Somebody told me it was Spring as of last Friday, and this past weekend the weather seemed to uphold that theory, however chance of snow this weekend. I don’t think it’s any mass accumulation but really old man winter take a frigging hike. Hammy is back to “prison” rules as there is no March Madness to root and cheer for until Thursday and his bathtub vodka plan didn’t work out so well (I only had red potatoes he swears he needed russets) so he’s a been a little crabby or hung over this evening. I did promise him Thursday after Sloane goes to bed though that he can watch some more basketball. I think Hammy has succumbed to his own personal Stockholm Syndrome, but hell I need an ally when the Syrian gets here this summer. I mean shit have you seen the news I don’t trust anything coming from Syria, this new little rodent is liable to come strapped with an IED on his back. Hammy is still on restrictions though from watching The Americans I don’t want him getting any more ideas while is he is currently behaving and not up to any espionage chicanery. Plus I think he really likes the vodka, I even told him in two weeks when the championship is on I might get him something from his native mother Russia.
During my evening stroll after work, I kind of took an assessment of things from last Spring. Last year I was chomping at the bit to get my garden tilled up and be the largest tomato farmer in southern Indiana (nonprofessional division), this year I have zero desire to start a garden. Just a three-mile trip of compare and contrast, I never saw myself a year ago telling silly sarcastic jokes and bitching about divorce and child custody to anyone bored enough to click on where ever they found my link, I would have probably told you to seek help for your meth addiction because you are obviously stoned. I never imagined I would have to go a week without seeing my only child at times. I never dreamed I wouldn’t be able to walk my beloved Suebee around the neighborhood anymore. Not that we lived “comfortable” while married, but these days I feel like I was wealthy and affluent compared to the shit I have to go through now because of divorce, shitty luck, and more shitty luck. Oh and a clear violation of my divorce decree, but I digress. A year ago I had relented and agreed to go back to the land of the overpriced big eared mouse for a fall vacation, this year vacation isn’t anything more to me than a crossword puzzle answer.
What is a year? It’s 365 days according to Webster (leap year not included), for me it has been a personal journey. From happily married, to panic mode, too scared to death, to damn near dead, to recovery, to I just want my daughter half the time! I haven’t always done the right thing this past year, in fact, I’ve done a lot of incredibly stupid things. However, in the course of divorce stupid gets held against you no matter how trivial or benign you think it is. Think of it has you are dating a stripper; the sex is incredible and you get to walk around with this bombshell on your arm, but when you aren’t in public or in the bedroom it’s always something crazy going on that you can’t fix about that person or take control of the situation. That’s been my past year, in a nutshell, lowest of lows at times and feeling ten feet tall and bulletproof other times. Divorce, post-divorce, truly is a roller coaster of emotions for various different reasons.
This past year made me reach down for resolve I never knew I had in me, made me a better man, a way better father, and I also have made a new life rule! No more dating anyone with a stripper name! Now on to my new promotion of “Katy Perry will sing at your backyard cookout” I may or may not be forming. I’m going to get my date with Katy Perry I’ve garnered some patience in the past year, but I’m not a monk yet!