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.

Money, the image that money brings, meant a lot to Jake. I couldn't get a bookshelf or a pair of shoes without checking in first - I would have gotten a look, a comment, a day of silence. A plane ticket to see a friend for the weekend, that was out of the question. We didn't have the money to spend it recklessly.

The thing was, we did have the money. And when Jake wanted something, he would get it. He was an impulse furniture buyer. He bought a $300 humidor on whim.

He thought that, because he made more than I did, financial decisions should be his. He was uncomfortable with feeling this way, he tried to pretend he didn't, but he did.

I have mixed feelings about money. If there's not a cushion in my bank account, I get nervous. My cat might need surgery again. My car might fall apart. I want to be prepared. And, for the most part, I don't spend a lot. I don't like shopping. I don't have expensive taste in anything.

But I want to see my friends, and I'm willing to throw down for a plane ticket to do so. If I have the freedom and ability to travel, I want to do so — I might not be able to later. If that means carrying some debt around for a couple of months, so be it. I don't want to be irresponsible, but I also don't want to give everything up. So I try to balance.

I definitely have less money now that I'm divorcing. I have to watch things, especially since I have to guard against the day my settlement payments stop. But I love that I can take a class if I want to and not have to justify it to anyone. I can go on vacation. I can get a bookshelf.

I used to wonder about couples that had been together for years but still kept separate bank accounts. Now, I see the appeal. I don't know how willing I'd be to get back into shared finances. This way, I know exactly where everything is, and my choices about what to do with what I have are mine alone.

As if I didn't have enough going on already, I decided to add more to my plate. Something major.

I've decided to go to school. I've wanted to learn cinematography and film production for quite some time, and now I'm finally going to do it.

I stumbled across the program a few months ago while doing some research on the Internet. Of course, like anything of its kind, it's pretty expensive. However, they had some information on the site pertaining to grants and other sources of financial aid so I decided to go for it, and I applied.

It was a daunting application complete with questions like "Why should we give this money to you?" and "Explain your commitment and desire to be in the film program." The last question was an essay. I did the best that I could — it took me all day — and sent it on it's way. I didn't get my hopes up, though.

So I was shocked when I received the letter that I had been selected for not one, but two grants. They cover the cost of attendance and then some. I'm also taking out a few student loans so that I can spend more time focusing on this.

I enrolled in the accelerated summer program, so that I can start earlier, cram a bunch in, therefore finishing quicker. I always have enjoyed moving fast.

This is going to be great. It's going to give me something to focus on, something more important than Levi and all of his bullshit. There are some fabulous classes that are going to provide me with excellent opportunities for creativity. And I'm going to learn how to do something that I know that I will love doing.

Classes start May 19. I can't tell you how excited I am to finally be doing something good for myself.

Getting a settlement is handy. Since Jake owns a company, since the company is lucrative, since we were married for 10 years, and since he's not an asshole, mine is a decent one. More than decent, really. Because giving me what we determined is "my share" all at once would effectively close his company down, our arrangement is spread over the next five years.

This means that I can afford to stay in San Francisco. This means that I have some money to invest against the day the payments stop. This means I don't have to panic about money for the next little bit.

This also means that he and I are tied for the next five years.

I didn't want any money from him when we split. It felt wrong, somehow. It felt icky. I didn't want the tie. I'm rational enough to take it, but we're still in a relationship this way. This necessitates communication. There's a monthly reminder. It's a connection I don't like having.

Sometimes I wonder if the complete and absolute freedom would be worth it. But this money means that I am having a far, far, far easier time of it than other women in the same situation. With all I have to worry about, paying my bills is not, for the moment, one of them. So I feel enormously guilty for the bad feelings I have.

How do I not feel guilty for resenting this? How do I accept this help while hating the ties it makes and keeps?

So, are you all ready for this...Levi actually did something! He called Adrian's doctor and paid his $180 bill. Wow, right? I was pretty amazed myself. I think it took me three minutes standing in front of the receptionist before I realized that my mouth was hanging open.

