We are back.
From a vacation that was everything a vacation should be. We are relaxed. Renewed. Reminded that yes, life can be ok. Reminded that hell yes, sometimes you just laugh because you want to. And it is ok. Not a snarky, self-depreciating gallows humor type hah, but a Laugh. A full-bellied, eyes-tearing, did I just snort? kind of laugh.
We remembered that life can be fun. And that we are fun. And that we are most fun when we are together. I was sad to see M go to work this morning. Not because I know we're both in for a doozy of a day, but because I wouldn't be spending the day with him.
Besides a quick check at the doppler radar to plan our days and a 5 minute morning scan of work email to make sure nothing too too crazy was happening, this morning will be the first action our computers have seen in over a week. I am beyond pleased with myself that I didn't twitter, blog or email my break away. Which has been known to happen.
Today is a new day. Lots of work to do - both professionally and personally. But I feel ready.
So ready.
Howdy y'all. I'm back.
Showing posts with label fun. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fun. Show all posts
Monday, July 6, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Where I Get Totally Vulgar
So, as of about 2 weeks ago, I can now "run" 5K and not feel like I'm going to die.
Run is in quotes because if you saw me, it would probably look more like a shuffle. And I'm still pretty shy about it so I choose a less-traveled path which this week has become an obstacle course of goose poop and hissing daddy geese (sorry, sorry. yes I see your babies there no I'm not going to shuffle on them. relax! please!) And when I say 5K it is probably more truthful to say that I run 2.5K, stop, say hi to Isa's and Jovi's trees. Touch them, pant on them, walk around for a few seconds and then run the 2.5K home.
I love having a reason to see the trees. And I really do like the time alone. I wish I had a recorder for my brain on my runs because I think anyone else listening would think I was: a.) hilarious or b.) nuts. We all have our inner voices and the one that seems to work best for me running is one that encourages, teases, threatens, negotiates, yells back and then resigns itself to keep going. It always has to be a combination. I don't do well with people telling me what to do, even if that person is myself.
One of the things I do while running is compose blog posts in my head. I usually "write" a couple on a run (me: think fast. run slow. except, of course, when being chased by geese.) You can imagine my disappointment when I get home and the screen is blank. Sometimes I actually could have sworn I wrote something. But no. That was just me talking to myself again. Which, in hindsight, is probably better for all of us sometimes.
But this is something I have to share. I can't hold it in.
This weekend, I had the craziest dream. I know I've said that before but this time I mean it.
In my dream, I was waiting to talk with a new specialist at the hospital about our next attempt at babymaking. She was young and pretty and looked pretty sharp. She brought me in and said, "just hang on for a minute," she said. "I have a call into a specialist. A proctologist"
Huh?!?!
"Yes, well, we've already tried gearing up your p*ssy and that hasn't gone very well has it? Might as well see if we have any better luck with your ass."
Yes. I swear.to.god. that's what she said. P word and all.
And I was left sputtering and speechless and then I woke up and started to laugh.
And my husband thought I was crazy (and I haven't even told him the dream yet) so I went for a run.
Run is in quotes because if you saw me, it would probably look more like a shuffle. And I'm still pretty shy about it so I choose a less-traveled path which this week has become an obstacle course of goose poop and hissing daddy geese (sorry, sorry. yes I see your babies there no I'm not going to shuffle on them. relax! please!) And when I say 5K it is probably more truthful to say that I run 2.5K, stop, say hi to Isa's and Jovi's trees. Touch them, pant on them, walk around for a few seconds and then run the 2.5K home.
I love having a reason to see the trees. And I really do like the time alone. I wish I had a recorder for my brain on my runs because I think anyone else listening would think I was: a.) hilarious or b.) nuts. We all have our inner voices and the one that seems to work best for me running is one that encourages, teases, threatens, negotiates, yells back and then resigns itself to keep going. It always has to be a combination. I don't do well with people telling me what to do, even if that person is myself.
One of the things I do while running is compose blog posts in my head. I usually "write" a couple on a run (me: think fast. run slow. except, of course, when being chased by geese.) You can imagine my disappointment when I get home and the screen is blank. Sometimes I actually could have sworn I wrote something. But no. That was just me talking to myself again. Which, in hindsight, is probably better for all of us sometimes.
But this is something I have to share. I can't hold it in.
This weekend, I had the craziest dream. I know I've said that before but this time I mean it.
In my dream, I was waiting to talk with a new specialist at the hospital about our next attempt at babymaking. She was young and pretty and looked pretty sharp. She brought me in and said, "just hang on for a minute," she said. "I have a call into a specialist. A proctologist"
Huh?!?!
