tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13306627124380283692024-02-08T12:03:29.208-06:00Thank You Ashley MadisonA Book About Betrayal, Divorce, Growth, And Happiness.Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.comBlogger175125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-50220600598027606702018-10-27T09:34:00.000-05:002018-10-27T09:37:06.638-05:00Time To Finish "Thank You Ashley Madison"Dear Faithful Reader,<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Thank you for reading roughly half of my new book, <b>Thank You Ashley Madison,</b> on this bi-weekly blog. I finally wrote the ending. YAY! I'm hunkering down to edit, tweak, and polish <b>Thank You Ashley Madison</b> for publication and last Saturday's post was the final book excerpt. Many of you have shared comments and opinions with me on Facebook. Thank you! Your comments and opinions are hugely important. Please continue to tell me what you think here. I can't wait to share my completed book with you and will let you know when it's done. Thank you for taking this ride with me.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Yours Truly,</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Brenda</div>
Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-75765627187873994182018-10-24T09:57:00.000-05:002018-10-24T10:09:01.030-05:00Screw Golf Guy--"Thank You Ashely Madison" excerpt<style type="text/css">
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<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Saturday, July 6</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I lay in bed aching. I was supposed to golf with Golf Guy tomorrow but he hadn’t mentioned our date since he made it. Bet he never planned to follow through.</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s2"> "</span><span class="s1">Hi,” I texted Golf Guy. “Are we on for Sunday? My horse knocked me unconscious last night so I have a good story.”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I made breakfast for Tom, cleaned the house, ran errands. Six hours later, as I was wrapping things up with my banker, my text alert dinged.</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s2"> "</span><span class="s1">My god, I'm soo (sic) sorry, are u ok?” Golf Guy texted. “I think I have to raincheck tomorrow, I'm sorry, my partner is out of town so I have to see some of his people tomorrow late afternoon.”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I threw my phone in my purse. Screw Golf Guy and the club he swung in on. I took Tom to lunch and ordered split pea soup, the only thing my throbbing jaw could handle. I let the croutons turn to mush in my mouth before maneuvering them to the back of my throat and swallowing. My left shoulder, arm, and hip were throbbing, too.</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “How do u feel?” Golf Guy texted another six hours later.</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> At 10:30 pm, he sent “?”</span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-31743954131760446382018-10-20T08:53:00.000-05:002018-10-20T08:53:55.669-05:00Jack The Ripper--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt
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<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Friday July 5</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> The boys and I packed up the Tahoe and I hauled our last bags of garbage to Tim and Donna’s. I saw Ben’s dog, Spot, and Ben quickly walked into view.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I thought you’d already left,” he said.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Thanks again for helping me. It was so nice meeting you and hanging out.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “My pleasure,” Ben said. “Come back in the fall.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’m going to,” I said. I walked down the path and turned. Ben was still standing there. We waved at each other.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I threw a load of laundry into the washing machine at home and drove to the barn. I found BlackJack in the pasture and began leading him to the stable. Plague-like fly swarms blackened the air. BlackJack swung his head, bit at his sides, and swished his tail. Suddenly, he jumped straight up into the air stumbling as he landed. We jogged into the barn and I tied BlackJack’s lead rope to a ring. I began digging impacted mud out of his hooves. Next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes and laying on the concrete floor five feet away from BlackJack.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I slowly pushed myself up to sitting. My head was spinning. The left side of my jaw ached.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My glasses were missing. I carefully stood and began searching for my spectacles with very nearsighted eyes. I ran my tongue along my teeth. None felt broken. I pressed my teeth together. A molar on the bottom left was elevated. I pressed down harder and there was an audible crack as the molar clicked into my jawbone. The screen door to the barn squeaked open and slammed shut.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Hello,” I called, walking to the stairs leading up to the door. No one was there. I climbed the stairs. I pushed opened the door.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Hello,” I yelled.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Hello,” a voice answered.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Can you help me? I need help.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’ll be right there,” the voice said.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I descended the stairs and continued searching for my glasses. Minutes later, Big Anne appeared.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I was knocked unconscious,” I told Big Anne. “I don’t know for how long. I don’t know what happened. My jaw is killing me. It’s swelling and getting hot.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Big Anne found my glasses ten feet from where I was laid out on the ground. “I’ll get you an icepack,” she said. She returned with one wrapped in paper towels and I pressed it to my jaw. “You don’t have any kick marks on you,” Big Anne said. “You don’t have dirt marks or abrasions. He must have spun around really fast and threw you into a wall. You probably bounced off the wall and landed on the ground.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “My left side, my shoulder, hip, and elbow hurt. But I came-to laying on my right side.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Your elbow is turning black,” Big Anne said. “I think you should go to the emergency room, get yourself checked out.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I think my jaw or molar might be fractured.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “How does your head feel? You sound coherent.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “A little loopy.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Do you feel sick?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“A tiny bit nauseated.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “You should go to the hospital. I’ll take you.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> We climbed the stairs. My Tahoe was parked at the top. I opened my car door.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “You shouldn’t drive,” Big Anne said. “Hop in my truck. I’ll bring you back to your car if everything checks out.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I got into Anne’s truck and called Blake.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’m okay, but I had another horse accident,” I told Blake. “Don’t worry. I’m on my way to the hospital but I’m sure I’m fine.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Damn it Mom! You have to get rid of that horse. He’s going to put you in a wheelchair. It’s not a question of if he does, it’s a question of when. Bet you weren’t wearing your helmet were you?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I wasn’t even on him.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “You need to wear my goalie gear whenever you get near that asshole. He’s Jack the Ripper. He’s going to kill you.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’m at the hospital now. Take Tom out to eat and tell him I’m okay. Okay?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Call me when you know something.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I will.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> The ER doc looked at my CT scan. “You didn’t fracture your jaw but you stressed your TMJ. Don’t open your mouth wide. See an orthodontist in the next two or three days. There’s a lot of swelling back there by that molar. I’m writing you a prescription for pain medication. Don’t drive when you take it. And read the information I’m printing for you about concussion.”</span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-3138001739210642482018-10-17T11:01:00.000-05:002018-10-17T11:01:11.021-05:00Really Didn't Mind---"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt
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<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Thursday, July 4</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Blake and I tried installing the new jet ski battery. We couldn’t get ahold of a rubber strap that snapped over the battery in its ridiculously tight compartment and, after spending hours, gave up. Maybe the next-door neighbor was handy? I grabbed several bags of garbage—we paid our neighbors to use their trash service—and walked down the wooded path between our houses to their garage. The driveway was packed with vehicles. No one was outside. I dumped what I’d hauled into Tim and Donna’s cans, walked back to the cabin, and grabbed more garbage hoping I’d run into someone the second time. I reentered the garage and a tall blonde man was pulling drinks out of a refrigerator.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Hi,” I said.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Hi,” he said looking puzzled.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’m from next door. We pay to throw our garbage here. Are you related to Tim and Donna?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’m their son-in-law. I’m Ben.” He extended his hand.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I’d just thrown a bag of bottles into a recycling bin and my hands were sticky with beer and soda.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “You don’t want to shake my hand,” I said. “I’m Brenda. Can I ask, are you handy? My son and I’ve been trying to put a new battery in our jet ski and we can’t get it in.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Ben resembled Mark Ruffalo. “Yeah. Let me take a look.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Thanks. Sorry to ask.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “No, don’t be,” he said. He paused a moment. “You’re in great shape. What do you do?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Showing up in a bikini had helped. “I teach yoga. You’re in good shape yourself.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “No,” he said. “I don’t look like I used to. I used to play basketball but I’ve had some injuries.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Me, too. Don’t bounce back like I used to.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “That’s for sure,” Ben laughed.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> We walked to my pier and Ben spent the next couple of hours trying to snap the strap over the battery before tying it down with bungee cords.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’m sorry for taking you away from your family,” I said. “Anyone who’s tried to install this battery—my dad, my ex, my brother-in-law—had a hell of a time and I know you’d rather be relaxing on your pier.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “No, not really,” Ben said, sweat dripping down his face. “When did you get divorced?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “April.