No longer an Idaho Chick

I have a new blog. It is RebeccatheCaliforniaDreamgirl. Isn't that a great name. I like it. It will be public. Public because I'm done complaining about Darin. I left him and his problems in Idaho, or Utah, or where ever it is he's going to be. So if you want to know more go to my new blog!

Making my Blog Private

I'm officially closing this blog. I have a new blog now that is private. I am only closing my blog, because my ex is requesting that I do, and I don't want to make waves. If you want to continue to read, please email me at rebeccamleslie@yahoo.com, and I will happily invite you to my blog.

Big D

So Lizzie thinks we need to refer to the anonymous as Big D. For those unfortunate people who are not Harry Potter fans Big D is Dudley, a total idiot.

Oh The Drama

It has been requested that I delete my last two posts and make my blog private from someone in my life that we will refer to as D, for Disturbed, Distraught, Dramatic, Depressed, Disappointment, and Downright Dumb, but obviously it wouldn't be the first initial of his first name, because anonymity seems to be really important all of the sudden because I've had threats of a law suit today, and I think it is so downright hilarious I can't stop smiling. He actually has been reading my blog. Too funny. Way too funny. I will invite you all soon to an oh so private blog, where I can defame certain people (since I guess that is what I was doing according to a certain D) in private. If you are interested in reading my blog please email me, rebeccamleslie@yahoo.com. It'll probably take me a few days to figure it out, and then I'll repost the two "offensive" blogs, at least to the anonymous D.

The Trip From H- E- Double Toothpick

At least that's how Mom would describe it. But since I prefer the real word, HELL. Major. I left SLC at about 10:00 AM. The goal was 9:00. But considering when I left last week for SLC, four hours late, that' pretty darn good. My goal was around noon, and we actually didn't pull out until around four, and then when I was on the road I remembered the whole oil thing. I was about 5000 miles past the "change your oil" time and got a little nervous. Called my new trusty friend Jason, and the man highly recommended I go back to Idaho Falls and get my oil changed. "I mean Rebecca, what's an extra half hour when you're running this late anyway." Good point Jason, thanks for the tip.

Back to the real day from hell. Now in all fairness I should say the day from heaven and hell, because as Anna so aptly put it, "We weren't alone." So I'm driving in the middle of freaking no where. We're talking miles of sage brush, snow covered hills. I'm driving along, thinking everything is just dandy when my "low gas" light (or whatever it says light) pops on. "Okay," I think and I look up to my little thing that tells me how many miles I have left. Usually it would say 60 miles or so, and at the worst "low". However, to my great dismay, horror, and panic stricken pea sized brain (evidently) it says "-E-". What the heck? I have never seen that one before. I've been driving this good old van for almost 9 years and I've never seen "-E-". Alright, there must be a town up here soon, an exit, a cow even. No. Just more hills, more sagebrush, more miles of road. I start praying, I start cussing, I repent for cussing and pray again. I start repenting of everything I've ever done, and not done, begging for mercy. Pleading for heaven's help. A green sign. Fillmore 8 miles. 8 miles?! Can I go 8 miles? More praying. More pleading. More hoping against hope, and cursing myself for being my typical self. 7 miles, to go, 6 miles, 5 miles until probably 1 1/2 miles, and then quiver, shake, silence. No more gas. It's officially gone. Luckily I'm going downhill. I coast. I coast off the interstate. I can see a Chevron. You lovely, lovely, beautiful place. I start honking, warning all cars that I won't be stopping at the stop sign. My van dies officially and I'm probably 100 yards or less away from the gas station. Wow. Whew. That was worse than Space Mountain and Indi rolled into one (for those of you confused, I'm referring to my Disneyland disorder, I think I'm the first official case, and will send you the links when the research is published). Later in the bathroom, when I'm still trying to focus on my breathing, I say to Anna, "Thanks for stickin with your mom, even if she's a cuok" (pronounced with an oo in the middle, not to be confused with cook). "Oh, we weren't alone Mama." "What do you mean Anna, there's other moms out there as cuoky as me." "No, I mean, WE WEREN'T ALONE" (caps for emphasis in Anna's tone). "Oh. You're right. You're so right my sweetness, so, so right."

Now I know that is such a beautiful, miraculous story and I should be satisfied with that, but I'm a first class whiner. Gas cans. I had to buy a gas can. Brace yourself. Hold onto your desk, something with holding power. $15. $15!!! $15 people!!!! And as Anna put it, "It doesn't even have gas in it?!" That's right Anna. Welcome to your mother's life. The expensive, disorganized, stressful one that seems to have no end to the annoyance of it all. So I need to add to my new year's resolutions, "Carry gas can with me at all times (at least in my van, not my purse), and never by a gas can again!" So I guess that's actually a new life resolution. Sigh.

Now, I have something very important to say. If you have a travel folder where you keep special dreams, you know, magazine articles on romantic trips or something similar, this needs to be put into this folder. Otherwise, major mental note, in the important file in your brain. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT, travel on President's Day if it is the very day after Valentine's Day. Resist the temptation. Why you may ask? One word. Traffic. No. Excuse me. 5 words. Five hour rush hour traffic!!! FIVE HOURS!!!!! I thought I was going to lose my mind. After about 2 hours my right leg really started to throb, due to the fact I can't use cruise control in bumper to bumper traffic.

