Visit from hell

So my MIL dropped in for a visit and was kind enough to bring a bag of cleaning supplies and a steam cleaner with her.  I found it all sitting by my coffee maker.

I dreamed a dream...

So I gots me a car.  My ho friend was so proud of me.  She was listing off my accomplishments of the past couple of years: (in no particular order)

I stopped going to church.  Not even for holidays.  Especially not for Mother's Day!

I took of my garments and bought sexy, black underwear.

I bought a coffee maker and proudly use it in front of the entire family.  I can even make it taste good now!

I got my own health insurance.

I bought a car all on my own.

So, I'm slowly making some progress toward living my own authentic life. And it feels good.  Really good.  I'm not plagued by constant guilt like I was for decades.  I'm thinking for myself.  Doing for myself.  Sometimes I'm scared out of my mind, but I'm not feeling guilt.

But last night I had a dream. In it, I received a phone call from the bishop saying I was being called in for a bishop's court.  There is plenty for me to be excommunicated for.  I happily add to the list all the time and some of those things I don't even blog about, believe it or not.   Yes, there is plenty to hold a "court of love" for.  And having been the victim of one some 30 years ago, it is not something I want to do again.  So in this dream, uncharacteristically enough, I was fairly calm and coherent.  I made it clear I would not attend.  I was resigning effective immediately.  I know they make it more difficult than that to resign but in my dream this was enough. 

So today I am thinking, is this my next step?  It's a big one.  My TBM kids would really have a fit.  But somehow it feels right. Not in a spirichul way but in an intellectual way.  I'VE chosen my path and I'm heading down it.  It feels right.  Authentic. It feels damn good.

Sunday, Slutty Sunday -- or -- Holy F*ck!

Maybe it's the hours days that I've been poring over pictures and descriptions of sex toys.  Maybe it's the fact that I've only had battery power for a while.  But my mind is drifting to the gutter.  Not only drifting but lounging there and reveling in it. 

So while my sheeple family toddle off to church to drink from the fountain of knowledge I shall share my heathenistic and slutty thoughts.

Maybe I'll get this tattoo and make it my company logo.

Either someone has a phallic fascination or I've been looking at too many dildos.  All of them circumcised, strangely enough.

What my lady parts are turning into.

I can't wait to try some of the stuff I've been looking at. 

Maybe I'll just build me a mechanical man and make him sort of a swiss army knife of sex toys. Oh!  Imagine if he had vibrators for fingers!  Various dildo attachments to fit any mood!  I just might be on to something.

I'm really envying that lioness about now... but at least I don't have to put up with a male attitude afterwards.  Oh, and did you know they make various animal penis dildos right here in Utah?!  Goat dildo, anyone? 

And speaking of Easter, have you seen those cool new egg-shaped vibrators?  They come in pretty colors, too.  Some even have remote controls.

And this wouldn't be complete without a picture of boobs.  Or boobies in this case.

All over the whole damn map

So I haven't blogged much recently.  My mind has been a cesspool of emotions and thoughts that flit in and out so fast I can't fasten on them for any length of time.  The other day I hit bottom.  Or what seemed like bottom.

I've had a bad cold and have been running on exhaustion and over-the-counter drugs. I desperately need a car and had applied again for a car loan using just my own little income.  No word and I was getting discouraged.

My daughter is just about to get fired from the job that I've been doing for nine months to support her at school.  I stuck my neck out to get it for her and she doesn't like it. I don't really like the job either but I do it and make the best of it. Her attitude frustrates and angers me.  I cannot and will not continue to support her.

Various other factors were falling on me like the hideous dark rain falling outside and I felt hopeless.  Helpless.  Trapped.  For a few minutes I even thought about committing myself.  A few days or weeks of drugged-out rest in a clean white place sounded quite nice.   I have a friend who did that when life and her kids got the best of her.  But in the end you have to be released and face reality so it's just putting off the inevitable.

So I did the next best thing.  I went out with a friend.  We sat in her car in the pouring rain and I cried.  I raged.  And eventually when the rain and I dried up, we went to the dollar store.  In the morning my head felt clearer.  The bank called and I had finally been approved for enough of a loan to buy the seven year old car another friend is selling.  I thought all day at work until my brain was threatening to explode and then I had an epiphany.  I need to get this divorce and soon.  For my own sanity.  I came up with a plan which I hope will minimize the pain and disruption to all of us.  Here's hoping it works.

