removed my rose-colored glasses and saw the husband for exactly who and what he is, I found the courage to say, “No, this isn’t ok to live like this.  I deserve better.  I’d rather be alone for the right reasons than with someone for the wrong ones.”  This is how I feel and ultimately, I know it is a good thing.  Yes, I’m terrified of the notion of facing the unknown yet again in my life, but the unknown is better than living a life beneath your standards.  You must accept responsibility for your own actions and misfortunes, but you have to forgive yourself sometimes for being human and making mistakes.  As Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind.”  I’d like to ‘high five’ Emerson for that one.  He certainly knew what he was talking about.  So, the moral of the story is: “Acknowledge, move on.”  Own up to your circumstances, mistakes and disappointments, but move on to the next phase in your life.  Don’t let your past dictate the course of your future.

I will leave you with the incredible lyrics of Martin Gore: “You’ve got to move on sometime, and it’s about time, by putting one foot in front of the other and repeating the process.”

Twinkle, Twinkle,
Mozziestar

 

 

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Update

Posted by mozziestarlet on December 4, 2008

Dear friends,

I am currently staying with my parents and am safe.  So many of you have emailed with your concerns since my last post.  I will return later with today’s entry.

Thank you and God Bless all of you,

Mozziestar

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There’s gonna be some trouble. A whole house will need rebuilding.

Posted by mozziestarlet on December 1, 2008

There is sufficient trouble brewing at home right now.  I finally understand the notion of ‘the calm before the storm.’  Ever since I informed the husband of my intent to divorce him, he has been unusually silent towards me.  At first, I thought the silence was just a manifestation of his hurt, disappointment and loss.  Obviously, I feel it too…deeply.  However, I noticed this morning before he left the house that he would not give me any eye contact.  When I asked him what was wrong, he replied, “We need to talk later.”  Naturally, I was left feeling very concerned and almost threatened.  Immediately, the words of my attorney sprung to mind when she told me, “You need to have him removed from your home before he becomes resentful or paranoid.  I know you may think this wouldn’t happen, but it almost always does.  Every person has a breaking point.”

 

After this morning’s bizarre interaction with him, I’ve realized that my attorney’s comments were very insightful, almost foreshadowing events yet to come in my life.  After he left this morning, I talked with my Mom about what had transpired.  She and the rest of my poor, sweet family are worried sick that he might do something harmful towards me.  So, I decided to be proactive and talk to the police about my concerns.  I was a bit stunned with what they told me.  They said, “Unless he has outright threatened to kill you or hit you, raised his hand to you, etc., there isn’t anything we can do.  If he does anything of this nature, dial 911 and we will dispatch an officer to your home and file a report.”  Something is terribly wrong with our legal system in the U.S. if you have to wait until your spouse strikes you or verbally expresses his intent to harm you before any action takes place to protect you.  It’s really no surprise that women are killed each day by their husbands, ex-husbands, and boyfriends.  No one takes them seriously until after they are attacked, abused or even murdered.  Does the system not realize that if a woman feels her safety has been comprised, she is not ‘crying wolf?’ 

 

I waited for several hours before phoning the husband at work to try and gain some insight into what is going on in his bewildered, paranoid mind.  He alluded to noticing ‘changes in my behavior recently,’ which amounted to me talking on my cell phone more than I normally do and staying up later on the phone with friends and/or family members.  Mind you, this is nothing new.  I’ve always kept in touch with my family each day, especially since these events began to unfold.  I began using my cell phone when talking to them simply because I knew he could easily pick up the other receiver on our home phone and listen to my private conversations.  Several weeks ago, I had interference on my home phone line due to not having a filter on my DSL, and used my cell phone at home until the problem could be rectified.  When I let the dog out one evening before bed, I was talking to my Mom on my cell outside while the dog was tending to his business.  When I returned inside, the husband accused me of having a secret affair or talking to someone behind his back.  I realized then that attempting to reason with him was completely futile.

 

So now, I’m frazzled and anxious, not knowing what to expect when he returns home.  He has always pledged that he would never harm me, but feeling betrayed and abandoned hits home for him.  Somehow, he feels that is what I’m doing to him…just another woman in his life that has broken a promise to him.  He accepts no blame or fault from his own actions or lack thereof, but only sees himself as the eternal ‘victim’ of life’s cruel circumstances.  This is a dangerous perspective for anyone, particularly him.

 

I will be careful tonight and in the coming days, cautious and astutely aware of his comments, body language and subtle innuendos.  It’s like my attorney said, “Everyone has a breaking point.  Losing someone like you could be his.”

impending-storm1

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There speaks a true friend

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 30, 2008

Right, so I was having a conversation last night with a friend who informed me that men and women inherently can’t ‘just be friends.’  He was alluding to the idea that encapsulated the movie, ‘When Harry Met Sally,’ and that every man wants to be intimate with a woman he finds attractive.  Below is a snippet of that conversation from the movie… 

 

Harry Burns: “You realize of course that we could never be friends.
Sally Albright: Why not?
Harry Burns: What I’m saying is – and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form – is that men and women can’t be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.
Sally Albright: That’s not true. I have a number of men friends and there is no sex involved.
Harry Burns: No you don’t.
Sally Albright: Yes I do.
Harry Burns: No you don’t.
Sally Albright: Yes I do.
Harry Burns: You only think you do.
Sally Albright: You say I’m having sex with these men without my knowledge?
Harry Burns: No, what I’m saying is they all WANT to have sex with you.
Sally Albright: They do not.
Harry Burns: Do too.
Sally Albright: They do not.
Harry Burns: Do too.
Sally Albright: How do you know?
Harry Burns: Because no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her.
Sally Albright: So, you’re saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds unattractive?
Harry Burns: No. You pretty much want to nail ’em too.
Sally Albright: What if THEY don’t want to have sex with YOU?
Harry Burns: Doesn’t matter because the sex thing is already out there so the friendship is ultimately doomed and that is the end of the story.
Sally Albright: Well, I guess we’re not going to be friends then.
Harry Burns: I guess not.
Sally Albright: That’s too bad. You were the only person I knew in New York.”