I almost lost my mind. It was truly a close call, but thankfully, the more time I spend with our heaven sent Elle, the more of my mind becomes sane again. There is truly something magical, literally magical, like Harry Potter magical, about a baby. They must emit some kind of pheromone that causes you to fall hard and utterly in love with them. So the drive from hell was worth it. More than worth it. More worth it with every minute I spend with a special person who barely left the arms of the Savior. Who must be with Him often still, because she smiles more than any baby I've ever seen, despite her two older overbearing and terrifying siblings.

For Your Information

I have googled Jason. He is all over campaign pages, newspaper articles, and the phone number that is on the websites is the same phone number that I call him on. I then went and paid for a background check. His parents are who he says they are, his past residences are what he has mentioned. The church thing, we'll have to see about that. But just for the record, he hasn't proposed, I haven't proposed. When I said he is always the one that calls me, I meant that he calls me so much, I rarely have to call him! But I have called him many times. He doesn't have my address. I suppose he could get it if he did a background check on me. I think that's everything. Love you all.

How Do I Say It?

Sigh. I have butterflies in my stomach and I know what to say but don't want to say it but I do want to say it. I don't want to be preached at or told it is too soon, ect. ect., but I've signed up with LDSplanet. It's an online service. I've been a member for about a month. There's a number of stories I could tell already, but there is only one I want to tell, and his name is Jason. This feels so risky blogging about this, but I feel compelled. I might be making a mountain out of a molehill. It might turn into nothing, he might not be the guy for me, I don't know, but something is definitely happening. He's called me 6 nights in a row now. 6 nights! In a row! And it's always him that calls! And it's always 3-5 hour conversations. I'm not exaggerating. Okay, so now you're all dying, who is he. Okay. He contacted me. He revealed two nights ago the reason. I have a line in my profile that says, "and I'm very conservative politically, so if you are a liberal, don't bother." He told me that I'm prettier than women that usually think that way. He then compared me to Anne Coulter. He said, "Take Anne Coulter for instance, everytime I see her on TV I think, Anne you need to gain some weight, and I don't like fake blonds. She's a fake blond. I don't know why anyone would die their hair blond, when they're hair is brown. It looks terrible." Okay, so all of those words are just music to my ears. And then last night, when we were deep into politics, I gave my opinion on something, and said "of course I'm just a regular person, you probably have a different view" (he works in politics). He laughed and said "Rebecca, you are not a regular person. You are so not a regular person." I asked him if he meant with politics, and he said no, he meant in everything. I need to back up and tell you about him. He's from Pennsylvania. He's in Alabama right now working on a governor campaign, for Judge Moore, known as the 10 commandment judge. He's 36, he joined the church when he was 27, he's been engaged once, never married, no kids. His family are not members of the church and are a bunch of democrats still pining over Hillary : ) Because of his work, he can't go to church every Sunday. He says he wants to quit the rock and roll lifestyle of campaigns and settle down. He says this will probably be his last campaign and he might not even stick out the whole campaign. Of course the church thing makes me nervous, so last night I made my goals very clear. Meaning, even though my first try at marriage was a disaster in the end, I'm not giving up, and that I want to get married again, and that I want that to happen in the temple. He claims he wants the same thing, and thinks I shouldn't want anything less.

Sigh. My head is in a whirlwind. We email throughout the day, the past two days he's even called me during the day too. I think about him all of the time. I'm a lot happier. I'm more motivated, and get more things done. I don't feel so hopeless all of the time. I know I should "heal" with the Savior, therapy, and soul searching, but it is really hard to wait until all of that is done before looking for someone and liking someone. Am I crazy? I tell you, if we had spent all of this time together in person, as long as he bathes, and brushes his teeth, we'd definitely be kissing. I've only been divorced a little over a month, and I already like someone that likes me. Of course there's the whole meeting thing, and who knows when that will happen. There's so much more to say, I hardly know where to start. Is this a rebound relationship? Would I be like this with anyone who paid me attention? I'm praying more and reading my scriptures more so that I am close enough to the spirit to know if I'm doing the right or wrong thing. Of course the kids don't know anything about him. I'm not sure when I'm supposed to tell them. And who knows, this whole thing might be over tomorrow, even though that's very hard to imagine. Having him live so far away seems really safe, but Des keeps telling me he could show up at my door this Saturday. Of course I'll be in Salt Lake City this weekend, which he knows, so that wouldn't be very smart of him! He thinks Darin was abusive, and the only people who have said that have been my parents and siblings, and Elder Oaks (in a talk, not to me personally, obviously). He's revealed many flaws from his past(because I've asked him, the poor guy gets the third degree every day), so I hope he's being honest. If he was lying and trying to impress, I could think of a lot of things I would have left out if I was him. But don't get the wrong idea, he's awesome. Totally awesome, more awesome each day. He's funny, we laugh a lot. He's half Polish, and half Philippino, so he's always calling himself a Philippino Pollock. Are you sick of reading yet? The cat's out of the bag. I'm back on the market people.