YOU AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A HOUND DOG?

Gentle Readers,

Since the photo I have posted of myself is that of a hound dog, I'd like to tell you about said dog.

I was working at a small town newspaper and I saw a photo of a hound dog in the news room. The photo haunted me. Those eyes. So intense. So full of suffering.

Then I read the article that went with the photo. I read it on the news room computer before it was in the paper.

This dog had lived in the woods near a particular neighborhood for more than a year. People in the neighborhood put food out for him and tried to catch him. Nobody could grasp this phantom. He got thinner and thinner. Then the animal control officer learned he was dragging around a leg trap in the snow. She told the police that if they could, they should shoot him to put him out of his misery.

But spring came and the dog was still alive and the trap was gone.

A man's little girl came running into the house, shouting "Daddy Daddy There's a dog outside and it's stuck on our dog."

The man grabbed the hound dog as soon as he had finished his love making - the dog, not the man. The dog was humping the man's female dog. Have I made it clear enough just in case you didn't get what the little girl was talking about when she said the dogs were stuck together?

Then the man took the dog to the humane society, the animal control officer put him in a pen, went in the pen with him, hugged him and cried.

The minute I got off work that day I went to the humane society and applied to adopt that dog.

As soon as my application was approved, I picked him up and he owned me until the day he died. He still owns my love.

After his picture ran in the paper, a woman who said she was a dog show judge went to the humane society and told them he was a pure bred Treeing Walker Coonhound. She said that if they looked him over they would find a breeder's tattoo on him and the breeder would want him back.

So they didn't look. They knew we belonged together.

But my husband and kids and I looked him over. He did indeed have a tattoo inside one ear. Our guess was that he had been a hunting dog left for dead. He had been shot and blinded in one eye and had buck shot scars on his face and body.

He had chewed three toes off one hind foot to get rid of the leg trap and walked with a limp for the rest of his life.

But he lived the good life with us. Liked to sleep on the family room floor in a sun beam. Would sit next to my husband for hours of petting. During the winter, his foot and his old bones ached. He would get in bed with me and settle himself down on the electric blanket for comfort. When my husband would try to get in the bed, he would growl at my husband. Only time he ever growled. Smart dog.

He seemed to be a Zen master, contemplating, meditating, stoic. He never bit. Occasionally he stepped on somebody's foot on his way out the door and by God when that dog stepped on your foot it stayed stepped on. He was a massive dog.

At first he tried some Houdini-like escapes. The first night he was with us, we went to a child's sporting event. He was in a crate, a nice big one with plenty of room. I said, "Wouldn't it be hilarious if we opened the garage door and he was waiting for us?"

Well, he wasn't in the garage, but he was right inside the family room when we went in the house although the crate was upstairs in a bedroom. He had pushed the front edge of the top off the crate and in spite of his size squeezed out through the tiny opening to meet us at the door.

That dog was not going to be penned in.

Then the next night - almost a disaster. My husband came home from work and forgot we had a new dog who might be out in the fenced-in yard that the dogs entered through the garage. He opened the garage door and there went the dog. He saw his chance and he took it.

My husband said, I'll take the car and go look for him. I put my collie on a lead and told him to find his new brother. My collie took off immediately and pulled me through neighbor's back yards until we saw the hound. I was exhausted. I let go of the lead and said, Go stand over him until I can grab his collar. The collie did, and the hound dog went back home with us without any fuss or bother.

We always kept a careful eye on him in case of escape attempts. Several months later he got out the door and took off down the driveway. I called his name and said, Come. He came. Just like that. He turned around and came back home. He knew who buttered his bread.

A few years later we moved to a house in the country. We had a very large back yard, wood fence. There was a pond up the road a bit.

Periodically, he would chew through a board in the fence, squeeze out, and go swimming in the pond. Then he would come back and my husband would put a new board in the fence. We ended up with about ten new boards standing with the old weathered boards.