When I got home, I checked my e-mail and I had this from Levi: "The bill has been paid and they will see Adrian. You can call the doctor's office, go to future appts etc. They will help you get free insurance. They said they told you this but you never followed up. You never follow up with anything."

Okay, that pissed me off. I actually hit the roof on that one. How dare he imply that I don't follow through in regards to my son, in regard to my son's health! Does he have any idea how insulting that is, especially coming from him?!

I mean, geez...he pays one bill — one bill that he was ordered by a judge to pay — and suddenly he thinks he has the right to imply that I'm not a good mother.

Do I need to remind him that I've been here since day one? That I'm the one who takes him to the doctor? That I'm the one who cooks him dinner, gives him baths, takes him to the playground, etc.? Does he need reminding that Adrian climbs into bed with ME at night, that I'm the only one of us that he knows?

I suppose he'd like it if I got down on my knees and thanked him for paying the stupid bill. And you know what, maybe I should, because its really a miracle.

I would really like to believe that Levi did that because he actually has a conscience and it was starting to get to him. I'd like to believe that he paid it out of concern for our son. I'd like to believe all of that, but I'm more inclined to believe that he paid it simply because he's worried that he'll get in trouble if he doesn't.

It's always all about him.

Gas is up to $3.69 at the cheap station on the corner and the media has spouted three different in-depth accounts of why I dropped $78 on two bags of groceries this week.

Story number one, the obvious: with gas prices over $4 a gallon in some places, cost of transporting food is driving prices through the roof. Well, of course.

Story number two: a CNN account of how commodity traders are responsible by betting on futures. Get past the basic supply and demand model and economics flies right over my head. I don't totally understand why, but it made sense when I was watching.

Story number three: federal mandates requiring farmers to grow corn for bio-ethanol fuels has cut into our food supply. Not only does less corn make it to market, other grain crops shrink to make way for more corn we can't eat. The point: we need to find an alternate energy source or we'll likely starve ourselves fueling our excessive lives.

Oh yeah, and one more story I heard last week, related to the ridiculous price of surviving: it's been 30 years since the U.S. government has increased food stamp funding. And, the ever-wise W is poised to veto two bills calling for an increase.

I'm low on grocery money this week.

From day one of separation, I've said money wouldn't be a deciding factor. I would not have a poverty-inspired reunion.

I'm not sure now. The higher those prices climb, the deeper my debt. I've been so busy surviving these last few months, I haven't paid any bills. Well, I did pay gas, but only because it was turned off. WiFi, too.

The harder it gets, the more appealing my marriage looks. I keep asking myself, if money weren't an issue would I still be married?

I mean, in these 18 months of separation, I couldn't afford to file even when I was positive I wanted to.

Now, I'm just broke and uncertain. 


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.

One of the biggest myths of all is that divorcees and single mothers are seen as heroes. They've survived trials and tribulations, they took a stand, and they're making it on their own.

Heroes? In my book, yes. In the public eye? Oh, no, not at all, I'm afraid.

Divorcees are quickly perceived as women on the prowl. They're cougars. They're predators. They have no man, therefore, they must be on the hunt for one. And if they're not? Then they must be depressed, suicidal wash-ups barely hanging on.

Single mothers? Valiant crusaders raising children? I'm afraid not. Single mothers are usually pinned as bad mothers, because who in their right mind would rip children away from their fathers and feed kids Kraft Dinner when child support payments weren't forthcoming?

Well, I'll tell you who's in their right mind. Divorcees and single mothers, that's who.

These women have gone through life experiences that are challenges to their very self-worth and integrity. These women fight hard and fight back, sometimes even against themselves as they try to figure it all out.

These women are survivors and forward thinkers, not women who lie in complacency or settle for less. These women refuse to sit back and take a beating for years. They get up, they get out, and they get on with it.

Do they do it on a whim? Not likely. Women take a long time before making up their minds, and that goes double (and sometimes triple) for women in relationships that aren't working.

There's nothing impulsive about leaving your partner. There's nothing quick or fast about it. It's a big decision that demands a lot of thought and careful planning. It can take a decade or more before that step out the door occurs.