Much of my writing is semi-private – written more for myself than anyone else.   If you choose to read this page, please keep that in mind.  Comments are certainly welcome, particularly constructive ones.


September 26, 2009

Venting alert!

I still haven’t managed to get divorced yet and am extremely frustrated by it.  The filing fees have been doubled so am working it all out this week.  I’m so ready for this to be totally over and done.  Over the last few months I’ve learned far too much the type of man 4B really is and it’s far, far worse than I’d  imagined.  In a nutshell, he’s managed to live two completely separate lives/lies for quite a while now.  The magnitude of his deceptions is nearly incomprehensible.  Fortunately, I’m emotionally removed from it or I’d be going ultra-redhead on his a** right now.  Just don’t really care other than I’m still forced to deal with the fall out from time to time.

The other person involved is apparently going to play doormat indefinitely just as they did prior to our (4B and my) as well as – as I now know – during our relationship so…. if that’s what she is willing to put up with – go on ahead.   Personally, I don’t want a relationship an alcoholic cheater.

I feel badly for her though.  She honestly seems to believe that she can’t do any better.  It’s quite sad, really.  All the way around.  I’ve let her know that if she needs my help, I’m there for her as only someone else who went through the situation with him can be.  Otherwise, it’s not within the scope of my business.  (omg… something isn’t my business?! hehehe)

His entire life is built on lies.  He claims to be ‘a half-breed’ (his words, not mine).  There is a VERY remote possibility that his second great grandmother was half Cherokee.  I’ve done a lot of work on the family history and have not been able to confirm or deny her mother’s information so really don’t know.  Hello…. Don, can’t you tell that both of your parents were white which by definition makes you… idk… white?!  It just goes on and on and on…..  Even his name tells the story – Donald – after an uncle – Clarence – family name, from white family member – War**n – last name, uhhhh again, from white father, white grandfather etc. going back many, many generations of ‘Anglos’.   I could care less what race someone is, just don’t be running around making up an entire history that doesn’t exist and building some fantasy life around it.  duh!

The amusing part is, 4B seems to be terrified that I’m going to find out where they live.  I’ve known for months and months – the bank told me when he changed some things on my account.  I’ve never stopped by although I need to talk to him about the insurance issue and he’s had his phone shut off.  Whether he truly doesn’t get that I just don’t care anymore or his pinprick of a conscience is bothering him… dunno.  Doesn’t matter.  But it does make TJ and I chuckle that he’s so paranoid over if I show up.  Mind you, I’m entirely within my rights.  He’s still claiming my son and I as dependents on his disability so if I want to move back in, legally I can.  (uh, no thanks, but the point is… I ‘can’)  Still, I have to chuckle that he told her when he moved out on her that he was moving in with some guy friend or other.  He told me he was moving into his friend Darryl’s. She bought it, she really didn’t have a strong reason not to.  I did for a little while but it didn’t feel quite right.  hmm…  Don lying about where he’s living.  Whatever.  It goes on and on and on……..

He’s claiming (he sends messages to me through TJ, it’s ridiculous!) that he can’t afford the car insurance he promised to pay for 2 years.  Between he and his roomate/girlfriend (roomate is how he refers to her to anyone else, girlfriend is what he tells her, again, very very sad situation) their income is more than double mine.   And it’s guaranteed income!  I’m working a temp job that may end at any time, supporting kids blah blah blah.  Yeah, he can afford it.  He just needs to quit taking out payday loans, spending absurd sums on alcohol and smokes etc. etc. etc.   oh well.

I just want it to end.  In the last few weeks he’s taken me off the car insurance contrary to our agreement.  He closed our account, contrary to our agreement.  Claims all kinds of bizarre things, total fabrications of his alcohol soaked brain.


I miss Heidi.  Terribly.  It still hurts too much to talk about right now.  I’ve been extremely blessed to have wonderful, loving, genuine people around me and I am grateful for that.  I make sure to spend time reading, experiencing, learning.  I’ve been making a point to keep moving forward on numerous fronts.  Quite a bit of my life right now is dedicated to healing, improving and progressing me and I’m becoming better at it.  I actually enjoy my mandated group meetings and AA, etc.   People ask me how I’m doing.  I say okay.  and I am okay.  I just miss my sister.  She was my nutty cornerstone for quite a while.


November 15, 2008

The Great Storage Unit Debacle

This is the condensed version of the Storage Unit Debacle.  Most of my earthly possessions were in 4B’s storage unit.  When my roommate moved out and 4B and I got married, D (son) and I moved a couple truckloads and a car load or two into the apartment.  The rest was supposed to go into a friend’s garage as 4B didn’t want to keep paying the unit fees when we had somewhere else to put everything.

For about two months, he promised everrrrry weekend that he’d take a truck load or two over to said friend’s garage and everrrrry weekend he’d be shooting pool, drinking with his buddies, watching tv… you get the picture.  After a while, it finally dawned on me that the storage unit was gone along with everything in it.  Now in all fairness, he had things in there as well:  a set of golf clubs (it’s been twenty years or more since he played); an old desk; maybe a few other items.