And then one night when my husband was out of town, the dogs went out before bed and when I called them in, the hound dog just looked at me. He didn't seem to know how to come in the house.

I went out and led him in.

I knew. I knew it was the end.

I didn't take him to the emergency clinic to be poked and prodded. I had some doggie sedatives and I gave him one along with some medicine in case his stomach was just upset. It was protruding a bit, and maybe there would be a miracle and he would wake up in the morning and he would be o.k.

No. At 3 a.m. the collie sounded his emergency bark. I knew the hound was dead.

Some very kind men who worked with my husband came out as soon as they knew I needed them and they buried him under the tree in the back yard where he liked to sleep. I called it his napping tree. He sleeps there still. Sleeps the sleep of the dead.

I go to bed at night and after all these years - how many has it been? five? - I miss him still.

I still have the very intelligent and now elderly, deaf collie. Scroll down on my message center to see his photo at the bottom of the page. A photo taken in better days when he was younger and stronger and could hear and didn't have crippling arthritis.

I think he's a pretty happy dog in spite of the pitfalls that come with advanced age. He sleeps peacefully on the couch most of the day, undisturbed because he can't hear. Sometimes he limps out to the deck to sleep in the sun.

He is so beautiful. They all are.

Ain't nothin' but a hound dog? Ha! Ridiculoso.

Love,

Dumped First Wife

HERE IN COUGARVILLE

Gentle Readers, and Dirrrty Readers,

I want to be a cougar.

I want to be a serious cougar.

I want to be like Samantha on Sex and the City.

I will find my young man, have my way with him, and then say, "Shoo! Shoo! I want to read now. I'll call you when I need you."

I bring experience to the table and absolutely no danger of pregnancy.

And since the photo I have posted of myself, Lola, is that of a hound dog I knew and loved you have absolutely no idea what a fun
sexy
dirty
bitch
I can be.

Oh, don't you hope you'll be the one to find out? Males only, however. Young, sexy, males. Small butt. Nice muscles. Polite. Not selfish. Not too full of yourself. Must love dogs.

Oh yeah, I wanna be a cougar.

Big Time.

Love,

Dumped First Wife

A BITTERSWEET OLYMPIC REMINISCENCE

Greetings Gentle Readers,

Do you remember when it seemed as if Dan Jansen would just never win an Olympic medal in speedskating?

It took him four Olympics and it came down to his very last race before he achieved victory.

Jansen first became an Olympian in 1984 and came in fourth in the 500 meters, only .16 seconds away from a bronze medal.

Then life dealt him a really cruel hand in 1988. He knew that his sister Jane was dying of leukemia, and the morning of the 500 meters, he learned Jane had died. He tried to compete in the 500 meters that night and fell. A few days later he raced in the 1,000 meters and started out with a world record time.

He fell.

1992: No medals.

1994: His final Olympics. No medal in the 500 but at long last, he won gold in the 1,000 and set a world record.

Whew! What a relief. He skated a victory lap holding his little girl, Jane, and when he received the gold medal, Jansen looked to the heavens and said, "This is for you Jane. I love you."

Some other great athletes were not so lucky. An Olympic gold medal always eluded figure skater Michelle Kwan, who won every other title on Earth. She had to settle for silver when little Tara Lipinsky suddenly shot to Olympic fame.

Sometimes gold isn't in the cards.

But I sure was relieved when Dan Jansen finally won.

Love,

Dumped First Wife

Unfortunately, after his win, Dan Jansen became an Olympian dumper, leaving his wife, Robin. They had two children. I sense a pattern here. I've noticed that a number of men achieve their career goals or recover from debilitating illnesses and then they are ready to leave their most loyal supporters, their wives, behind. Is the wife a reminder of the past? Is it too painful for some men to admit how much they owe their wives? Hmmmm. I'll have to think about this one some more.

TRAPPED IN A DREAM

Gentle Readers,

Have you ever been trapped in a dream and you knew you were trapped but you couldn't escape the dream and wake up?

