"Sometimes I fantasize about getting married again," I said to my friend Rachel. We both looked at each other stunned — even I couldn't believe the words that had just come out of my mouth.

"But," I continued, "I don't really see the point."

Both statements are true.

There is a part of me that dreams of sharing that bond with someone again. This is the more emotional part. But the other part — the more cynical part — says, why even bother?

Consider the cost of marriage (which can really be anywhere from fifty bucks to fifty thousand bucks — and even more if you're totally insane), factor in  the sky-high rate of divorce, then throw in the cost of getting a divorce. Truthfully, marriage can seem like nothing but a bad investment. And that does even cover the emotional energy that you'll spend, the heartbreak that you'll endure, or the cost of your therapist.

It's 2008, and the rules have changed. People live together for years without being married — something that once upon a time was frowned upon. Now, single women give birth to babies every day. Quite simply, times have changed and sometimes it seems that marriage is becoming more and more outdated.

But then why does that other piece of me yearn for it?

What is it about marriage that despite the obvious pain in the ass that it can be, that keeps up coming back for more? 

There's nothing like posting your procrastination on a blog to give you that needed nudge. Today, I sold what I referred to recenly as my post-divorce jewelry — the gifts that Jake gave me over the course of our marriage.

The thing about the Internet, it really leaves us no excuses. There's no use pleading, "But I don't know where to go!" Logging on to yelp.com makes it difficult to get away with that kind of thing.

I dumped my wares before the jeweler: a necklace, earrings, and anklet set in amethyst and gold. The giant gold pendant that won the My Husband Gives Me Uglier Gifts Than Your Husband contests for years. A dozen pearls I never got around to stringing. And my wedding ring.

Much of it the jeweler didn't want. Pearls, he said, he's seeing "by the buckets." No one wants pearls these days, he said. The amethyst set he didn't want either, but gave me the card of a place that might. The pendant he took. And the ring he took.

I hadn't initially thought to bring the wedding ring. All that other jewelry, I never wore. I had never liked any of it. I kept it all in a box and never thought about it. Strangely, I had never thrown the ring into that box. I grabbed it last minute, an afterthought, as I left the apartment.

Seeing it there on the counter, waiting to be weighed — it was a strange feeling. As the jeweler and I filled out the surprising amount of paperwork involved in the transition, it just sat there, looking at me. And I had a pang. I'm not sure why. I've hardly looked at it since the day I put it away. That whole last year, I found excuses not to wear it. I'd been glad to take it off permanently.

One thing I can say about my divorce is that it was surprisingly civil. We worked with a mediator and our accountant to work out the financial details, kids visitation issues and the nitty gritty of who got what. Then our individual lawyers looked over the paperwork, blessed our disunion, and we signed on the dotted line. A year later, we were divorced and the whole business cost about $5,000.

Compare that with S, now into year two of his nasty divorce and endless depositions, attorney meetings, court dates. His ex has been playing the delaying game because he is paying all her bills until they reach an agreement. They get close to a settlement, she decides to switch lawyers. Another retainer check (ka-ching), another delay. I can't even begin to imagine the final tab on this divorce.

But then a funny thing happened in the Ex Wars.

After a long term relationship ended, S's ex went back trolling on the Internet where she soon netted a number of potential catches.

One, she decides to meet at a local restaurant. He joins her, they engage in small talk. "I'm a matrimonial lawyer," he said.

"That's funny, I'm going through a divorce right now," she responded.

"What did you say your last name was?" he asked.

When she told him, he abruptly rose and "recused himself" from the date. Seems he was on S's legal team.

Her lawyer immediately made a motion to force S to hire yet another lawyer, which was — thankfully — denied. But the incident did open an interesting can of worms.

One of the sticking factors in coming to an agreement has been her aversion to work. She is much too ill from various ailments, she maintains, to ever again hold even a part time job.

Jake had a thing about giving me jewelry. In his head, this is What Husbands Did. If one had a Wife, one got her Nice Things.

No matter that the wife in questions said, "I don't really like jewelry." No matter that she said, "I don't like to wear jewelry." No matter that she said, "At the very least, please don't ever get me anything gold."

"Happy anniversary," he'd say. "I know you don't like gold. I know you never wear jewelry. But I got this for you anyway."

So, I have this jewelry box, and it's filled with things. Gold things, mostly. Expensive things. Things I never wear. Things I didn't want in the first place. Things I have no use for.

And yet — two years later — I still have them.

Why? Is it because dealing with the process of appraisal and sale will take some effort? Is it because just the idea of yet another errand dealing with this divorce exhausts me?

Or is it that the idea of losing those presents is hard? Because — even though they speak so much to Jake's lack of understanding of me, lack of interest in what I liked and cared about — they were still given out of love.

So much pain is left when a marriage ends that it's hard to look back at what was good and happy without those memories being tainted, somehow, by all the hurt.

This could be grad school tuition, here in this box. This could be a vacation, or a couple of the cross-country plane tickets I'm burning through these days.

What will it take to open it up and take some action?

An informal poll of my like-minded sisters and girlfriends tells me 80 percent of them are back in the dating game, chomping at the bit to vote in the November election, and briskly moving their money from dangerous places, like mutual funds, and into safe places, like gold. Or crisply turning it into Euros.

Liv Tyler and I, however, are on another path. At least that's what I feel after reading today's celebrity headlines. The pouty, pretty actress was reflecting on her split with Spacehog guitarist Royston Langdon, equating it to "the loss of everything."

Tyler says, "I feel neurotic, like Woody Allen. Sometimes I just feel like a crab without a shell."

Okay. Do I dare admit that I can relate?

Women often feel lost without their men, even when the relationship sucks. It can be lonely trying to make the house, bank account, kids, and social life all work.