 

 

So, it really got my mind reeling at this notion, mainly because I’ve typically had more male friends than female in my life, and I haven’t had sex with any of them.  What I’m wondering is:  Am I an exception to the rule?  Do members of the opposite sex befriend you with the subconscious agenda that they will eventually be intimate with you?  I can’t help but beg to differ here. 

 

My BFF of over 11 years now is male and we’ve never been even remotely romantic with one another.  I know what you’re thinking: “Is he ugly?  Are you?”  I can say that he’s absolutely adorable and very easy on the eyes.  As far as I’m concerned, I’ve been told I’m ‘pretty’ many times, so I’m willing to give that assessment the benefit of the doubt.  So, why haven’t we been romantically involved?  I think it’s a fairly simple answer.  We both value our friendship above anything else and hold it in very high esteem.  I can’t help but quote Morrissey here, “Is it really so strange?”

 

What I find particularly amusing about this scenario is how much this frustrates other women.  If I am friends with ‘their man,’ they automatically assume that I have romantic intentions towards him and want him for my own.  The female can even be sitting with us as we talk and hear our conversation, and yet, she is still inclined to be jealous of me.  Why is this?  What in the world is there to be jealous of in having or discovering a new friend?  Should it matter whether they have male or female private parts in order to establish a connection with them?  I really do wish I could answer this question, as it always seems to be a reoccurring issue for me.

 

Perhaps I’m too rudimentary in my thinking.  I subscribe to the basic notion that Thoreau wrote of in the late 1800s.  He said, “A friend is a person before whom I may think aloud.”  That’s the beautiful and simple truth in my mind.  Friendship is entirely different than romantic attachment.  I can only hope that others might eventually feel this way and shelve their feelings of jealousy, skepticism and insecurity.  Lighten up…take a chill pill…It’s all good!  How could it be anything but that?

 

“The Dummy” by Michael Mack

In that forgotten part of town
Where wasted hopes and dreams abound,
A wrinkled man with life near end,
In hopes to have at least one friend,
Fashioned bits of wood and things
And made a dummy run by strings.

He sat alone for hours on end,
Conversing with his only friend
And found delight within the fact
That he controlled it’s every act.
He told it how he never had
A chance, since all his luck was bad
Although he’d tried so to succeed –
The dummy nodded and agreed.
And how his journeys in romance
Had never given him a chance,
And wasn’t it a crying shame
That he was always held to blame
When everyone knew, oh so well,
That life is but a living Hell,
Controlled by lust and power and greed?
The dummy nodded and agreed.
With patience that would rival saints,
That dummy sat through all complaints
And, with each little expert tug,
He’d droop his head or bow or shrug
And give some comfort to the man
Who held his lifelines in his hand
And helped to fill a lonely need
When he just nodded and agreed.
Senility increased with time
As did the old man’s phantomime,
And feverish fingers pulled with glee
The dummy’s dance of misery.
They never left each other’s side
Until the day both stopped and died.
We found them lying, hand in hand,
The dummy – and his wooden friend.

friendship_is_light

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Search Engine Optimization? mmmkay.

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 29, 2008

As the creator and administrator of this blog, I am able to view the ‘search terms’ that lead people to my site.  I know I shouldn’t laugh, but I can’t help myself.  And people say I’m the ‘crazy’ one, huh?  At least I know I’m not alone! 

“And if I seem a little strange, well that’s because I am.”  (Morrissey)

 

Top Search Engine Terms for The “Bad Husband” Chronicles:

 

Bad Husband Chronicles

I have been a bad husband

Magic potion for bad husband

Being so far from your friends, and you’re all alone

Poems about husband’s boss

How to make an Alabama Slammer

Burn down office without getting caught

TGIF quotes

Hilarious email

Alcoholic husband has a bad odor

My husband and his co-worker are too close

Don’t forget the lyrics

My dog eats poop

I want a magic carpet

Go sell crazy somewhere else

How to make someone realize that her husband is an ass

Slipping husband Xanax

Bad marriage

How do I make my marriage right after years of it being wrong?

Electric blanket and diarrhea

 

crazy-doesn-t-cover-it-posters

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Mozziestar Flashback Entry: Senior year of high school, 1991

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 29, 2008

senior-notebook

I found this relic in my English notebook from high school.  I don’t know why, but I find it so amusing.  The irony is that I am still the same girl, just older and hopefully, wiser now.  Enjoy…

 

5-21-91: “Assignment: What are some thorns in your side?”

Well, this should be an interesting assignment given that I’ve always considered myself to be ‘the girl with a thorn in her side.’  Here are just a few of the things that come to mind that truly bug me:

1. People

2. Myself

3. Noise

4. Dishonesty

5. Cruelty

6. Stupidity

7. No milk for breakfast

8. Sunshine in my bedroom at 7am on Saturday AND Sunday mornings

9. Betrayal

10. Accounting class

11. Country music

12. Obscenity

13. Rudeness

14. No clean underwear

15. Alarm clocks

16. Humid days

17. School

18. Life

19. Death

20. Women (come on, tell me I’m wrong!)

21. The forever ‘missing’ other sock

22. Toxic waste

23. Not enough time or paper to finish this list

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1908

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 28, 2008

A note from Mozziestar:  “If you are a new visitor, please click on “Archives.”

This will boggle your mind. I know it did mine!

The year is 1908.
One hundred years ago.
What a difference a century makes!
Here are some statistics for the Year 1908:

*********** ********* ********* ******

The average life expectancy was 47 years.

Only 14 percent of the homes had a bathtub.

Only 8 percent of the homes had a telephone.

There were only 8,000 cars and only 144 miles of paved roads.

The maximum speed limit in most cities was 10 mph.

The tallest structure in the world was the Eiffel Tower!

