This is a Test of the Emergency Rant System

Posted on by stilllearning2b
Emergency
Emergency (Photo credit: Terry Bain)

This is only a test. If this were a real rant, the computer would be out the window and my hands would be pummeling the heavy bag instead of the keyboard.

It is not fair.

It’s not fair that I am left cleaning up and facing the consequences of the enormous financial mess he left behind. I just found out today that it’s worse than I thought and I will be making payments on charges he ran up for the next few years. Every time I write that check, how do I keep from wondering what I’m paying for – women, booze, trips, gambling? What? When I tried to investigate the charges shortly after receiving the text, he changed the password while I was in the account. Covering tracks, I suppose.

The only reason he was on the card was so that he could handle the occasional phone calls needed for a dispute or issue since I couldn’t use the phone while teaching. Apparently he saw it – and me – as his personal ATM. I feel like I’m now paying penance for trusting him.

It is not fair.

I have worked so hard for so many years to try to get ahead. I gave up my intended career and over 100 college hours to follow him and support us while his employment was uncertain. I tutored for hours after school to make extra money to spend on trips or the hot tub we bought a year before he left. And after he left? I’ve had to be so careful with money. The lawyers, courts, and various other debts took my income that first year and made a significant dent the next two. I was just starting to breath, thinking I was making progress. But, no. Not yet. Even though he’s gone, he still manages to hurt me. It’s like the nightmare after the horror movie. I just want it to end.

It is not fair.

As far as I know, he continues to sidestep his responsibilities. They’re after him, but I don’t know if anything will ever come from it.

It is not fair.

But I’ll be okay.

Just like everything else, I’ll get through this. My marathon next week can be training for writing those damned checks. One check for every mile, perhaps. And when it’s done, it’s done. The end.

I’ll be okay.

My boyfriend’s response when I texted him the news today? “We will get through it together:).” Yes, we will. And, you know what? Coming home to a messy kitchen seems pretty silly compared to fraud.

I’ll be okay.

I’m lucky. I have it so much easier than divorced people with children to look out for. I have a solid career that gives me the ability to sign those accursed checks. This has an expiration date. I just wish I didn’t have to continue to hold on to the the soured milk.

I will be okay. I will end today grateful for what I have rather than cursing what was taken.

That is the conclusion of the test of our emergency rant system. We now resume our regular programming.

I Was Lucky

An Open Letter to the IRS

And, an update on the situation: Practicing What I Preach

When Am I Ever Gonna Use This?

Posted on by stilllearning2b
Saarbrücken, HTW, Mathematics Workshop
Saarbrücken, HTW, Mathematics Workshop (Photo credit: flgr)

“When am I ever gonna use this?” As an eighth-grade algebra teacher, I hear this refrain at least once a week. It’s a difficult question to answer. I mean, when is the last time that your employer asked you to factor a polynomial or prove two polygons congruent? The truth is that most of us will never use the myriad of math facts and algorithms in our post-school lives. However, that does not mean that math does not have some valuable lessons for us. The following are lessons that can be learned in an algebra classroom and applied in your life. No calculator required.

Read the rest on The Huffington Post.

Of Kilts, Cabers, and Camo

Posted on by stilllearning2b
Love those Autumn Blaze maples!

Today was one of those picture perfect fall days in Atlanta: crisp, cool and sunny. I met my friend Sarah and her daughter, Kayla, at the annual Scottish Highland Games held at Stone Mountain Park.  As soon as I exited my car, almost half a mile from the festival, I could hear the pipe and drum bands warming up for the opening ceremonies. Bagpipes make my soul smile.

Can’t you almost hear the pipes?

I had an hour or so before I expected Sarah and Kayla. I made my way over to the athletic field to watch the guys compete in sheaf throwing, basically using a pitchfork to toss a burlap-wrapped 28 lb ball of hall over a pole 15 feet in the air. Even the pros couldn’t make it look easy. I started chatting with a woman next to me who ran the Savannah Rock n’ Roll Marathon last year and was delighted to hear that I’m running it in two weeks. She warned me that I’m going to catch the marathon bug and that this will be the first of many. My aching body from all of the training miles says she’s wrong. I guess we’ll see.

In case you ever wind up kiltless in Florida…

Before long, I spot Sarah and hear Kayla’s giggles. After a brief interval of playing the coy three-year-old, she immediately warmed back up and wanted me to hold her. In fact, Kayla certainly got her Lisa fix today and I got an upper body workout trying to carry the squirming, growing-bigger-by-the-minute, preschooler. We navigated to watch the pipe and drum bands present their clans for the opening ceremonies. I wear those tunes move through me for weeks to come. I’m not sure how my Norwegian ancestors would feel about that. Oh well, for a day, I figure I can be an honorary Scot.

Think these guys will follow me on my marathon?

After the exhausting task of feeding and pottying a youngster, we navigated to an excellent viewing area to watch the caber tossing. This is my favorite event. There is something about the pure testosterone of burly men in kilts throwing trees end over end that makes me grin with glee. And makes me wish I became a chiropractor.

Tree in a tornado or caber being tossed? You decide.