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “My sister got divorced. Her husband was not a good guy. I don’t think she’ll ever get involved with another man. Have you dated?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “A little,” I said. “Your mother-in-law was sick last winter. How is she?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Good. She’s a lot better. She gave us quite a scare. She’s a great person and so is Tim. I’m lucky to have great in-laws.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I liked my mother-in-law better than my ex,” I laughed.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Ben gave me a knowing grin and nodded. “Yeah. I hear you. My wife doesn’t like my mother. It makes things very hard. You are in phenomenal shape. Is it just the yoga?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Stress from the divorce melted off ten pounds,” I said. “I wouldn’t recommend it, but I’m down to my high school weight.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Ben laughed. “I played high school and college basketball. I wish I could still play but I had a back injury. A bulging disk moved into sciatica. The pain was debilitating. I could barely move. I had my leg electrocuted with what looked like a cattle prod in physical therapy. It made my leg shake spasmodically. It was horrible. But after several treatments it worked. One morning I woke up and the pain was gone.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Wow.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Yeah. So I’m careful now. No more water-skiing, jet-skiing, basketball, nothing that can re-aggravate that condition. Would you mind giving me a tour of your cabin? I’ve always wanted to see what it looks like on the inside.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Yeah, come on,” I said. “I wish I could offer you something to drink, but all I’ve got is water and milk. We’re going home tomorrow morning.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Really?” Ben said sounding disappointed. “You’re not staying through the weekend?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Another partner is coming up tomorrow. Our weeks are Friday to Friday.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I walked Ben through the cabin.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Do you come up here other times?” Ben asked.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Not really. There’s an hours-long winterizing process we have to go through to open and close the cabin. It’s not worth coming up in other seasons. I’d have to open and close all the valves, drain them, drain the toilets, drain the pipes. . .”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Are you kidding me? Why don’t they just leave the heat on so the pipes don’t freeze?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Cabin Nazi’s rules. Do you know Elwood? Come to think of it, Elwood recently hired new cleaning people who will winterize for an extra charge.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “You should come up during the fall,” Ben said. “It’s beautiful the last week of September, first week of October. It’s quiet. It’s different than now. Bearskin Bike Trail is phenomenal.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’ve got that week. I might do that.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “You should.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> We stood looking at each other.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Thanks again for installing the battery for me,” I said. “What a shitty job.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I really didn’t mind.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’ll walk you back.” We headed toward his house and I stopped at the trail between his house and mine.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “You should definitely come back in the fall,” Ben said.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I believe I will.”</span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-10424227095913862892018-10-09T09:15:00.000-05:002018-10-09T09:15:07.329-05:00Forgiven--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt
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<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Wednesday, July 3</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s2"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “</span><span class="s1">Brenda. I hope you are all enjoying a great week up there,” JB texted.</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “I've forgiven you,” I replied. “I pray for you, too. But I don't want you in my life beyond what is absolutely necessary.”</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “I will try to respect that. I am grateful for your prayers and forgiveness. Every day I wish for you to be happy.”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I bought a jet ski battery. The old one won’t keep a charge. Blake and I’ll install it tomorrow. I laid on the dock and read a book.</span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-72811738521164582392018-10-06T09:31:00.000-05:002018-10-06T09:31:43.745-05:00Within--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt
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<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Sunday, June 30</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> We jet skied, shot the compound bow, and I went for a three-mile run down pine-lined roads before grilling steaks for dinner. It was a perfect day, except for JB’s texts.</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s2"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “</span><span class="s1">Hi. I hope you are all having fun and good weather up there. I hope you will give my email some thought. I want peace.”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Peace and happiness come from within,” I texted.</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “I know all too well now I am trying,” he replied. “I need to try harder. Maybe it's too soon, but I am going to come to you periodically seeking your forgiveness.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-53112718189890040592018-10-02T09:31:00.001-05:002018-10-02T09:31:48.051-05:00Having Fun?--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt
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<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Saturday, June 29</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Blake and Chad were charging the jet ski battery, drinking beer, and smoking cigars by the lake when Tom and I arrived at the cabin. Seeing Blake smoke and drink for the first time made me feel uneasy then disturbingly sad that I’d never have a drink with him. I began thinking about the times I got drunk with my dad on that pier. The heart-to-heart conversations. The laughs.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s2"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “</span><span class="s1">Are you having fun?...silly question, I'm sure you are,” Golf Guy texted.</span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-74273733723633645532018-09-29T08:56:00.000-05:002018-09-29T08:56:39.440-05:00Hot--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt<style type="text/css">
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<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Friday, June 28</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> My cousin, Cindy, rode with the boys and me to Edie’s cemetery funeral. Edie’s pastor and three people from her church were the only ones there besides my mom, my aunts Lori and Tess, and another cousin. Edie’s two daughters didn’t come. It was warm, sunny, and we stood under a shady tree next to Edie’s casket. It was sadly beautiful.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s2"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “</span><span class="s1">How are u?” Golf Guy texted while we were at the luncheon.</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Gorgeous day. You've got to be loving it. Crazy busy?”</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Not crazy today, left a little bit ago, now running errands.”</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Gotta run errands too. Typical I leave stuff till last minute.</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “We are the same...but you are way hotter.”</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> ‘I think you're hot.”</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “I think you need glasses, but thanks.”</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"></span> I’d planned to leave for Minocqua today but will leave tomorrow instead. Blake invited his friend, Chad, to vacation with us, and those two are headed up today.</span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-39047789942864335652018-09-25T10:20:00.002-05:002018-09-25T10:21:25.281-05:00Fireflies--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt<style type="text/css">
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<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Thursday, June 27</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Yosef, in town from California, met me at the Kabbalah Center this morning.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I feel like I’m falling down a lot,” I told him. “My thoughts and emotions toward JB, they’re not God-like, and I’ve been beating myself up.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “That’s typical,” Yosef said. “We are human. The bar constantly changes. There are always new challenges. The more spiritually fit we get, the greater the challenges become. I’m moving back to Israel and you’ll be getting a new teacher.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> My heart sank. I walked out of Yosef’s office and passed Mac on his way in. Mac was going to be told the same thing. He and I got to be friends during Good Morning Kabbalah classes. I like Mac. I like his company. It feels like he may be romantically interested in me and while I’m not romantically interested in him, I’m trying to stay open to it. It’s weird considering guys as possible love interests. Angie was in the lobby waiting for me and we went out for brunch.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’ve been in a funk over a guy I’ve been dating,” Angie said glumly. “He seems interested but not interested at the same time.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Like Golf Guy," I said. "I met him after a Good Morning Kabbalah class and thought it was a sign.” I laughed. “I’m pretty sure he’s not good for me. Maybe he’s on my path to teach me discernment, listen to my gut. It’s just, I’m physically attracted to him and I’m not attracted to that many guys. I don’t know. There’s not much I do know these days.”</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I wrote for a while then checked email.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s2"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “</span><span class="s1">Brenda,” JB wrote.</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “I hope you and the boys have a great week up in Minocqua. I'll plan on picking up Tom sometime in the morning on the 6th. Will confirm the day before.</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “I hope one day soon we can sit down and talk.</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “I believe bringing peace back to this family will be good for all of us. I want to find a way to get there. There is no getting around that this will require a combination of my humility and your forgiveness. </span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “I am working on being a kinder and more empathetic person. I am trying to be honest, which isn't easy when I have so much to be ashamed of. But I know that I need to stop lying to myself and others. I also understand that selfishness and narcissism were at the root of my behavior, and these qualities are a part of me as well. I need to confront and manage them every day. I don't want to be the person who destroyed our marriage and family. </span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “You need to believe that my desire to make amends is sincere. I am open to your suggestions on what you require to forgive me. </span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Please think this over.”