The average wage in 1908 was 22 cents per hour.

The average worker made between $200 and $400 per year.

A competent accountant could expect to earn $2000 per year,
A dentist $2,500 per year, a veterinarian between $1,500 and $4,000 per year, and a mechanical engineer about $5,000 per year.

More than 95 percent of all births took place at HOME.

Ninety percent of all doctors had NO COLLEGE EDUCATION!

Instead, they attended so-called medical schools, many of which

Were condemned in the press AND the government as ‘substandard.’

Sugar cost four cents a pound.

Eggs were fourteen cents a dozen.

Coffee was fifteen cents a pound.

Most women only washed their hair once a month, and used

Borax or egg yolks for shampoo.

Canada passed a law that prohibited poor people from entering into their country for any reason.

 

Five leading causes of death were:

1. Pneumonia and influenza
2. Tuberculosis
3. Diarrhea
4. Heart disease
5. Stroke


The American flag had 45 stars.

The population of Las Vegas, Nevada was only 30!!!!

Crossword puzzles, canned beer, and ice tea hadn’t been invented yet.

There was no Mother’s Day or Father’s Day.

Two out of every 10 adults couldn’t read or write.

Only 6 percent of all Americans had graduated from high school.

Marijuana, heroin, and morphine were all available over the counter at the local corner drugstores. Back then pharmacists said, ‘Heroin clears the complexion, gives buoyancy to the mind, regulates the stomach and bowels, and is, in fact, a perfect guardian of health.’

 (Shocking? DUH! )

Eighteen percent of households had at least one full-time servant or domestic help.

 

Now…Imagine where we will be in 2108.  Skeery, isn’t it?

 

standard19081

 

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Thanksgiving additions

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 27, 2008

I couldn’t help but share these.  They are so beautiful and inspiring.  Love to you all and your families.  Oh Mozziestar, so much to be thankful for.  🙂

Keep shining,

Mozziestar

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Give Thanks

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 27, 2008

thanksgiving

With tomorrow being Thanksgiving, I felt it would only be appropriate to fiddle around with the subject.  I’ve always considered myself a ‘thankful’ person, often putting the needs of others before my own, and expecting little in return.  I carefully remind myself daily to acknowledge the blessings I have in my life, rather than dwell on all the broken and missing pieces.  Trust me, I am as human as the next person.  Like you, I frequently fall into the trap of negative thinking when it seems everything is plummeting down on me at the exact same moment in time.  In a sense, I’ve often viewed my life as a Shakespearean ‘Comedy of Errors,’ only no one, including me, understands the humor.

 

Many of you would never suspect it, but I have struggled with depression most of my life.  I trace it back to around twelve years old when I first noticed it.  It took several years to diagnose, and many more to successfully treat it.  I have no family history of depression, no sad story of abuse or neglect, and no abandonment or desertion issues.  I come from an ideal family, with loving parents married for forty years, and two of the most amazing brothers anyone could possibly ever dream of.  So, what could I possibly be depressed about…especially at twelve years old?

 

I have spent many years of my adolescent and adult life trying to answer this question.  I can hardly know if there is a ‘correct’ answer here, but I think it has to do with being more aware than the average person.  If you’ve heard the expression, “Wearing your heart on your sleeve,” imagine wearing your heart, soul, hopes, and dreams in the same spot.  It gets fairly crowded there and unfortunately, this unique set of attributes often makes you an unsuspecting and easy target for life’s frequent misfires.  I have been nailed too many times to count.  Nevertheless, I’ve learned from every wound and battle scar, even if it was often in retrospect.  I believe the most valuable and precious thing I’ve learned is this…

 

Be thankful for the blessings in your life, whether great or small.  Often the greatest gifts come in the smallest packages.  Show love, kindness and gratitude to everyone, even when your gut instinct doesn’t want you to.  In giving, you will receive.  In loving, you will be loved.  Learn from the past, but do not let it dictate the course of your future.  As Thoreau said, “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams.”  Be willing to risk in order to gain the reward.  Take a leap of faith despite how firmly your feet may be planted.

 

After thirty-five years, I am going to attempt this for the first time in my life.  I may sink or I may swim, but I will appreciate the journey and those who have brought sunshine to my pathway along the way.

 

Have A Wonderful Thanksgiving,

Mozziestar 

“At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.”
– Albert Schweitzer
“Develop an attitude of gratitude, and give thanks for everything that happens to you, knowing that every step forward is a step toward achieving something bigger and better than your current situation.”
– Brian Tracy
“Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.”
– Marcel Proust
“Make it a habit to tell people thank you. To express your appreciation, sincerely and without the expectation of anything in return. Truly appreciate those around you, and you’ll soon find many others around you. Truly appreciate life, and you’ll find that you have more of it.”
– Ralph Marston

be_thankful1

 

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Hump day haha

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 26, 2008

jackass

For all of you who occasionally have a really bad day when you just need to take it out on someone: Don’t take that bad day out on someone you know, take it out on someone you *don’t* know! Now get this.  I was sitting at my desk, when I remembered a phone call I had to make. I found the number and dialed it.

A man answered nicely saying, ”Hello?’ ‘

I politely said, ”This is Patrick Hanifin and could I please speak to Robin Carter?”

Suddenly the phone was slammed down on me! I couldn’t believe that anyone could be that rude. I tracked down Robin’s correct number and called her. She had transposed the last two digits incorrectly. After I hung up with Robin, I spotted the wrong number still lying there on my desk. I decided to call it again.

When the same person once more answered, I yelled, ”You’re a jackass!” and hung up.

Next to his phone number I wrote the word ”jackass,” and put it in my desk drawer.

Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills, or had a really bad day, I’d call him up.

He’d answer, and I’d yell, ”You’re a jackass!”

It would always cheer me up.

Later in the year the Phone Company introduced caller ID. This was a real disappointment for me, I would have to stop calling the jackass.  Then one day I had an idea.