"Yes, well, we've already tried gearing up your p*ssy and that hasn't gone very well has it? Might as well see if we have any better luck with your ass."
Yes. I swear.to.god. that's what she said. P word and all.
And I was left sputtering and speechless and then I woke up and started to laugh.
And my husband thought I was crazy (and I haven't even told him the dream yet) so I went for a run.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Friday Night
soup. knees. RE visit. pro-wrestling. talking. funny comment? local news. genealogy....
Do you ever do this? Write yourself little notes to remind yourself about things you want to blog about? I looked at my scratchings and these are some of the topics. It cracks me up because this practice is a holdover from writing high school papers. I'd jot down all the points I would be trying to make in a paper, then just filter it down until I had something that made sense. Add references to points that were relevant; ditch the ones that weren't. Sometimes it worked...
Let's start with the here and now. Right now, I'm reclining, trying to calm my pulsing knees, Gtalking w/ hubby, debating whether I want a cup of the leek and potato soup I just made now or later (prob'ly now...), and watching WWE Smackdown.
Yep, Smackdown. And loving it.
And I don't even want to tell you (but I will ) that this is not the first time that I've watched wrestling this week. Monday night = WWE Raw. Tuesday night = ECW. Friday = Smackdown. And I am here alone. In full control of my TV remote, which BTW, I have figured out how to use, and what do I choose? I choose Smackdown.
Sigh. This all started as a semi-joke. Before his new job, M. got a gig at a blog network writing about one of his true loves - boxing. The catch? The blog was a wrestling, MMA and boxing blog. He negotiated the MMA out, but not the wresting. Fair enough. Seemed a small price to pay for full editorial control and some cool freebies. So we started watching pro-wrestling.
And before you know it, we were fully engrossed in the plot lines. Fully invested in the characters. We chose our villians and our heroes and sometimes we were on the same side. Sometimes not. It was easier to throw on than a movie. More reliable than series that go on hiatus or have season finales far too early. Always new. Always entertaining.
One of the first outings we took the girls (still seedlings then) to was a live taping of WWE Smackdown and ECW at a local arena. That was just a day or two post transfer. It was a blast. And just reaffirmed that we had shifted from ironic observers to dedicated fans. In my quest for mindless distraction this month, I picked up The Hardy Boyz: Exist 2 Inspire at the library. And I just renewed it. Because I'm not finished yet.
Are you laughing at me? I think you're laughing.
The other day I told M. that I needed to go to grad school so I could write my thesis on pro-wrestling. "Ok. what would you write about?" I don't know yet. But it will be awesome.
**
So, the knees. After a week of not running, a visit to my acupuncturist (miracle worker) and lots of lots of tylenol and ice, I am finally walking without a walking stick and (almost) without a limp. This is what I get for trying to get fit. I am NOT quitting. Just waiting for my legs to feel normal before digging into them again. In the meantime, I'm trying to supplement with swimming and trying not to make M. laugh every time I quasimodo back to the kitchen. And thanking Amy for getting me hooked on these podcasts.
**
My soup is delicious.
**
And look, I haven't even started to tell you about yesterday. Which was loooong, but good. In lots of ways. So much for filtering. Stay tuned for a new post.
Do you ever do this? Write yourself little notes to remind yourself about things you want to blog about? I looked at my scratchings and these are some of the topics. It cracks me up because this practice is a holdover from writing high school papers. I'd jot down all the points I would be trying to make in a paper, then just filter it down until I had something that made sense. Add references to points that were relevant; ditch the ones that weren't. Sometimes it worked...
Let's start with the here and now. Right now, I'm reclining, trying to calm my pulsing knees, Gtalking w/ hubby, debating whether I want a cup of the leek and potato soup I just made now or later (prob'ly now...), and watching WWE Smackdown.
Yep, Smackdown. And loving it.
And I don't even want to tell you (but I will ) that this is not the first time that I've watched wrestling this week. Monday night = WWE Raw. Tuesday night = ECW. Friday = Smackdown. And I am here alone. In full control of my TV remote, which BTW, I have figured out how to use, and what do I choose? I choose Smackdown.
Sigh. This all started as a semi-joke. Before his new job, M. got a gig at a blog network writing about one of his true loves - boxing. The catch? The blog was a wrestling, MMA and boxing blog. He negotiated the MMA out, but not the wresting. Fair enough. Seemed a small price to pay for full editorial control and some cool freebies. So we started watching pro-wrestling.
And before you know it, we were fully engrossed in the plot lines. Fully invested in the characters. We chose our villians and our heroes and sometimes we were on the same side. Sometimes not. It was easier to throw on than a movie. More reliable than series that go on hiatus or have season finales far too early. Always new. Always entertaining.
