My lovely sister and her adult daughter have been badly mis-treated by their former husband/father. Their lives have been tortured and torn, but they are making their way back to healthy living. Daughter now has a wonderful job and lives at home with mom, now that she has a serious romance in Canada. Together they work long hours but together they keep the house lovely, and the horses and pets happy. The divorce was over last April..signed off by the judge, who leaves a lot to be desired as judges go, however that’s another story.
The ex’s attorney sees to it that she continues to make $300 an hour from him and forces my sis’s attorney to spend $300 an hour because of her. If you are not sure about this….it goes this way. Ex’s attorney writes letters asking for meaningless numbers which forces sis’s attorney to respond, stating it is meaningless. See how the dollars work…..
There is nothing left to do but to sell one or both of the two corrals and split the profit. Ex husband has things to pick up that are his, but he doesn’t, even tho the judge ordered him to, and that causes one corral to look kind of bad. To try to force him to pick stuff up will only cost more $300 an hour letters, so it is well left alone. Sister has the horses which she has had and cared for herself for more than 20 years. Remember I say ‘herself’….she would like one of the corrals to continue keeping her horses in, as they are in their late 2o’s and she had them all these years.
The corral problem continues to drag on because ex refuses to talk to her or to take either one of the corrals and be done with it. As you can see the $300 an hour can go on forever at this speed. His only desire is to make her life miserable, in absentia. And so it continues.
Also, if there is an offer on one or both of the corrals, he has to accept it….or no deal. More $300 an hour letters. She has offered him choice property and wants to be done with it…….the jerk continues to be a jerk. I keep thinking he couldn’t be more of a jerk, but he can.
Divorce is hard enough without a jerk being a real jerk. It’s time for ex Mr. Harward to be less of a jerk, call it a day, take his half and quit spending $300 an hour. (I think 1 1/2 years is enough for any jerk to be a jerk to his family) Let him be a jerk to someone else…..oh right, there no one else in his life to be a jerk to!
You are so cute…..your little blond curls bouncing in the sunlight….Yes, you are a little guy, but at 1 1/2, who cares about a few curls. You bounce when you walk, and have a short high pitched outburst, when you don’t get your way…you are bright and healthy and have lived thru some unpleasant times in your short life….still, you are sound in heart and soul and things will be just fine. I saw you today……
Today, at a hospital in southern Nevada, a loving mother became my hero. I don’t know her… I respect her, admire her, and will remember her.
Who knows her background, her family situation, her lifestyle, her health… Who did she go to, to talk about the different avenues she could take, now that she was pregnant. Was it a friend, a parent, a girlfriend, a grandparent….who knows. Whoever it was, I salute you in your patience and your frank talks.
I adopted a little boy in 1970. The pregnant lady was engaged and she and her fiancée were ready to graduate from college. They came to the decision to give the baby up for adoption, and my husband and I became parents, just like that (after 3 years of waiting). A phone call changed our life path, and also changed theirs. He was just a few weeks old when he was given to us.
New parents and grandparents were ecstatic, aunts and uncles and cousins were joyous….because of this loving mother and her loving act.
So today, in a moment, at the hospital in southern Nevada, another birth mother followed thru with a same decision She gave up her 22 day old baby to the hospital. Thus begins a new life for a courageous lady, a new baby in wonderful care, and new unknown parents who don’t have a clue…
This law applies almost everywhere……a no questions asked situation where babies can be left at hospitals and fire departments. It is a life-giving, life altering law that is underused……and that is a shame.
Babies don’t need to die; babies don’t need to be in a situation where the biological mother and/or father cannot or do not want to care for them; babies are babies!
It is okay to not want to be a parent…..it is okay to make hard decisions about what to do. It is okay to give your baby to a hospital or a fire department. It is not wrong or bad…..there is no scarlet letter to carry. We have made arrangements for you to hand over your baby to a loving, caring, and safe environment….by law.
