I made the call.


And was coasting along... and then my world sort of vomited and here's yet another cryptic post. I am seriously sick of the drama.


I hope your world is treating you well.

Accountability

I know this won't make sense but I have to put it out there in order to nudge myself into doing something.

I have a phone call to make.

There, that's it. My big fat announcement.

I realize it's not so big, and it announces very little. And I hate to be cryptic but that's what I'm going to do for now. I've had this big scary thing hanging over my head for a while now and there's at least been some movement in the process and so it is time to act. Except I've been waiting to act for so long that my muscles feel frozen.

It's the reason runners and swimmers don't take their mark more than a few seconds before the starting gun goes off. They'd get stiff and be unable to react quickly and naturally. Well I feel like I've been in the starting block about something and the gun's gone off and I'm still just sitting here. I've been waiting for it, striving towards it and now that it's time to go, I'm stuck.

Inertia lives.

So I'm putting this out there, obscure as it can be, so that I'll at least come out of my denial and get real. Where's Dr. Phil when I need him? It's Wednesday afternoon as I post this. I'm giving myself until Friday afternoon to do it. And I swear, it's a good thing, it really is. No one's sick or divorcing or anything like that.

*sigh* Why can't I just be normal? Feel free to leave me the answer to that question in the comments and I'll alert Blogger that there will be a spike in comments.

Bullet Points Minus the Bullets

I don't often crave the newest gadgets and such, but I find that I want an iPhone in the worst way. My current phone is a piece of crap. Has been since the day I got it and I've literally been waiting 2 years for the contract to expire so that I can switch because I didn't want to pay for a different one. I wish the iPhone wasn't exclusive to AT&T. I swore I'd never go back to The Man again and now here I am, trying my best not to bat my eyelashes at him and giggle and swish my hair.

Pam's youngest daughter is moving to Chicago to go to school. I am meeting the two of them tonight for dinner. I wanted to get her just a little gift to take so I got a box of magnetic poetry, the college edition. I really want to not cry when I see her. I go months without seeing her now, but somehow knowing that she is moving out of state is really making me weepy this week. It's not an overstatement to say that I helped raise her and her sister from the time she was a year old. I know I'll have to be a dork tonight and remind her that the first day I met her, Pam had decided it would be Anna's last day on the bottle. Anna used to love to have me tell that story and I never grew tired of repeating it.

Chris is going on the men's retreat from church this weekend. He leaves this evening (though I won't see him beforehand) and returns late Sunday afternoon. I'm looking forward to some alone time. Plus, he's been a complete turd lately and I hope that the time away does him some good and he comes home with a better 'tude. I can honestly say that I think my 'tude has been remarkable, considering how he's been acting.

I love Facebook FarmTown and I'm not too proud to admit it. I was telling the lovely Ally yesterday that it's like playing Barbie without the awful dolls. I know that doesn't exactly sound like a positive thing, but it is. I just like organizing the stuff; the buildings, the flowers and the designs keep me entertained for longer than I'd like to admit. Oh and I have $1.2 million dollars to boot. Errr, coins, actually. If only there were an exchange office for that.

I've decided not to subscribe to Sirius after my trial is up. If I don't go with the iPhone, I'm going to put that same subscription money away each month, toward an iPod. (I'll get an iSomething outta this somehow.) I have an iPod shuffle but the port in my car doesn't support it. It wants the real thing. And so do I. I use mine less and less because all the songs seem so tired; there's not enough variety.

My home computer died. From what I can piece together, it happened a couple weeks ago during a very nasty thunderstorm. I don't get online at home every day and so it had been several days since I'd tried. When I went to log on, it wouldn't boot up. Near as I can recall, the last time I'd used it was before the storm. Chris says he has a friend who might be able to look at it to see if it's actually dead or just mostly dead. I'm not terribly motivated to do otherwise, so I'll wait and see if he follows through on it.

Monday is a Yellow Sheet Day for me. I'm taking Indi to the vet for her annual exam, shots, etc. That's gonna be a pretty penny. Especially when I add on a few months of flea medicine. I can complain about the money all I want, but she's worth it. She still saves my sanity on a daily basis, I swear, and this weekend, it'll be just the two of us. I can hardly wait.

Peace.

It's Me!

'Scuse me while I dust this place off for a sec.

PHOOOOOOO!!!!

*cough cough* Sorry for that cloud.

Once again, it's been awhile.

I am still in some Sirius love with the satellite radio. I've been surprised to find that it doesn't work under any kind of structure. I'm used to regular radio getting sketchy when in a parking ramp but it can't even handle the overhang at the ATM and skips out when going under certain underpasses on the highway. All in all, I'm gonna have a hard time going back to regular radio.

I got something else I never in a million years thought I'd have, much less enjoy.

Yes, I am now one of those annoying people who appear to be responding to internal stimulus and talking to themselves.

Acutally, I haven't used it much outside the car but having a 5-speed, it's a must if I want to take or make a call and it's totally hands-free since it's voice activated. You can't tell from this (giant) pic but it's positively tiny, about as big as my thumb, down to the first knuckle.

I'm still liking the car, too, and still learning things about it. A couple of weeks ago, I came home after dark and when I opened the door, I realized I hadn't switched the lights off. I was surprised and irritated that I wasn't hearing any kind of beeping noise to alert me that I'd left the lights on. A handy idiot sensor, in my opinion. Just when I was starting to think that I'd really have to pay attention to turning them off so I didn't drain the battery, I noticed the lights weren't on at all. If the door is opened while they're on, the car simply shuts them off. Nice.

I went to lunch with a woman from church yesterday. Took the day off and everything, so that I'd be able to take my time, as well as run a few other errands. This is someone I've often felt a connection with and almost always touch base with after church. But I'd been thinking I'd like more of a friendship with her than visiting on the way out the door allows. And yet I was unsure. That same feeling from junior high... will they like me? Will they want to eat lunch with me? Does that feeling ever leave? Well I finally just asked if she'd lilke to get together and she said yes and yesterday was the day.

We ended up sitting there for 3 hours, talking and laughing. Don't look now but I might have a new friend. Wonders never cease, since I don't do that very often or very easily. And... she's totally crafty!

Our new pastor has been on board for just about a month. He has done many things to get to know us all, one of which is a one-on-one conversation. We were invited to sign up for an hour with him, just to talk, get to know one another, and have some prayer at the end. Well the thought of it kinda scared me and so I took that as a sign that I should do it. My time slot was last night and sure enough, I started getting butterflies on the way to his house. But it turned out okay.

We hit the usual topics - family, work, school, hobbies, church, etc., and then came the one I had been waiting for. So I don't remember seeing any kids with you and Chris.

Even thought I knew it was coming, I still stammered my way through things. I told him how many years we've been trying. Told him that if he'd ever read about or seen on 20/20 those people who do all those crazy things for fertililty, I was that person. My voice got very thin when I told him we'd come close twice and I averted his eyes as I tried to just get through the absolute basics. When I thought I was safely on the other side, I glanced at him and saw such genuine compassion, that I had to look away again and couldn't begin to blink without the tears rolling down my face. I quickly - and obviously - changed the subject and he smoothly allowed me to do so, and I was grateful for that.

All in all, it went well and I'm glad I did it. One more boogie man bites the dust.

I guess that'll do it for now. Wouldn't want to spill all the beans at once, right? And trust me, there are no juicy beans left, but I'll try to come up with something sooner rather than later. Believe it or not, I miss this place. Which is weird to say because I'm the one that's kind of been staying away.

And as Renée Zellweger's character from Cold Mountain would say, that there's what you call a conundrum.

Obligatory Post

Nothing much is going on. Seriously.

Well. Little things. Little, tiny, can't-be-counted-as-things things are happening, of course. But they don't count much for me, so why on earth would they count for anyone else? I suppose that sums up most of my blog though, huh?

Meh.

I'm just sort of in a boring and bored funk lately. And yes, I always remember that when someone is bored, it is often because they are boring. You know, because I always have to take on the guilt and responsibility somehow.

Eh.

That pretty much sums things up. I'm in a rut at work that is slow and boring. Nothing much going on and it makes for long, boring days.

*sigh*

I just can't seem to shake the lethargy, the boredom, the zzzzzzzzzzzzz. I am fighting the sense of a lowgrade crabbiness at much of life these days. I don't like this. I am not, by nature, a crabby person. I know I need to shake it off. Mix things up. Change my 'tude, change my scene. And maybe I will, just after I sit and rest a while.

I'm still doing stuff. Loving that my tomatoes are finally ripening. I had some with tuna today and the homegrowns are infinitely tastier than the plastic at the store.

I'm loving my free 6 month sample of Serius satellite radio way more than I thought I would. I'm constantly cruising between 70s, 80s, 90s, classic vinyl, all over the place. I don't miss the local DJs chatter a bit, not to mention the commercials. One particularly odd thing is to find all the old (literally) MTV veejays on there. Alan Hunter, who didn't used to love him? Martha Quinn still sounds just as annoying (sorry) and Nina Blackwood really needs to quit smoking, she's beginning to sound like Wolfman Jack.

Those are my small joys lately. Any ideas on how to shake things up would be greatly appreciated. However, you must not use the word "vacation" or "trip" or any other similar suggestion, it's just not in the cards right now.

Have a good weekend, peeps.

Reno Pics (Lots of After, Not So Much of Before)

I think I might've mentioned that we painted the laundry room over Memorial Day. Chris really worked hard for two days. The thing is, there were about 12 days of work to be done. And so I did all the rest. I grumbled and mumbed about it but if I'd waited for him, I'd still be waiting. And I felt really good about finishing everything and about how it came out. The thing is, it just never ended.

When the walls were done, I couldn't imagine putting the nasty old wood cupboard back up on the pretty walls so that had to be sanded, primed and painted. And since I painted it red, it had to have umpteen coats. And then I decided that it might be nice if the tiny little trim on it were painted yellow to match the walls. This was PITA #1. And notice I've only allowed myself to store two items on top. This area used to be my own personal Jenga game.


















Then when I saw the ugly doors up against all the clean paint, they looked horrid so they came down and I primed and painted them, too. All. Three. Doors. Within a six foot space, I can pretty much open up three doors to almost touch all of them at the same time. So they all had to be done. The back door, the garage door and the little half bathroom door. Thennnnnnnnnn when the gross looking brass hardware went back on them, I hated that so it had to come off and be painted, too. I mean, it just never stopped.



