With the whole financial and political world reeling, I feel paralyzed. Even though most of the times I manage very well, there are moments, even weeks, when I feel myself totter.

During these episodes, my money doesn't feel safe, and neither does my state of mind. It's a little too late for me to correct the fault lines in my newly embraced financial portfolio. Divorce has left me not only poorer, but also woefully ignorant when it comes to investments and how fortunes are made and lost.

I can only hope to survive by worshiping at the church of Suze Orman (who preaches that a woman, or at least she, needs only one pair of earrings) and FWW's own Jean Chatzky, especially her advice to go on a money diet (oh god, another diet), and her instructions to always open your financial statements, which may be just too much right now.

A year ago, I was flying high.

I've got a problem. I like my current job, a lot. It's fun and rewarding but it's also demanding and on some days it has a tendency to take over my life. Like, for example, when I work 14 days straight. My boss is a wonderful woman, I also like her a lot, as a person, but sometimes — as a boss — she sucks. Like today, for example.

I had been filling the role of administrative assistant (mind you I also do a lot of freelance writing on the side, and have only taken on a "day job" as a means to pay bills while Levi isn't paying child support) for a minimal salary when an opening came up for Activities Director (this is an independent living facility for seniors). 

The activities director position was advertised at 5K a year more than my position. Interviews were conducted and somebody was hired, but the day before she was to start, she called and declined the position. I thought about it, and told my boss I'd like to take it. She readily agreed and even added that it was great for me as the position paid more.

The new job has been even more fun, as I am allowed to be more creative and flexible with my time. My first paycheck was $100 more. I was super excited about that. I began to think of all the ways that I might finally be able to put a little bit of money away for Adrian, or for vacation, or just for something... 

Since I've been living hand to mouth, draining my bank account every week (down to pennies; I'm serious) this was pretty great, and I felt a huge wave of relief come over me.

Then today happened. The payroll company called this morning and told me that my boss had reduced my salary by 4K. (So, now I'm only getting 1K a year more than I was before.) They didn't have an explanation, and as she isn't due back from her vacation for two weeks, I won't be getting one anytime soon.

I'm pretty annoyed. I can't even imagine why she did that. Especially after we talked about it.

I'm thanking the gods I work from home and there are few places my two feet and my bike can't take me. Because every buck I put into my gas tank is food I don't buy at the grocery store.

Gas at the cheapie station is holding at $4.17 this week. Everywhere else in town it's closing in on $4.30.

At that price, one gallon of gas costs more than 70 percent of the federal hourly minimum wage, $5.85. It’s still two-thirds of the new federal minimum wage that takes effect on July 24, and it's more than half the highest state minimum, $8.07, in the State of Washington.

Consider that the lowest paid workers pump almost a whole day's pay into the tank every time they fill it up. Even people making a decent wage, say $20 an hour, are spending an entire morning’s work just to pay for gas.

It's the same all over. In our must-have culture, where most families have to have two incomes in order to survive, people from the top to the middle and on down, everything is being eliminated but the basics.

No one is immune. For single moms, it's getting ugly.

Christina McLaughlin, "KristieMac" wrote about the impact of rising gas prices on her blog for the Houston Chronicle's Chron.com. She posted personal experiences, giving thanks for the good fortune of flexible work and having enough to cover bills, while lamenting economic pressure and the nixed vacation she dreamed of taking with her daughter.

Canceled vacation plans, fewer outside-the-home activities, less eating out, and just plan less. One by one every extra is slashed to make way for gas and groceries.

But, what happens when there are no more extras to cut, no more plans to cancel? Me, I'm what happens.

Keep the ring! Wear it, don't wear it. But for God's sake, keep the ring! Sell it, have it made into a necklace.

Was your ring important to you? What does a wedding ring mean? You belong to someone? Wait, that would make it more like a dog collar and a rabies license wouldn't it? If lost, please return to Mr. so-and-so at such-and-such address.

Okay, now I may just puke. Did I say keep the ring?

But, you can throw away reminders, photos, papers. I tossed and burned those, too. It made me feel good. It was like shaking off the last really awful memories of a very painful and disappointing marriage. I was glad I did that. 

Of course, what about the photos with your ex and your children? What's that old saying, oh yeah, "that's like throwing out the baby with the bathwater." Yeah, I held on to those photos. It used to hurt to look at them. It doesn't anymore.

When you can look at the photos or the items that came into your life while you were married without feeling pain or sorrow or regret, you are healed.

I don't seem to care about anything related to that part of my life anymore. I am moving forward and onward and upward. I am no longer "anyone's" possession. 

Nobody owns me. I am my own person. I am free.

And, my fellow FWW visitors and bloggers .... me likey, me likey a whole lot! 

No one to judge me. No one to bitch because there isn't any tea made. No one to expect, demand, blame, cage.

This is something that I hadn't bargained for. It figures, since bargaining isn't my strong suit.

There comes a time in everyone's life when life-changing decisions have to be made. This time usually comes in conjunction with some drastic change of course: marriage, divorce, death of a loved one, change of job, completion of school, etc.

Sometimes, it's a welcome change, other times this transition is met with fear and anxiety. And still other times, chance can be a combination of the two, and can leave you tired, confused and, for lack of a better phrase, scared shitless.

I came to the realization a few weeks ago while perusing several Internet job sites that I have no real idea how to go about this. The jumping through the hoops is easy enough; update your resume, dress up, refrain from saying silly things while at the interview, and so forth. The problem I had was this: I have never been in a position where I have had to name my salary.

I know that throughout the years, I have collected a wealth of employable skills, and I now possess the education that many employers deem so very necessary, especially for the fields in which I am interested. What I am lacking is the savvy to put it all together and use it to my advantage.

I know it's never supposed to make sense all at the same time, but I can't help but wish it would, just once.