</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"> I don’t want to sit down with JB and talk to him. I want to be done with him. I saddled up BlackJack and rode in the woods. It was dusk when we turned back and the fireflies were out. Jack and I galloped through the green glowing luminaries. It was magnificent.</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s3"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “</span><span class="s1">How are u?” Golf Guy texted as I was getting ready for bed.</span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Galloped through the fireflies on the trail tonight. Pure magic. The stuff you live for, you know? How are you?”</span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “That's amazing! You must have loved it.”</span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “The church of Brenda.”</span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Sweet”</span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “You have a good day?”</span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Long but good...worked straight from 7-8:30.”</span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Wow. Exhausted or wired right now?”</span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “How did u know...both What are u up (sic) this weekend?”</span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Going to Minocqua with the boys. Coming back the 5th. What are you doing next weekend?”</span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “No plans yet”</span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Want to do something before I fly to NC to hang out in the mountains with the shaman?”</span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Sure”</span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “What should we do?”</span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Kiss”</span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Okay. What else?”</span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “I was joking, whatever you want”</span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “I wasn’t"<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Maybe play nine holes at Strawberry Creek, then dinner?”</span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “I'd love that. Saturday or Sunday?”</span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p9">
<span class="s1"> “Prob Sunday”</span></div>
<div class="p10">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Bet he cancels.</span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-47497425843019924442018-09-22T07:09:00.000-05:002018-09-22T07:09:50.733-05:00Pilgrimage--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt<style type="text/css">
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<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Monday, June 24</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I watched a video on finding your soulmate that Yosef recommended. Here’s what it said.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —Relationships provide us with opportunities to create unity with others and transform ourselves.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —We need to go beyond our five senses when choosing someone. How does this person carry himself in the world? Is there passion, excitement? Is there only imagination or is there consciousness for achievement?</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —Don’t look at the potential of a person, look at what is.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —Falling in love fades. True love is the byproduct of work.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —We don’t get our soulmates each lifetime but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have a relationship. Our relationship should help us grow and achieve our divine purpose. If the other person is not where we are spiritually, that needs to be addressed. It will not go away. Our relationships exist to move us along. They are not there to provide comfortable complacency.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A true soulmate is a very difficult relationship. We are brought together to really work something through. The sign of a true soulmate is that it feels like a virtual ocean has been or must be crossed to be with that person. How is it possible that I should be with this person?</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A soulmate relationship moves us to a higher spiritual goal.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —Being physically together is not the glue. Being apart shouldn’t matter. You should still be fueling each other to grow, develop, and strengthen the partnership.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —The relationship should help build unity in all other relationships, not create distance and selfishness for the love relationship.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A falling-in-love relationship can be like a drug. It may briefly fulfill you in one area but not long term. And it hurts other areas of your life.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —Have no expectations or conditions on the other person. When we have expectations, we give our power away to the other person. We put ourselves in the backseat and hope the other person will drive where we want to go.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —Don’t look for someone to complete you. Soulmates have the same work to do. We help each other transform. We don’t look for someone to do the work for us.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —No matter what, we are the cause. Even if we have a signed agreement with someone and that person doesn’t live up to it, we created the space for that to happen. We are not victims. We have choices about how to deal with situations.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —Always be giving. Give because it elevates our consciousness. We’re not to keep track of how much we give and how little the other person gives. There are right ways to give and wrong ways to give. But give because it makes us grow.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A physical relationship develops as the result of a spiritual connection. You do the work before getting physical. You know it will work before getting physical. Most people start with the physical and think everything should work out. No. You put the work in first and see what’s there.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I sat for a long time letting that sink in. Then I checked email.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s2"> “</span><span class="s1">I'm not supposed to share these emails, but I would love for you to join me the weekend of August 30 to share this experience,” Lila wrote. “I CAN'T WAIT to see you in a couple of weeks!!”</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Below, Lila forwarded this.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"><b><i> Dearest Devine Friends:</i></b></span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"><i> Warm and loving greetings to you from the Auspicious Tour Department. We hope all of you are well, enjoying the start to summer, and each day feeling more and more committed to your spiritual paths!</i></span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"><i> We are happy to announce that our Beloved Master Shaman, Don Pedro, will be returning in late August for the Fall Pilgrimage, and you are all cordially </i></span><span class="s3"><i>invited to participate in the Sacred Ceremonies and Pujas that he will be sharing with us during this time. </i></span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"><i> Ceremonies will be taking place on </i><b><i>August 30th, August 31st, September 13th, September 14th, September 20th and September 21st, </i></b><i>and space for each of these is available by pre-registration only. Pujas will be taking place daily throughout the Pilgrimage, and are open to the community. </i></span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"><i> Many of you have already partaken in Sacred </i></span><span class="s3"><i>Ceremony and Puja</i></span><span class="s1"><i> with Don Pedro, and have experienced his grace, love and inspiration of the Divine. Having Don Pedro join us again in our community is a blessing and an opportunity to keep advancing in our spiritual paths. Our Beloved Shaman, his Sacred Medicine, and the prayerful devotion he shares during Puja are a great support in the eternal quest for self realization.</i></span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"><i> Those of you who are new to this work, we </i></span><span class="s3"><i>invite</i></span><span class="s1"><i> you to join us in this transformational and profound experience. Please read everything carefully, and let us know any questions that may arise.</i></span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"><i> Please note, each Sacred Ceremony does not end until the following morning upon completion of the integration circle and lovingly prepared breakfast. Your commitment to stay through until after breakfast is mandatory. In this way, you will receive the most profound benefits from the retreat, ensuring a good integration, and a good work for you and for the rest of the participants. Don Pedro will continue sharing a Divine vibration throughout all this time, so we can take advantage of this precious opportunity!</i></span></div>
<div class="p7">
<br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><b><i> Accommodations: </i></b><i>You are welcome to sleep in the ceremony space at no additional cost. Private accommodations are available at an additional cost. For those who would like to camp on the land, we are asking for a donation of $5-10/night. Single dorm rooms, for $48/night, are available on a limited first come/first serve basis. There are also Private cottages starting at $350/weekend, and if interested, we will assist you to make this reservation.</i></span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"><i> Yours in very loving service,</i></span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"><i> Auspicious Tour Department</i></span></div>
<div class="p9">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “I want to do the pilgrimage,” I emailed Lila. “Give them my information.”</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “You won't believe how wonderful Don Pedro is!” Lila responded.</span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-5771685013538065142018-09-19T07:18:00.000-05:002018-09-19T07:18:32.178-05:00Weezer--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt
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<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Saturday, June 22</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> My mother called to tell me Aunt Edie died. My mom had visited Aunt Edie in Tennessee a few days ago. She’d driven Aunt Lori and Aunt Tess to Aunt Edie’s retirement home and they'd spent a day visiting her. Aunt Edie had begged them to stay longer.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “We said everything there was to say,” my mother said. “Edie kept saying, ‘Don’t go. You can sleep on the floor of my apartment.’ Can you imagine us sleeping on her floor? Like we would do that? We said everything there was to say. You know how she was. She didn’t say much. It was time to go and we left.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I hung up and cried.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> A couple hours later, I pulled myself together and took Tom to a free Weezer concert celebrating the opening of a Microsoft store at an enormous suburban shopping mall. Concert goers had been lining up since last night to get wristbands for early entry to the parking lot stage. The earliest birds got special wristbands for a meet-and-greet with the band. Tom and I parked, walked over to the stage, and stopped outside the guardrails. A guy wearing a Microsoft shirt walked over.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “You want a couple of wristbands?” he asked.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “That would be great,” I said.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> He handed me two. One was a metallic copper-colored one. “That one will get you in to see the band,” he said. “Put them on and go in. Don’t tell anyone I gave them to you.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Thanks!” I said.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Tom was grinning the biggest smile I’d ever seen on his face. I put the regular wristband on Tom and the metallic one on me. We entered the enclosure and were handed Microsoft beach towels and had our pictures taken. We walked to the front of the stage where a small crowed had gathered. People began streaming in, packing in tighter and tighter. Wheezer hit the stage and the crowd started moshing. I hadn’t figured Wheezer for a mosh band. Arms were flailing, people were jumping, bodies were slamming. I looked at Tom. He was petrified.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Jump!” I shouted to Tom. I was jumping in my flip-flops and moving with the crowd.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Tom shook his head.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Jump, otherwise you’ll get run over! Bend your arms. Put your elbows out like this.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Tom started jumping. I got behind him. I steered him toward a less wild spot. We continued maneuvering like that the rest of the show.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “That was awesome!” Tom shouted.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Well, you can mosh now. Wasn’t counting on that.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Tom and I laughed and began walking toward the mall for the meet and greet.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “Are you watching Blackhawks (sic) game?” Golf Guy texted.</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> I texted Golf Guy a<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>crowd-surfing picture. “At the risk of you thinking I'm a psycho, I took Tom to a Weezer concert. We’re going to meet the band now!”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “Cool”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> Tom and I walked to the line in front of the Microsoft store and a mall cop stopped us by the ropes. “He can’t get in,” he said pointing at Tom.</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “He’s with me,” I said.</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “Every person who gets in line has to have a wristband. No exceptions.”</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> I tore my wristband off and gave it to Tom.</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “Get in line,” I told Tom.</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “No,” Tom said. “You go in. I don’t want to take your wristband.”</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “I put that wristband on thinking we’d both get in. Go on.”</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> Tom got in line. His shoulders slumped. His eyes darted uncomfortably. I gave him the thumbs up sign and did a little happy dance.</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “Are u there now?” Golf Guy texted.</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “Here,” I heard Tom say. I looked up from my phone and Tom was standing in front of me holding out the metallic wristband. “I feel bad taking it. You should go.”</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “Why did you get out of line? Look how long it is now. Go meet the band. I’ll be standing right here. I’m not going anywhere. Go meet the band and tell me how great it was.”</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> I scanned the line looking for a parent with a child. I spotted an Asian man and his son. “Can my son stand in line with you?” I asked. “He’s uncomfortable doing this by himself. He was in line and got out.”</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> The Asian guy gave me a nasty look. “We all had to wait our turn to get in here,” he said.</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> A group of teenagers standing behind the mean man lifted the rope. “He can come stand with us,” a boy said.</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “Thank you!” I said. Tom got in under the rope. “I really appreciate it. Thank you so much. This is Tom.”</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “No problem,” the young man said.</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> I shot the mean man a dirty look and watched him squirm.</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “Tom’s in line to get an autograph now,” I texted Golf Guy. I sent a picture of Tom in line proudly holding his copper wristband.</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “Sweet.”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “Going to a restaurant to watch the 3rd period,” I texted.</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “We are winning 2-0.”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “Are you a Hawks fan now? Cup is coming to the house.”</span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-36177843089521203932018-09-14T22:37:00.000-05:002018-09-14T22:38:30.106-05:00Ho Man--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt<style type="text/css">
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<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Wednesday, June 19</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Pia and I saddled up and went for a ride in the woods. My text alert dinged.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “Hey Brenda, sorry to do it but I'm going to have to reschedule tomorrows (sic) session, I have a new evaluation and don't have anywhere else to put him...can we reschedule?” Golf Guy texted.</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"> “Absolutely.” I sent a picture of Jack's head heading down the trail. Then I thought, absolutely not.</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"> “Amazing,” Golf Guy texted.</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"> Amazing you want to keep stringing me along—and my self esteem is so far down the toilet that I’m letting you.</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Pia and I rode for almost three hours then I cleaned up and got ready to meet Randy for dinner.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “I may be a little late,” Randy texted. “I have my ho and her sista in my room. I like my women very nasty.”</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I stared at my phone repulsed, not knowing how to respond.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s2"> “</span><span class="s1">Alright ho man,” I finally texted. “What time?”</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “I'm kidding!”</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I exited the highway and Randy called. “I’m here,” he said. “I’m in the parking lot. I’ll wait for you here.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I spotted Randy right away. He was balder but looked the same. I hopped out and gave him a huge hug. “I think the last time I saw you was ninth grade,” I said.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “That sounds about right. Damn.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> We walked into the restaurant. Randy told me his parents were living in Florida, his mother was fatter than ever, he didn’t speak to his parents much, and his brother, Wendall, lived near them.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I know you’re friends with Wen on Facebook,” Randy said making a face. “Don’t tell him anything I tell you. He’s got a big mouth. He’s on his third marriage and that’s not going so well. My sister is on her third marriage, too, but she’s doing great. She and I talk a lot. We’re very close.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “How are things with your first daughter? You told me your ex poisoned her against you. You talking?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Some, but it’s too little too late. She only calls to tell me how great she’s doing, which is bullshit, and ask for money. She called today. I didn’t call her back.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “She’s reaching out. You’ve got an opportunity to get to know her.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Randy nodded uncertainly. “You were married a long time. How are you doing?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Better now that we’re divorced. I felt uneasy around JB for a long time. Knew something was off but didn’t know what. I couldn’t kiss him for years. Couldn’t do it.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Randy stared at me knowingly and nodded.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “The Hawks game starts soon,” I said. “Want to watch it down the street at a bar?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “You’re okay going to a bar?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I haven’t had a drink in ten years. Yeah.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Randy and I walked to a charming old hole-in-the-wall full of locals.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Your comment about not being able to kiss JB,” Randy said. “That really hit me. I haven’t been able to kiss my wife in years. I stopped sleeping with her, too. I’m living in the basement.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “No.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Yes. It’s bad.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’m so sorry.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Have you been dating?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “If you can call it that,” I laughed. “Are you seeing other women?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’ve thought about it,” Randy said, looking at me hopefully.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I squirmed and turned toward the game. The second period ended with the Hawks ahead.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I don’t want to keep you out late away from your kids,” Randy said. “Let’s go. Want to get together Sunday? Have dinner one more time before I leave?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’ll check my calendar when I get home.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> Randy and I hugged goodbye.</span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-82552160794576986712018-09-12T09:11:00.000-05:002018-09-12T09:15:49.708-05:00Life Is Fun--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt<style type="text/css">