And this morning when I took these pictures, I saw three things that still need to be done, too. The bottom framing of the back door is plain wood and I think it wants to be painted white like the rest of the trim. I have to hang a silly little picture that was in my house growing up, just because it's one of those things to keep forever, I guess. And I have to caulk and paint holes left by the screws where the cupboard used to be. They had it way down low and off center. Eventually I want to get a shelf or small cupboard for more storage area under the cupboard. Oh and we also have to get a new light fixture. I just noticed that, looking at the next pic. We've replaced almost all of them in the house with the same style so why not one more in here.
























It's a long narrow room so pics are hard to take but that's a couple of angles. The only thing I hate about the laundry room now (because can I just tell you how much I love a main floor laundry???) is the washer and dryer themselves. They came with the house and we were happy to have them but really, the people's sticker about a kennel has got to be painted over. I've ignored it all this time but no more. And it isn't as if painting the dryer can make it any uglier. But what's really needed in here are a pair of those fancy schmancy front loading machines. I'll take them in red, please.



















I also got (and had to hem) matching curtains for the bathroom (pics to come if Chris ever finishes it), the window and the back door. They all used to have either nothing or these heavy, gross lined drapes. Now it's much lighter and airier. I also got the same ones to cover the opening to the pantry seen here. You know. The one where I keep the yogurt.

A Senior Moment Already?

Watch out, two days in a row.

Saturday I went to an overpriced but interesting grocery store that has a lot of organic products. Just to look around, just because. I had gone to Kohl's to do some dreaded shopping and thought I'd treat myself.

I found some nice looking strawberries that were on sale because they were a tad overripe (althought I suppose I should've been looking at melons, eh?) I also picked up some sweet onions that weren't much more than the ones in the "regular" store. I was happily shopping along when my eye fell on the dairy case and lingered at the Greek yogurt.

I love this stuff.

It's thicker and tangier and just has more oomph than regular yogurt. It's just that the price tag always has more oomph to it, too. I've tried straining regular yogurt through a coffee filter and yes, it does make it thicker. But it just doesn't seem to have the same taste or consistency. So since I had such great looking strawberries, my mind went to thoughts of a yummy smoothie. I usually dump in some yogurt, berries, a banana, and depending on how ripe the fruit is, a little honey. Add some ice and whirl it up to frosty deliciousness.

So I decided that I was worth the price of a large - remember this part, it was a large - container of Greek yogurt. I put it in my cart and salivated at the thought of all the goodness that awaited me. Of course I balanced the goodness of the fruit and yogurt by also getting a package of Newman's cookies that I hadn't seen before. These were ginger sandwich cookies. Imagine an Oreo, only with gingersnapish cookies and creme in between. Two were good in the car on the way home. Two more were better the next day with some coffee. But I digress.

The next morning I remembered the smoothie and immediately went about hauling the blender down. Why it is stored in a cupboard on a top shelf, I'll never know. I mean I don't have counter space for it so it has to go somewhere but I always feel like I'm risking a closed head injury just pulling the thing down to use.

I got the berries out and carefully hulled them, tasting one and finding it as sweet as could be. I peeled the banana and added it to the berries and even added a splash of vanilla extract. This was gonna be good. I got out a couple handfuls of ice and then reached for the yogurt. But it wasn't there. Now I know Chris well enough to realize that the cookies might've been devoured but the yogurt was safe. Veggies, yogurt, fruit, all of it can be right in front and remain safe.

A nice piece of cheese, though? I've been known to "accidentally" put that in the crisper drawer underneath a bag of lettuce if I want it to last more than a few days. So I didn't understand why I was suddenly rummaging for the yogurt when I knew he wouldn't have gone near it. And then. Out of the corner of my eye. I saw it. Sitting there, just as lonely as could be.

In. The. Pantry.

I had somehow taken it out of my shopping bag with the other things I'd gotten and just stuck it on the shelf in the pantry along with all the other things. It had been sitting there all day and night and was clearly now spoiled (although Chris thinks it tastes spoiled to begin with and that's why it's safe.) Safe if I refrigerate it, that is.

I still don't know how I did it, but I'm pretty sure I won't be making that mistake again. And if I had to talk myself into spending more than five bucks on it once, can I really do it again? That means it's like ten bucks. The price of a smoothie is getting outrageous.

Weekend Update

I met Pam for dinner Friday night at the place where her sister and her two daughters work. It was nice, but not a place where we could really talk. It was like a revolving door of people coming up to the table to chat. I admit I left feeling slightly disappointed, but it was good to see the girls, too.

Her youngest just turned 21 and used to love to have me "tell the first time you met me" again and again and again. And so I'd oblige, and share that the first time I went to Pam's house - always a big step in making a new friend - was Anna's last day on the bottle. Pam was just putting her down for a nap when I got there and made that announcement and it stuck. Now Anna is a few weeks away from transferring colleges and moving to Chicago.

After dinner we checked out Plum Market and while it was nice, my Whole Foods Market fetish is still very much intact. I avoided it, though, since we were on the other side of town. I had picked up a cargo tray and net that I'd ordered for my new car and so we decided to meet at a different place. I could've ordered the same thing from the dealer in my town but honestly, I just refuse to give them any sort of business.

Saturday Chris and I went grocery shopping and I putzed around the house the rest of the day until we were going to grill some steaks for dinner. I opened a bottle of wine and I guess the stars were aligned just right or something because oh my, did I ever enjoy that wine. It was a beautiful night and we sat outside and talked and laughed and drank our wine. We were standing near the car and I read on the roof rack that it said to place items "rearward" for less noise. Well I got it in my head that "rearward is a weird word" and I could not stop saying that over and over. "Rearward is a weird word" was just ridiculously funny to me.

I woke up Sunday none the worse for wear and after church I decided to take the old car and clean it out. Poor thing's been ignored too long and now has this fancy new thing flaunted in her face. So I took it to the car wash and vacuumed and cleaned the whole inside, did the windows in and out, the whole shebang. It made me a little crazy to go back to driving it, though. It felt like I was skimming along on the road after being up higher in the new one. Also, I must've put my foot down onto the imaginary clutch a dozen times since the new one is a stick. I'm loving the new one, by the way.

While I had fun outdoors Saturday night with my wine and my weird word, I was eaten alive by the mosquitos. Funny how the wine made them seem not to matter. Today, however, I'm an itching mess and so I'm off to buy some Pic at lunchtime. I remember having the stuff as a kid when we went to the lake for vacation. It seems so old fashioned but I remember it working and so I'm gonna try it again. I've done the Skin So Soft stuff and it works, too, but it's nice not to have to spray myself down with something. Just light a couple of coils and the bugs stay away. I've actually been looking for it in a few stores and found it online at Walgreen's so I'm hoping it's in the store.

That's all I got but hey, I technically posted twice in a week. It's a step.

Family Weekend Update

This is post #777. Seems like it should be something more auspicious than just a regular old Tuesday post. Then again, my posting has been anything but regular. I wonder if they make a special yogurt for that. I'll have to ask Jamie Lee Curtis to get on that.

The trip to Chicago - not downtown, but not the 'burbs, either, just part of the endless urban sprawl - went okay. I'm just really glad it's over. The new car did well, but it sure is taking some getting used to. I like the fact that I'm up high but the center of gravity is also high, too, when I'm used to practically sitting on the ground in my Sunfire.

What didn't do so well - or should I say who - is Indi. She had a really rough time, even on meds. Which means that Chris had a rough time because her whining gets on his nerves something fierce. Which means that I had a rough time because it makes me crazy that he can't just tune it out and/or at least realize that she isn't trying to manipulate him, she's majorly stressed too. Add in the traffic and the anxiety of what was waiting for us and the drive was a bit exhausting.

We got settled in our room, including bringing in two comforters and 4 pillows from home. I wanted Indi to have scents she recognized so she'd be more comfortable when we left her in the room. And after that car trip, I didn't mind leaving her in the room at all for a couple hours because I knew she'd finally calm down and sleep.

We met the MIL, BIL, SIL and baby niece at a restaurant for lunch. We got there first and out of the blue, I had a minor meltdown. Just started crying there in the foyer, looking at the cutesy little gifts they had. It's a restaurant that my BIL works at, he's the manager. He and his wife are both professional chefs, although he has been enjoying "the front of the house" more lately than the kitchen.

I got myself together the best I could and we were seated. A few minutes later, my MIL came in and I was so happy to see her. She lives in California and I loved the fact that I could drive 4 and a half hours and there she was. I wish it was that way all the time. I pulled out the chair next to me because I needed her on one side and Chris on the other. My BIL came in next, carrying the car carrier with a little pink bundle inside. I didn't look at the baby for a good 10 minutes and could only glance at her throughout the meal. Luckily, she was pretty much out of my line of sight for most of the time.

I know I was there to face my fears and all that but it was never a safe thing to do. My SIL is basically a stranger to me, my BIL is a very nice man, but let's face it, when he and Chris get together they revert back to 14-year-olds and have the best time. Chris was very aware of what was going on for me and didn't totally bail on me but he wasn't having the same experience I was. My MIL "gets" it and bless her heart, did her best to just keep talking which okay she usually does anyway, but that was exactly what I needed.

We got through lunch, I finally looked at the baby - just three and a half weeks old - and was in awe of her perfection in a way that made my heart hurt just to be near her. I found myself looking for likenesses and family resemblances and then had to stop.

As we were leaving, my MIL asked what we were doing that night - our anniversary - and the others perked up like, Yeah, what're we going to do? Chris was a champ and said that we were just going out, the two of us. We had the perfect reason with it being our anniversary and I was glad not to have to make something up and/or endure another outing all together already. I know we were there to visit, but I knew from the beginning that I couldn't just be my real & honest self there. So I switched gears into survival mode, with the thought of at least being true with Chris, no matter how hard it was.

We went back to the room and I walked Indi around and then we all lay down for a while and took a nap. When I woke up, I started thinking that I'd really like my MIL to go to dinner with us since we don't see her very often. Chris called her and she seemed really happy that we asked her to join us. We asked the hometowners where to go for pizza - it was what I wanted - and they suggested a local place. Turned out to be the best. pizza. ever. Seriously. I don't like the traditional Chicago deep dish so my MIL and I got a thin crust and then split it. I'm telling you, it was just the tastiest thing ever. Freshest tomato taste I can ever remember having on a pizza and the crust was thin but not like a cracker and very crispy, too. Super yummy.

