I don’t know about you, but after taxes, deductibles, and the minimum amount I put to my 401K that is matched by my employer, the alimony and child support take 45% of what’s left. From what’s left I subtract my tithing on the gross, rent, insurance, $52 for a storage unit (for what little I kept of my half of our family assets, most important my grandmother’s piano), and my monthly payment to support my missionary … well you get the idea. There ain’t much left for food.

One thing that became obvious upon divorce is that there’s no longer division of labor. I do all the cooking, cleaning, shopping, and the to-do list.

As I walk from may car to my basement apartment this evening, late from work, I’m tired and would love to sit down to a warm meal. I walk by the upstairs open patio door and my good friends, the family I dearly love upstairs, is sitting around a lighted inviting table having a lovely dinner together, smiling and talking.

Although I’ve got plenty of food storage, and a full fridge, I don’t feel like cooking. And here I sit at the computer wondering if I can stomach another fruit shake of the bananas I froze last night and the kale from my little garden. To allow me to have money for a few extra things, I promised myself I’d not eat out unless on a date or with the kids on a special occasion, and not eat prepared foods that are expensive (and not usually healthy).

So now it’s 6:50. Maybe I’ll fry a chicken breast with the batch of rice I cooked last week. Maybe I can spice it up to make a meal.

And let’s see. Whom should I eat with? I think I’ll cozy up to the Book of Mormon. I miss my children.

All my best,

Carl