She started making notes in a black, maroon and gold notebook. Often, when she was at one of the kids' many sporting events, she'd scribble ideas and lists into her little book: advice she wished she had gotten, magazine names. ("Clean Slate" and "We Do" were eventually jettisoned in favor of a cut-to-the-chase title.)
It seemed like a distant dream, but then her youngest son was diagnosed with diabetes and it became difficult to juggle a full-time job and his health care. She left her first career and began a second one, seeking out advice and soliciting seed money for the magazine from family and friends.
She has printed 13,000 copies of the first issue, which she is selling through the Web site (www.re marriagemagazine.com) and at various area shops.
Eventually, Bisacre -- a power-of-positive-thinking acolyte -- wants a remarriage empire: conferences, seminars, books, blogs and message boards. The magazine is quarterly for now, but she envisions ramping that up as the national remarriage "community" catches on.
In the meantime, she still has her own family integration to tend to. Psychologists, Bisacre likes to point out, say it takes an average of seven years for families to blend. The Bisacres are on year five and she thinks they're doing swimmingly.
Household affairs are slightly less chaotic now that only three children live at home. But only slightly. On a recent evening, Bisacre strained pasta while talking to her ex-husband on the phone about their children's schedule for the week. Buster yapped mercilessly.
The dogs, the Bisacres sometimes joke, learned to accept each other more quickly than anyone else. It took them a few weeks to work out their differences but the tiny guy fashioned himself into the boss and Hunter plodded along agreeably; they've been pals ever since. She said Buster frequently crawls on top of Hunter and sleeps perched on his mountainous back.
"I think the lesson is with time," Bisacre said. "It just takes time."
rona.marech@baltsun.com