We dropped her off around 9:30 and went back to our room and had a couple glasses of wine. About an hour later, Chris' brother came by and picked him up so they could go be boys and blow things up. We had stopped in Indiana and bought 20 bucks worth of fireworks. I couldn't care less about the do-it-yourself kind, but they just love it and I love seeing them together. Grown men, and yet when they're together, not exactly. The fact that my BIL - the "little brother" is a father now - still leaves me speechless.

I was fine with being ditched and went to bed around midnight, which was really 1 a.m. my time. Chris came home about half an hour later and we both slept horribly. Neither of us can sleep on different beds and even though I was only in bed around 5 hours, it seemed an endlessly long night. Around 6, I gave up and took Indi out on a long walk, careful to go in straight lines so I wouldn't get lost. We packed up most of the room and left just the blankets and Indi and went off to meet everyone for breakfast.

We went to a place where my BIL used to work and so - just like the day before - most of the workers in the place mobbed us to coo over the baby. Just as it should be, don't get me wrong. Both parents beamed and were in heaven to show off their daughter. I tried not to be too obvious each time, but grabbed my MIL's arm and we went and found a table. They actually put us in a booth that ended up being really crowded for the 6 of us and there was no avoiding the baby who once again, slept through the entire thing.

It didn't stop the proud daddy from picking her up a couple times and it was all I could bear to glance at him, this 6'2" man who looks so much like my husband, basically palming this tiny being against his chest with one hand. We finished breakfast amid many visits from the staff and then made our way to the door. He had set the baby down on a seat near the cashier and so I leaned in to look at her and he said something completely innocent but kind of dumb, too. He said, She'll be more fun when she's a little older. And of course I took it totally personally and wanted to snap back (but didn't) I can't think of anything more fun than your life right now so shut up and enjoy this time.

I wasn't actually angry with him, but more angry and envious of the fact that he has exactly what I want. I know he's happy and I'm sure he's grateful for a healthy beautiful baby girl. But does he really get how lucky he is? I don't know, but it's not for me to question. It was just yet another layer of what made the whole thing so difficult.

I couldn't get his words to stop ringing in my ears. Couldn't stop staring at this beautiful baby and then of course couldn't stop the tears that were instantly there. I made my way around everyone and went out to the car, taking all kinds of time to put the leftover breakfast containers in the cooler in the back of the car. I heard them coming up behind me, and Chris came up nearby. I couldn't look at him and then heard my MIL whisper to him Is she okay? I couldn't deal with that, either, and thankfully people were starting to say goodbye. We all gave our hugs and thank yous and within a couple of minutes, we were alone in the car and I could cry all I wanted.

We went back and collected Indi and made our way home through lots of holiday traffic. We unpacked the car, started laundry and caught up on some serious couch time. In the last couple of days since we've been home, we've each talked a little about how the trip affected us and what it means for us in the future. There's still lots to talk through but it feels like a good place from which to start.

Even though this is so blasted long - sorry about that - it really is the shortest version I could tell while still trying to convey how absolutely overwhelming it all was. But mostly I'm proud of the fact that I did it. I didn't hide and send Chris off alone. I went and I was functional and I'm so happy to have seen my MIL that it was all worth it.

Finally (blessed finally) here's a pic of the new wheels. I really like this car. (Click to make it practically life size.)

Checking In

I swear I never saw this coming, the whole Struggle to Blog thing. Sure, posts were hard to come up with sometimes but I never just bailed for weeks at a time. Very weird. So if there's anyone left out there, here's an abbreviated update.

I went to my boss' dad's funeral a couple of weeks ago and it was, not surprisingly, difficult. And yet his dad was 96 years old and the place was packed. How cool was that? I mean, most people who live that long - let's be real - their friends have long since made the trip ahead of them. And yet this place was filled with people there to support the family and honor the man. I cried when I saw my boss struggle with the eulogy but what really got me - what always gets me - was the part with the military honors. Start playing "Taps" and I'm just done for. Watch the folding of the flag, the final salute and hear his widow sob as she is told Ma'am, on behalf of the president of the United States and a grateful nation... and I just lose it.

The dinner afterwards was at a restaurant and it was a great location. I'm so used to lunches in musty church basements, prepared (albeit lovingly) by the Ladies Auxilliary with rubbery chicken and many Bundt cakes. This was very nice.

After I got home, I told Chris I wanted a total distraction and so we went and looked at a new car. I've been thinking about it on and off for a couple years now. We've shared a car for more than half of that time and while it is in great condition, it's 12 years old and has 160,000 miles on it. And since it seems I never buy a car without the old one dying on the side of the road, having been beaten into the ground, I decided it might be nice to look while the old girl is still doing well. (The car, not this writer. Although I'm basically doing well, too.)

So to make a lonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng story short, after days of working and being ignored and fighting to get returned calls and being generally very displeased with a local dealership, I went online to do a search and found several of the vehicles that my local guys told me they either couldn't find or couldn't get. I made a few phone calls, confirmed their inventory, and took the info. back to my local dealership. To put it mildly, they didn't seem to give a flying freak. So I told them they'd lost my business but gained a lot of bad PR from all of the people who knew what I was doing and continued to wonder where my new car was day after day.

I asked for my deposit back, we took the truck back home that we were going to trade in, and chalked it up to a bad experience that was not meant to be. Monday I got a call from one of the dealers I'd contacted in Ohio. I told them I'd really only called to try to spur on my local folks and after talking with them a while, I got hooked up with a sales person I really liked and after a couple dozen phone calls on Monday, realized that everything was falling into place just as easily as could be.

I went home and told Chris what I'd been doing all day and he nearly fell over. We'd pretty much closed the book on the whole option and here I was, hauling out another edition from a library a long ways away. So Tuesday I made the trip to Ohio in the old truck, more grateful than I can say to have arrived safely. Chris couldn't get off work and so I made the trip solo. My nerves were a tangle of knots by the time I arrived, but I made it. A few hours later, I was driving away in a new vehicle and it felt like a dream. I've never in my life bought a brand new car. But the rebates and guaranteed trade in allowances pretty much closed the gap between new and used and it just made sense. Plus, the 10-year/100,000 mile warranty was extended to lifetime by this dealship. And no, I don't have to go to Ohio for service. However, that alone was worth the trip.

Here's the thing. I got a (gulp) foreign car. I know, I know! Believe me, unless you are in Michigan, you really can't imagine the sin that this is. I'm not exaggerating. Part of me will never quite give up the guilt, and yet I love the car and well, that's that. It's a Kia Sportage. And compared to my little Sunfire, it's huge, although it's really just a baby SUV. But it's a lot bigger than I'm used to. Heck, I've never even had 4 doors before! I've always had small cars and loved them. Now I'm up higher, have actual cargo space and can't reach across the windshield. Very weird. But fun, too. I'll take a picture soon and get it up.

It comes at a good time, too, since we are making the somewhat dreaded trip to Chicago this weekend. I had already rented a car, not wanting to worry about reliability from the old car. I was happy to cancel that reservation and am flabbergasted to think that I have trustworthy, not to mention fun transportation now.

We'll pop a pill into Indi early Saturday morning and take off. She does well if she's medicated. If not, then she's a pain and clearly not happy herself. After our first trip with her, I knew that one of us was going to be on drugs next time, it was just a matter of her or me.

We'll visit for a bit on Saturday and then Chris and I will go out to dinner - it's our anniversary. We'll get up Sunday and perhaps go to breakfast with my MIL who is visiting there, have another brief visit and then say our goodbyes. Quick and dirty, as they say.

So that's my story and I'm sticking to it. I wish all the stateside people a happy Fourth and I'll catch ya on the other side.

Weekly Update ...

I blink and a week has gone by. It doesn't help blogging that I'm super busy right now. It does, however, sort of help my head that I'm so busy.

My boss' dad died this past weekend. He called me at home on Sunday and I instantly started to cry. What an idiot. I mean, I have a close relationship with my boss and it wasn't weird that I did that, but I felt like an idiot anyway. I feel so badly for him. And for his mom. His parents were married 72 years. That boggles my mind. If it were me alone after all that time, I'd want to be one of those stories you read where the surviving spouse dies soon after. I suppose that sounds morbid but that's what I think.

Anyway. Things at work have been incredibly busy due to his absence. We have a major annual meeting next week that will now get pulled together in a matter of a couple days instead of a couple weeks. It'll work out but it's going to be crazy busy.

I'm going to the visitation tonight and to the funeral tomorrow. I've never been "good" at such things. It doesn't matter if I don't know the deceased or even if I'm not close to the surviving family. I see sad people and I lose it. But when it's someone I'm close to, forget it. Loss of any kind seems so magnified to me. But it's not about me, I'm going to support him and his wife who is also a friend.

I'll meet Pam for dinner since it's in the Detroit area. Nice that it works out that way but a little weird to be looking forward to part of it.

In other news, I'm stunned to say that I'm actually considering going to Chicago to see the new baby. Stunning, eh? Yeah, that's pretty much where I am, too. Much like Mother's Day, I don't want this to become the Big Bad Boogey Man to me. I don't want to avoid family just because it's hard. But I'll take precautions to limit the fugly factor, too.

It isn't fully decided, but we're thinking about going for just one night. In, out, and back home. A short trip to say hello, see my MIL (and yes, the baby) and yet do it in a way that minimizes the gore. We'll stay in a hotel so that I can have a retreat. We'll take Indi because I don't want to board her and even though it hints of Crazy Dog Lady, it'll be good to have her there. An excuse to not be able to leave her alone too long, and she just plain calms me, even if it's hard for people to understand that.

We're thinking of going on Saturday the 4th. A little weird, but I don't want to deal with the traffic of everyone leaving on Friday. Weird, also, because the 4th is our anniversary and this is what we'll be doing? But it really works out the best for our schedules. And maybe we can go somewhere nice in Chicago for dinner. That part almost sounds like a normal/fun thing to do.

Then it's one more visit Sunday, and home by early evening so Chris can tend to some work things. When I look at it in pieces like that, it seems doable. Someone please remind me of this when I'm in the middle of it?

Time Flies

Hmmm... Seems the last thing I blogged was Breathing in, breathing out, glancing at the blog.

Well, two out of three ain't bad. I just can't seem to blog anymore, even in small glances. More accurately, I can't seem to want to blog anymore. I know why, I just don't know what to do with it. The "why" is because I'm having a first class identity crisis. Who am I if I'm not chasing the dream of my life? Who am I if that dream has been denied? Yes, there may be other dreams, but this one.

This one is not up for discussion today, I guess. I just don't have the energy to go there.

I'm popping in so that maybe this can seem like a routine again.

