Alas, no fairytale ending.

It's been a year since we got word of the misdiagnosis. I didn't find an attorney. None would take on a doctor(s) in California. So, I took it on myself. I know...a person who represents himself in a court of law has a fool for a client. But, I had no choice. At least I've gotten the insurance companies to take notice. Perhaps I can negotiate a settlement. It's worth a try.

J has moved out and moved on. The kids are fine. Things are relatively peaceful. But, hellbent on justice, I'm still at it. It's tough being a pitbull. The lipstick only goes so far.

At least my mother's situation is resolved. That's a box full 'o drama that I have finally put on a shelf where I don't have to look at it or think about it too much. It feels good.

Now, it's time to finish mourning and move forward with my life.

So, after being married for the majority of three decades, I'm dating again. Yep. I did more than dip my toe into the dating pool. Mind you, this swimming hole is a treacherous place. The water is murky, the attire is much more revealing than before, and there are a multitude of reasons for the liberal usage of chlorine. And, there is no lifeguard on duty! But, I jumped in...feet first (I'm not stupid enough to go into it headlong when I can't see the bottom!) I joined an online dating site.

I'm having fun and have met some interesting people. But, ultimately, I would like to find someone special. It's looking pretty dismal, though. I guess I'll have to kiss a few more frogs...