I dialed his number, then heard his voice say, ”Hello.” I made up a name. ”Hi. This is the sales office of the Telephone Company and I’m just calling to see if you’re familiar with our caller ID program?”

He went, ”No!” and slammed the phone down.

I quickly called him back and said, ”That’s because you’re a jackass!”

The reason I took the time to tell you this story, is to show you how if there’s ever anything really bothering you, you can do something about it. Just dial 823-4863.

The old lady at the mall really took her time pulling out of the parking space. I didn’t think she was ever going to leave.  Finally, her car began to move and she started to very slowly back out of the slot. I backed up a little more to give her plenty of room to pull out. ” Great,” I thought, she’s finally leaving. All of a sudden this black Camaro comes flying up the parking isle in the wrong direction and pulls into her space.

I started honking my horn and yelling, ”You can’t just do that, Buddy. I was here first!” The guy climbed out of his Camaro completely ignoring me. He walked toward the mall as if he didn’t even hear me. I thought to myself, “This guy’s a jackass. There sure a lot of jackasses in this world.”

I noticed he had a ”For Sale” sign in the back window of his car. I wrote down the number. Then I hunted for another place to park.

A couple of days later, I’m at home sitting at my desk. I had just gotten off the phone after calling 823-4863 and yelling, ”You’re a jackass!” (It’s really easy to call him now since I have his number on speed dial.) I noticed the phone number of the guy with the black Camaro lying on my desk and thought I’d better call this guy, too.

After a couple rings someone answered the phone and said, ”Hello.”

I said, ”Is this the man with the black Camaro for sale?”
”Yes, it is.”

”Can you tell me where I can see it?”

”Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th street. It’s a yellow house and the car’s parked right out front.”

I said, ”What’s your name?”

”My name is Don Hansen.”

”When’s a good time to catch you, Don?”

”I’m home in the evenings.”

”Listen Don, can I tell you something?”

”Yes.”

”Don, you’re a jackass!” And I slammed the phone down.

After I hung up I added Don Hansen’s number to my speed dialer. For a while things seemed to be going better for me. Now when I had a problem I had two jackasses to call. Then, after several months of calling the jackasses and hanging up on them, it just wasn’t as enjoyable as it used to be. I gave the problem some serious thought and came up with a solution:

First, I had my phone dial Jackass #1.

A man answered nicely saying, ”Hello.”

I yelled ”You’re a jackass!” but I didn’t hang up.

The jackass said, ”Are you still there?”

I said, ”Yeah.”

He said, ”Stop calling me.”

I said, ”No.”

He said, ”What’s you name, pal?”

I said, ”Don Hansen.”

He said, ”Where do you live?”

”1802 West 34th Street. It’s a yellow house and my black Camaro’s parked out front.”

”I’m coming over right now, Don. You’d better start saying your prayers.”

”Yeah, like I’m really scared, Jackass!” and I hung up.

Then I called Jackass #2. He answered, ”Hello.”

I said, ”Hello, Jackass!”

He said, ”If I ever find out who you are…”

”You’ll what?”

”I’ll kick your butt.”

”Well, here’s your chance. I’m coming over right now Jackass!” And I hung up.

Then I picked up the phone and called the police. I told them I was at 1802 West 34th Street and that I was going to kill my gay lover as soon as he got home.

Another quick call to Channel 13 about the gang war going on down W. 34th Street.

After that, I climbed into my car and headed over to 34th Street to watch the whole thing. Glorious watching two Jackasses kicking the crap out of each other in front of six squad cars and a police helicopter was one of the greatest experiences of my life!

 

The best prank call ever….

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Tuesday poetry: Chicken soup for the soul

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 25, 2008

ink

* All poems included here were written by Mozziestar and are protected under copyright law.

 

 

You have disappointed me

far more

than you have ever

loved me.

 

———————————————-

 

Each day that life presents

I remind myself

to be thankful;

Despite my heartbreak

and personal tragedy,

I know that beneath

the hysteria

a lesson exists to be learned,

and I must be brave enough

to embrace it.

 

———————————————-

 

True friends

are the sunlight of my days

and the solace

of my nights

 

———————————————-

 

We started as strangers,

sharing our stories

over a bustling crowd of flesh-eaters;

The booze flowed,

while the smoke from your cigarette

swirled about my face.

We laughed a lot,

between smiles and glances,

and after four hours of fleeting seconds,

I finally drove you home

without the courage

to stay behind.

 

———————————————-

 

You pleaded for those

three

simple

words

to escape my lips

and so,

I gave them to you

along with several others –

I don’t love you anymore.

 

magnetic_poetry

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Rainy days and Mondays

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 24, 2008

I woke up this morning and debated whether or not to write an entry today.  I’ve always subscribed to the notion that my parents taught me as a kid: “Now Mozzie, if you can’t say anything ‘nice,’ don’t say anything at all.”  I really do try and approach my life this way, as childish and rudimentary as it may seem.  The ‘thing’ is that most days I manage to survive relatively well.  I do my best to maintain a positive attitude, constantly reminding myself that there are so many others who are facing trials and adversities in their lives, but occasionally, I find myself thinking “Seriously, how much more crap can I take in my life?”  Today is one of those days.

 

Like the rest of America, I am having a horrible time trying to find a job.  I’ve sent out at least several hundred resumes, replies to job postings, inquires, etc. and absolutely nothing has come to fruition.  I wish this were the only troublesome thing facing me currently, but it’s not, by any stretch of the imagination.  I received my initial paperwork to file for divorce this morning, and even though I know it’s the ‘right’ decision to make, it felt like a virus sitting in my inbox.  Sort of like a written manifestation of yet another failure I’ve managed to accomplish in my thirty-five years on this planet.  And no, I’m not trying to hold a pity party on my behalf, but, when I look back at my life thus far, I’m amazed at how much misfortune and doo doo that I’ve had to endure.  Marriages flushed down the toilet at lightening speed, false friendships, betrayals, disappointments, and lay off after lay off after lay off.  Why does this continue to happen to me?  If I’m such a ‘good’ person, why do I have more than my fair share of pain and hardship? 