Your reasons for being pregnant are of no concern to us or to your baby. This wonderful law provides you with a new life, a new start, a second chance, a clean slate…….so take this post as an epiphany, an amazing opportunity to start anew.
No birth mother needs to think she is in a position where there is no way she can protect herself and her baby. She is NOT! She can be fine and her baby can be fine…..she needs only to do it.
Tragic circumstances occur daily because of fear, embarrassment, drugs, and not being educated……It is up to all of us to see how we can spread the word to pregnant ladies who feel lost and alone.
So today, I praise you, I salute you, I am so proud of you…….and there are many nurses cuddling a new baby in a hospital, in southern Nevada.
We’re home…..it was fun…..will do it agin……not tomorrow. All those statements are true, even tho it sounds as tho it was not a ’10’. Cruising is be so ‘so ordinary’, ‘so fabulous’, and yet ‘so shocking’…..More about shocking later.
The ship is very nice….100′ shorter than the last ship we were on, but half as many people. They had to drag me to my first crise. I mean, it really sounded boring. Same stuff to do on the cruise as I do at home, so why pay to fly and cruise….Well, I was wrong, in a way. Cruising is truly a way to get away…I am forced to do what I want to do sometimes, a good example being..reading. I love to read, but I put chores first, so when I get into bed to read, I last about 4 pages. I tell myself to read in the AM, but then chores get in the way again. I read 5 books in 2 weeks…..Good for me!
Cruising and eating have to go hand in hand. I can read and eat, I can watch TV and eat. I can sit by the pool and eat. I can drink and eat. I can do almost anything, except exercise, and eat. Same with drinks, any kind, any time, any where, doing almost anything. Now that is not something I crave, nor need to do, but it was nice to be served a Tequila Sunrise by the pool.
Yes there were art auctions, nights of bingo, magicians, comedians, dancing, games, the spa, restaurants, bars, a library, pools, quiet spots, and a casino, but most of all…..THERE WERE OLD PEOPLE!!!!!!! I LOVE OLD PEOPLE!!
Probably 96% of those aboard were over 60. Folks came from US, UK, Spain, India, Argentina, and Jersey…….It was a delight.
We sang Queen together, we talked about our home towns, our countries, our politics (local and foreign), our clothes, our retirement and former occupations, our families,and our lives as we know them. It was great…it was powerful, it was a learning experience and a confirming experience.
We were with a group…’that made it’, thru 30 to 60 years of marriage, family expectations and family sadness, illnesses, and loss of parents. We talked of 50 and 60 year high school reunions, and the warmth of long friendships. We talked of war and we talked of peace.
“How lucky we are”…..they repeated, “to be sitting here today”. We “oldies” are confident and hopeful group, but not proud in a ‘haughty’ since. We have seen the past, lived the past, done our best and look forward to tomorrow. We are strong, opinionated, political, moral and ethical, and our values do not waiver.
We have seen leaders come and go, we’ve seen strife, and victory….and we’ve been a part of it. Our beliefs are strong, our faith remains, and we are not a selfish group. You see our pictures……when ‘been there, done that’ is looked up.
So cruis’in is really pretty good……isn’t it……(took the chevy to the levy but the levy was dry……and good ole boys were drinkin whiskey and rye, sayin……(cm’on you know the words))
Creation, flawless as it is, is sometimes hard for us humans to understand. I know we all have different opinions when it comes to creation, and this discussion is not about that…..Mother Nature has pretty well put together how things work, the sun, the seasons, the temperature, the chloroform idea, the magnetic field, and on and on. I know there are a few forms of life we question when they over run our picnic tables, or swallow a deer whole, but since I wasn’t called on at the time of ‘making stuff’, I should be happy that I don’t have more or less anything.
But every now and then, I walk into sadness. I know, we all have families, and friends who have passed, or have a certain type of chronic illness, but at least, as humans, we have the ability to communicate our sorrow, our understanding, and our help.
