It is what it is: Today we go to court

Months and months ago, when I received a court order for a progress hearing on June 2nd to examine the state of my divorce and resolve any of those detailed and seemingly-gigantic divorce issues, it felt like a lifetime away.

But then, for the last eight months out of survival and then sanity and then a need to just be and breathe, I have taken my life in much smaller increments than I did before my marriage crash-landed. For a while,  Wednesday felt like a lifetime a way. Then it was next week, then it expanded slowly from there. Still, though, what I can take on in my calendar comes in little boxes now, not in big grids or multi-month pages to be flipped every so often.

And actually, that is a good thing. It slows me down. It focuses my attention. It keeps me as present as I can possibly be when I'd otherwise have been consulting my calendar and Crackberry (who are we kidding, I haven't taken the time to figure that out yet?!) and looking four or ten or seventeen weeks ahead.

But all that being in the present means that sometimes, things like court dates sneak up and settle into your lap. And here mine is.

I feel good. I feel confident. I feel supported. I feel strong. And I am told I only have to feel that way for the fifteen minutes or so we are in front of the judge.  Then I am free to cry into my dad's chest or stare into a latte or just go back to work. I imagine, it will be -- and I will be -- just fine.

Or rather, I envision it will be just fine. When I leave the court room today, past the half-door separating the seating and the judge's stand, beyond security and back on to the el, I will be one step closer.

One step closer to being done. That could be a long way off or it could be next week. No matter. It's too much to take on regardless of how many days or hours it ends up being until this is finalized and I am free of everything it has been.

I'll just take on today's court date, and keep it right there, with as much as I have and as much as I can pull up. Nothing more, nothing less.



Pssst. As completely Donna Mills on Dallas as it sounds...yes, I will be wearing something fab on my feet. Smart, sassy power shoes (which, for me, do not match in any way the navy Republican suit I was required to wear in my former corporate life) totally impact litigated lady's confidence. I kid you not.

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This is not a shoe blog: What would it take for you to spend three-hundy on some hawt shoes?

Because these are dangerously close to the shoes in my banner (look up, kitten).

Not in a matchy-matchy, super-perfect wedge heel way. More like, in the spirit of close-to-over-the-top-edness and retro-ish  shoe whorey lust.

I have been searching for those shoes (keep looking) since the day that snazzy little pic was placed up there like the crown upon the head of the reigning Queen of Sassdom.

And if they are as close as it's going to get to the pinky platformy blistery-but-so-worth-it goodness on my blog, does buying them count as a business expense? (Go ahead, laugh with me as I pretend that I could possibly ever in a gazillion years and shoe purchases itemize this little nook on the internets).

Oh, I want. I want.

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Linkety Dinkety Doo: The credit, the catchy and the completely irritating

This story has a bittersweet ending. The mom-spiration for Family Circus (come on...you know you read it, it can't be helped) passed away after suffering from Alzheimer's. The sweet part is her husband's recognition of her legacy. How rarely we hear a man credit his wife for all of her success. (P.S. I'm biased but I always thought FC mommy had totally cute hair).

Another thing that can't be helped: Singing along to these two songs. I've tried to resist but apparently, it's futile. I keep on singing, keep on singing, keep keep singing.

Welcome to Cord Blood Banking Scam 2.0. While I fully support stem cell research (FULLY support it), I get irate really easily when the subject of how vulnerable parents are preyed upon to invest thousands of dollars to bank their newborn's cord blood.  After doing lots and lots of comprehensive research, I opted to donate Lil E's cord blood (even though it ended up costing me to do it) and felt so much better about that. You may feel differently, but read this article about how some people feel compelled to extract stem cells from their kid's teeth (not cheap, mind you). Here's the bite: There's no science to back up the extraction. Pass this story on to your mama and papa friends. In fact, make ditto copies and hand it out at the park!

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