 

I cannot answer this question, despite how much I spin my wheels in futility.  I find myself sighing while thinking of Morrissey’s words, “Scavenging through life’s very constant lulls, so far from where I intended to go.”  Despite this, when I face trials and problems that feel insurmountable, I often look to The Bible for wisdom and understanding.  I realize that many view The Bible as a folk story or a collection of ancient ‘do good’ sayings.  I suppose, on the surface, it can be viewed as such.  But, I look at it from the standpoint of someone who suffered, yet overcame, the most unbelievable hardship and adversity that anyone possibly ever could.  This gives me comfort and somehow, gives me strength as well.

 

If difficult times serve to build character, then I am on my way to becoming a living personification of that ideal.  Will I look back on my life one day and say, “Oh, so THAT is why that happened?  I get it now.”  I certainly hope so.  There’s nothing worse than spending your life waiting for an absolution that will never come.  So, I won’t.  I’ll take each quandary as it comes and try and learn what I can from it.  And perhaps someday, I will understand.

 

 

“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”
– Deuteronomy 31:8

 

“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
– Matthew 6:34

perseverance

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I must be trippin’

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 22, 2008

5am:  I’m predictably awake and decide attempting to fall back asleep is as futile an effort as trying to launch the space shuttle from my backyard.  I creep downstairs, turn the heat up and start the coffee pot.  The kitchen is in its usual morning shambles, cluttered with the husband’s dirty dishes, pocket change, and empty soda cans.  I’m too groggy to begin my cleanup duties and instead decide to cuddle up on the sofa and watch a movie.  Gas, Food, Lodging’ is my morning movie of choice.

 

8am:  My puppy jingles downstairs, obviously aware that life is stirring on the floor beneath him, and wakes me from my catnap on the sofa.  I reach over to pet him, but he’s as regular as rain when it comes to his morning potty routine.  So, I scoot off the comfy spot and trudge to the back door to hook him to his lead to carry on with his business.  Several minutes pass and I realize that he hasn’t come scratching on the back door to be let back inside.  Naturally, I’m concerned so I open the door to the back patio and see his lead completely ensnared and entangled around the wheel of the garbage can.  I begin to fuss at him, as he always seems to accomplish something of this nature, but realize that I’m going to have to unhook him from the lead to get him free.  I silently debate this for a moment, knowing all too well the lightening speed escape that my puppy is capable of.  Seeing no other option, I unhook him and begin untangling the lead from the garbage wheel.  Within five seconds, my puppy has taken off faster than a bullet fired at close range.  I panic, as losing him in a moment of carelessness has always been my greatest fear in these eleven years.  I am immediately forced with a dilemma.  You see, my backyard is nearly a 90 degree slope, plummeting into wilderness and overgrown poison oak and ivy.  My neighbors all have barricades or fences surrounding their backyards, so crossing through them to retrieve my misbehaving puppy isn’t an option.  It’s either down the slope or nothing at all.

 

I take two steps very carefully down the dangerous slope before my right foot slides out from under me, and I begin my thunderous fall down the embankment.  I plummet head first into a rapid roll, only to be stopped by a gigantic pine tree that breaks my fall across my right cheek.  The thump of my face slamming into the tree’s bark sounds like a punch scene from ‘Rocky.’  I am completely disoriented, out of breath, and stunned that I have managed to yet again, be the most unlucky and uncoordinated person on the planet.  I briefly assess my injuries, grab my right cheek in utter pain and disbelief, and moan at the raw meat that is now hanging from my right arm and left calf.  Realizing I am still alive and on a mission to rescue my puppy, I manage to stand up with arms and legs wobbling from shock and injury.

 

I look two yards over and see my puppy, completely frozen in stature, having obviously watched this extraordinary event firsthand.  I make my way over to him and he doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t even attempt a sniff or a probable getaway.  He realizes what has just happened and knows that he’s the guilty party that caused this whole calamity.  I pick him up in my shredded arm and carry him back to my back patio, not tempting fate by hoping he will return on his own.  I open the back door to the house and he makes a beeline upstairs and jumps into bed with the husband.  I walk into the bathroom to get the whole visual picture of what has just transpired.  My right cheek has an enormous red patch on it, likely to turn blue within hours, if not minutes.  The tender underside of my right arm is totally thrashed and shredded from sliding down the surface of the tree bark, and the pain is excruciating.  I wash my wounds, retrieve a frozen bag of peas from the freezer, and place it on my cheek.  As I recline on the sofa, I think to myself, “Someone out there must be filming my life.  They couldn’t write this into a series if they tried.  When will I receive my cut of the royalties?”

 

10am:  The red patch on my right cheek has grown into a large and dark spot now.  I look remarkably like someone has given me their best right hook punch.  As much as you are all inclined to believe that the husband inflicted this upon me, I can assure you that it was all my own doing.  And that, in and of itself, is the funniest and most ironic thing about the entire accident and most likely, about my entire weekend.

tripping1

 

 

clumsy_smurf1

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Slip slidin’ away

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 20, 2008

9am:  I am stirred into consciousness by the sound of my dog tapping his paws and performing the ‘Curly Shuffle’ around the bed.  Poor little peach has to potty and Mama has overslept for the first time in weeks, perhaps months.  I drag one foot from the bed unto the floor, and then the other, rub my tired eyes, and make my way downstairs.  I can hear the husband’s congested snore emanating from the guest bedroom, as I imagine he’s dreaming about either the approaching of Armageddon or Woody Woodpecker.  Chances are, probably both. 