I'm also popping in because I got a call from Chris that his brother and sister in law welcomed their new baby girl into the world today. My SIL was to be induced tomorrow. My MIL arrived in town (outside Chicago) yesterday and they all went out to dinner. Later on that night, they went to the hospital and the baby arrived this morning. Pretty perfect timing and scenario, but then I'm biased to think that just about any scenario that ends in giving birth to a healthy baby sounds like perfection.

I asked Chris how his brother was and he quietly said Tired. Excited. I didn't talk to him much. When I asked why, I got another one word answer. Jealous.

I didn't go too far here, but that was actually a welcome thing to hear. I told him that if that was his first true reaction, that we needed to have further conversations about... everything.

Here's a very brief confession. Actually, it's Chris' stuff so I guess it's a tattle. I suppose it isn't fair to tell this and honestly, I'm embarassed and still lost as to how to even process this. But Chris just can't believe that he'll feel the same way about a baby that isn't biologically ours.

Ugh.

I feel positively unglued even writing that. I want to scream to him that he's wrong. That it's such a short-sided viewpoint and that it just seem so - pardon me - ignorant! And I guess there may be other people out there who feel this way but I just don't get it.

YES I wanted and still want more than anything to be able to have my own baby. That is something that will never change, no matter what happens. But am I all or nothing about it? No. And it has appeared that Chris is. And it just makes me cringe every time I think about it. We've talked about it and I've tried so many different angles to find a way and it ain't happening.

Part of what is frustrating is that I think after all this time, I'll never be able to open his eyes on this. He thinks that I am so singularly focused and obsessed with having a baby that I'll say anything at this point to acheive that.

Wow. This has turned so messy, so ugly, so fast. So even as incomplete as this is, it's scratched the surface of a tiny bit of what's going on. Fugly, eh? Yeah. Try livin' it.

So I keep putting one foot in front of the other. And I enjoy the new grill we just bought. And I play a lot - I mean a lot - of Tetris on Facebook. And I take on a neverending painting project in my house. And life goes on. Better than the alternative? Yes. What I want? Not even close.

Breaking the Silence

Ask Any Woman Who Struggles With Infertility (AWWSWI) what day of the year she most wishes she could find out she’s pregnant and she’ll list 366 options. Can’t forget leap year, after all.

But right up there is always going to be The Big One. Mother’s Day. And if AWWSWI isn’t a mom or pregnant on The Big One, she is almost doomed to have an incredibly emotional and painful day. This year, I felt like I was exponentially doomed. In the middle of a two week wait, I woke on Mother’s Day to get ready to go to church where I knew the service would probably be hard, but the hard part started a lot sooner. I went to the bathroom and saw the ultimate betrayal of blood.

Because there wasn’t enough pressure or expectation or desperate hope already built into this last cycle, I had to get the Big Fat No on Mother’s Day. On Mother’s Day. I started crying then and pretty much didn’t stop all day.

An hour or so later as I was pulling into church, I got a text message from Chris. Stay home is all it said. Before I could pull into the parking lot and respond, he sent another. It’s all she’s talking about, stay home. In all his infinite proclivity to avoid feelings, he was trying to protect me. But I knew that if I turned around and went back home (because I’d already had these thoughts while getting ready and on the drive to church) I knew I’d always feel like a chicken. Looking back, it probably would’ve been the wiser choice. But I’m stubborn enough and was all Don’t let the fertility terrorists win! enough to be unable to avoid it.

I walked in and up on the screen was a picture of 4 women, clearly a multi-generational family photo. I avoided making direct contact with the 4 beautiful women and sat down. I had purposely come very close to the time service would begin so I wouldn’t have time to dwell on my own. Chris was working the sound board so I had to sit by myself.

The music started and I fought tears as we sang songs, I don’t even remember what ones. And then the worship leader did her little “intermission prayer” and I struggled to maintain as she spoke, admittedly doing my best to not concentrate on her voice. Until I heard her say something like, And I don’t know what you’re going through right now, but God does. He sees you and He loves you and –

And I was completely gutted right there in the sanctuary. I could feel these huge sobs trying to escape and I picked up my purse and walked straight to the back. Our church service is actually held in a high school and so I walked back toward one of the classrooms and stood in the darkened hallway and cried. A few seconds later Barb, our Pastor, came back and hugged me. It was what sent me over the edge and sobbing. The music was still very loud and we were far enough away that no one really knew what was going on.

She just held me and said over and over, I love you. I love you. God sees you. I love you.

It was at that moment I felt more devastated and more truly loved than I have maybe ever felt in my life. The combination was both utterly wrenching and beautiful all at the same time.

I somehow managed to get out I just need to stay back here a while and she nodded and finally let me go and returned to the sanctuary where the service was now about to begin. Chris came back then and it started all over again but I felt a strong need to get myself under control. At least enough to be able to stand here for the rest of the service. He asked if I wanted to go into one of the classrooms and I didn’t. Then he asked if I wanted to come sit with him at the sound board and it was the first thing that had made sense all day. So I sat in back, a few feet away from him.

With a constant rhythm of breathing in, breathing out, and glancing at Chris, I somehow made it to the end of the service. When the music started again, I motioned to him that I was leaving. I didn't want to deal with everyone talking and visiting after service. I was sobbing again by the time I got to the car. Ahhh yes, the Safety of the Car Cry. I’ve known it many, many times.

Those first couple of hours set the tone for the rest of the day. I got it together enough to go to my mom’s for a bit. My brother and I met there and brought lunch for her and just hung out and talked. I was grateful that she didn't want to go out and do the big deal thing.

I got home around 5ish and I opened a bottle of wine. Chris didn't say anything, just kept cooking dinner. I sat at the table while he worked, something I like to do whether I'm cooking or watching someone else cook. We both consciously chatted about all things inane and much faster than you can imagine, I was opening a 2nd bottle. He was having some, too, but I'll admit he wasn't keeping up with me.

I drank another glass and felt my shoulders finally unhunch. Nothing felt good but the gentle numbing was appreciated. It was the first time I can remember truly drinking something in order to try to make something else go away. And I got a tiny peek at what true addiction might be like. Now don't go and get all worried. I drank too much. On purpose. And then I overanalyzed it. It's what I do, even tipsy. Moving on.

I had somehow had sense and forethought to take the following day off work. I spent it licking my wounds and trying to get my mind back to a place of functioning. It’s unbelievable how exhausting all that stress can be. Fearing that I’d toss and turn, I slept like a rock.

Going back to work felt strangely like going back to work after the last miscarriage. That’s the point I’ve been avoiding making. The correlation came to me almost immediately when I found myself going through such deep sadness and grief. It’s like I’m experiencing the loss not only of this cycle but of all the cycles, all the injections, all the lost potential, all the babies, all the hope. All gone, all gone.

And now what?

I know that’s the question everyone has. And I don’t have an answer. There’s more here. Hell, it’s been a month to the day since I posted. A month to the day since the IUI. I didn’t plan it that way. But of course I wouldn’t have planned much this way.

I can’t end this without saying that I’m truly sorry to have gone AWOB (a gold star to the person who gets that) or to have worried anyone. I started getting e-mails and more comments and realized that I was being really selfish by not at least checking in. Again, I’m sorry for that. I have literally been doing what feels pretty close to my best these last few weeks but I realize that came up short in many ways.

Writing my way through this has always been the thing that keeps me sane. That’s what scared me. When I thought about writing, I was completely EH. About writing, about almost everything. I’ve scratched open a few thin scabs by doing this, as it’s been really hard to get this post out but I don’t know what else to do.

Breathing in, breathing out, glancing at the blog. It's a start.

IUI

Chris got home earlier than I expected and we had a quiet night. He enjoyed Chicago a lot, especially seeing his brother. He ate too much and spent too much and I know that's how trips usually go. Somehow I managed not to whine too much about this since I did neither too much eating or spending during his absence.

I slept like crap last night, which didn't surprise me. I can't turn my brain off for anything. I finally got up around 5:30 and showered and sat and watched the news until Chris got up. We left the house at 6:40 and were the first ones in the doc's office at 7:50.

I saw him at one point, behind the reception desk, while Chris was uhmmm, otherwise busy. I went through the motions of flipping pages of a magazine and was surprised to be called back within 45 minutes. I was further surprised when it was clear that one of the nurses (and I'll admit, my least favorite and consistently grumpiest) was going to be doing the IUI. I wanted to ask why the doctor wasn't doing it but I bit my tongue.

A nurse did it the first time here, so it wasn't like it was a total surprise. What was a surprise was how much it hurt. She just did not have the touch and I wasn't shy about letting her know it. At first I just winced a bit and then I sort of sucked my breath in and then I just came out and said, That really hurts.

I've done these enough to know that it has never actually hurt. She said something about my cervix being in the back and I bit my tongue not to say that every other person has said how easy my cervix is. Anyway.

She finally left and I lay there and just couldn't help but be overwhelmed by all of this. Sometimes I can put the blinders on and sometimes it just all comes flooding in and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I stayed there for 15 minutes and then we drove home.

Chris was tired and has the uncanny ability to sleep in the car, his head bobbing all around. So it was quiet most of the ride home and when we pulled in, he stayed out and began the process of mowing the lawn. I came in, scrambled a couple eggs and went back to bed. I watched When Harry Met Sally and evidently fell asleep sometime around their last breakup because there was something else on when I woke up.

The rest of the day has been lazy. I made chocolate ginger cookies to take to church tomorrow and was pretty much a bum the rest of the time. Not much to report, but here it is in cyberspace, for posterity.

Keep your fingers crossed and your prayers coming :)

Cycle Day 11

The waiting room was packed. Eight uteruses (uteri?) and 3 corresponding peni. That's pretty much how it feels in there. We're just walking gnarly parts. While Doc A. is very kind, he excels at Speed Kindness.

Eight days on injections has put my estradiol at 657. I've heard that they tend to equate one follicle for every 100 points of that number. So I was looking at having at least 5 or 6 follicles. Turns out I only have 4. Although he had the typical trouble of finding my left ovary and so I'm not convinced he saw all there was to see there. But the ones we saw were at at respectable (for 8 days on meds) 16ish range.

At first he said we'd do a Wednesday/Friday schedule which means that I'd trigger tomorrow and IUI on Friday. I guess I hesitated for half a second (which is about a week in his world) and then he said, Or we could do Thursday/Saturday if that works better for you. I said the latter would be better and didn't dare take the time to explain that Chris wants to go out of town. He said he was very comfortable with that and that with follicles growing approximately 1 mm a day, I'd be around a good 20ish range by then.

