First things first: We had a great trip to California. We stayed in La Jolla, had dinners overlooking the ocean, shopped, read books (I knocked out two, as well as the Atlantic Monthly and Conde Nast that have been sitting in the corner), went to Sea World (got soaking ass wet), skipped the fancy dinner for a great one at a place called Fresh.

We relaxed and had a great time. I did threaten to kill my husband on more than one occasion, so we weren't THAT far into Paradise.

But I digress.

The biggest THING that happened to us was at the airport, leaving on Friday. We had checked in our luggage, gone through security and were walking through the terminal to our gate. As we're walking along, we walk straight into ... my husband's ex-girlfriend.

For those of you needing a refresher course, it would be THIS EX-GIRLFRIEND.

(No, really. Read up. I'll wait.)

Now, to back up for a quick little bit, she had sent my husband an email the end of August. She was droaning on and on about her upcoming high-brow trip she had planned to France with girlfriends and how she would be doing all sorts of high-brow things. Her purpose (a term I use loosely) was to ask my husband for a book title she thought she needed for this trip.

She signed it "Au Revoir, PyschoEx". PUKE!!

I wasn't THRILLED that she'd emailed him yet again, but asking for a book title ... meh. It was the PS part that got me. She mentioned she had purchased the latest India.Arie album, and how there was a cover of "The Heart of the Matter" that she loved, and she thought he should hear it - and could she burn him a copy? She also mentioned how she 'danced and sang' all over her living room whenever she heard the song.

HELLS NO.

I have the CD. I made my husband reply with the name of the book, and that HDW (using my real name) has the CD.

(And really, my husband does not CARE if she has forgiven him or not. He didn't do anything WRONG. He broke up with someone who didn't flush the potty and was generally really nasty to everyone who didn't have a Masters Degree. Which, of course, has gotten her really far, but we'll get to that another time. And for fuck's sake, my husband didn't do the 'read between the lines' thing on the email - so I had to point it all out to him. Which is fine. But did she fucking think he would get that shit?? HELL NO!)

Back to the airport.

We realize that she's likely leaving for France. While we are laughing that the woman that used to be the triathlete and was telling my husband how ugly and lame I was six years ago has gained - at the very least - 60 lbs. She has no more cheekbones. All gone. Bye-bye, see ya! She's really and truly let herself go. I normally could care less about weight, but after everything this woman said about me, I think it's justified.

While at the airport, she is paged over the loud speaker. We both think she had herself paged.

As we were making our way to the gate (after HDHusband had his shoes shined), we find she's at the gate RIGHT NEXT TO US.

HDHusband to GoliathWoman: France?
GoliathWoman to HDH: YES!!

Her face lit up like a damn Christmas tree. She didn't give me her usual "I hope you rot in hell" look. It was simply ... resignation?

Awesome.

I got to thinking that really, she had never seen us together. Not once in the six years she's been flying around like the bat she is. I don't know if that will change anything; I really doubt so. She has moved in to our neighborhood. She still works where he works.

I guess if a person really wants to be that miserable and reminded that often of the "heart of the matter", then ... I guess that's their own cross to bear.