9:30am:  I sit down at my laptop, still painfully groggy, and begin to recall last night’s dream.  As you are well aware by now, dreaming is an activity I unknowingly participate in nightly, despite the fact that I’m rarely able to make any sense of it.  So, I frequently turn to the ‘experts’ for their professional guidance and opinion.  Last night’s dream was a doozie and I am still reeling in confusion.  I dreamt that I was a child again, in a large water park, surrounded by children with whom I spent my elementary school days.  Mind you, these are friends and faces that I have not seen or thought of in twenty-five years.  How they emerged in my dream, so vividly captured and recalled, beats the heck out of me.  The mind is an amazing sponge, indeed, and the irony of its power lies in its ability to ‘squeeze out’ memories from so long ago.

In my dream, I was an adult, as I am now.  My friends, however, were still children, perfectly captured in my mind’s eye as I still recall them.  We were slipping and sliding down a large waterslide, laughing and giggling throughout every twist and turn.  Given that I am far from a psychiatrist or therapist, I decide to consult the Dream Dictionary Doctors at www.dreammoods.com to hopefully gain some insight.

“Waterslide”

To dream that you are on or see a waterslide, suggests that you are being swept away by your emotions. You are slowly exploring the realm of your unconscious. Alternatively, the dream suggests that you are going with the flow of things without any objections or resistance.

“Children”

To see children in your dream, signifies your own childlike qualities or a retreat back to a childlike state. It is an extension of your inner child during a time of innocence, purity, simplicity, and a carefree attitude. You may be longing for the past and the chance to satisfy repressed desires and unfulfilled hopes. Take some time off and cater to the inner child within. Perhaps there is something that you need to see grow and nurtured. 

Wowzers.  Do these folks work for Dionne Warwick and her Psychic Friends Network or is it just me?  Despite these explanations hitting the proverbial nail on the head, I still ponder what my personalized response would be from The Dream Dictionary Doctors…

“Dear Mozzie, thank you once AGAIN for consulting The Dream Dictionary to identify the meaning of your childish, waterslide adventure.  Upon further analysis, it is our professional opinion that you are hopelessly trapped in 1983.  We recommend that you enter your nearest bathroom, take a look in the mirror, and reach the realization that you are thirty five years-old and are too big to go watersliding.  Youth may be wasted on the young, but you waste our time when the answers you seek are clearly in front of you.  Dry off, bid your childhood friends farewell, and take a step forward for a change.  If this effort fails, we have an immediate refferral on file on your behalf to the nearest mental health facility.  Just sayin’.  Best wishes for your eventual recovery, The Dream Dictionary Doctors.”

So, given this subliminal advice, I choose to step forward rather than backward and begin a new journey.  I may trip and stumble, and frequently lose my way, but the key is in staying the course.  What’s at the end of my journey?  Only time will tell.  Hopefully, acceptance, and most importantly, discovery.

“The past is not dead. In fact, it’s not even past.”

 

– William Faulkner, US novelist (1897-1962)

 

“If any one faculty of our nature may be called more wonderful than the rest, I do think it is memory. There seems something more speakingly incomprehensible in the powers, the failures, the inequalities of memory, than in any other of our intelligences. The memory is sometimes so retentive, so serviceable, so obedient; at others, so bewildered and so weak; and at others again, so tyrannic, so beyond control! We are, to be sure, a miracle every way; but our powers of recollecting and of forgetting do seem peculiarly past finding out.”

 

– Jane Austen, English novelist (1775 – 1817)

 

And today, only one song will do.  Enjoy…

  

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Hold on to your friends

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 19, 2008

In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been in a bit of a reflective mode lately.  I suppose that often happens when life presents you with yet another curve ball and twist in the road, so rather than fight it, I choose to embrace it and see what I can learn from it.  Today, I’m thinking about friendship.  What is it, really?  How do you measure it?  I’ve always been accused of “expecting too much” out of my friends, so oftentimes, I find myself feeling disappointed and disgruntled when a friend fails to be there for me when I need them to be.  Years ago, I had a friend who coined me “the pillar,” because she said that I was always the one who was there for her when no one else was.  Naturally, I took this as a great compliment, knowing all too well what a great gift this is to another human being.  Even now, years later, I still wear that hat.  However, I suppose the difference now is that I’ve learned that being a pillar of strength for others must first begin with being your own.  I am mine.

 

Through the years, I’ve had a difficult time with my female friends.  I suppose the root of this started in adolescence when my “best” friend went behind my back and pursued my boyfriend without my knowledge.  I was completely gutted by her deception, but most of all, by her blatant disregard of the trust I had selflessly placed in our friendship.  After this transpired, I was never quite the same with my female friends.  Realizing the inherent flaws of my own sex, I became much more guarded and cautious about trusting them.  Occasionally, I would open up, share myself with them, be supportive of them, and then ultimately be stabbed in the back or simply disappointed with them.  Even to this day, I have very few female friends.  I’d like to, but I find that I have to take their friendships with a grain of salt and not expect to run into the exception to the rule.  I realize that no one is perfect by any means, but I’ve found that women can be inherently cruel and petty beyond measure.  I am neither of these things, so I’ve learned to always tread lightly when embarking on a new friendship with another woman.  I suppose you could say that I am “scarred, but smarter” now.

 

Excuse my digression, as the intent of this entry is to focus on friendship.  Getting back to my story, I have a very dear friend of over a decade now, who has been there through many of my trials and misfortunes through the years.  We met in the most unlikely of places, a Morrissey chat forum, back in 1997.  There was something unique about this fella from the get-go and we seemed to ‘click’ in an odd and unusual fashion, which really surprised me.  We corresponded through the forum for a few weeks until we exchanged email addresses and decided to be introduced properly.  Weekly emails transformed into daily ones and we began to share our life stories with one another.  We are very different in some regards, and yet, erringly similar in others.  Nevertheless, our differences always seem to compliment each other and even though he drives me crazy on a daily basis, I cherish his friendship.  In the past, I found myself annoyed and irritated when he failed to be there for me when I felt he should have been.  I would find myself thinking, “Why do I bother with him? He obviously doesn’t care about me because he would call or email if he did.”  Up until recently, I still felt this way, but then, something switched inside of me.  I realized that I have been holding him (and others) to MY standard of friendship and that is my own wrongdoing.  You can’t measure friendship by a rigid standard of how you personally define it, but rather embrace the friendship that is given to you.  If you expect others to reciprocate exactly how you would in a particular situation, you will always be disappointed.  However, if you accept their token of friendship, however small and insignificant it may seem, you will always be grateful in receiving it.