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<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Tuesday, June 18</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Randy and I decided to meet for dinner tomorrow. We picked a place between my house and his hotel then he texted me a photo of a gaudy pickup with giant tires and sparkling rims.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “You should be able to recognize me when I drive my Hertz rental,” he texted. “Btw, if you have an extra book at the house, I'll buy it providing you sign it.”</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “Excited you’re showing up in that!!! You better take me for a ride. I'll bring a signed copy of my book but you're not buying it.”</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “That car is parked by my hotel at a tire shop,” Randy texted. “Always wanted to feel like a pimp in a 'hood car.”</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “Always wanted to be a bitch in a pimped ride.”</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “Yeah, I see it now: 2 white people in that car and the brothas thinkin it got stolen! Yeah, yo be my bitch, sista.”</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Apparently Randy was the same guy who had me laughing so hard my stomach hurt in grade school. Thank God.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “How are u,” Golf Guy texted.</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"> “Good. I did yoga with my client by his pool. It was a gorgeous night. How are you?”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"></span> “I'm good, have been super busy...weather was perfect today. How is your writing going?”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"></span> “Writing is going well.”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"> “My boys just left yesterday for 4 weeks of away camp.”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"></span> “Where to?”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"></span> “Timberlane in Wisconsin. And you should never end a sentence with a preposition... You should have asked… ‘where to asshole’"</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"></span> “That's good! Hahaha. The boys and I are going to Minocqua. Tom's going to his dad’s when we get back and I'm headed to the Smokies. My friend is taking me to the mountains to meet her shaman then we’re going to her beach house. How cool is that?”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"></span> “Amazing.”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"></span> “Ever see a shaman?”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"></span> “No...I don't even know what that is.”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"></span> “A spiritual guide, healer. Should be interesting. My friend says she’s been getting a lot of signs from hawks.”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"></span> “Sounds great.”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"></span> “Are you being sarcastic?”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"></span> “Not at all.”</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; text-indent: 36px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p6" style="text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; text-indent: 36px;"> “Life is fun.”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-32069084368623313702018-09-08T08:24:00.000-05:002018-09-08T08:24:54.666-05:00Father's Day--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt<style type="text/css">
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<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Sunday, June 16</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I woke up feeling angry and heartbroken for Blake. The picture of JB standing feet away avoiding him was cemented in my head. I snatched my phone.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> “It's Father's Day,” I texted JB. “You didn't walk over and say hi to Blake last night.</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “I am we’ll (sic) aware it's Father's Day,” JB texted. “You think i didnt (sic) want to say hi to Blake? I was afraid he'd tell me to go to hell. I decided to focus on Tom, it was his night.”</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Coward.”</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Ok I was scared of being rejected to my face. And I wish I had said hello. If that makes me a coward, fine, I'm a coward. And please don't mention Father's Day unless its to wish me a sincere happy Father's Day. Otherwise I'd just rather you said nothing. It's a tough enough day for me as it is.”</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> I seethed and let my thoughts and feelings tear me up until I decided I didn’t want to waste one more unit of energy on JB and started cleaning the house. At one o’clock, as arranged, Tom walked through the door. I started wondering, why didn’t JB keep Tom all day and spend Father’s Day with him? Did he have a date with some child-free divorcee that took precedence over Tom? I started shaking. I began jumping around hoping to rid myself of my rage and began texting "Happy Father's Day" to my guy friends.</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Thanks,” Golf Guy texted back. “Maybe I can watch you hit some balls this week at Deerfield.”</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Cool. What days are good?”</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “So far thurs (sic) looks best.”</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Got a time preference?”</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “3 or 4?”</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Three is good. Looking forward to it. The pressure is on. Hope I don't totally suck.”</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “You better not.”</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> I started making dinner. My text alert dinged.</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “If I were to ask Blake to meet me to talk would you be willing to encourage him to do so?” JB texted.</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “I've never discouraged it,” I responded. “Good luck with that.”</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “Ok, thanks. Ill (sic) try and see what happens. By the way (sic) for Mother's Day I gave Tom $20 to buy you a card and a gift, which he tells me he did. It would have meant a lot to me if you had returned the favor. This isn't meant as dig (sic) so please don't come back at me with both barrels. I'm just asking for enough of a thawing so we can exchange these basic courtesies. I think we'll all be happier as a result.”</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"> A short time later, JB texted again. “I texted Blake asking him to meet for coffee on Friday. I know he makes his own decisions, but I do think he'll at least listen to you. If it's in your heart to encourage him to meet me, Id (sic) be grateful. I don't want to be estranged from him for the rest of my life.”</span></div>
<div class="p8">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I walked into Blake’s room. “Your father said he asked you to meet him for coffee.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’m not going. Why should I?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “He feels bad he didn’t come over and talk to you last night. He knows he fucked up.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Yeah, I know. He’s been texting me. I’m not texting him. Did you say something to him? Is that why he’s texting me?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Well,” I said taking a deep breath.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> Blake laughed sarcastically. “Thought so. If he really wanted to talk to me, he’d call. Why doesn’t he pick up the fucking phone?”</span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-32805717594347539042018-09-04T10:41:00.000-05:002018-09-04T10:41:53.350-05:00Whatever--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt <style type="text/css">
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<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Saturday, June 15</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Tom’s band, Gamma Ray, played the youth stage at Libertyville Days, and JB, who had Tom for the weekend, played roadie. </span>Blake and I walked the three blocks from our house to the middle of town for Tom's show and I told Blake, “Don’t be surprised if Dad comes over and talks to you. I'm thinking he will.”</div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Blake groaned. “I hope he doesn’t.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Be open to it. See what he has to say. It might be good.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Really?” Blake asked sarcastically. “What could he possibly say that would make things better?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I don’t know. But he’s your father. You’re going to end up talking to him at some point. This may as well be the time.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Blake sighed. “Whatever.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> We continued walking in silence. I glanced at Blake periodically. He appeared to be mulling it over, softening.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Tom and his band were on stage and Blake and I planted ourselves front and center. I began waving wildly at Tom. Tom waved back and shot us an enormous grin. JB, standing off to the side, was holding up his iPad to record video. Periodically, JB whipped his head in our direction then whipped it back like he wasn’t looking. Our old neighbors, Gerald and Fran, were standing behind Blake and me.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Hey,” I said.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Hey!” Fran said. “When are you going to Lakeside? We’re going to my friend’s cottage by you again this summer.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “We got divorced and JB got the cottage,” I said.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “No,” Fran gasped. “What happened?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I told her.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Wow,” Gerald said, shaking his head. He motioned toward Gamma Ray. “Those kids are really good.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “You recognize the guitar player?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Gerald shook his head.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “It’s Tom.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Oh my God. Tom. He really grew.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Here’s Blake,” I said, pointing.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Tom was strutting on stage. He strutted too far and his guitar unplugged from his amp. Bob, an old high school friend of JB’s, rushed over and plugged it in. He walked off the stage and stood next to me.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Hey Bob,” I said.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Hey!” he said and gave me a big hug.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Bob had sent me a Facebook message earlier asking for JB’s phone number, which I thought was odd.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’m guessing you know we’re divorced?” I asked Bob.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Yeah,” he said, shaking his head. “What the hell happened?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “JB was on Ashley Madison the last five years.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Ach,” Bob said, throwing his head back. He squeezed his eyes shut in a pained expression. “Look at you. You’re gorgeous. You dating anyone?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Not really.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I know a lot of nice guys who’d like to meet someone nice,” he said. “I should fix you up.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I might take you up on that.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Tom finished his set and I ran on stage and squeezed him. “You were great. You guys sounded fabulous.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Thanks,” Tom beamed.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “You were great Buddy,” Blake said and high-fived his brother.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> JB, packing up band equipment, was shooting more furtive glances our way. I waited for him to walk over and say hello to Blake, but he never came by. When the last of the band equipment had been carried off, I turned to Blake and said, “Let’s go to Tommy’s, eat dinner, and watch the Hawk’s game on their patio.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> We silently walked to Tommy’s. Fi</span>nally, I said, “I’m stunned your dad didn’t come over.”</div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’m not,” Blake said. “I’m glad he didn’t come over. He’s a pussy.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I looked at Blake. I felt like crying but held back the tears. </span>A bouncer was standing on Tommy’s patio not letting anyone in under the age of twenty-one.</div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “But I’m his mother,” I said. “He’s not going to drink.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’d let you in but it's not up to me,” the bouncer said. “I have to ask the owner. He’s probably not going to let me. He’s being really strict with Libertyville Days. But I’ll ask.” He walked off.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “That’s a first, my mother trying to get me into a bar,” Blake smirked.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> The bouncer reappeared shaking his head.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Let’s go to Chili U,” I said.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> Blake and I walked down a few storefronts and somberly ate chili while the Hawks played in the background.</span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-1388057011101356252018-09-01T07:46:00.000-05:002018-09-01T07:46:03.015-05:00Pussy--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt<style type="text/css">
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<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Friday, June 14</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I saw Kent at a recovery meeting this morning and mentioned I was playing golf with Blake at Stonewall Orchard in a couple of hours.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “That course is really hard,” Kent laughed. “It’s beautiful but hard. You’ve barely played. Good luck.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’ll wear a short skirt,” I laughed. “Stopped me from getting yelled at last time.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Kent shook his head and laughed harder.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I drove home, kicked Blake out of bed, and headed for the golf course. Blake strapped our bags on the cart and drove to the first tee. My text alert dinged. An old grade school friend I hadn’t seen in thirty years was in town. Randy friended me on Facebook years ago and had randomly called days after I'd asked JB to move out. He was living in Wyoming, his first marriage had ended badly, his ex had poisoned their daughter against him, he had two children with his current wife, and that marriage was going great, he said.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Hey Brenda!!!!” Randy texted. “I’m in town til (sic) the 24<span style="font-size: 13.3333px;">th</span></span><span class="s1">. Would love to see you!”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Love to see you, too,” I texted. “Playing golf with my son now. Maybe dinner the 20<span style="font-size: 13.3333px;">th</span></span><span class="s1">? Gotta go.” I switched my phone off and threw it in my golf bag.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I was hitting well for a beginner. Made it over some water features. But I was slow. Blake let two parties play through. On the eighteenth hole, as I was lining up a shot on the fairway, an old man yelled,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Hit the ball! Every single shot!”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Shut the fuck up,” Blake shouted back. “Mind your own fucking business.” Blake looked at me. “Really? He yells on the last hole? You’re taking longer than most, but not bad. And you’re making up for it by not being a duffer. I’m reporting him.” Blake flagged down a ranger. “That guy up there is heckling my mom,” he said.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I wrapped my arm around Blake’s neck and kissed his cheek. “Thanks,” I said. “Thanks for standing up for me. You’ve got balls. Dad wouldn’t have done that.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> “Dad’s a pussy.”</span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-76846031948680925052018-08-28T09:26:00.000-05:002018-08-28T09:44:22.543-05:00Passive Aggressive--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt<style type="text/css">
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<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Tuesday, June 11</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Walked into the 7 a.m. meeting and found altered fliers with a big arrow pointing at my name and “Change in speakers. Please let your friends know!! Songbird will be our open speaker,” pasted over my book quotes. They were on every countertop and bulletin board in the club house.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Tanya snatched a bunch of fliers off a table near the front door and made a face. “This is so passive aggressive,” she snarled. “This is so icky.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Tanya and I scooped them up and put them in my Tahoe.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “These are really passive aggressive,” Tanya repeated. “Really shitty.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> “Thank-you,” I said and hugged her.</span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-77346315728047368592018-08-25T08:48:00.000-05:002018-08-25T08:50:35.409-05:00Finesse Things--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt<style type="text/css">
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<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Monday, June 10</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s2"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “</span><span class="s1">………..aaaarrrgghhh…..just saw this ……” Bling-Bling emailed.</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s3"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “</span><span class="s1">Well it (sic) too late …on the Announcement (sic)….I waited until I talked with you and put out a bunch…..at 10 yesterday.</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s3"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “</span><span class="s1">The flier only promoted YOU and it did not have a coupon or info on how to buy the book……… I am actually at my office and have apt …in a bit….I have several thoughts running through my mind.</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s3"> “</span><span class="s1">#1 is that a lot of people have come to recovery because of your shared story………I would be glad to humble myself in front of the BIG group you will have and take responsibility for the……..PROMOTIONAL….announcement……… I don’t know what to else to say……..can we talk?”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> My phone rang and it was Bling-Bling. “You okayed the flier Saturday night so I put it out Sunday.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “No,” I said. “You put it out Saturday morning well before we spoke that night. And I didn’t okay it.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I didn’t put it out until Sunday.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “You told me Saturday night that you’d put the fliers out that morning, made an announcement, and specifically left fliers for the weekend women’s meetings. I never okayed it.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Well it’s too late now. I’ll make an announcement before you speak. I can finesse things. I’m great at that.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I pictured Bling-Bling with his thick pompador, gold chains swinging, arms flying, finessing things.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “No,” I said. “You have time to find someone else.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “It’ll be fine Brenda. I will finesse this thing. Don’t worry about it.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’m giving you plenty of time to lineup someone else. I’m not speaking.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I do a lot for the clubhouse,” Bling-Bling said. “I’ve taken on a lot of responsibility over there that takes away from my business. I don’t have time for this. Do you know the history of the Sunday meeting, why I took it over?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Yes.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “So you know a lot of women had a problem with what was going on, and you’ve helped a lot of women. You will help a lot of women.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’m sorry you’re in this position, but you need to get someone else to speak.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Tanya called. “Those fliers were everywhere this morning. I think I got them all.” She started laughing. “There was a typo. Maybe I won’t tell you what it is. See if you spot it.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Just tell me.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Okay. I’ll read it. ‘Excerpt from Brenda Wilhelmson’s memoir, “Diary of an Alcoholic Housewife.” Hear the real story,’ and he spelled story wrong.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I groaned.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Yeah, there’s more. ‘Our own Brenda W. Bring a friend.’ Then there’s a picture of the cover of your book and underneath are all these quotes. I’m not sure how or why he chose them.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Thanks for grabbing them.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “They’re really yucky. I’m saving them for you. They’re in my car. I’ll give them to you tomorrow.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Can’t wait.”</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I went back to my email and saw Bling-Bling had sent another.</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<br /></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s3"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “</span><span class="s1">I understand your position—an d (sic) you are right….we did not talk until Sat..pm….and I did announce that Dave was our speaker 6/9 and Brenda was speaking 6/16…at the 8;30 (sic) am Sat….my home group. </span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s3"> “</span><span class="s1">My apology….you had NOT given me permission to use an announcement!!”</span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "times new roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "times new roman";">Or fliers.</span></div>
<div class="p7">
<span class="s1"></span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-2484305596947537512018-08-22T09:15:00.000-05:002018-08-22T09:15:06.391-05:00Not Cool--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt
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<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Sunday, June 9</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> “I've been feeling very uncomfortable about the fliers,” I emailed Bling-Bling. “Promoting me is not cool. I'm just another drunk and I don't want any promotion. I know you want to boost attendance, but promoting me isn't the way to do it. Can we take away the fliers?”</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"> Tanya called and I told her, “I think I’m going to send Bling-Bling another email telling him I’m not going to speak at his meeting. I don’t feel good about it.”</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"> “I think that’s the right thing,” Tanya said.</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1"> “Are you going to the seven o’clock meeting tomorrow morning? Will you get rid of the fliers you see? I’d do it myself but I can’t make it.”</span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s1">“I’ll get rid of them for you.”</span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“I'm sorry to do this,” I emailed Bling-Bling, “but I've given it a lot of thought and I believe it's best I step down from speaking. My book was published two years ago and during that time I've gone to great lengths to keep my book and recovery meetings separate. If people want to talk to me about my book after meetings, fine. I'm sorry if this puts you in a tight spot, but not speaking is the right thing to do.”</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; text-indent: 36px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2" style="text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; text-indent: 36px;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; text-indent: 36px;">I felt better the moment I sent it.</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"></span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-52628576701068092462018-08-18T07:59:00.000-05:002018-08-18T07:59:28.637-05:00Bling-Bling--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt
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<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Tom and I got ready to drive into the city for the Printer’s Row Literary Festival where I’d post pictures and interviews from the Kabbalah Center’s bookstall on social media. As we were leaving, Serena texted and asked me to swing by a recovery meeting to okay fliers that Tony Bling-Bling printed promoting me as a speaker at one of his upcoming meetings. Uncomfortable about the fliers, I told her I couldn’t and asked Serena to get Bling-Bling to email me a copy of them. When Tom and I got home from the festival, Bling-Bling called saying he couldn’t email me the fliers.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’ll meet you at a meeting tomorrow and look at them,” I told him. “What do they say?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I copied the cover of your book, put some quotes on it, and said you were speaking. They’re out on the counter. I hung some up and left some for the women’s meetings.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “You distributed them already?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Yeah, they’re out. We need to get attendance up at that Sunday meeting.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “You should have shown me first,” I said angrily and hung up.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> I didn’t want Bling Bling promoting my book at recovery meetings. People don’t showcase their endeavors there. It wasn’t cool. Playboy Pete started that meeting years ago and used to deliver what amounted to a comedy act before presenting each week’s speaker. He’d drawn large crowds and the collection baskets brimmed with much-needed money. But Playboy Pete was recently asked to step down because he offended women with his dicey jokes and sexual innuendos. Bling-Bling had taken it over and attendance had dropped. Bling-Bling’s ego took a hit, and now he’s put me in a bad spot.</span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-72679797103448280062018-08-14T07:31:00.000-05:002018-08-14T07:31:38.298-05:00Messed Up--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt
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<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Thursday, June 6</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I refinanced my house. Yippee! I own my house—me and the bank. I left the bank feeling elated, relieved, but by the time I got home, sadness had moved in. Sadness about what could have been—a happy family living in that house. I want to love someone. I want to be loved. But you never really know another person, do you? It’s hard enough to know yourself. I’m far too messed up to be in a relationship now. I’m so messed up.</span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-82824210041800074492018-08-11T07:45:00.000-05:002018-08-11T07:45:26.569-05:00Smoke--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt
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<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Tuesday, June 4<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I woke up feeling sad. Sad because I’m craving sex to feel desirable and loved—and it’s not a good indicator of either. Ever since my marriage blew up, it’s been full on.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> I got up and pulled weeds in the master gardener demo garden. It felt good to be outside, in the sunshine, volunteering. I taught yoga. I took Tom to his guitar lesson. While I waited for Tom, I bummed a smoke off of a guitar teacher because I’d just thrown away the pack of cigarettes I bought. I don’t want to start smoking again. But that cigarette was damn good.</span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-15932619148012340892018-08-07T11:14:00.000-05:002018-08-07T11:14:56.952-05:00Soulmate--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt<style type="text/css">
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<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Monday, June 3</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Yosef explained a window in time Kabbalists say is supercharged with soulmate-finding power. It begins at sundown tonight and ends at sundown tomorrow. He’d emailed details before we spoke.</span></div>
<div class="p3">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s2"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span"></span> “</i></span><span class="s1"><i>Who needs dating websites, secret love potions, and marriage counselors when you’ve got a kabbalist who is the chariot for soulmate energy?<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span"></span> “Known as the ‘soulmate’ kabbalist, Yonatan Ben Uziel swore before he passed away that whoever will connect to his consciousness, gain affinity, and ask for his help will get his/her soulmate/soulmate energy in that year. The day that Yonatan Ben Uziel left the physical world takes place this year on Monday night June 3</i></span><span class="s3"><i><sup>rd</sup></i></span><span class="s1"><i> until Tuesday June 4</i></span><span class="s3"><i><sup>th</sup></i></span><span class="s1"><i> at sunset.</i></span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s2"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span"></span> “</i></span><span class="s1"><i>Yonatan Ben Uziel never got married, thinking instead that he’s (sic) married to the spiritual studies, and only shortly before he passed away he realized that you cannot do the 100% spiritual work without a partner, and therefore committed to be the chariot for that energy. It is said about him that his energy was so powerful, that if a bird would fly above his head at the time he studies or shares (sic) Kabbalah, the bird would spontaneously combust…</i></span></div>
<div class="p4">
<span class="s2"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span"></span> “</i></span><span class="s1"><i>Asking for his support on that day can give us the energy we need for a complete unification, offering balanced cosmic support that is perfect for discovering soulmates and strengthening relationships.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span"></span> “In order to awaken this power and bring the harmony and love into YOUR life, I wanted to share with you this email along with my invitation for you to use the tools below:</i></span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"><i> - Scan from the Zohar – the portion of Lech-Lecha, volume 3 in the English Zohar, verses 346- 356, and the portion of Terumah, volume 11, verses 86-805, sending this Light to people whom you know need that energy.</i></span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s4"><i> - </i></span><span class="s1"><i>Meditate on the name #28 from the 72 Names of God to draw more soulmate energy (</i><b><i>the picture attached is the place of burial of Rav Yonatan Ben Uziel. This place is the gate to connect to that energy</i></b><i>.)</i><b><i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></b></span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"><i> - Think (and I invite you to act on it as well) how can you bring more Light and Kabbalah to someone else (the energy of Soulmates comes to you every time you think out of yourself). There is someone out there (that you might already know - and love) that needs this Light through the Zohar, the Living Kabbalah System, and other tools that can be for you the key to unlock your soulmate energy/bring more soulmate energy to your current relationship through caring and sharing, while you are the only channel for that person to connect.</i></span></div>
<div class="p5">
<span class="s1"><i> - In addition, this is a very powerful day for actions of sharing, to draw down the energy of soulmates. If you’d like to know more about it as well as doing a meditation along with the action of sharing, email or call me so we can schedule a time.</i></span></div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “This is a powerful window,” Yosef explained. “At sunset, light a candle and let it burn for twenty-four hours. Candles connect the physical with the spiritual. They draw positive energy into life. Mention the name of the rav when you light it and look at pictures of his burial site. You will transcend to this place. Meditate and fly there after you light the candle.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Write down, refine, and understand your desire for a soulmate, who that person is. You should complete each other’s journeys in this lifetime. You want someone with whom you can grow spiritually, greater, shine on each other and others. You want something really meaningful with a lot of energy to fulfill you, him, and others. Write it down. This is what I want. Be exact, accurate, and very focused on what you want. The sooner you do it, the better. When you write down something, you manifest it from the upper to lower realm.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Scan the special sections of the Zohar for half an hour to an hour during this twenty-four hour period. Scanning is more powerful after midnight, between one and four a.m. Set your alarm and wake up. Wash your hands and face and sit down, not in bed. Go next to the candle and scan the Zohar there. Make it a special moment.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Meditate on the number twenty-eight name of God. Don’t be done with this after the twenty-four hours is up. Invest a lot of time and energy doing this until you find the guy. Use it again and again.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “A special tool for blessing and sustenance is charity. Charity is the number one tool that can give you a totally new movie. You should give something that is beyond what you have—illogical giving—and it should be done with a lot of happiness and love. If you can give charity during this twenty-four hour period, you will get a huge benefit.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “When I get into something, I’m all in,” Yosef continued. “When I started studying Kabbalah, I took out my savings, sold my car, and gave it all to the Zohar Project through the Kabbalah Center. The place you give should be where you expect to get transformations in your life. There is a specific meditation to do when you give charity. It’s the most powerful tool of all. The meditation is done with a teacher. Let me know if you want to do this.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Keep using your tools. Heighten your desire. Work with a lot of restriction. Restriction, restriction, restriction. Restrict your tendencies to want to receive for the self alone. Work with the light. ‘If this person is good for me, make the connection stronger. If he’s not, take him away.’ The right person should feel perfect on every dimension: physical, spiritual, and emotional.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> So, the Kabbalah Center wants me to give it an amount of money that’s uncomfortable to give. I’m uncomfortable alright. I began looking at pictures of the rav’s gravesite, placed a large candle on my bedroom dresser, pulled the recommended Zohar volume off my bookshelf, put everything in place for sunset, and left to meet Kari for dinner.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Kari and I’ve know each other for years through recovery, but neither of us showed an interest in hanging out with each other. I was surprised when she invited me to dinner and curiously accepted. I walked into the steakhouse and, minutes later, Kari swished in on stiletto heels and halted in front of me.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Come for a ride with me,” she said coquettishly. “We’ll come right back. I have to drop my son at an eighth-grade graduation party and we’re late.