Of course Kayla was intrigued and somewhat puzzled by the point of the whole sport) so we took her to the children’s area where they had kid-sized versions of the adult games.

Kayla tossing a cardboard “caber.” Does it get any cuter?

Much of the emphasis of this festival is on the reuniting of the various clans. There are booths set up for each lineage where they proudly display their crests and tartans. The intersection of The South and Scotland is an interesting place. Something about a man in full Scottish gear with a Southern drawl just doesn’t allow a straight face.

I guess he’s a member of the camouflage clan:)

I noticed something new this visit. There were some people, mainly women, who had on more than one tartan, thus representing multiple clans. When I inquired about this, I was told that there family, either through marriage or blood, had combined two or more clans. The one deemed less important would be an accessory while the primary colors occupied more prime real estate. It’s a way of honoring ones past while acknowledging the importance of the present.

This guy was watching the exit. Maybe he was checking for stolen cabers? 🙂

Eventually, the game, pipes, and Kayla had played themselves out and it was time to go. My drive home took me through the area where I spent my first year in Atlanta. I drove by the rental business where we got the van that moved us into our home, I passed the location of my wedding reception, and I saw the turn that would have led to the apartment we occupied when we became husband and wife. It was okay. I used to wear that tartan of my marriage from head to toe, but now it has been changed into an accessory and I proudly wear the colors of my new life.

One of many reasons Sarah is the best friend one can ever have: Ronald McDonald House for the Recently Separated

More Kayla Adventures: Damsel in Distress and Let’s Go on an Adventure

More about the upcoming (gulp) marathon: Marathon Motivation, , Marathon Musings, andHow Long is Your Marathon?

And, for those who love bagpipes, check out my favorite pipers, Tartanic. I promise you won’t be disappointed!

Kayla learning to play the drum. This guy was dancing The Macarena moments before. Unfortunately, I was too slow to capture it!

Quitting vs. Letting Go

Posted on by stilllearning2b
Release!
Release! (Photo credit: Destinys Agent)

To the uninformed, these may appear to be the same thing. After all, they both require the release of something. Both create a void. And both originate from choice. Although on the surface quitting and letting go appear to be twins, the motivating substance behind the facades is quite different.

Quitting is born from fear or frustration. The latter tends to result in micro-quits; short periods where we give up and walk away only to return once sanity is again restored. Macro-quits, those life changing, never going to back decisions, are usually propelled by fear. You quit when you are afraid of what will happen when you proceed. Sometimes this is wise. Your fear may be telling you that the path is too treacherous and it is safer to turn back. However, fear is a sly companion. It is the taxi driver capitalizing on your ignorance to lead you astray. Fear will lie to you and tell you that you are in mortal danger when, in fact, you are perfectly safe. When you quit, you are listening to that fear and believing its stories. You may feel embarrassed or ashamed that you chose to throw in the towel. You may get defensive, throwing up walls and justifying your decision. When we quit out of fear, we often feel unfinished. Unsatisfied. Unsettled. When you let fear be your chauffeur, your destination will not be the one you intended.

Letting go happens when you face your fear. It is that moment when your fear is telling you to grip tight and you choose to release. Letting go is born of acceptance, an understanding that you cannot control all of the outcomes. Letting go gives a sense of peace. Of weightlessness. Quitting is easy. Letting go is not. It is conscious, deliberate act that may take years or decades. It requires patience and compassion. Give yourself that gift and be the driver of your own life.

 

I May Not Be Traditional

Posted on by stilllearning2b
Camp
Camp (Photo credit: kellec)

My boyfriend and I went camping on our first two Thanksgivings together. Neither one of us have family in town and we are physically unable to fragment ourselves enough to visit everyone spread across the country. So we don’t try.

We love our camping trips.  It is a wonderful time to disconnect and reconnect. To slow down and savor. To shiver in the crisp (okay, frigid) morning air and cuddle up in the sleeping bag at night. The coffee tastes better and the showers are somehow more cleansing even though the space is shared with daddy longlegs. The computers are left behind and the other devices only get turned on to play music while we make dinner or play cards or perhaps to check the latest Ravens score. It’s invigorating and relaxing.

But it also takes work. Preparation. Reservations and packing. Shopping and cooking. I get a week off for Thanksgiving and this year we are flying to my boyfriend’s hometown for the first half. As I was looking at the calender, I was realizing the short turn-a-round between that trip and the discussed camping trip. I was just about to question the wisdom of the latter when my boyfriend, apparently reading my mind, said, “We have to go. It’s tradition.”

He’s right. We went on our first Thanksgiving together and it was a time to get to know one another apart from the distractions of life. The second year we went despite being sick and in the middle of a move. We learned how to work together as a team even when neither one of us were at our best. And, this year we will go again. I am not sure what lessons this trip will hold.

8 Lessons From the Campground

But I’ve already learned one. Traditions are important. They bind and anchor relationships, whether with family, children, or partners. They are a certainty, a known, a home to go back to. In divorce, you lose many of your traditions along with your spouse. Let that create the space needed to make new ones.

As for me, I may not be traditional by trading turkey for trail mix, but I love my tradition in the mountains and the woods.

How about you? What are some of your favorite traditions?