And then whooosh, he was gone and I waited for the nurse to come in with written instructions of what he just said. I know it's necessary on their part but really, am I going to forget something like this? But I waited. And waited. And while I waited, I started to count and began to worry that waiting another day would increase the chance of my ovulating on my own, which I've done before.

So when the nurse finally came back, I explained my concern and she gave me a prescription for Gani*relix, to take last night and tonight, to make sure that I don't ovulate. I feel better about that part and there's often precious little to feel good about in this whole thing, so that's one less thing to wonder about. I'll continue meds through tomorrow morning, trigger tomorrow night and then we have an appointment at the ugly crack of dawn on Saturday.

I called Chris as I was leaving the doctor and heading to a pharmacy that carries the drug and I could hear him wincing at the mention of having to be there at 8 a.m. We'll leave the house by 6:30, just in case we run into traffic, but really, that early on a Saturday morning? We'll have the road to ourselves.

Chris left last night, which is what I like to do, too. And since Chicago is an hour earlier than us, he got there at a decent time and now has almost 3 full days to hang out. So that means Indi and I will be bach'ing it for a few days. To me, that means Chinese takeout, extra walks and some quiet time to, well, do whatever I like.

And what wild and crazy things might I have planned? Well, hold on to your hats because I'm going to hang two pictures in the den (that I've been asking Chris to do forever) as well as hang a thread holder thingie I got recently. I don't sew that often but when I do, I have to rummage through three separate bins to find the thread I need and this will organize it beautifully.

And you thought I was boring.

Today

I got an e-mail from my BFF Julia yesterday. It began with GUESS WHAT?!

Gee. I'll give you three guesses and the first three don't count as to what news she shared.

Yup. She's pregnant. She had written me a week or so ago that she did a frozen transfer and that they had a trip to Jamaica planned where they would either be celebrating or licking their wounds. I'm thrilled for her that there are only celebrations to be had.

Of course it smarts. I'm just seriously tired of having these dichotomous reactions. Don't ask me where that word came from, it just fits.

I see Dr. A. this afternoon, which will pull us out of the holding pattern in terms of Chris' trip to Chicago. Although to hear him, there is no holding pattern. I know he's excited about going and all, but everything he says is in relation to the trip. It's a given to him and it's getting on my nerves. Now I know. Shooting up these hormones twice a day - on top of all the drama in general - and I freely admit that almost everything gets on my nerves.

I know I'm being whiney about this whole thing when in reality, I really do want him to go. And yet... (enter another dichotomy) part of me that I'm not very proud of just wants him to really be here. To be supportive and distracting and just here the last few days of this cycle. It feels like he's jaunting off to his fun, only to hurry back home just in time to make his physical donation. Big whoop. As always, I am so freaking needy right now, and he just doesn't have it in him.

So I'll see the doc this afternoon, along with also hopefully seeing some follicles. I know that something's happening, I can feel it. Then I'll have a sense of scheduling and I'm 99% sure that Chris will be able to go.

This past weekend, I dove in the deep end and finally got my SIL's baby bouquet done. And I'll admit to you here that I did it after two glasses of wine. And if I say so myself, the wine didn't hurt anything. The pic isn't that great because it's too close, but here it is. Just to remind you, these are baby clothes (bib, onesies, hat, socks, etc.) folded up to resemble flowers.



















I'll update later about all the fabulous follicles and such.

My gratitude this morning includes:

You guys. Seriously. The support I get here makes all the difference in the world.
This totally fake but tasty Butterfinger "latte" I found recently.
The explosion of that unmistakable Springtime green that is slowly but surely creeping out everywhere.

Ends Soon

I half-watched the movie The Holiday the other night. I had seen it before but wasn't in the mood to be particularly productive so I had it on while I was doing other mindless stuff. Cameron Diaz plays a woman who takes a vacation from a job where she makes movie trailers. As she's on the plane, she tries to settle down and sleep on her flight to England. Out of the blue, she hears the booming movie trailer voice, dramatically telling the awful plight of her life as if it's an upcoming blockbuster.

I hear that guy all the time these days. (The actual guy died not that long ago, but it's still his voice I hear.)

"In a world full of babies and pregnant women, Patricia is... The Last Infertile. Watch her navigate a world full of Bugaboo strollers, Pampers coupons, and Baby Gap commercials as she takes on ONE one one LAST last last CYCLE! cycle cycle. Opens Mother's Day everywhere, rated G for Generally-everyone-else-can-get-pregnant audiences."

Seriously. Life fairly drips with melodrama right now and it's got to stop. I go to the fridge in the morning to get drugs for an injection (that oughta prompt some lovely searches) and it's like I'm Princess Diana, walking down that endless aisle in the church with a billion people watching me. Steps are deliberate (but thankfully not quite with the bridal cadence) when they needn't be. Importance is implied when it's unnecessary. And "the last time" is a phrase that creeps into my thoughts Way. Too. Often.

I've got to stop making myself crazy with all the overemphasis but how exactly do I do that? How do I stop telling myself that this pretty much is my last chance? I wanted it to be on my terms and that isn't going to happen. I've pretty much made my peace with that. It isn't as if I'm going to go off in search of a third doctor and become infertility's version of a drug seeking uterus, wanting nothing more than a Menopur high.

When I saw Dr. A. last Monday, well, in all my juvenile defense, he started it! He literally walked in the door and said, "Well this is the one that's got to work."

Gee. No pressure there, doc. He said - again - that there was nothing he would change in terms of my response. I was "extremely predictable" and "performed beautifully" every time. No med changes would be in order, my consistent response was merely a matter of getting all the signals going at the same time.

He also said that since I am so predictable that he would look to minimize my trips in to Ann Arbor (technically Ypsilanti - and if you don't know, it's pronounced as if it's Ipsilanti, because it's nails on a chalkboard when people say "Yipsilanti" but I digress) and to that end, he wouldn't see me again until the following Wednesday. I quickly tried to add up the days and when I couldn't seem to do that, I used my fingers and got to nine! Nine days of injections with nary a peek at how things were going. Predictable or not, that seemed unbelievable to me. But I made the appointment and began injections that night.

Fast forward to this morning when Chris says that he talked to his brother last night and he'd like to go visit him next week. This is his brother whose wife is expecting a baby in about 6 weeks. They live outside Chicago. He and his brother have been talking about a visit for a long time and they know that if it doesn't happen now, the chances are even fewer once the baby arrives.

My first response was something along the lines of, Uhmmm remember me? Doctor? In need of swimmers? His first response (and I'll fully admit that I had already unfairly decided in a nanosecond that he wasn't going to win this one) was Well the doctor said you'd go 10 days and so if I leave on Wednesday, I'll be back on Friday.

He wanted to leave even before my appointment. In the best of scenarios, he marks every single plan with a giant TENTATIVE stamp on it and waits until after my appointment to find out, you know, things like a trigger date and IUI scheduling. Details!

But I remained calm and said that his leaving before my appointment just wouldn't work for me (all the while screaming in my head, WHERE'S YOUR PRIORITY?!) and said that the best I could offer was to call the doctor and see if I could reschedule my appointment for a day earlier. And that if there's any clear call on when to do what, that his trip might still work. Miiiight, I drew out with my best movie trailer voice.

And yeah, I immediately got a self righteous back ache from all the bending over backwards it felt like I was doing in order to facilitate what he wants to do. When in reality, I just want him to feel (and heaven forbid express) somewhere in the neighborhood of the same importance of all this.

So now I go see the doc Tuesday afternoon. If I really am as predictable as he says, I'll continue meds through the 10th day (Thursday), trigger Friday and IUI on... Sunday? I dunno about that because I've never had a Sunday appointment with him but I assume he would need to do them once in a while. Even Dr. NoMo did those.

Still. All of this has a whole lot of "IF"s to it. And secretly, I'm almost relieved to have even a little thing like this distract me for a minute or two. I'll selfishly probably never admit it to Chris, but at least it's something else to think about In a world where... well, you get the picture.

Treasures

I have this shelf in my dining room. Neither the shelf nor the entire dining room itself is crooked but you wouldn't know that from my mad photography skilz.


Pam's dad made one for each of his daughters and he made one for me, too. That alone makes me love it.

Over the years, it has become a sort of catch-all, the likes of which I equate with an 8 year old boy's pocket. Or a 10 year old girl's secret stash of stuff that she hides in a box under her bed.

Precious treasures from the gumball machine, ticket stubs, cool rocks, whatever.

The contents of mine change from time to time. They evolve over time to reflect some of what's going on in life or when I just get tired of what's up there.

The last thing that got added was the big pink flower that I just couldn't part with. I don't know why, it's just fun and pretty and pink and I couldn't get rid of it. It was in the basket we received last summer.

But what I really want to share right now is the middle shelf.



















Clicking on the pic will fill the screen, but for the most part, you can see what's there. The bottles are empty vials of medicine I take during cycles. The mugs have our names on them (although I still need to get Chris' middle name mug) and the "BELIEVE" thing is just a cutesy thing I found in a hospital gift shop. Do you know that you can find cutesy things in hospital gift shops? As often as I go to labs and such, I stop in from time to time. The Believe thing is being elevated by a cork we opened on a weekend getaway that I saved because, well it's a long story.

See that's the thing about the treasures of a little boy's pocket. Or the cherished items of a little girl's hidden cache. Or a woman who has outgrown neither the urge to hoard or display such treasures. Everything has a story. Everything evokes a memory. Sort of like a 3-D scrapbook. I pass it by every day and to others, I suppose it looks silly, juvenile, cluttered.

But go back and look again. Next to the empty bottles of medicine. See the little plastic baby? It's just over an inch high, has little definition, couldn't be considered "cute" by the biggest stretch of the imagination, and yet I love that the baby has lived on this shelf for the past couple of years.

This little plastic baby was on the cake at my mom's baby shower. When she was pregnant with me. It sat in an old jewelry box for ages after she gave it to me, being moved from one place to another, always precious cargo that I never wanted to lose. And now it sits on this shelf as part of a tiny little shrine to the potential of fulfilled dreams.

I saw Dr. A. yesterday. As a prep to my final cycle with him. Yeah. The F Word. I can't even let my mind process that right now and I don't know if that's wise, but it is my reality. I started injections last night. As Chris and Indi and the little plastic baby watched.

Little Plastic Baby has been on a shelf long enough. It's time for that butt to be in some frosting again.

Weekend Update

Three day weekend? Whoooooooooooosh! Seriously, how do they go by so quickly? Three and a half days, even, since my lovely boss let us out at Noon on Friday.