What was in storage that caused such heartache?  Memories, mementos, gifts, irreplaceable things, the things of life.  Then again, they’re only ‘things.’

autographed (to me) copies of every book my grandfather authored  (he was Secretary of Agriculture for two presidential terms and president of a major church)

my father’s limited edition autobiography (irreplaceable)

my mother’s bound family history (again limited edition)

my father’s bound family history (and yet again….)

dozens of other meaningful books that had been thoughtfully gifted or I’d purchased over the years, many were first editions, or now out of print so irreplaceable

letters from my grandparents and other family members from my childhood through young adulthood

my grandmothers antique brush set (the hand needle point, gold type) that I had used brushing her hair hundreds of times

my children’s baby books, pictures of all the ‘firsts’ of their lives, little handprints, footprints….

my children’s baby clothes, many of them I had lovingly handmade and were to be handed down

all those treasured things children make for their mothers during those fleeting first years

The carousel horse my mother in law (first husband’s mom but I still consider her my MIL) gave my daughter

The tiny rocking chair my father in law (husband’s now deceased father) hand made for my daughter

all the handmade Christmas/Holiday ornaments that the kids and I made together over the years

the rocking chair my first husband gave me when the children still enjoyed being rocked

my children’s toys and baby blankets some that I made, some from their grandparents and family friends

various journals, pictures, memorabilia of my life and travels

family photographs, postcards, momentos of places we’ve lived and journeys we’ve taken from infancy onwards

quilts my mother and aunts had made for me and some we worked on together

sewing and quilting stashes (huge) and supplies

huge knitting stash including several (rather valuable) unfinished items

nearly brand new sewing machine

thousand of rubber stamping items

most of my ‘good’ clothes – suede skirts, silk blouses, business suits, dressy outfits, holiday sweaters and coats, etc.

what was left of my ‘good’ jewelry, few rings, broaches, earrings

microwave a dear friend, now deceased, gave me (yeah, I know it’s silly for a microwave to be sentimental but it has a story)

a bone handled knife from a very dear friend

loads of computer parts, a couple of decent printers, ‘geek manuals’ course outlines from when I taught web design

medical records, my birth certificate, original passport, legal documents, all that necessary paperwork we accumulate

The list goes on and on….

Yes, they are only ‘things.’  Had they been lost in a fire or flood or otherwise accidentally destroyed the loss would have been devastating but understandable.  This happened because someone who should have cared simply didn’t.  He did offer something that was probably meant as apology.  He said he’d had his house broken into so knew how I felt.  No, he does NOT know.

The person who broke into his house did it in one mean spirited act.  Besides, many, many of the items that were allegedly stolen are actually in the possession of various female ‘friends’ of his… things like his late wife’s jewelery and some of his guns.  How odd.

He still has his trophies, family photos (early ones, his family is rarely in contact with him anymore), photos of his daughters (same story), assorted gifts from over the years, etc.  No, I don’t think he broke into the house himself.  Truly, I don’t.

This happened because he simply didn’t care.  I know his habit of giving other’s possessions away though, I’ve lost some of my own jewelry, clothes and pool sticks that way.

For months I seriously contemplated including restitution in our divorce settlement.  What would I gain?  An old truck, an outdated computer, some kick*ss knives, a nice tv, a few other odds and ends and a court order for a large sum of money that would never be repaid.

Would it bring back any of the things, the tangeable articles of memories?  No.

I’ve decided that although I am still angry, deeply hurt and feel extremely betrayed there’s no point in going after his things.  The accumulated value of his things wouldn’t equal a quarter of the value of what I lost.  The revenge factor would destroy what’s left of me.

However, I will be taking his microwave and computer.  He has another computer at his friend’s home.  He can use a stove.  I consider that reasonable and fair.

30 Oct 2008


Tomorrow is my Grandpa Hinckley’s birthday.  He passed on thirteen years ago but his influence is something I feel daily.  I learned such strength from him and from my grandmother – realistically optimistic outlook, pure goodness.  Many summers were spent visiting my grandparents beautiful home on Alta Street (SLC), I learned the beauty of bread baking, to quit biting my nails (Grandma knew the girly girl in me would win over nail biting if the reward of freshly polished nails was given), cut and arrange flowers, tie quilts, the value of extended family floating in and out at will,  that real men DO cry as do real women, a deep love of travel and story/adventure telling, and the one thing I still admire, and miss, most – two different individuals who enmeshed their life and love so well that no matter what after fifty years they still held hands while watching tv, kissed each other goodbye and showed genuine interest in each others’ lives.

My grandfather was a truly remarkable man.  He worked as a coal miner in Central Utah, he was a mayor, was on state and local boards of education, was an LDS mission president in Paris, worked the ranch he and his brother Arza had (now the Salt Lake International Airport), raised children, was practical, realistic but unafraid to dream and to stretch himself to learn and grow.  On his 90th birthday he was horseback riding at my uncle’s home.  …

I had the privilege of caring for him often during his older years, my grandmother as well but those thoughts are for another time.  He taught me the pride and humility of heritage, the true happiness, joy even, that comes with learning, the balance required to live – not simply exist – and what ‘enduring to the end’ is all about.  Many of the things we discussed are intensely private to me and are still locked deep in my heart.  He shared much of his life, his joys and disappointments, many would find them rather surprising, but to me, they made complete sense.

Happy Birthday, Grandpa Hinckley.  I love you.

9 Responses to Life

  1. rog nug says:

    we need to find each other and start talking again.

  2. redfear says:

    Thank you for the comment, I appreciate it! And yes, knitting is cheaper than prozac AND you have something to show for it! he he

  3. Margaret says:

    no matter how many times Eckhart Tolle says that I am not my ‘stuff’….dang it that does not mean my ‘stuff’ is not me!
    But you are right. Opportunity for growth. Life. Health.
    Good Supportive Friends. Yarn and pointy sticks. lol Knitting is usually cheaper and a better fixer upper than prozac.

    I admire you for putting the grenade down. Don’t know if I could have done as well.

  4. Pingback: Now what?! Go to sleep, silly brain! « RedFear

  5. robin says:

    …..great reason and opportunity for an early morning mortar attack………..

  6. redfear says:

    … please don’t let it…. it’s simply the way things are is all… and a great growth opportunity.

  7. robin says:

    ….my heart is breaking……..

  8. Pingback: Designing Monochromatic / Knit Quilts? « RedFear

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