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I followed her out. Kari’s son was sitting in the front seat.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Get in back,” Kari told him. “This is Brenda.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Her son and I said hello and he got in the backseat. One minute later, Kari pulled in front of a restaurant doors down from the steakhouse. It made no sense that she didn’t drop him off first. Maybe she wanted me to see her new BMW?</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> On our minute-long drive back I said, “I was surprised you invited me to dinner. What’s up?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “You published a book,” she said. “I haven’t read your book, sorry, but I want to pick your brain because I’m interested in helping two of my friends co-write and publish a book. Dinner is on me.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> We were seated. I ordered salmon and black bean soup. Kari ordered the same.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I’m a very smart business woman,” Kari purred, lowering her head and fixing me with kittenish eyes. “My ex had the technical end, but I had all the business savvy. He made software and I made it big. So I can make this book big, but I don’t know anything about publishing.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “You want to self publish?” I asked.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Kari nodded.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Hazelden published ‘Diary of an Alcoholic Housewife.’ I didn’t self publish.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Oh,” Kari said, taken aback.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I can direct you to self-publishing vehicles. You know it’s a hard way to make a buck, right?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Oh, this book is going to be big,” Kari said, looking at me seductively. “Two sexy southern society friends of mine married and divorced the same man. Everyone’s going to want to interview them.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Have you read their book? Is it good?”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “They haven’t actually written it. They keep talking about it and arguing about it. But they have a great story. They don’t need to write well. An editor will pull it together for them.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Good luck with that,” I laughed. “If you want to self publish, you’re going to have to hire someone to rewrite it, edit it, design it, lay it out in e-book and print formats, promote it. I can give you recommendations once you have something to work with.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Kari nodded distractedly.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Have you and Kat patched things up?” I asked.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Kari stopped speaking to Kat a year ago. Kat accused her of slutty behavior, a drug and alcohol relapse, and had gossiped these judgements to others. I knew about it because Kat called me frantically talking in circles attempting to justify her actions. Recently, Kat said she and Kari were friends again.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I see her here and there,” Kari said flatly.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I told Kari how things went when Kat was at my house.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Kat’s just crazy,” Kari said. “She’s had run-ins with everyone. Being with Kat is like hearing the doorbell ring, opening the door, and getting punched in the face.” Kari and I laughed hard.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Kat has helped me see things I wouldn’t have otherwise seen,” I said. “I’ve purposely consulted her wanting her blunt unpolished viewpoints. But she’s a know-it-all. And I don’t like how she gossips and psychoanalyzes people.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Like we’re doing now?” Kari asked.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “No, I’m not speculating on her motives, judging them, thinking I’ve got her nailed inside and out, like she does with me, my ex, my friends. She talked about Kent, made horrible judgements about him.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Kari curled up in the booth, tucked her chin to her chest, and batted her eyes at me. “Kent has said some things to me. He’s gone to strip clubs. I don’t know if you consider that cheating on your wife or not, but believe me, the comments he’s made, the way he looks at me, if I gave him the green light, he’d sleep with me. Any guy would. They’re all the same. I’ve tested it.” Kari tilted her head toward the bar. “You and I could walk into that bar and get any guy to leave with us. I’ve done it just to see.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I stared at Kari.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Being divorced isn’t fun Brenda,” Kari said. “I’ve been at it for seven years. It’s depressing and lonely. You find someone, think there’s something there, but after six to eight months it falls apart. That’s the timeline. I’m not going to date anyone exclusively anymore, take myself off the market. It’s a waste.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> I drove home feeling depressed. The sun had set half an hour ago and I’d missed the precise time I was supposed to light the soulmate candle and meditate. I went upstairs to my bedroom, lit the candle, beckoned the rav, meditated on his gravesite pictures, and asked him to connect Angie, Jody, Sharon, Lila, Golf Guy, Paul, and me to our soulmates. I want Golf Guy removed. Then I sat down and made a list of what I want in a man.</span><br />
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A man I love deeply who loves me deeply.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A man I bond with on a soul level.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A man who expands me, makes me better, and I do that for him.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A man who deepens my spiritual connection and I deepen his.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A man I light up around who lights up around me.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A man I sexually desire who sexually desires me.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A man who is full of joy and light.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A partner who will spread great amounts of light, joy, and fulfillment with me.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A man I laugh with.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A man who is faithful, honest, loyal, and trustworthy.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A man who would never purposely hurt me.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A man who is handsome.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A man who is financially wealthy. (Feeling shame here but don’t want to.)</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A man who is humble, kind, compassionate, empathetic.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A man who is smart, savvy, wise.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A man I respect.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A man who loves God.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A man who will help me complete what I’m here to do, and I do that for him.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A man who is genuine, real, authentic.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> —A man who is a partner, an equal.</span><br />
—A man God picks for me.</div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-87508086501597590892018-08-04T07:32:00.002-05:002018-08-04T07:35:12.179-05:00Maybe--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt<style type="text/css">
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<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Sunday, June 2</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Sonia gave me the artwork I'd had her frame at breakfast.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “How are things with Golf Guy?” she asked.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Eh. He gave me a couple of golf lessons. I took him to dinner to thank him. He kissed me in the parking lot and texted later that he liked kissing me. He asked if I wanted to see him again, I said yes, and nothing since. He sends texts like, ‘How was your day?’ That’s about it. I feel strung along, toyed with.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Sonia nodded grimly. “You don’t need any of that. Those golf pros are notorious. After everything you’ve been through, stay away from that Brenda.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “On the other hand, he’s been a perfect gentleman. He kissed in a nice way. No dirty innuendos. I don’t know. He’s done nothing. But that’s the problem, he’s done nothing.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="Apple-converted-space" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">“Well then, say maybe. I’ve learned maybe is a really good word. You don’t have to decide or make up your mind about anything. You can just leave it hang and say maybe.”</span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1330662712438028369.post-428972247340017692018-07-31T07:52:00.000-05:002018-07-31T07:52:05.222-05:00Like A Turtle--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt
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<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Friday, May 31</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> My next-door neighbors of sixteen years put their house up for sale today. They bought a farm in Wisconsin a few years ago, built a house, and today the for-sale sign went up. I wanted to cry. As I stared at their sign from my window, Judy called and asked if I wanted her horse magazines. She’d been subscribing for years, hoping to get a horse once they moved. A few minutes later, Judy was on my front porch with a stack of “Horse and Rider.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Dennis told me about JB,” Judy said solemnly as I opened the door.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> Judy’s husband and I had been gardening and I told Dennis that JB and I were divorcing.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I read your book,” she said. “You’ve been through a lot. Changed a lot.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I have.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “When I was in my yard and JB was in yours, I’d wave and he’d duck his head like a turtle. He wouldn’t say anything.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “He did that to you? I’ve seen that move of his. Ugh. Please don’t take it personally. It’s just him.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Sully and Sammy were running up and down your side of the fence barking at Ernie and Ernie was running with them. I like that Ernie gets exercise that way.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “I like it, too.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Sully stepped on Sammy and made him cry. JB came flying out of the house with an angry look on his face and demanded, ‘What happened to my dog?’ like I kicked Sammy or something. I told JB Sully stepped on Sammy, and JB walked back into the house with his tail between his legs.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “Other people have been telling me JB’s wasn’t nice to them, too. I’m just glad he’s gone.” I gave Judy a tearful hug. “I’m sad you and Dennis are leaving. You’re wonderful neighbors.”</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> My phone dinged as Judy was leaving.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"> “How are you?” Golf Guy texted.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> I didn’t answer.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span></div>
<br />Brenda Wilhelmsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454337521300729929noreply@blogger.com0