It's happened to me a number of times, and it happened again this morning. I was in this dream and I was struggling to wake up and the dream wouldn't let me go. I even knew I was in my bed, dreaming, with two of my dogs around me and I still couldn't get out of the dream.

I was in my mother's house. She's been dead for quite some time and it wasn't the house where she was living when she died. It was the house before that. My sister and her daughter were there.

The daughter was playing with Barbie dolls, but then somehow she was an adult and we were looking at pictures of her preparing for her wedding. "She was going to get married to him, you know," my mother said. She did marry that person, but in the dream she had changed her mind and there wasn't going to be a wedding.

Them I was asleep in a bedroom in my mother's house but the house didn't look the same anymore. Two televisions had been turned on in the room, each playing a different show. I wanted so badly to wake up, both in the dream and from the dream, and I could not get away from those television shows.

Finally I awoke in the dream and turned off the televisions. Then I thought, I have to stop fighting this dream and just let myself sleep until I wake up.

I felt more relaxed, and finally, finally, I woke up to reality. The sun is shining. The dogs went out to bark at the dog who lives behind us.

It is day.

Love,

Dumped First Wife

PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN

Gentle Readers,

I kinda ran out of gas today. It's been a hard week, and I was feeling pretty sad.

But then I went back to Vancouver.

How about them Americans?

Six medals on Wednesday - three of them gold. The most medals the U.S. has ever won in a single day in the Winter Games.

And now I really have to gloat.

Yevgeny Plushenko, who won gold in men's figure skating in Torino, came out of a 3 1/2 year retirement because he wanted to win back to back golds like American Dick Button in 1948 and 1952.

Plushenko thought he was The Shit. God's gift to figure skating. In first place after the short program, but if he didn't notice how good reigning World Champion American Evan Lysacek was, then he wasn't paying attention. Maybe Plushenko was too busy admiring himself in the mirror.

Lysacek was in second place after the short program and not far behind Plushenko at all. For me, it was almost like the Cold War was back.

Then Thursday night, it was Lysacek standing on the center podium while The Star Spangled Banner played. I sang along although my favorite younger man said, "That's about enough of that" when I got to the high notes. But I didn't quit. I was too proud. I said, "I'm just not warmed up" and kept on singing.

Lysacek is the first American to win Olympic gold in men's figure skating since the great Brian Boitano in 1988.

Yes, Plushenko is a jumping machine, but he's really not much else. He still got his silver and he now has three Olympic medals, quite a rarity in figure skating.

But Lysacek had it all - the jumps, the grace, the spins, the foot work, the perfect choreography.

Take a look and learn what a true champ looks like Plushenko.

Evan Lysacek, I am so proud of you.

And kudos to Johnny Weir, who took sixth place, and did it his way. A lovely program.

Love,

Dumped First Wife

OH CANADA

Greetings from Vancouver, Gentle Readers!

O.K. I'm not there in body, but in spirit - you bet! I am lovin' the Winter Olympics in Vancouver, British Columbia.

If you've never been to British Columbia and you have the opportunity to travel there, then by all means, go go go! I have visited Vancouver and Victoria more than once and loved it every time. Beautiful parks, amazing gardens, nice restaurants, great shopping, lovely scenery, and I have never met an unfriendly Canadian.

I have been in love with the Winter Olympics for quite some time. I prefer them to the summer games. Maybe it's because they seem a bit smaller and more intimate to me and I just like looking at people who are capable of sliding around on the ice and the snow more than I do people running around a dry track in circles.

My first Winter Olympics memory - and I was scarcely more than a toddler - is of Peggy Fleming skating at the 1968 Winter Games in Grenoble, France. She brought home the only gold won by the U.S. during those games.

There she was in her sweet little green costume that her mom sewed for her. Peggy epitomized beauty and grace. I was in love.