My sadness comes for those, I can’t communicate with. I know animals die in the forest, I know plants wither, but when it happens en mass, it is striking to the heart. On the beaches of south Florida, this time of year, the fighting conches are mating and dying. They are wonderful little ‘people’ who spend their lives int he Gulf of Mexico. They come in all sizes, shapes, and colors, and have a ‘foot claw’ that helps them move along in the sand. They aren’t scary and don’t bite or sting or spit. They are just wonderful little beings.
They become more human when you see them look up at you with their little telescopic eyes….they stick out of their shell, one on each side, and watch. Their eyes are on the end of the long telescopes…it is so cool!
Laws supposedly prohibit anyone from taking more than two live shells per day from the gulf…….right….. we could fill the local jails with people who bag these creatures by the hundreds …..and then are appalled at anyone who tells them to put the little guys back. Another story….another time.
So now is the time of the year when the conchs come to mate. I repeat, I know life and death are certain, but it causes one to pause when low tide uncovers the dead and dying by the thousands. They leave us for their hereafter, and it doesn’t happen quickly…..Mother Nature steps in to see that their remains are taken care of by the local birds and hermit crabs. Admittedly, she has thought of everything, in spite of our doubts, but the whole thing is just hard to watch. I am part of the cleanup committee too. Their colorful shells are carefully cleaned and used for decoration, crafts, and sent to schools where little ones learn about the sea.
All I’m say’in is, dang, when you are hit in the face with thousands of anything dying, it should have an effect on you. How we treat our fellow-man, how we treat our earth, and how we should care for every creature with love and respect, should cross our minds each time we walk around a life and not on it.
Handling sickness and death with love and compassion…..whether it is your friend, your pet, or the fighting conch is something we should strive for. Although we cannot change migration without dire consequences, we can feed those who are hungry and care for those who are alone and afraid.
Little eyes are little eyes, no matter who they belong to…….
The little one next door (1 1/2 yrs) doesn’t mind a an imperfect cookie…or fudge with a few ‘chewies’…..his eyes sparkle as he holds out his little hand for a cookie corner.It is the simple things that make us continue to wonder, isn’t it. There truly is joy in the smallest of things. We must merely open our eyes and hearts.
been bak’in……mexican wedding cakes, choc.chip cookies, and fudge (did you know the little mini morsals do NOT completely melt?) Needless to say I didn’t…..just tell’in everyone chopped nutss!!!
Friends….they come in all sizes, shapes, colors, and years. I find in my case, most of my friends, didn’t start out day 1 being, what I call, a ‘friend’. I knew them in grade school. Their desk was beside mine. It didn’t matter if they were male or female. Either we clicked in second grade, or we didn’t. Maybe we shared recess and that was all…..never knowing anything else about each other. It wasn’t really important, was it? Maybe we played musical instruments together in the band….remember those ‘flute’ things we all started on…..before choosing the ‘instrument of choice’. Maybe we walked to school together and then went our separate ways to different classes. I remember how we would meet “at the corner’ and share our lives, as we knew them, til we got to school. Yes, we did walk to school, a mile one way, and we came home for lunch too. How wonderful it was, and still is, to grow up in a small town.
My grade school friends have become my life long friends……there were birthday parties, slumber parties, and chili suppers, and basketball games. We marched together in the band on the coldest of football Fridays, and sweat up a storm in the July 4th Parade.
In our neighborhood we had all ages of friends….some were 5 years younger and some were 5 years older. We all had come to the neighborhood at the same time when the little National Homes were being built in the early 50’s. Everyone had younger brothers and sisters, who were definitely in the way, so we girls had our private times sitting on the curb under the street light, taking walks around the block, sitting under the maple trees catching lightning bugs, and laying on a blanket underneath the stars before the dew fell.
From late spring til late fall we played ‘kick the can’ until our parents called us in…..or in my case, rang the bell. My mother had a school bell and we all knew that when the bell rang, that ment ‘come home and come home now!’ I think if someone would ring a school bell now, at age 68, I would suddenly become 12 again.
Later on the friendships seemed to solidify, and we all felt comfortable venturing outside our town to Girl Scout Camp for 2 weeks and then to church camp for a week where we met ‘boys’. I don’t know who was the most scared. Oh, thank goodness for friends.
As I continued on this journey, thru school, and jobs, and marriage, and kids, and divorce, etc, etc…..there are many acquaintances who have come and gone. The neighborhood I grew up in, transformed to the first apartment, and then house I shared with 4 other girls. My marriage brought me to a new town with our first home, and, as if in some large orderly plan, a friendly street, where my children would come to repeat the process. And so it goes.
My Christmas card list is full of friends. Even today there are those I meet who may become part of this precious list. As I address each card, thoughts of how we came to share our lives, some by mere coincidence, come to mind. Our babies are long gone, our work in the Jaycees, long forgotten, our church suppers and Sunday school teaching, turned over to the young adults, but our friendship, our memories, our defeats, and our successes, remain as bright and clear as if it were yesterday.
Friends…….I am so blessed they came to enrich my life….
We try to keep things as low key as possible…..we hide the suitcases…..bringing them out to fill when he is in the other room napping. His potty box stays in the usual spot until the last second….
I must say, however, Pookie is a seasoned traveler….He has been ‘on the road’ at least 4 times a year, cross country, which does not include our trips to Las Vegas to see his cousins, two beagles, an old barn cat, and a desert tortoise that will live longer than all of us. Pook came to us 12 years ago.He is one of those ‘ordinary’ American Shorthair designs. Even when we adopted him from another family who were getting rid of children (graduating from high school and college) and pets (schooling unknown), we thought him cute but kind of dull. However, we soon learned we were dead wrong and he has been an absolute joy, even a party at certain times.
First we found we didn’t have to worry about a water bowl….we already had them, scattered around the house….yes toilets. Works fine for him, works fine for me. Next, an even more important trick came to our attention….he can open doors. Not too good with the knobs, but with the handle kind, he is killer. Friends who come to visit, and who are not especially ‘cat’ people, come to find him sitting on their chest about 7:30AM.He is either looking for breakfast or a nice warm spot to cuddle for some extra winks. Because of this, we station door stops for privacy.
Now back to vacation……well, the bags are packed, the maps are found, the Interstate has been picked out, the La Quintas have been chosen, and now we show him the red leash! Yes he walks on a leash….and he’s pretty good at it….Or I’m pretty good walking with a leash, don’t know which. The leash isused for safety,cause I don’t want him to jump and run when a German Shephard, also staying at the La Quinta, comes strolling down the hall. We walk on a leash regularly cause it keeps him (or me) in shape. Cat owners also know that when walking, a cat will always walk along the wall, not out in the middle of the hall….that is the ‘wild part’ still in him. The interesting part is that Pookie always follows the wall to the extreme…he even zigs and zags in and out of the doors to each of the rooms. A little OCD maybe? Who knows.
He also is good at sitting on top of hotel luggage carriers….He waits patiently til cat box, cat food, suitcases, and books are packed and then sits proudly as we stroll down to our room. I might add he even understands the concept of elevators and waits til the door is completly open or closed before entering or exiting.
We have even been offered special deals while we were vacationing……A growing family of 5, packing and piling in the little tikes one morning, offered an even trade……our dutiful pet for all of their clan. We passed. Our clan is now in their mid-thirties.
As of this writing, Pookie is now visiting his cousins in Shreveport, La. They include a black cat, 1/2 his size, who can chew him up and spit him out in a second, and a full-sized golden doodle. Although they have know each other for 8 years, they have not grown tight. His cousins try to show him a good time, however, he chooses to hiss in response, and head directly for his room. He does not leave until the potty box leaves and there is no talking him out of it……
I know, I’ve heard it from Pookie a thousand times…..you can choose your friends, but not your family”. It’s only a few days away from Thanksgiving….so forget what Pookie says…..don’t hiss at your relatives, know where the potty box is, and enjoy your meal.
So how’s it work’in for ya…..the abuse thing. It doesn’t matter you aren’t legally married anymore, does it Tom….you can’t stand the idea of losing……not losing Marty, just losing…..You zero
You hit her, you yelled at her, you scared her, you lied to her, you took her share of the life savings and squandered it. You zero.
You threw her and your daughter out into the night, almost weekly, with no place to go, just because you were mad. Thank goodness Boulder City is near Las Vegas and Henderson cause there are hotels where mother and grown daughter could find a safe place to stay.You zero.
When Marty went to be with her dying mother, you would call her cell every night to say you were going to kill yourself, in the desert, if she didn’t fly back . How do I know, I listened to your raving on the phone. You zero.
She finally called the police, because of the abuse. The authorities were going to put you under surveillance, while Marty could file a report….She declined because she didn’t want you to lose your job making $250,000 annually, and therefore, possibly losing what livelihood there was left. You zero
Marty finally went to Family Court and a Restraining Order was issued…..( the judge had no problem making the decision after reading the info she provided.) And then suddenly it was, ‘poor Tom’ the pitiful misunderstood husband. Marty continued to think that the separation could be done amicably, by keeping him from being embarrassed in the Boulder City neighborhood they lived in.The order was done quietly and no one knew. You left and went to suck off the friendship of local people, who had no idea you was abusing your family and not even working.
You moved to Reno and rented a high-end apartment. You said you were going to be near your daughter who lived in Carson City. (She was only there for a few months) You even told the prospective landlord you were renting the apartment for you and Marty, and it was going to be a surprise for her, when she came north! Isn’t that special!y You didn’t have a job and had just finished blowing hundreds of thousands of dollars of their retirement nest egg. Who was to know….except maybe now. Come to think of it, you did exactly the same thing to your current landlord in Las Vegas….You used recent income tax records to show your income, however, you weren’t working and were separated. ( I know that Nevada law states each spouse is entitled to half of the pie) My point is you weren’t working, it was never mentioned, and it was presented as though there was good income to pay for the apartment. You zero!
In the past you had been the one to boast about having one million dollars….you lived higher than necessary, just to show off, and when the family objected to the excessive spending, you made fun of them, remarking that they didn’t know how to enjoy money. You zero.
Judge Sullivan first heard the case…..and he was good…he was also interested in listening and not being biased. What a shame when Judge Sullivan was sent to a Juvenile Courtroom and Judge Elliot was drawn. That was when the bias began….One can look at the court records, and see how the judge has ruled in events concerning this divorce. The examination of these lengthy and bias proceedings show that Judge Elliot serves with an incomplete understanding of what abuse is and how it works. I am sorry for anyone who has her for any kind of family court .
Your attorney presented you as the one who was abused…..explaining that you were the loving husband who had held the family together, while Marty was the one with mental ailments. Your attorney stated you urged her to seek help and was continuing to keep the home together when she filed the restraining order. Judge Elliot went right along with the idea, never checking your past abusive ways concerning your wife, daughter, family, and friends. Twenty plus people had signed on to come to court on behalf of Marty, to share with the judge, exactly what kind of beast you actually are. Oh, not necessary, it was decided, no police report, so no abuse.
What will become of it all Tom…..you continue to harass, to needle, to ‘not follow thru’ concerning the judge’s orders. What you fail to understand is that we are free of you….our family is free. Marty and Andrea are free.
You think you can continue to cause her pain…you are a hangnail, not a wound. You have no core family. You have no contact with your family,and now they will know, they were right in staying away.
seriouslyscorpio 