In between, I had a relaxing weekend for the most part. Saturday - the one day I can sleep in - I whimpered when I heard Indi whining and peeked at the clock and saw that it was 6:30. We got up and went for a walk and then were lazy the rest of the morning as I puttered around. She is my constant shadow, moving with me from room to room. She loves me :D

I finally got the gumption to go do some grocery shopping and also bought a new trash can - with an all important lid - for the kitchen. Indi has taken to standing up at the trash and fishing stuff out of it. I kinda wish I could catch her at it because I'm sure it's a sight to see her standing on her tippy toes, trying to reach in there. I found one I like well enough (and I've been looking for a while now) and finally gave up on the one I really want. I just refuse to spend that much money on a trash can. A trash can!

The rest of the day, I worked on a recipe I'm entering into (no laughing allowed) the Pillsbury Bake-Off. That's right, I watch enough of those silly shows on the Food Network and such, I decided I was going to at least start entering. Too bad tens of thousands of other people have the same idea, but hey, I can't get the call if I don't enter. I've actually been telling myself to get off my butt and do this for years but I've never done it before. Coming up with an original recipe is harder than it seems. Especially when you have to be a Pillsbury Pimp and use their products. Anyway, this is a good start for me, and maybe it'll get me into researching some other smaller possibilities.

Sunday was church and then really I wouldn't have even known it was Easter, we didn't do a thing. My mom was going to hang out with my aunt all day so Chris and I just hung out like any other Sunday.

Yesterday we had been planning to go to the credit union to see about a possible refinance. *sigh* I wish I had steeled myself better for the experience. I kept hearing all this stuff about how umpteen millions of people are eligible for refinancing at incredible new rates, blah blah blah. The very short version is that the value of our house has plummeted to such a degree that we have zero options available to us.

I was stunned. I don't know why, but I was. Chris said he wasn't surprised and I wish he'd prepared me for that part before we went in. I wasn't thinking that we'd make any super deal but I thought we might lower our payments a little.

The loan officer woman was a cold stone wall. Granted, she's probably had to have this same conversation with countless people over the last year or so but when it's happening to me, I don't care a whole lot about the other people right then. She basically printed out an estimate of low, average and high end appraisals for our house, based on other homes in our neighborhood. I'm not sure that is really fair because our house is slightly larger and on a larger lot than most others in our immediate neighborhood but whatever.

What really pissed me off was that she said, "I'm going to print your numbers for you," and when I asked her just to tell me, she remained silent until she put the paper in front of me. Looking at the numbers, I could tell within a few seconds that clearly, the appraisal numbers were much lower than what we owe and that there were no options available. But I couldn't help myself, so I said just that. "So we have no options available to us." She said, "That's right." And I said, "And that's all I wanted you to tell me, not to make me figure it out with these numbers." I could tell that Chris was bristling next to me, not quite liking where this was going. I had remained very pleasant but he knows when I'm headed toward being pissy and yes, it was very possible that I was on my way.

What pisses me off is that he then goes overboard in the opposite direction of being all gooey and sweet, as if he's making up for his Big Bad Bitch of a Wife.

I know it's happening to everyone, I just hadn't ever felt so trapped before. We bought our house not quite 4 years ago. At the time, it appraised for what I thought was a nice amount above our purchase price. Today, even the high end is tens of thousands of dollars lower than that. Part of me wants to gamble and just see where it comes in but it costs $275 for the appraisal and if it comes in low, then we're out that money.

So we left and I was pretty instantly in tears, which just made me feel stupid. I mean, we weren't looking to put the house up for sale or anything, it's just the idea that this whole stupid mess of an economy leaves no one behind. And instead of building equity and increasing our options, we are stuck paying for something that is, worst scenario, worth half what we paid for it. I know/hope things will rebound at some point but right now I'm just sickened by all of it.

I went home and immediately began my Bad Mood Therapy. I cleaned my house like a madwoman. My lovely old backsliding house was shining within a couple of hours. I still have to get out and rake outside but that's going to wait for another day. Maybe I'll go revisit Cold Credit Union Woman to get some inspiration for that.

I know I'm lucky to still have a home. To have never had the stress of being late with a payment. And I am grateful. It's just like so many other things. It's all so much harder than I ever imagined. It all seems to take so much longer for me than I ever thought possible. I'm segueing here, aren't I?

I took The Last Pill on Sunday night. Now I wait for her and then go in to see if my ovaries are quiet. Meds are being delivered today. I have many, many thoughts on this next cycle but I've covered more than enough ground today.

Peace.

H(ar)ump(h) Day

I go days and days without a whole lot to say lately. Things are okay. Nothing awful, nothing spectacular. Just rolling along, grateful for good days.

I have 5 more days on the evil, hated pill. Five sleeps til the headache subsides and I feel a little more like myself. I still bite my tongue a dozen times a day, in an attempt to not immediately say what really comes to mind. Too often, it just seems I have such a short fuse. And I fight hard not to see Chris constantly walking around, one giant match.
























Sometimes it's like they're identical twins. I fantasize about heaving him up and striking the top of his head against a slate surface.

Five sleeps, indeed.

The weekend was relaxing for the most part. Saturday's game was, again, surreal. Monday's game was crushing, but the finish to an amazing run that was so much fun to watch.

A week or so into the run, I noticed that a couple of newspapers were piling up on the dining room table and when I looked more closely, I saw that Chris was setting up some sort of wannabe shrine so I left them. I was actually amused as he continued to add to the collection and couldn't resist taking a picture this morning.



















The middle group is actually 4 separate newspapers, stacked on top of one another. Every day another one came in, they looked like the kind you have made up at a carnival. The whole front page was usually devoted to the games. Yes, there was/is other news in the world but it was a nice distraction while it was here.

They're in the recycling bin now, because Chris would be apt to leave this little shrine out until next season.

We got socked with 5+ inches of snow on Sunday. It's disgusting. And it's been cold enough that it's still around, too. I'm just so done with it, I could scream. But then I could scream at a lot of things these days so I might not be the best barometer. Right now, I'm just coasting to the weekend. It sure doesn't look like Easter time outside, that's for sure. I took a yellow sheet Monday, for no good reason. I haven't had an extra day since the inlaws were here and that didn't exactly count as relaxation.

Chris will be gone again on Saturday and I'm going to spend the day cooking. I want to try out a few new recipes and I just feel like putzing. So putz I shall.

I decided to make up a little Easter basket for Chris so I'll shop for that on Saturday, as well. We don't usually do anything other than church but I'm trying really hard to find kind things to do, even when I don't feel kind or giving. If I'm honest with myself, I think maybe I'm just doing this to justify a trip down the Easter candy aisle. Can you say solid milk chocolate?

Zoom Zoom

Mazda ain't got nothin on me.

I'm not gonna lie to ya, I've had some caffeine this morning. Folks in my building all got the fancy schmancy coffee this morning because there were BOGO coupons so I went in. And since I went in, I went all in. An extra shot.

Go big or go home, that's what I say. And since my boss frowns upon my going home at 9 a.m., I decided to go big in the caffiene department.

What's that, you say? I shouldn't be drinking caffeine due to the potentially *cough* delicate condition that I so earnestly seek? Well all I have to say to that is PFFFFFFFTTTT. I've gone on the wagon before and yet both times I got pregnant, I was way off the caffeine wagon so I figure, screw it. Zoom Zoom.

The roiling rage I felt from the first week on the pill has calmed a bit. As has the constant headache the first week brings. I am grateful for both of these things because I was about to go postal on just about every breathing thing I came into contact with.

Chris ate tortilla chips and I wanted to whomp him upside the head with a frying pan. My mom complained about traffic and I wanted to scream very bad things in her ear. My coworker asked why I did a particular thing a certain way and I wanted to dropkick her 3 cubicles down.

I have sat in my office with the door closed at least half of the week. I have brought crocheting in to do at lunch and have gone over my lunchtime by at least 10 minutes every day, continuing the calming motion of my now beloved granny squares. I have cooked healthy and tasty meals each night, in order to not just sit and fume as well as to enjoy a nice meal. And it has all helped me maintain my sanity.

I splurged on a new MSU sweatshirt that I am wearing at work today. Funny how being in the Final Four can stretch the boundaries of anything remotely resembling casual Friday. It cost a small fortune but it's a really good shirt and will last for years. I had one just like it that I wore until it was practically in shreds. You know that one sweatshirt that just makes everything okay again? I just have to remember not to dry it. I have a hard time keeping the sleeves long on sweaters and such and I love that the cuff comes well past my wrist.

Such is my riveting post today.

The weekend looms beautifully before me. Chris has to work a good deal of the day tomorrow so I hope to get some things done during the day before settling down to watch the game at 6:07. Who sets the time for these things??? Everyone is talking about where they'll watch the game. Do you go out? Do you stay home? Do you go to a friend's house? What do you drink? What do you eat? Do you eat all during the game or plan to eat during halftime?

Seriously this is all Very Big Stuff in East Lansing. I'm not going anywhere NEAR downtown, it will be a zoo. I just hope that no matter what happens, people are wise and don't make dumb choices. Alas, there will always be a few.

So that's my world today. A little calmer and a little more hyped, all at the same time. Have a lovely weekend, peeps.

Weekend Update

It was a bit of a roller coaster weekend. I was on my own Friday night and all day Saturday. Chris was at a friend's, doing the game geek thing. I loved it. I was able to watch the basketball game Friday night and was almost flying by the time it got over around 11:30. I didn't go to bed til almost 1, unheard of for me anymore, but I couldn't unwind after getting so revved up. It was such fun, but exhausting to watch.

I got up Saturday, feeling all smug and happy to have the whole day to myself. I set to washing all the blankets and sheets, I love me some Downy freshness and as long as Indi sleeps with us, that only lasts a little while before they take on more of a beagle funk that isn't necessarily bad, it's just a far cry from April fresh.

I made breakfast and sat and watched cooking shows while I crocheted. Lazy and relaxing and wonderful. I made a smallish grocery list but never quite found the motivation to make it to the store. I did go out to the library and got a couple of books that are a bit of a sharp transition from the fun fluff I've been reading. I started one and was so horrified by the reality of the emotional pain of it that I put it down. Maybe it's too soon to leave my fluff. I'm just not up for that much angst. Aside from the self imposed variety.