We weren't a family that gathered around the television to watch the games so I'm surprised that I even got to see Peggy. But I got a great gift from God that year.

I happened to be alone in our living room with the barely watchable black and white TV. I'm amazed we got the right channel because most of the time we only got one. That night I saw Peggy skate to gold, all by myself, in peace and quiet - something that was rare in our house.

Many, many years later my husband and I went to a tour of champions ice show and Peggy performed. She didn't do the big jumps like the Mexican jumping bean kids, but she was still just as beautiful and graceful, and I would guess she was 40+ years old.

All Peggy had to do was pose on the ice wearing her skates and she represented perfection.

Then in Innsbruck, Austria, in 1976, who didn't love Dorothy Hamill? That cute hair cut, the Hamill Camel, and she was kinda sensitive. She was known for rushing off in tears occasionally. Well if she cried the night of the long program, they must have been tears of joy. Gold for Dorothy!

And how about the 1980 Olympics in Lake Placid? We watched with our first child inside of me. MIRACLE ON ICE! The only time I've ever been fascinated by ice hockey. And don't forget Eric Heiden and his five gold medals in speedskating. Man, that guy had some legs on him.

I have also enjoyed some men's figure skating. Scott Hamilton comes immediately to mind. He won gold in Sarajevo, Yugoslavia, in 1984. How sad it is now to see the ruins of the Olympic sites there.

We also saw Scott skate in Stars on Ice, which our children were old enough to attend. He did his famous back flip, but I think the most exciting moment of the night came after all the stars were introduced and did their opening number.

The 1992 games in Albertville, France, had just been held.

The arena went dark.

I saw a young man on the ice through the darkness. His presence had not been announced, but I immediately knew who it was. I whispered to my son, "It's Paul Wylie."

And then Scott Hamilton introduced Paul and the crowd went wild.

Paul was a great favorite of ours who just never seemed to quite make it. He was a close but no cigar kind of skater. In fact, he had skated so poorly prior to the Olympics that some silly people questioned his presence on the team.

But we knew he could do it. Paul, we had faith in you. Paul went to Albertville and in a stunning upset won the silver medal. We were so proud.

Well, I could go on and on and maybe I will in another post, but that's enough reminiscing for today. Don't tell me who won medals last night. I record the games with my close personal friend DVR and then watch them the next evening so I don't have to put up with commercials.

I do have some questions though.

Why are most male figure skaters said to reach their peak at 25 - 26 years of age, while the "women" so often look like little kids barely out of diapers? Remember Tara Lipinsky?

And when in the hell are you people - and you know who you are - going to stop reminding Lindsey Jacobellis and the rest of the world that she ONLY won silver in snowboard cross during the 2006 games in Torino? Quitcher dumping on Lindsey.

Let
It
Go

And why is Bode Miller named Bode? Is it his real name? Is it a nickname? And if you are Bode's parents, what in hell led you to name him Bode?

Just curious.

Keep up the great work Canada.

Love,

Dumped First Wife

OLYMPIAN DUMPER

Gentle Readers,

For a couple of days I have been promising to write about the Olympics, so let's get started tonight and get the bad guy out of the way.

Tomorrow I'll try to move on to all the great things I love about the Olympics.

O.K. He won the gold medal in the decathalon at the 1976 Summer Olympics in Montreal.

NAME THAT DUMPER!
















If you said Bruce Jenner, you got it baby.

Brucie's first wife supported him while he was in college, kept him focused, and allowed him to win that gold medal. He paid her back by dumping her.

When Bruce got back from Montreal, he looked like Mr. Clean Cut All American Boy and he was on the Wheaties box. He was also on quite a few TV talk shows and I remember him saying that he left his wife - I believe while she was pregnant with their second child, or at best, it was quite soon after the child was born.

Although I was extremely young when this occurred, barely past the fetus stage, I remember thinking, What a jerk.

He remarried, very quickly, snatching a former Elvis girlfriend and having a couple more kids with her.