 

As Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “A friend is a person before whom I may think aloud.”  Discover the beauty in this statement and hold on to it.  Accept your friends for who they are and not what you feel they ought to be and you will never be disappointed.  So, I leave you now with the words of Morrissey, who I believe said it best, “Hold on to your friends.”

“A bond of trust has been abused
Something of value may be lost
Give up your job,
Squander your cash – be rash
Just hold on to your friends
There are more than enough to fight and oppose
Why waste good time fighting the people you like,
Who would fall defending your name?
Don’t feel so ashamed to have friends
But now, you only call me when you’re feeling depressed
When you feel happy I’m so far from your mind,
My patience is stretched, my loyalty vexed
You’re losing all of your friends
Hold on to your friends
Hold on to your friends
Resist – or move on
Be mad, be rash
Smoke and explode
Sell all of your clothes
Just bear in mind:
There just might come a time
When you need some friends..”

 friendship

 

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Morning has broken

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 18, 2008

When I awakened this morning, I felt overwhelmed by the intricacies of my current situation.  I immediately thought about all of the negative things working against me at present…being laid off during the worst recession, struggling to make ends meet, navigating the painful beginning steps of divorce, and feeling alone in the entire process.  At first, when I sat down at my laptop to write today’s entry, I thought I would vent some of this frustration.  I mean, everything definitely sucks for me right now, so why not get it off my chest so I can feel better about things?  Then, I opened my email and had a note from an ex-coworker that contained the message below.

 

You see, ‘Clueless VP’s’ wife has struggled with cancer for many years now, and despite their efforts in progressive treatment, they were unable to save her life.  Upon first reading this message, I almost felt a ting of satisfaction that someone who has wronged me is having something bad happen to them as a result.  This notion lasted for about thirty seconds until I realized that it wasn’t at all about me or my dislike of ‘Clueless VP,’ but about the loss of a wife, a mother, and a friend.  I began to cry as I thought about the two young sons left behind, facing the rest of their lives without the love and support that only a mother can provide.  How do others survive a loss like this?  How do they find the courage to carry on when they’ve lost their most prized asset?  I cannot begin to comprehend it.

 

All I know is that my problems, seemingly insurmountable to me at present, are but a grain of sand in comparison to what this family is enduring.  And somehow, my angst and feelings of ill will towards ‘Clueless VP’ seem childish and preposterous now…almost unfounded.  I suppose the moral of the story, if there be one, is that no matter what adversity you may currently face, there are others who face much more difficult trials and losses.  In order to grow as a person, you must surrender the pain, regret, feelings of ill will, and negative emotions and instead channel this energy into finding the greater good.  Realizing this is much easier said than done, I am my own harshest critic in this regard.  Nevertheless, this is how I will face each day in the future.  Release the guilt, blame, and regret and seek the good, the honorable, and the positive in everything.  This is my admonition and I encourage you to seek it as well.

 

I will leave you with the email note that started this entire train of thought.  And, as difficult as it may be for me to will this into practice, I must remind myself to always treat others the way I want to be treated, even when they have been unkind to me, for this is the greater good in life.  This is the ideal.

Dearest friends, 

My wife passed away this afternoon, very peacefully and without pain.  I was holding her hand and her best friend was by her side.  Her closest friends were at our home within minutes and all shared their goodbyes.  I have been most worried about our kids – lots of conflicting advice about how to handle things. After friends brought them home early from school, I took both of them into my oldest son’s room and told them that their mother had died. Both knew what I was going to say. We cried and held each other for a good long while.  Then, with their permission, we moved to the master bedroom. Their mother was on the single hospital bed where she had died facing away from us. The boys and I sat on our king bed, talking about their Mama and how we had been preparing for this day. We spoke of how things will change and how they will stay the same. The boys were very thoughtful and mature, all things considered. There were quiet moments infused with love and emotion.

I am glad that my children had this time with their mother. It felt the right level of connection with her, and among us, and I believe it will help with their closure. I feel certain that my wife would have been pleased by this.

We all knew this day was coming, but it is of course so very sad that it has arrived.

My deepest love to all of you.

 

golden-rule1

 

 golden-do-unto

 

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Mozziestar Flashback Entry, Year: 1991

Posted by mozziestarlet on November 17, 2008

Today’s entry is a special and unique one.  You see, today, November 17th, is my precious Grandmama’s 90th birthday.  She is truly a remarkable gem of a mother, grandmother, sister, and friend.  She moved into an assisted living home several years back, and despite the heartache of leaving her home behind, she found and made a home there.  I was fortunate enough to spend my senior year of high school living with her in her small, rural Mississippi town of only 7,000 people.  What I discovered about this town is that it’s a living example of quality, rather than quantity, of people.  The year I spent with her was one of my happiest, by far.

So, without further ado, I like to share “Mozziestar Flashback Entry, Year: 1991” with you all.  Enjoy and always remember to take every opportunity to show love to your loved ones.  Life is a fleeting breath at best, and we never know when that life could be extinguished.  As Morrissey says, “Sing your life!” After many years of repression on my part, I am finally singing mine.

 

9am: It’s Saturday morning and my Grandmama is peeking into my bedroom to see if I’m “awake yet.”  Like most seventeen year-olds, Saturday mornings are a cherished commodity for me filled with sleep, sleep, and more sleep.  I stir when I hear my bedroom door squeak open and see her smiling face through the crack.  She says, “I’m sorry, honey.  I didn’t mean to wake you, but I thought maybe you’d like to go with me to the pharmacy.  I need to pick up a few things.  Would you mind going with me?”  At first, I’m a bit grumpy for being awakened so early on the weekend, but I quickly shelve my selfish feelings and reply, “Sure, Grandmama.  I’d be happy to go with you.”

