While Everyone Else is Crying Today ...

... I am celebrating.

Yes, because it is September 11. But not because of September 11, 2001. No, you see, on September 11, 2000, I was divorced. A full 365 before September 11 took on much of any significance for anyone (well, unless you care about Chilean politics and the assassination of Salvador Allende), the best day of my life occurred.

Eight years ago, I became legally free of the Asshole. Sure, it was partly my fault: I shouldn't have married him. I was impetuous. But mostly, the man was a jerk. (Keep that in mind, all those of you who find it hard to break up with your whatever. It's not that hard. You just do it. I got a lawyer. I fought for two years. I lost a house and money. I got in knock-down, drag-out fights. I had all my wedding pictures broken on my bed -- you try to sleep on a bed of broken glass. And it was still the best thing I did. And it was still not that hard. I haven't run a marathon, but I got a divorce.)

Not only was it my anniversary, but I also got paid today! For the first time a couple of months, I got a paycheck! And, since I've been working at this district since early August (yes, it's now mid September), a paycheck is a good thing. (It's amazing that schools think it's OK to start the school-year in August but not pay new teachers until the END of September. If I hadn't done my extra (stupid) five days of meetings, I wouldn't have gotten this paycheck at all.)

So, I went out to dinner. Mich reminded me of the brewpub in town. (How can I --I-- forget about a brewpub? Well, I don't get out much anymore.) So I went and bought the steak special. It had everything a girl could want: sauteed spinach, mashed potatoes, bacon-wrapped steak, onion rings. Mmmmm.... Onion rings.... gleuuuuuuu. (That's the sound drool makes, if you don't know.) And, they were out of the IPA *sob* so I had the Pale. Still not bad. The food had oo much salt, too much oil, and not enough pepper (of course, I think that about just about everything I eat). I'll even go so far to say the potatoes had too much garlic -- I believe mashed potatoes should always retain some potato flavor, not be a mere vehicle for aromatics. But the onion rings (which should be salty and fatty) were almost perfect. I could have eaten an entire basket, and not just the handful on the plate (which I could do anyway, even with the bad ones). They were thin-cut, like the shoestring fries of the onion ring world, but with a well-seasoned, flaky batter. Not stupid, thick batter. They tasted like onion. (To be perfect, they would not be shoe-string, they'd be fat.)

And I chatted with the folks at the bar. Man, can I pick up an old man, or what? (Not to take home, ewww.) But me and old men? We can have some conversations. These particular barmates were supportive of my career. It's fun to toss out the teacher-card, you know?

As if this evening weren't enough. When I got home, there was a note from UPS. They'd left me a package. Me? A package? From whom? Why? Mr. Maybe sent me a present! It's now my favorite t-shirt: English doesn't borrow from other languages. English follows other languages down dark alley, knocks them over and goes through their pockets for loose grammar. It's hanging on my chair so I can look at it and giggle.

Sorry this blog is a bit parenthetical. I blame the beer.

(P.S. Why are divorces so expensive?


-- scroll down for answer --















Because they're worth it!

Thanks to Wait! Wait! Don't Tell Me: The NPR News Quiz for the joke.)