May 29th.

Seventy Days enumerated. Seventy Days counted out.

I have meant to post here since I started this blog. But have decided otherwise. I have discovered many things in my quest to find Mijo. Truths, lies and justice, or honestly the lack of justice.

Injustice.

I called the Child Abduction Unit. And they straight out told me what my wife is doing is perfectly legal. I called the police and they told me they can not do anything without an order from the Judge. The Judge told me I can not do anything until I have her served. And I can not serve her until she is found. Depressing isn’t the word here. Its madness. I have been playing Ring around the Rosie with a system that perceives me guilty before proven innocent.

Ring-a-round the rosie,
A pocket full of posies,
Ashes! Ashes!
We all fall down.

Madness.

My wife did not leave a Dear John letter, or I should say Dear Jean. There was no talk of if we can not fix this, we will separate, divorce.

None. What. So. Ever.

If it wasn’t for the fact I am a geek. More specifically a macgeek. I would be clueless right now. What I have come to learn is just pure madness. She has had months of planning this madness with her cohorts, her triumvirate of consorts. And I read enough to know how evil people can become to accomplish their goals. My wife orchestrated this madness, and I know how and why. Her podlings have no clue what she has done. She claimed them as heroes, but they will not be her heroes in the end. They will be the villains, the hero vilified. And I will not take credit for it, I want nothing to do with them or it, her madness. But life is comedy and tragedy, life is a tight little circle you can never escape. And life teaches lessons.

What goes around, comes around.

Comedy. Tragedy.

What I read on March twenty-third of two thousand and thirteen made me weep, curl into a ball and cry out silently to my lord. And I was not answered, not that night and many after. Even though he has not answered my prayers. He has sent me miracles that I can not deny, and they will be shared later, so for now I will try to explain what i read that night till mid-morning. And you have to trust me, it started all tragedy, but when I got further along into their inauspicious plan, which is actually the beginnings of their plan, it was all comedy. I can not tell all, I honestly wish I could. But because i will eventually see a judge with Fantine in my presence I have to limit to what I share.

They were discussing how I will get Mijo summers and Thanksgiving and that’s because we will still be friends. This was in late December early January of this year. Fantine also talked about how she could be able to go to the beach and read and run her toes through the sand whenever she pleased. Not California sand, Florida sand. All three believed she could just get an amicable divorce after she moved to Florida whenever she decided to. It was amazing reading them chat. They sounded like high school kids talking about how one day they would met Johnny Depp and they would be friends.

Comedy.

The male of the triad came on and said bad news, it could be kidnapping and that she needs to hire a lawyer. I believe this was mid January. The male also insisted I was abusive, simple and a little boy. I called him out on that but I have not received an answer yet. After this things changed. They discussed lying and manipulation, shared web sites pertaining to emotional abuse and constantly gave each other praise for how the plan was coming along. They talked about bringing Anthony aboard and what they should and should not tell him. Poor, poor Anthony. In all of this they also talked about books, and Fantine was saying how sad it was going to be to start her book collection over, and how she has to buy the Sparrow again and she has already bought it three to four times. They talked more about books than they did Mijo. They talked more about the plan than they did Mijo. Fantine flirted more with the male than discussing Mijo. She had an internet affair that probably turned into a real affair while she won third prize for a short story at a writers con in Tampa, while I was at home taking care of Mijo.

Tragedy.

One Last Thing.

Today is our 11th anniversary. And i am not going to whine. I am going to drink wine. More specifically her wine, the one she preferred, the cheapest one at CVS. I am going to open her wine, pour it in a wine glass, go sit where she sat on the couch, sit cross-legged like she did with all the lights off. But unlike her, I will not plot, nor make a plan.

I will dream of Mijo. and it will be vivid.