They divorced.

Now he's the dad of two more with Wife #3 and stepdad to the Kardashians on the reality show Keeping Up With the Kardashians, something I have never bothered to watch. Surprise Surprise

He's been on lots of schlocky TV shows and had a ton of plastic surgery. Then he had to have plastic surgery to try to repair the plastic surgery.

He just looks like a stupid old man dumper to me.

Love to you but not to Bruce Jenner,

Dumped First Wife

When I took Chem 101 in college, our instructor mentioned that Bruce Jenner was the student teacher in his high school gym class. Obviously it was while B.J. was in college and training for the Olympics, and while he was being supported by Wife #1. The instructor said that Bruce Jenner was the biggest bastard he'd ever met - and this was before he won gold. He was already preparing to enter major jerkdom, or maybe he'd been there his entire life.

DIVORCE SURROGATE

Gentle Readers,

Recently I requested a substitute to go through my divorce for me. She would make copies, deal with the lawyers, cry, mourn the loss of my marriage, etc.

Well, a true friend has come through with an offer.

She says, "I will be your stand in for the divorce. I could take out all of my frustration for my boyfriend on your husband without the nagging emotional baggage!! Boy he would be begging for a replacement."

Now that's a true friend.

Love,

Dumped First Wife

LAWYERS AND PC REPAIR PEOPLE

When I got my computer back from the repair place yesterday, the guy who fixed it showed me where my documents are.

BUT HE DIDN'T BOTHER TO TELL ME I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO OPEN THEM because my Microsoft Office is gone.

My husband sent me a nasty email this morning saying that if I don't cooperate and send in my Affidavit of Income and Expenses that the judge will order my house be sold.

Today I filled out my fourth Affidavit of Income and Expenses.

The first one went to my original lawyer, who claimed it never arrived.

I filled out another one.

It arrived, but the lawyer couldn't trouble herself with filing it. When I did what my husband told me to do with the lawyer, she got mad and quit.

When will I learn not to listen to that asshole?

When the old lawyer gave my file to the new lawyer I had to hire in another state, over the telephone, guess what? No Affidavit.

I had to call the old lawyer's assistant and ask her to give the Affidavit to the new lawyer. The assistant said, "Oh, we never followed through on that, remember?"

Yes, I remembered, and I did not scream at her. I asked her to give the Affidavit to the new lawyer, which she did.

New lawyer sends me the affidavit and wants it done again, with his questions answered and some corrections made. I do it and call to make sure he receives it.

Yes, Ms. Secretary says, We received it.

This past Saturday, I receive a letter from the lawyer. You never sent us the Affidavit I requested.

Yes I did. Your secretary said it arrived.

It must have been misfiled and so much time has gone by that you really should do another one anyway.

So today I fill out my fourth affidavit while frantically trying to access the financial information that was on the computer in the files that can no longer be opened.

Therefore, I am assigning lawyers and PC repair people to hell. If you are a lawyer or a PC repair person, you need to prove to me PDQ that you do not deserve to go there. Otherwise, I will use my mystical powers on you and yes, you will go straight to HELL.

Yea!

Gentle Readers,

At laaaaaaaast - my love is home at la-ast.

My PC is home and virus free. At first, the keyboard and mouse wouldn't work and sweet Lindsay told me to reboot. It worked!

Then I couldn't get online. Sweet Lori at Comcast reset my modem. It worked!

I wanted to write about the Olympics tonight, but I'm just too tired, so tomorrow is still another day Miss Scarlet.

If everything continues to work, we're going to have an Olympic discussion.

I'll also tell you about the wonderful person who took me up on my request for a substitute to deal with my divorce.

Love,

Dumped First Wife

DIVORCE BITES THE BIG ONE

Gentle Readers,

Today I had an "Oh My God I'm getting divorced and will it ever end" day.

Divorce, unless you've been married two minutes and have no community property, drags on forever.

