There has been a great deal going on behind the scene here at the Trump International Hotel but it did lead to some good news. I spent the night at cousin Gail’s house in Coquitlam. I woke up the next morning, got out of bed and made the bed. So making a bed must be like riding a bike – it comes back to you even if you haven’t done it in a long time. I have been living here at the Trump since the end of April and never made my bed.
So back at the Trump and the Equinox it was another training session with Hottie. We trained outside as usual which gathers the attention of those that pass by. An amusing man shook his head in disbelief.
He: Are you ever feisty!
Hottie: She sure is, the most feisty ever.
He: I feel sorry for you, Watch out for her!
Me: Don’t worry about him. There are lots of men in my life and they all have more money than he does.
I was telling Hottie of some recent developments in my life.
Me: I heard from this guy in London and he is even hotter than you are.
Hottie: That is impossible.
Me: Can I blog that, please don’t let me forget it.
Hottie: Yes and I won’t let you forget it. The training sessions continue to work, not more knee pain and the push ups are leading to muscles in all kinds of different places. People are amazed at my dedication but I am determined because 1) I do not want to turn into a little old lady that just shuffles about 2) it is great to be around Hottie and it makes passerbys jealous.
Cecilia stopped by when I was being held a prisoner in my room. We escaped to the jacuzzi and the picture attached is the two of us on the third floor of the Trump International Hotel. But back to the conclusion and he denouement of
Love That Name.
The discovery that I was not free to wed any and all men of my choice required immediate attention, so when the mood improved I fired off emails to the administrator of the retirement program and to my divorce attorney. It seems like I signed over my death benefits to the degenerate splenetic moron in the settlement agreement and rescuing them back would be an enormous effort. If he did somehow relinquish them I could award husband number four with the benefits but in the final stages of inquiry learn that in order to receive this windfall the guy has to be at least 55 and we have had to be married for two years. If I could dangle the marriage bait in front of one of my young British lads, it might be worthwhile. But with the mandatory minimum of age of 55, I do not think so, Guys that old give me the creeps.
David, the divorce attorney said the marriage can be dissolved – he would still get the death benefit but only, I repeat only, if I die first. I am committed to regime of heath, not drinking, eating my vegetables and staying out of the pathway of moving vehicles. I said to David, the attorney – “OK let’s do it”. It is a painless procedure, just file a few papers and in six months – voila I shall be a free woman and fit to marry yet again. The death benefit would add an extra enticement to my resume but I have enough other attributes. With the death benefit guys would just be queuing around the block and causing traffic problems.I am familiar with the printed petition, the paperwork required to file for dissolution of marriage. I recall there is a box on the back page entitled Other Requests “Petitioner’s former name be restored to (specify). I check the box and ink in Dryburgh. Although this Dissolution is the painless filing of paper work, it is still going to cost $2500 dollars (American). But with the name change I will get a two for one – one degenerate splenetic moron dump and one name change. I am happy, the papers are signed. I promise on a stack of bibles that if and when anyone or anybody does say yes I will keep my lawful name. Dryburgh
Of course nothing is as easy as it seems particularly when lawyers are involved. The action went on and on and on. The waters were muddied because at some point in the proceedings I asked if I could get the Dryburgh clock back. It was a mantel clock, not at all attractive but the only memento of the Dryburgh family – they were not into heirlooms of any kind. When I had left number 3 I was not into the family lore and it was only while in London writing the book did I become enamored with Uncle Dave and the history of the family. But number 3 held out and held on, he selfishly refused to relinquish the clock and used blackmail and bullying to try and exact money from me. No one in his remaining family, and actually no one in the Dryburgh family did anything to help me. The procedure ground on – I returned to the USA for a brief visit. I substituted out my attorney and told all that I no longer wanted the clock. It had been tainted and ruined as a sentimental object. It certainly made me glad that I was no longer married to husband number three taking some pride in the fact that I had shown his true character. His character the exact opposite of Uncle Dave.
I am free to wed. CCC has volunteered to be the food taster to be sure that Hubbie Number 4 will not try to poison me to get the benefit prematurely. He has also volunteered to put any younger guy on probation until they reach the age of 55. CCC to the rescue again