 

9:45am:  I’m in the bathroom preparing for a hot, steamy, wake-up shower and Grandmama is standing post outside the bathroom door, patiently waiting for me to hand over my undergarments for the wash.  What you must first understand is that my sweet Grandmama is an ‘A’ personality type.  She consistently sticks to her routine and refuses to allow any dirty clothes or dishes to amass, not that they even possibly could.  Naturally, this personality quirk often bugs me, but I soon adapt and realize it is simply her way of showing love and affection.  Without any request on my part, she faithfully cooks my dinner each evening, packs my lunch each morning, and bakes homemade treats for me and so many others.  She is deeply loved and cherished by numerous people, and I am no exception.

 

10:30am:  I’m dressed and ready to make the trek to the pharmacy with Grandmama.  Given her age and increasing frailty, I kindly offer to drive and open the passenger door for her.  One of the inherent beauties of her small town is that you can virtually get anywhere within five minutes.  There is no rush hour traffic, no honking horns, and only one fast food restaurant to visit.  When I first came to live with her from the hustle and bustle of Atlanta, I wasn’t sure I’d adapt too well to this environmental culture shock, but I did.  Not only did I adapt well, but, I went on to college the following year to Mississippi State University because I fell in love with the sincerity and goodness of the people there.  I stayed for three years until I transferred to a school back in Georgia that was better suited for English majors.  I realize that transferring to a school back home was a necessary evil to continue my education, however, I never lost the love and zeal for Mississippi.  Even to this day, twenty years later, I still yearn to return there.  I hope that someday, when the need to be in a metropolitan, job-intensive city isn’t required, I will move back there.  If home is where your heart is, my home is there.

 

10:40am:  Grandmama and I arrive at the pharmacy and make our way inside.  Naturally, it’s fairly busy being a Saturday morning, and Grandmama quickly spots and greets many familiar faces.  That’s another interesting aspect of a small town.  It isn’t easy to disappear or blend in there.  Given that Grandmama has lived her entire life in this rural town, she knows virtually everyone.  An innocent, twenty-minute trip to the pharmacy always results in a two-hour outing for her, which is fine by me.  We agree to split up briefly in search of our own personal items, and meet up twenty minutes later at the checkout counter.

 

11am:  Grandmama and I reconvene with our toiletries in hand near the front register.  Feeling the need to wear my “Instigator” hat as I often do, I decide to pull a prank on her.  She briefly meanders off to talk to a friend, and while she’s away, I quietly slip an economy-sized pack of condoms into her buggy.  I prepare myself for the cackling (on my part) that will soon emerge, carefully constructing a mental picture of her face when she discovers this foreign item.  After ten minutes, she returns to her buggy, with me standing beside it.  There are at least five people in front of us in line, and naturally, they all begin talking to one another as they are waiting.  I hold my breath silently, knowing it’s only a matter of time until another person spots what is in Grandmama’s buggy.  And then, just like the beginning of a beautiful opera, I notice the lady in front of us peering down into Grandmama’s buggy, completely stunned when she sees the pack of condoms.  The lady swiftly retreats in disbelief and abject horror, and my Grandmama says to me, “Huh, that’s weird.  She is usually so friendly.  I hope everything is okay with her.”  I sheepishly agree and reassure her that I’m sure she is fine, but most likely needs to get home to tend to her husband and children.  Grandmama shrugs in agreement and makes her way to unload her items on the counter.

 

As she’s stacking the items side by side, she picks up the box of condoms and stares blankly at them.  I watch in amusement, realizing that she’s having trouble discerning what the item actually is.  After a few minutes, the light blub turns on at a full 1,000 watts, and she looks at me.  She says, “How in the world did these get in here?  Are these what I think they are?”  Keep in mind, readers, that my Grandmama became a widow nearly eleven years prior and certainly didn’t seek a replacement for my amazing Grandfather.  Given this, condoms are the last thing she would readily recognize, let alone purchase.  I pause for a moment and respond, “Oh yeah, those are mine.  I really need them.  You don’t mind, do you?”  At first, she is puzzled and perplexed by my question, having been completely taken off guard.  She quickly replies, “Oh, good heavens, Mozzie.  I know you are kidding with me.  Aren’t you?”  I successfully maintain a serious façade and tell her, “What’s the matter?  I need them.  At least I’m being safe, right?”  She quickly arms herself with the ‘I’m gonna call your Mother’ expression, before I lose my composure and begin to laugh hysterically.  She is instantly relieved, knowing that I’ve once again succeeded in pulling her leg, and she begins to chuckle in return.  I pick up the box of condoms, place them back on the rack, and help her bag her items.  On our way back to the car, I cannot resist the urge to hug her.  As I open the passenger door for her, I quickly grab her and shower her with affection.  As always, she reciprocates, as she is never first to let go of a hug.  I adore her for this, and still do.

 

So, precious Grandmama, Happy 90th Birthday to you.  I wish I were there to celebrate with you, but my heart and soul are with you always.  Thank you for your kindness, your love, and your unfailing support.  You have selflessly contributed to the person I am today, and I am so grateful to you for it.  If, by some struck of luck or fortune, I happen to live to see my 90th year, I can only hope that I will have made such an impact on others as you have.  There could not possibly be any greater accomplishment.

With love from your granddaughter,

 

Mozziestar

cake

Posted in "Bad Husband" Chronicles, Bad boss, Bad Husband, bad marriage, bad spouse, children, co-workers, Comic Wit, Difficult Spouse, Divorce, Dogs, family, friendship, Funny, Humor, Irony, kindness, laughter, Life, Love, Marriage, marriage problems, Morrissey, Office drama, office humor, office politics, Pets, poetry, relationships, sarcasm, Spouse, wives | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments »