Caramelized Sweet Onion and Blue Cheese Dip on French Baguette Crisps.
Sooo amazing. Receipe and ingredients courtesy of The Fresh Market.

The holidays mean many different things to different people. For me, this was my very first time celebrating…well, semi-celebrating the holidays. My first. You heard me right!

I spent lots of time at home, enjoying the new flat screen and cooking up tons of food. Best of all, quality time with S, my best friend who he flew in as a huge surprise and my little group of new friends in the G.

I used to feel if I wasn’t surrounded by my family or a huge group of friends that it somehow reflected my worth. Or the amount of love I had in my life.

Not to say I don’t miss my family deeply, because I do. But I felt loved and happy with this small handful of people. And so appreciative to have S and my best friend, who have grown to mean so much more to me then all those fair weather friends and acquaintances I used to put so much importance on having around.

Here’s hoping all of you had an amazing holiday with those closest to you.



We discovered a little park downtown that I’d never noticed during our walks before. Every spring, children are able to plant all kinds of flowers and herbs, learn about them and watch them grow.

That’s what I love about this little city; it’s been three months and I’m still finding new things. 🙂



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I still haven’t unpacked the boxes overflowing with technicolor satin, chiffon and taffeta. Bridesmaid dresses with permanently soiled trains that saw the weddings of people I thought at one time were my closest friends. The majority of whom didn’t care enough to pick up the phone when the rumors started rolling in.

Pilly woolen sweaters and worn out flats that strolled with my mother through Marie Antoinette’s garden, Pere La Chaise, the Louvre. She hasn’t called since her visit a few weeks ago.

Little black dresses and sparkly evening gowns. Snapshots of parties, memorable dates, nights on the town. Snapshots that seem like they are from someone else’s photo album entirely.

Diamond earrings from our first anniversary. A silver bracelet that reminds me of something sweet he said while our relationship was still new and completely innocent. A lavendar sundress I broke out in a heat rash in during out honeymoon in Puerta Vallarta. A million years ago. An airy cotton summer dress I bought for the trip to Hawaii. Only three months later I left for the first time. A comfy hooded sweater; that last trip to the apple orchard, bonfires in the backyard, the crisp, comforting feeling that is only the start of autumn in Michigan. A soft, cream colored scarf I cried into, parked on a side street, after he told me he wanted a divorce.

They’ve piled up in storage boxes or been banished to the back of the closet. What does it mean that I can’t bring myself to get rid of these things? These constant reminders of a life that no longer exists?


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What would have been my 5 year anniversary was yesterday.

I made it through the day relatively unscathed.




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They left this afternoon and I’ve had an aching in my stomach ever since.

Seeing my family now is bittersweet. I love them, but they are a constant reminder of a past life, something I will never have again. All I wanted today was to just curl up in a ball in the backseat of their car, leave everything behind and just be a part of my family again. I can’t get my old life back…and I’m not even saying I would ever want all of it back…but at least I could have them. I could have one of the good parts.

Everything has changed now. They’ve moved to a new home and left our old one behind. Now so have I. And even though I’m physically closer to them, there are still 600 miles between us. I’ve left behind the way of life I was raised to believe was correct. They’ve had to put up a wall until I decide to change my ways back.

It’s one thing to no longer have the support of your friends. It’s a whole other thing to lose the support of your family.

I sat behind the front door sobbing after my mother and brother left this afternoon. And I’m crying again while I write this. I have never felt so alone or so confused.

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I’ve got butterflies in my stomach like it’s my first day of school and I’m eight.

I’m surprisingly nervous about meeting my group of K-5er’s who will be a part of the after-school art program I’m a volunteer teaching assistant for at the art museum once a week. I love kids, but I never saw myself reaching out to do anything teaching or kid related before. And today is our first class.

Tomorrow I have an interview at a women-run little PR company downtown. I really want this job, even though to start it’s just part-time. I’ve convinced myself that if I do get it, I will figure out some way to make ends meet.

And then there is my mother, who will be stopping in on her way up from Florida for a visit back home. I’m torn on how I feel about it, since the whole situation is so royally screwed up.

I miss my mother terribly and part of me is excited to see her and show her around my new town. Another part knows I will have to spend time sweeping all the big and little lies under the rug and out of sight before her arrival. I’m tired of the lying. I wish I could be honest with my family, but in truth, I’m not honest with them because I realize the absurdity of the decisions I’ve made. The decisions I continue to make.

A therapist, who I should be seeing but choose not to because I’m not ready to deal with someone telling me what I already know I should be doing, would tell me I’ve made every poor decision possible with my divorce and the path I’ve chosen to take after it. I’ve ignored all the warning signs and chosen an unwise path for myself that I keep labeling as “temporary”.  Temporary is subjective. I’m worried my temporary is going to be very prolonged….


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I finally made it and am trying to feel even slightly settled in. The house is great, the town is awesome, the weather has been perfect. But the bad dreams have followed me here and they’ve been happening every night since I arrived.

Off to meet the program manager at the art museum and drop off some resumes downtown.

More to come. 🙂

job hunting


Did I mention I was moving to Greenville without a job lined up?….. Yea. 🙂 More details on that to come perhaps.

I work in leasing and marketing for a property management company here and for the most part have thoroughly enjoyed my job. I’ve been scouring Craigslist and the like for a month and have sent my resume in for about fifty+ jobs. (Of course, with CL, half of them are scams anyway. So frustrating!)

I have a couple people who have asked me to call them when I get down there, but for the most part haven’t found anything substantial. I might be leaving the state with the worst unemployment statistics in the country, but I’m moving to a smaller town with fewer job opportunities.

I guess I’ve been kind of bummed too because there isn’t much in the way of promotional modeling jobs there…at least not to the extent that I’m used to them here. I’ve done promotional/tradeshow modeling for three years and it’s been a great means of side money. I updated my portfolio with some new pics last month and thought a few of them turned out alright. Plus I’ve got the experience in a larger, faster-paced market. So why am I not getting any responses back for the few promo gigs/companies I’ve tried to get into?

Enough pouting from this girl for one day. 🙂

My rings officially sold today.

And it strikes me as slightly ironic. Because the winning bidder is very likely some guy who was looking for a “deal” on Ebay, just like the Ex had been when he originally bought them for me.

Since (during that last fateful year of matrimonial bliss) I was always asking the Ex when I could get them upgraded, I tell myself I shouldn’t be getting such a pit in my stomach when I think about shipping them off on Monday. I keep telling myself that I am better then his SI-1/SI-2 clarity. I keep reminding myself he got a f-ing “deal” on them in the first place.

But then, of course, my mind automatically switches into reverse. And I keep getting flashes of the day he proposed to me and I received that ring. It wasn’t perfect. But it was heartfelt. A reminder that, at some albeit brief point in our relationship, there had been a time when it was still important to him to put in some kind of an effort. And there were moments when I– when we– were so happy.

It is pointless to sit and try to pinpoint when that effort on his part stopped. And why he so vehemently kept on denying that it hadn’t right up until it was over.

It’s been over six months since he told me he was filing for a divorce and I walked out of that house without a fight. And still my mind keeps me up at night, hemming and hawing about when the precise moments were that our system began to fail. I don’t know why it’s so important for me to decipher when they were since nothing I do now can fix it. And I find it quite frustrating to not know if this is simply how most female minds work or if it’s just mine.

Ten days until the move. I am so ready to go.



Just a small list of the things I plan on doing after the move:

Saturday morning yoga classes.

Fulfilling a childhood desire to take horseback riding lessons (it helps that the outfits are cute).

Volunteering at the local art museum.

Having time to read books and start painting again.

Perfecting how to use the Canon Xsi camera I will be purchasing (with the money I make from selling my wedding rings).