The lawyer can't find my affidavit of income and expenses and I have to do another one. Why wasn't the first one filed months ago, and why oh why didn't I make a copy of it?

I still don't have my computer and some of the information I need for the affidavit is on the computer.

The lawyer has used up the entire retainer and already wants another $432 and my husband, who said he would pay my legal expenses, is balking at giving up more of his vast fortune. The richest people are the cheapest.

The lawyer also wants copies of all my medical records, so I have to write to all my doctors giving them permission to give the copies to the lawyer, then wait for them to tell me how much the copies cost so I can pay them and then they will send the copies to the lawyer.

I have already spent a small fortune copying documents for this damned stupid moronic divorce. It's so easy for my husband. He can make all the freaking copies he wants for free.

So, I have come up with a solution to my problems: Men used to hire substitutes to serve in the military for them. I want a sub to go through the rest of the divorce for me. I will hire her to deal with everything that needs doing, she can be miserable and cry for me, she can fight over money, and I will just relax.

Don't you think that's a good idea?

In the middle of my misery today, and oh by the way I did get the house super clean even though I had to stop from time to time to cry, I remembered something that happened a couple of weeks ago that made me laugh.

We couldn't let our dogs out in the fenced in back yard because one of the little devils, who weighs 80 pounds, broke one of the barriers that keep the dogs from going under the deck, then under the house, and trotting out to freedom.

So the dogs who are not trustworthy, and that's most of them, had to be walked around the front yard on a lead or be chained in the back yard. The 80 pounder who started all the trouble would not poop when he was chained or on the lead.

After a couple of days, obviously he was getting pretty desperate. My favorite younger man left his bedroom door open and Mr. 80 Pounds sneaked into the bedroom, hid behind the door, and took a gigantic dump.

I mean, really, you can imagine the poop that would come out of a dog that big who hadn't gone for a couple of days. I had to use the pooper scooper to clean it up.

Ah, well, that's life with dogs and divorce. Somebody's always takin' a shit on ya.

We used to have a blind dog. When we took him for a walk on a lead, which he handled very well in spite of not knowing where he was going, he did the most hilarious thing. When my husband would bend down to tie his shoe, the dog would pee on him - just the same as if he were a stop sign post.

I guess my husband didn't think it was as funny as I did. Toughski shitski, as the Russians say.

Tomorrow I might write about a famous Olympic dumper, and may God grant that my computer will be back with me.

Oh, and I thought of something I forgot to tell you about the L word yesterday.

In the romantic tradition, it was believed that love entered through the eyes. Thus the saying Love at first sight.

I have only experienced love at first sight with my children, my dogs and my favorite younger man's dogs.

Love,

Dumped First Wife

Tomorrow is another day, Miss Scarlet!

THE L WORD

Gentle Readers,

Today we celebrate the L word, and for those of you who were hoping for some girl on girl action, no, it's not lesbian.

It's LOVE! Remember - What the world needs now? What do you get when you fall in it?

I remember love. I remember my first serious love.

Yes, Gentle Readers, I will share with you, and only you, that I lost my virginity with my first serious love on this date in 19**.

We had been building up to it. I had a bit of a reputation, undeserved, for being a loose woman, easy, a slut. But I wasn't doin' it. I turned everybody down.

Until he came along.

The first time we were alone together, at night, in the dark, in a park, in my car, I felt desire like I had never felt it before. It was months before we did the deed, and the first time, even the second and third times, weren't so great.

But then - sky rockets in flight! Afternoon delight. Yeah, we did it after school.

That love and I moved on in different directions eventually. But oh, boy, do I remember him every year when Valentine's Day rolls around.

But that's enough sex - for now.

I saw "As You Like It" at the Folger in D.C. quite a few years ago. If you ever have a chance to see a play at the Folger, go, go, go!

In "As You Like It," Shakespeare takes the romantic tradition and the language of love and turns it on its head. He plays with love in his play.