***

I just deleted a whole rant about Chris. Let's just say that I was prickly near him the rest of the weekend. The upshot of the whole thing is that I was able to pull myself back from a complete meltdown and just maintain. I feel like I need to justify this, but pluck it, it is what it is. The biggest "victory" seemed to be that I could literally feel all this stuff bubbling up as a result of the stupid pill I'm on. It took a while to put them together, but I'm convinced they seriously make me mental. And I'm not on it long enough to have it even out (which I know it does) but this on-again, off-again protocol makes me a raging lunatic. (Careful.)

So I kept to myself and walked Indi in the middle of a full-on blizzard Sunday afternoon. It was cold and blustery and somehow the biting wind cut through the crap enough to make me be able to enjoy hunkering down when part of me just wanted to bail. But how could I? I had a game to watch.

*swoon*

The game on Friday was a nailbiter. Back and forth, down by 13 at one point and yet they just kept clawing back. Sunday's game - against the #1 team overall - was surreal. I started out holding my breath, just not sure I was emotionally prepared to see the possible trouncing that many said was sure to come. And when they held their own and were even up by 3 at the half, I finally exhaled. And then when they came back in the 2nd half and just ran away with it, I squealed with delight.

That's right, I squealed with delight.

It was like a dream. Just about everything they did worked. Shots went in. Threes stretched in from the arc. Steals came easily. Stops were made. And you could see it in the grins on the faces of the players. As if they'd been transported back to the playground and could do no wrong. And it isn't as if Louisville didn't play well. It wasn't a cakewalk. But the Spartans just shone. Getting to watch that was amazing. Watching Magic Johnson soar to his feet and cheer - 30 years after he was on the same court, in the same uniform, on his way to MSU's national championship - it gave me goosebumps.

If you don't "get" March Madness, trust me, it is f-u-n. And sure, it is even more fun when it's my alma mater, my community, my team.

A lot of other teams get a lot of the attention. The North Carolinas, UConns, Dukes, and the rest. And yeah, they deserve it. But MSU is there, too. It just doesn't get the same attention. MSU has been in the Final Four 5 times in the last 11 years. More than anyone in the nation. And this Final Four happens to be in our backyard, practically a home court, just down the road in Detroit. Who knows what'll happen in the next game, but for right now, it doesn't matter.

Okay, I'll come down off the bball high. For now. And really, it's easy to do with just one glance out the window. It stayed cold enough for the snow to stick around. There's only an inch or so but I HATE that everything is covered in white again.

Although now that I think about it, it does fit in nicely with the whole "Green & White" theme.

IncreduList

I Can Hardly Believe…

• Winnie got married and it wasn't to Kevin.
  
  
• How long fruits & veggies stay fresh in my new fridge. Big difference.
  
  
• There are people who actually like Peeps. I have a major case of Peeps Creeps.
  
  
• How expensive really good yarn can be; I will splurge on some one day. I also want to find a cool crochet group to join or visit once in a while.
  
  
• I haven’t had a Diet Coke in 15 months. I never thought it was possible.
  
  
• How easily I lose an earring. I have countless lovely single earrings and have no idea where the mate is. This is why I never buy expensive jewelry. (Yeah, that’s the reason.)
  
  
• That people actually like the taste of teriyaki. I can’t stand it.
  
  
• I’ve cut my own hair for a few years now. (I hope I didn’t just send Susan into cardiac arrest…)
  
  
• I haven’t gotten off my butt about writing yet; what the hell am I waiting for?
  
  
• How much I really love “a place for everything and everything in its place.” This hasn’t always been the case. And yet it feels like I fight a constant state of clutter, i.e., Chris.
  
  
• How annoying I find it when people eat while talking on the phone. I don’t want to hear you chewing and swallowing, it’s gross.
  
  
• How much I love my iPod and how much I hate the ear buds.
  
  
• That horror films make money. I just don’t get it, why people want to have the life scared out of them.
  
  
• What a perfect meal eggs benedict is, any time of the day.
  
  
• People who read in the bathroom. I mean, ewww. Get in, get out, get on with your life, that’s my motto.

Third Time's the Charm(ing baby)

I talked to Dr. A. this morning. He really is a very kind man. The difference between his manner is night and day with NoMo. He talked about this latest lack of success (trying to avoid the "f" word here) as a true disappointment. I know he's just empathizing with a patient but I don't care. It's the right thing to say and he does it well. I've simply got to let go of this comparison stuff but it's hard.

He was on the verge of saying we're done. I know he was, he all but said it. Well, done with this particular option I mean. So I took a deep breath and charged through, saying that I've pretty much wrapped my emotional makeup around a 3rd cycle. That I know it isn't the end-all to this whole process, but that when he originally told me that he runs 3 cycles before moving on - to whatever - I had put that in my head as my beacon. The thing by which I've been steering this treatment with him.

Okay so I didn't go all Metaphor Mary on him like that, but I basically said the same thing. He immediately said that if that's what would make me feel better, that we certainly aren't doing any harm and he's willing to work with me on this cycle.

One. Last. Cycle.

On one hand, I'm naturally relieved. I was trying not to think about how I'd feel if he just said No. We're done. Nothing to see here, move along. Which he isn't. Even if this next cycle...

But that's the thing. I can't finish that sentence, either.

It's the same reason I haven't been able to answer the (honestly) frustrating question most people put back of Why not just adopt? I cannot walk the two roads at once! And honestly, that isn't what we're looking at next if...

Again. Can't go there. I can't automatically see this next cycle as a bust. Yes, I know about back-up plans. Plan B (although I'm pretty sure we're up to at least Plan L, M or N by now) is a wise thing.

But that wacky lady, Hope? She doesn't like two-timers. Won't abide by cheaters. And to begin wooing another option while I'm still walking this particular path just does not work for me.

So I'm on the pill. Which I loathe and I told him as much. I actually whined about it a little, somewhat testing the waters to see if he absolutely requires it. He said he was sorry I have a hard time with it, but that they absolutely see it as increasing good cycles. So basically suck it up and pop the pill for a month.

Pill x 28 days, period + 3 days, injections x 10 days, trigger + 2 days, IUI in early May = ? That's my new math. I hope I can solve the problem.

Weekend Update

Four years ago today, I started this blog. Last year, I think the date went by unnoticed by me. I used to write in such fragmented sentences. Herky jerky snippets of thought, as if I wasn't worthy of complete sentences, I guess. We all know from some of my long@ss posts that I've turned that corner, huh?

To answer the question some people posed about my two week wait and how I could possibly know so soon that it was a bust... I had the IUI 10 days before I wrote that post to the 2ww. I just hadn't blogged much about the wait. And then pretty much the day after that post - because this is how the universe works - I started my period a couple days early. I've been putting off calling the doctor (with whom I need to have a post-cycle consult) in part because I dread what he may say. I'm pretty sure I'll be doing another cycle with him, but it also means that I have to go back on the pill for a month. This is seriously the worst part of the whole thing. Well. Other than the sucky results each time. I should've started a pack last night but I just didn't want to. Mature, I know.

My weekend was surprisingly relaxing. I read, I watched a lot of basketball, I cursed my brackets, I cheered for my Spartans, and I made chicken pot pie for myself and a pot of chicken soup - which I'll deliver tonight - to my pastor who isn't feeling well.

I called her yesterday about whether or not we'd have small group at her house last night and when I asked if I could bring a meal or do anything, I was pleasantly surprised when she took me up on it. So I made a pot of soup with lots of veggies and tons of chicken in it and the broth came out heavenly. (Fitting for a pastor, no?) This afternoon, I'll cook some noodles and add them at the last minute before taking it over so they don't get mushy. I also made some poppy seed cake to go with it. Not that it exactly goes with chicken noodle soup, but a little sweet cake can't hurt.

I love it when people are honest and don't say, "No, I don't need a thing." That's what I tend to do. And yet being on this side, being literally gleeful at getting to do such a small thing, I need to remember that when people offer, it's okay to accept.

Chris had a friend over to watch the game last night. This man has two very young kids and was, naturally, talking about them from time to time. He said that his son, D, had been ill but was better now. Chris relayed the tale of Indi waking us up by puking in our bed a week or so ago. Mark later said something about how papers can't be left out because their youngest, K, likes to shred and tear papers. Chris pointed out the two bottom shelves of the bookcase that are empty because Indi liked to chew books when she was a puppy.

I make the same comparisons all the time. Just hearing them from someone else made it all seem a little pathetic and put a huge spotlight on Look At How We Surrogate Parent A Dog! Don't get me wrong, I know that I do it, this wasn't an Aha Moment. And I'm really not looking to change any of those behaviors.

Maybe it's just because I'm thinking about the ol' blog. I didn't have Indi when I started it. We didn't own our house when I started it. I wasn't seeking fertility treatments when I started it, we were still in our "trying" years. So many huge things have happened, not as a result of the blog, but since its inception.

A blogaversary feels like a different level of New Year's Eve. There is an implied suggestion to go back over the previous year and leaves me prone to wonder about the year to come. I can't dwell on that, though. I already struggle with remaining in the present. Not borrowing trouble from tomorrow or revisiting things I can't change in the past. But living in the moment, day to day.

My gratitude right this moment includes

The funky shirt I'm wearing today is one of my favorites and makes me feel almost cool

I lay in bed this morning and listened to Chris and Indi snore in unison and was able to control my giggling so as not to wake either of them

I put up a few little cutesy Easter decorations around my house and it instantly felt as if winter really might actually be over.

Another "No."

I found this pic from Christmas; it makes me smile. So does the hint of the guy holding her up.

She absolutely hates hats and yet I can't stop myself.

It's just the 3 of us for a while longer. I'm not pregnant.

Again.

An Open Letter to the 2 Week Wait

Dear 2 Week Wait,

I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write. It’s been almost 2 months since last I saw you. In some ways, that seems like so long and yet, just like old friends, once we reconnect, it’s like no time at all has passed and we can just pick up where we left off.

I know we’ve had our challenges in the past. Okay, so I said I loathed you. That was harsh and I apologize. But you were so new to me. Unlike anyone I’d ever met before and I guess I judged you too quickly. I saw you as the enemy, one to guard against and plot ways of quickening your stay. You, like the proverbial in-laws and fish, began to stink after 3 days.

And let’s face it. Your departures leave a lot to be desired. You stay with me, niggling at the back (and front and side and underbelly) of my mind until I think I’m about to explode with anxiety. You taunt me with morsels of hope until I think I’ll go out of my mind, waiting for you to leave. Because let’s be clear. I never, ever want you to leave as abruptly as you usually do.