Meanwhile, with the help of some wild and witty Facebook friends, I've decided on the name of my business:
Iron Rods and Tender Mercies--Celestial delights at wholesale prices.  Should be a hit with the TBM crowd.

The devil made me do it

A newly divorced friend recently joined ldssingles.com.  She's not active in the church and I couldn't understand why she would go to that forum to look.  What's on there?  A bunch of old, widowed guys looking for another little wifey or maybe closeted gays trying to appease their TBM families?  This blew my little mind.  I simply had to see for myself. But you have to make a profile to even take a peek at the meat.  Damn.  But maybe I could have a little fun with this.  So I found a picture on the internet of an anonymous woman who shares my hair and eye color and wrote me up a little introduction, sticking to 99% fact.  Everything has to be approved before they will publish it to your profile so I didn't want to be too racy but I wanted to see how far I could push the envelope.  You also have to confess how often you attend church (I put never) and whether you are endowed or have served a mission. So here's what was approved and is on my (fake) profile!

"I'm ready to start living my life to the fullest! I'm hoping to find a man who can match my passion and youthful outlook. I love rock and metal music, spontaneity and I have my own business selling adult toys. I'm looking for someone who, like me, is no longer active in the church and understands what living after Mormonism is like. If you're ready for adventure and living larger than life, hit me up!"

Amazingly, men started viewing my profile left and right!  An inactive dildo seller!  Flirts and messages were sent.  One simply said "how resfreshing".  I'm not really sure what he meant by that but I can take a guess.  Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) I cannot view his complete message or send one of my own with paying up and becoming an actual subscriber instead of a looker.  No chance of that.  Meanwhile, let the games begin!  This could be fun. Completely anonymous, no actual contact fun.

WTF Blogger?

Blogger was down most of the day yesterday and now I have entire comments missing.  Anyone else notice the disappearing phenomenon?

It's a big, scary, straight world out there

Did you happen to run across this story this past week?  A violent attack on a transgendered woman in a McDonald's of all places.  For using the women's bathroom.  Only one person tried to intervene and she got socked in the face.  I can't tell you how sick this makes me.  And how nervous.

I got my Mother's Day wish and went dress shopping with my son on Sunday.  Now, I would have thought it would be the perfect day for it.  All the heathens and agnostics shop on Sunday and the goody-goodies are in church.  But there was that very awkward decision of which dressing room to go in?  Take dresses into the men's?  Would they let him?  Could he face the stares-- or worse?

He decided not to try anything on at one busy store.  We went to another store just before closing and found an unmanned dressing room.  We snuck in-- me carrying the dresses-- and he tried them on. Holy hell!  He's a very handsome man.  It's gonna take a whole lotta work to make him a decent looking woman.

He brought up the question of the restroom.  He will be wearing this in Vegas and, being a human, he will be needing to pee at some point.    Will he get flack for using the men's room?  He is still very much a man even when wearing a dress, wig and makeup. I would hope that there is more acceptance in Sin City than in Utah.  Or anywhere else for that matter. But it chills me to know that he will be out in a world with so many people who think nothing of using violence when dealing with things they don't understand.  I'm going to be like the woman who intervened.  We need to watch out for each other's kids.

Random thoughts on Mother's Day, marriage and sex

So the day after Mother's Day is the day more women think about, or act on, cheating on their spouse.  AshleyMadison.com (a dating website for married people) is expecting 30,000 women to sign up this year on that one day.  Huh.  First I'd heard of this website.  Who knew?

I've been divorced in my mind for a couple of years but the actual legal and physical details are a whole lot different.  How do I decide how and where to live?  What about my kids?  My dogs?  I love my bedroom.  It's been my sanctuary for years.  Can I leave it?  Do I have to?  What about a car?  Health insurance?  What about the timing of the divorce?  When is a good time to say, hey, I'm miserable and I need out?  Or should I just file and have him served?  That seems a little harsh and it's just putting off the inevitable confrontation.  So many unknows at this point.  My mind runs in circles all day but never reaches a solid conclusion.