Here's some more sex: In "As You Like It," wrestling is a metaphor for sex. There's an entire book, just about sex references in this play, and it's serious. It's a real critical discussion of the play.

Anyway, Orlando and Rosalind meet at a wrestling match and find themselves "overthrown" by love.

Before long, Orlando is out in the forest hanging up his bad love poetry on the trees: "From the east to western Inde, / No jewel is like Rosalinde."

Somehow Rosalind manages to keep her head in the face of these magnificent protestations. In fact, she represents a practical view of love: "Men have/ died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love."

But, Rosalind and Orlando manage to get together in the end, and presumably, they do some hot and heavy wrestling.

So whether you're a realist when it comes to love, or you're a fool for love, at least you believe the L word exists.

Don't ya remember you told me you L'ed me baby? Here in my heart I give you the best of my L. My L does it good to me. Just an old fashioned L song. L will keep us together.

Still crazy after all these years.

Love, love, love,

Dumped First Wife

Dumper Gibson

Gentle Readers,

Mel Gibson has been at it again. I wanted to write to you about this incident last week when it was more timely, but as you know my computer took sick.

When interviewed on WGN in Chicago, the actor bristled when reporter Dean Richards asked Mel if he thought past events might have an effect on the success of his new film, Edge of Darkness, which he was out promoting.

But those events took place four years ago and are not worth talking about, people, as far as Mel is concerned.

Oh yeah, remember that whole Mel Gibson DUI arrest / anti-Semitic rant thing?

For something that's in the past that nobody should be hot and bothered about, Mel sure has strong feelings about it though. So much so that he called Richards an "asshole" at the conclusion of the interview, while the cameras were still arollin'.

Well, I haven't forgotten Mel's childish I'm an important movie star over the top behavior. Calling a female police officer Sugar Tits? Oh really, Mel, couldn't you come up with something better than that?

I won't put a penny in your pocket, Mel, but that's not the only reason.

Let's not forget that Mel is quite the notorious dumper. It's true that his wife Robyn, who is the mother of the Great and Holy Catholic's seven children, was the one who filed the divorce papers.

I remember seeing him on t.v. He had no idea what could be wrong. She filed for divorce, he wailed.

But Mel is the true dumper. His girlfriend was kinda pregnant.

Mel and the lingerie model now have a baby girl.

Thank God for no pre-nup between Mel and Robyn. Braveheart owes her big time.

Asshole.

Love,

Dumped First Wife

A DATE WITH DEATH

She died today. By her own hand. It was on this day in 1963 that she put tape around the children's bedroom door and stuffed towels under it and put a towel very neatly on the open oven door, lay her head upon the towel, and turned on the gas.

Why did she do it? Why did a person of such talent who was producing the greatest poetry of her young life kill herself, leaving behind her two young children?

I understand the possibilities completely.

Her husband left her for another woman.

She was an American living in freezing cold London with two little kids.

She had been in her flat for eight weeks and still didn't have a phone. If she so much as wanted to make a telephone call, she had to go out and queue up in the cold and wait to use the public phone. She was on a waiting list to get a phone.

She was on a waiting list to die.

Her former sister-in-law, who reportedly disliked her, yet was made her literary executor, criticized her for putting bread and milk near the children's cribs that morning, where they could not possibly reach it. Could anyone believe she was thinking clearly at that time?

I don't know if she had had all she could take, or if she just wanted to reach Oblivion - the Oblivion of a sleep that lasts a very long time. Perhaps she hoped she would be found before she actually died and would get the help she so desperately needed.

Maybe she hoped He would come back.

BEWARE PC CARE

Gentle Readers,

I am so sorry I have been away from you. My computer has a virus and I am writing to you on a borrowed laptop.

I was doing some online research, and no, it didn't involve porn, and I clicked on a Web site. A box popped up on my screen that said my computer had seven viruses and to click the RUN box if I wanted PC Care to rid my computer of the viruses.