In fact, I really hate that, you know. Most of your exits over the years have been simply brutal. You linger for what seems like forever and then I don’t even know you’re gone until that other visitor, The Monthly Bitch, shows up. You must be the biggest hematophobe in the universe. That part I pretty much understand, though. I hate that particular visitor more than I can possibly say. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful it’s still there. I just want it to take a break. A 9-month break. I want your visit to come to an end where there’s joy, not sadness.

I know you can do it, you’ve done it before. Twice, even. Remember that time, the day after Christmas? Man, that was some great timing on your part. You hung around for a couple weeks while I finished shopping and enjoying the tree and you were probably even packing your bags Christmas Eve while I was at church. I guess I just assumed you’d leave like you have most other times, pick up in a huff and go flying out the door, just as The Other One arrives.

But you didn’t. You just sort of vaporized into this unbelievably joyful time. That’s when I really turned the corner in our relationship. When I realized that it was possible for me to get something out of your visits. But even that only lasted a couple of months or so.

It has taken me a long time to see this side of you, but one of the benefits of your visits is a steely determination. I have gained strength and muscle in my emotional makeup that I didn’t know was possible. I’ve also hyper extended some of the corresponding grief and sadness areas when I thought I understood the signals you were sending me, only to find out I was reading them all wrong. Completely and utterly wrong.

But now…

I don’t know how to explain it. Call it my own twisted version of Stockholm Syndrome where the prisoner falls in love with her captor. I guess I see you in a whole different light because I know that you won’t be visiting in these same ways too many times longer. Oh sure, you’ll be around in some form until I hit the dreaded Men.O.Pause. But like this? All gussied up, summoned with a hand engraved invitation and everything? These times are numbered. And we both know it. And so I find myself clinging to you, wanting if anything, to stretch out your stay. Can you believe it?

I want the 2 Week Wait to go more slowly? Call the loony bin and make a reservation ‘cause this chick has fallen off the deep end! She ain’t right in the head!

I’ve taken to clinging to you because sometimes it feels like The Wait is close to being all I have left to put my hope in. I don’t have endless opportunities left. And so the few that I do have, I must savor. Now I know, I should’ve been savoring all along. Living in the moment, blah-ba-de-blah-blah. But I didn’t.

The first one or two, I was so green with Novicehood, I just knew that I could beat this. That I could win. And when you proved me wrong, it took the next one or two to get my feet back under me. But I got my sea legs and I learned to roll with it and I won. I WON. For a couple weeks until it all came crashing down.

Enter my period (ha!) of loathing you. You were the enemy. The one to endure, suffer through, and tolerate until I could lure you back into the game again. That’s the twisted part of all this. Can’t live with you, can’t live without you. And now you’re here again. With what appears very clearly to be another grab-and-go departure on your part.

I can feel The Bitch is near.

She’s due to saunter in toward the end of the week and so all I want to do is to keep you – my dear 2 Week Wait with whom I have such a complicated relationship – to stay awhile longer. To let me live in this area in between. The area where I don’t know either way.

While there is no lasting joy in this ignorance, a sort of pseudo bliss has developed in this foggy in-between place. I know it isn’t right, and I’m sure it isn’t healthy. But it’s my highest truth right now. My way of plugging my ears and loudly spouting LA LA LA LA LA LA LAAAAAAAAAAA until I drive away the realities, even if only for a little bit.

So. Where does this leave us, 2WW? I dunno. But I wanted you to know that I don’t hate you. That I have discovered how much I can learn from you and that while my feelings for you are a little twisted, I understand that you’re just doing your job. But if there’s anything – anything – I can do to persuade you to not let Her in the door, just name it. I’ll owe you forever.

Love,
Patricia

More Randomness

Is it possible to consider returning a coffeemaker because you don't like the clock? I mean, it has nothing to do with the coffee and yet the clock on this thing isn't backlit so it's literally impossible to see the time (or program it to brew in the future) without getting right down in front of it and peering at it straight on. Such a little thing, but it bugs me. I could set our other one without even turning on the kitchen light. I don't think I put enough coffee in it when I programmed it last night either so I want to try again tomorrow because I need to at least love the coffee and this morning, I didn't.

Oh what little dramas I'll magnify in order to keep my mind off other things.

I got an e-mail from my BFF Julia yesterday. I haven't mentioned it, but we've been writing regularly, keeping each other in the loop about our current goings on. She is still with Dr. NoMo and doesn't talk about him much so I suppose that means things are pretty much the same. She did an IVF cycle last month and got a big fat negative for her trouble. Her trouble and her twelve grand, that is. I'm really disappointed for her. She has frozen embryos from the cycle and so she will try two more times and then... I dunno. But in her last mail, she mentioned getting together for lunch sometime and yes, I was all agog again. It's just so nice to have someone around who really gets it.

Know what I found yesterday? Peanut butter malted milk balls. Oh my. They're probably made with the tainted peanut butter and all, but dang they are good. So I decided I should eat a bunch of them so that I'd know for sure if they were okay or not. With half a box gone, I've decided that I'll need to finish them up to know for sure. The price we pay for science.

I've been trying to learn how to do some new crochet stuff and it's irritating as all get out that I can't seem to learn. I always learn stuff better if someone shows me, can't read a pattern to save my life. So I found a bunch of cool videos online that teach new stitches and patterns and stuff. And I watch them a hundred times and almost get it but mine never looks right. It's a stupid granny square, for crying out loud, why can't I do this? Oh, and if you're not yarn challenged and want a really easy way to learn (insert eye roll) check out the vids here. Mine ends up close, but just not quite right.

I can't seem to get into Idol this year. Last year was the only year I really watched it from start to finish and I found myself really liking it. This year they just all seem like clones of every other year and I can't seem to care. This may or may not have something to do with the fact that I was muttering curses under my breath while watching and trying to crochet.

I'm trying to stay positive and hopeful but I gotta admit, I mostly feel blah. This neverending gray sky is truly dragging me down. We had freakishly sunny days for about a week and now the sun hasn't been seen for days.

Once in a while, Chris has been borrowing the van of the family he provides care for. He parks it in the driveway and then has to move it each time I want to leave since his piece of crap truck is still in the other half of the driveway. One day, I went out to warm up my car and as the garage door opened, I looked out and the van was there and I finally noticed the license plate on the front: EXPECT A MIRACLE.

Expect a miracle. That doesn't come easily or naturally. But I'm tryin. And I'm thinking another peanut butter malted milk ball can't hurt.

Edited to add: One hour later - it is snowing. &#!~*^$@!

ViewMaster

Random moments passing in front of my mind's eye today:

I'm geeked over getting a new coffee maker. That's probably a little sad, right? I'm going to pick it up at lunchtime today. Great coffee awaits tomorrow morning.

The IUI went very well. Chris' count was off the charts, for him. I swear, he physically puffed up when he heard the numbers. Men.

On a cool, rainy night, I went home yesterday and made a pan of goulash. My home canned tomatoes from last summer made it absolutely delicious.

One night during my MIL's visit, she was talking vaguely about my (pregnant) SIL, with whom none of us are particularly close, even after much effort. She trailed off her thoughts with I wish it were Patricia that was pregnant. Kind of a terrible thing to say, and a supportive thing toward me, but it still rings in my ears and hurts my heart.

I cannot seem to get enough sleep lately. Ever since the inlaws left, it's like my body is just a slug and can't function on less than 9 hours every night. When the alarm goes off, I struggle to get out of bed, knowing I could roll over and sleep even more. What gives?

I stumbled upon a new Evanovich book (a "between-the-numbers" novel) and was happy to have something so easily engaging at yesterday's appointment. The waiting there (close to 2 hours yesterday) always feels like forever.

It has been raining and gloomy and gray for days. I know that this will make the grass finally turn green. But for now, it is just dreary and drab and makes me, you know, want to go back to bed.

If A Follicle Bursts In The Ovary...

and there's no one to blog about it... does it really happen?

This has got to be the most hush-hush cycle I've ever had. That isn't so bad. I can hear you all collectively agreeing.

In the midst of all the MILing about, I went to the doctor on Monday. (A lovely break, indeed. Quite sad to be so excited to get in those stirrups.) He did his usual head shaking and half snorting and said You shouldn't still be doing this well! But he said I had half a dozen great looking follicles and probably more on the left side which is always hard to see, as well as a few smaller ones.

Today, there are still half a dozen great looking follicles, ranging in size from 19-20, my lining is great at a little over 11, and he's going to push (me) another day. I trigger tomorrow night and have an IUI Monday morning. I wondered if he does them on Sunday and also if that has anything to do with my being pushed. Push away, I'm fine with it, but I still wondered.

Today was the 4th time in a week that I've driven back and forth to either Detroit or Ann Arbor and I must say that today was the least fun, even though I got good news. All the other times, I was driving a lovely rental car - a Ford Edge - and enjoying every bit of the new-car dreaminess. We rented something because I normally drive a two door Pontiac Sunfire. Not a good thing to be hauling 4 people in and out of. The rental was fun but gave me The Fever. Bigtime. I returned it this morning and when I got back in my own car, it felt like I was driving a skateboard, it was so low to the ground.

The only thing I'm going to do all weekend is go shopping for a new coffee pot. Uncle/Dad accidentally broke ours. Ahem. Ours was kind of on its last leg, but still. I'm thinking of getting one of the thermal carafe coffee makers, but I'll see what I find. I'm not going to do any other thing all weekend and that sounds like bliss to me. I hope you find your bliss, as well. Toodles.

p.s.
I'm not ignoring you but I'm incredibly behind on reading blogs...

I Survived

Barely. And there were times when I wasn't sure.

The visit with the inlaws was much more stressful than I had imagined. Much. I had thought having two of them here this time would sort of buffer things. What it did was amp things up.

I thought about just coming in and saying It was wonderful! and changing the subject. But I just can't do it.

Here's one word of advice, especially to my sister cyclers. If you're ever going to be in the middle of a cycle and literally shooting yourself full of hormones during a visit from your inlaws? Rethink this plan. Rethink it long and hard.

To his credit, Chris really hung in there with me and was greatly appreciative of all the work I did. It helped a little. Actually, a lot if I think about the alternative.

I'll share more details later. Right now I'm back at work for a very busy day. Why I didn't pad on an extra recovery day, I'll never know. Consider that another piece of advice.

Yesterday afternoon after I got home from the airport and all last night as I sat on the couch, I found myself continuing to let go of all the stuff from the week. The more I let go, the more stuff came to the surface until I just sat there and cried.

Seriously. Cycling + Inlaws = What Was I Thinking?

More later.