One thing I am sure of is that I need money for all this.  So I am toying with the idea of a small business selling something I love and feel strongly about. That's right.  I am going to sell sex toys at a steep discount.  That awsome rabbit dildo that Slumber Parties sells for over $100?  I can get it for a fraction of that. From the prettiest little lipstick-shaped vibrator to more exotic stuff, I can get it all.  And it seems so fitting that I finance my freedom by providing better sex and more pleasure to others.  My catalog will be ready shortly...    

A sip in the right direction

Behold this thing of beauty.  This is the first cup of coffee made with my new coffee maker.  ( Words that are truly worth bold, underline and italics!)  Now, most people would think, "what's the big deal?"  But any Ex-Mo knows what the big deal is. 

I bought a coffee maker and set it on the counter.  Then I realized I needed filters to use it and had to buy some the next day.  But finally, this morning, I brewed me up a pot of Kona Vanilla sin.  Oh! What an aroma. AND I was finally able to use the coffee mug I got in Vegas for the very purpose for which it was created. 

And what did my TBM family have to say about that shiny black elephant sitting on the counter?  You guessed it--nothing.  Yet. Maybe tomorrow I will brew a pot while they are actually home...  

Where's a drag queen when you need one?

I got a phone call from my son.  "Mom, what dress size am I?"

Now, I know his pant size, his shirt size and even his boxer size but I didn't have a clue about his dress size.  It's never come up before.

"My measurements are 37-37-37.  What would that make me?"

It would make him a paper towel tube.  A large paper towel tube.  "Go with your waist size.  You can pad out the top." 

"I think that's a size 12.  Where can I find a Vanna White-style of dress?"

We spent a delightful afternoon online shopping and discussing different styles and fabrics and how to accentuate his non-waist and the best way to make boobs.  

"What size bra would I take?  I want pummelo size."

What cup size is a pummelo?  That's another idea I'd never pondered on.  We stopped short of having him try on one of my bras for size.  I think if he had, his sister would have had a convulsion.  She seemed to be developing strange facial tics. 

I am hoping that for Mother's Day he and I can go dress shopping together.  And then we can look for wigs!  His half-inch hair ain't gonna cut it.  Top it off with a trip to Bath and Body Works for some smelly-good skin stuff and this could be the best Mother's Day ever! 

He is gonna make a damn fine Vanna White.  And he's already got the pumps for it.  Size 15.

I just want everything "Right Where It Belongs"

My music was on random this morning and this song played. It so perfectly echoes the chaos and uncertainty going on in the world and in my life. Give it a listen.

(Extra points if you can spot Bush.)

Car wars...

The world is in chaos.  Dangerous weather, wars and devastation.  And I'm blogging about...a car.

My 18 year old daughter moved home from college last week.  I love her but I have no privacy when she's around. It's just the way it is and always has been.  She needed a job (before I blew a gasket) and she got one-- at the very store where I work evenings and weekends. The extra job I got so I could pay her college expenses. The irony abounds.

But wait a minute!  I would now have extra money each month!  I could buy--gasp!--a second car.  Nothing fancy but I would have more than enough to make a car payment and cover the additional insurance!  And we can use a second car.  With four busy people in the house all going to different jobs and school and activities, it is already a nightmare of scheduling with me taking the brunt of it.  Sometimes my day job takes second place to the family taxi service I'm running.  Good thing the hours are flexible or I'd be fired. (The day job is flexible, not the taxi service.)

So I contacted my credit union and applied.  Of course, I had to use the husband's income to qualify because I don't make enough to qualify on my own.  No biggie.  I'm handling all the payments so not a dime will come out of his pocket. 

I started looking for a reliable used car.  How exciting!  I could get a car that's less than 12 years old and is an automatic so my daughters could actually drive it.  (Unlike my current car.)  Life was looking good!  And you know what happens when life starts to actually to go right.  BAM! Sir Sour Kraut pulled the rug out from under my dreams.  He would not sign.  I could not use his income to qualify. No car.  Just more running around for me while still trying to work for pay. 

Now, I could have argued but I know from past experience that he doesn't listen.  If something is not his idea then it's not a GOOD idea.  And the topper?  He came home with a brand new MacBook for the daughter who is no longer in college.  But it was his idea so it was okay.

So I saved my breath and used it to call a lawyer. It's time to find the respect I feel I deserve and I know I'm never going to find it in this marriage.  I've tried and tried and tried again.  I'm done.