Fool that I am, I clicked the damn run box and it gave me a virus called PC Care that disabled my actual anti-virus software and prohibited downloading anything else that could kill a virus. After that, more and more boxes kept popping up, each one telling me that I had more and more viruses. A smaller box said that someone was trying to steal my identity.

The worst box squealed like a pig.

After spending three hours on the telephone with two different virus killing experts, I was told to take the computer to a local repair shop, which I did on Saturday. I paid for a 3 - 5 day diagnosis and treatment if possible.

I haven't heard anything from the shop, which I think of as the Computer Hospital, so I guess I'll call them tomorrow.

Or, maybe I'll stop by. The young man who was working there was pretty darn cute. I may be old, but I'm not dead.

For now, let us pray: Oh dear God of Computers, please bring my PC back to me healthy and whole. I beg of you, do not send my beloved to the Great Computer Recycling Center in the sky. And forgive me for that which I did not back up.

Mea Culpa Mea Culpa Mea Culpa

Love,

Dumped First Wife

I mentioned that I think of the repair shop as the Computer Hospital. I remember when I was a kid there was a Doll Hospital in a town near where we lived. We took my Chatty Cathy there to try to have her repaired. They said they couldn't do it. They let Chatty Cathy die.

I wonder if my mom paid them to do that so she wouldn't have to listen to any more of Cathy's back talk. "You don't back talk me ole girl," she used to say.

Ha! She taught big-mouth Chatty Cathy a lesson. Back talk my mom and you died.

FENCE SITTTING PROHIBITED HERE

Gentle Readers,

I confess I didn't think much of Sarah Palin, and I still don't. I wanted to be happy that McNasty had chosen a woman to be his running mate, but why did he have to choose an idiot who wears her hair so that her bangs are hanging in her eyes? (And don't go thinking I'm criticizing her looks just because she's a woman because you should hear what I have to say about former Illinois Governor Rod Bla . . . Blagoye . . . - sigh - what's his butt's hair.)

Sarah Palin was more experienced than then Senator Obama because she was the commander in chief of the Alaska National Guard? Puh - lease. And exactly how many times did she have to call out the Guard to deal with a natural catastrophe or face down rioters? She couldn't even make it through the remainder of her term in office as governor.

However, I admired one thing about Palin.

She did not sit on the fence when it came to abortion. She said that abortion was wrong and should not be allowed even in cases where the pregnancy resulted from rape or incest.

I don't agree with her, but she was right in taking a stand on one side or the other. Either abortion is murder or it's not. You can't say it's murder and then say it's o.k. in certain cases. Fence sitting prohibited here.

Now, I don't like abortion. I don't think anyone likes abortion and I hate it that abortion exists. BUT ABORTION MUST REMAIN LEGAL.

I'm amazed that I saw this on television when I was young, maybe 12 years old, and I know no one else was in the room, but a woman was on television talking about girls unbending coat hangers and using them inside themselves. I didn't know the word abortion; it wasn't a common topic of conversation then, but I knew what the woman was talking about, and I knew it was horrible.

I knew even as a 12 year old that no girl should feel so desperate that she scrapes her insides out with a coat hanger. Or goes to a butcher for an illegal abortion. No woman should hemorrhage, be left with scar tissue and unable to have children in the future, or even die, all because she could not obtain a safe, legal abortion.

Additionally, this decision should not be made for women by law-makers, the majority of whom are male. It should be a decision made by the woman, the baby's father (if possible), and a doctor.

The day a male senator or representative gets pregnant, then he can speak his mind about abortion all he wants.

But, I truly believe that if men got pregnant, then we would have abortion clinics on every street corner.

God bless you, Gentle Readers, and I pray you never have to face the decision to abort or not to abort, but as long as the decision must be made, let it be made with the knowledge that no coat hangers will be involved.

Love,

Dumped First Wife