One of the first outings we took the girls (still seedlings then) to was a live taping of WWE Smackdown and ECW at a local arena. That was just a day or two post transfer. It was a blast. And just reaffirmed that we had shifted from ironic observers to dedicated fans. In my quest for mindless distraction this month, I picked up The Hardy Boyz: Exist 2 Inspire at the library. And I just renewed it. Because I'm not finished yet.
Are you laughing at me? I think you're laughing.
The other day I told M. that I needed to go to grad school so I could write my thesis on pro-wrestling. "Ok. what would you write about?" I don't know yet. But it will be awesome.
**
So, the knees. After a week of not running, a visit to my acupuncturist (miracle worker) and lots of lots of tylenol and ice, I am finally walking without a walking stick and (almost) without a limp. This is what I get for trying to get fit. I am NOT quitting. Just waiting for my legs to feel normal before digging into them again. In the meantime, I'm trying to supplement with swimming and trying not to make M. laugh every time I quasimodo back to the kitchen. And thanking Amy for getting me hooked on these podcasts.
**
My soup is delicious.
**
And look, I haven't even started to tell you about yesterday. Which was loooong, but good. In lots of ways. So much for filtering. Stay tuned for a new post.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Gosh, I guess I am an Omnivore.
Found this on The Idle Mind of Beth and thought it might be fun. Especially since I put more in my mouth than I ought to (ask me about my near death experience after ingesting dairy products in Peru). My brief stint with morning sickness was fascinating to hubby, who had just assumed I had guts of steel. So let's just see how I rate here...
Here’s what you do:
1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating. (I can't figure out how to strikethrough in blogger so I'll just mark them red)
The Omnivore’s Hundred:
1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake
Wow. 72 out of 100 items already ingested. Only 4 on the no-can-do list and they are all more or less the same thing IMHO. Sorry dudes - no innards, blood or brain products for me. Thanks.
Here’s what you do:
1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating. (I can't figure out how to strikethrough in blogger so I'll just mark them red)
The Omnivore’s Hundred:
1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake
Wow. 72 out of 100 items already ingested. Only 4 on the no-can-do list and they are all more or less the same thing IMHO. Sorry dudes - no innards, blood or brain products for me. Thanks.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
You Must Le-ea-rn
Do these little guys have ears yet?
I hope so. Because last night, me and the seedlings saw the best hip hop emcee ever. Ever.
A message on my phone yesterday afternoon asked me if I wanted to cover an event for the local alt newspaper that I write for. I knew the caller was connected with a local hip hop posse. (yes, I just said posse. In this particular situation, it fits and I couldn't really think of a better term to describe a tightly knit yet independent group of emcees, dj's, promoters, you know, a bunch of kids trying to make something cool happen in their hometown. So there you have it. Posse)
So, hubby and I pondered. hmm. What's going on tonight? What did we forget about? What show could he mean? And then it hit us both. Holy shit!
KRS-ONE.
At this point, I had to tamper down my excitement knowing that hubby would be leaving for work in just an hour or so and would most likely miss the entire show of his favorite hip hop artist. The person he claims changed his world view at first listen. The person he will, without hesitation, say is among the best and the brightest of the entire genre. Oh sweetie. He'd have to live vicariously through me and the twins, who would be getting their second dose of a live hip hop show in utero.
D*mn. These kids are spoiled.
So, I called my pal S., pulled out my press pass, had hubby set his camera to the most idiot-proof setting possible and switch out the new lens to an older one and off I went.
Here's a sampling of the conversations me and hubby's camera had:
"Hey, take a picture of me!"
"Sure."
"Ok. Now let me take a picture of you! It's cool. I'm in a photography class...."
"Hmm. I don't know about that."
"C'mon. It's only fair."
"Ok. But if you harm this camera, my life is in your hands. Know that."
"Cool. cool. [posing and ridiculous camera banter ensues] See! I told you I was good. Look. Here you are.....Damn! Your titties is huge!"
"Um, yeah, and believe me, it surprises me more than you. P.S. I'm pregnant so I think they're supposed to be like that."
"Right on, girl! you gotta feed those little ones!!"
And he gave me a hug, laughed and walked away. S. shook her head and asked, "did that guy really just say something about your "titties"? He did. He did. And somehow it was quite sweet.
S. perched herself on a stool towards the back of the club. I went to the stage to try to get some crowd shots and to get ready for the show. And oh my goodness, what a show. What a great frigging show. Maybe I doubted my hubby's claims. Maybe I thought to myself, ok, how good could this guy be?
He was amazing. And the vibe in the club was among the most positive I have ever experienced. Nearly ever person knew every word of his songs. Everyone laughed at the punchlines in his freestyles. The show went on and on.
And ended just as hubby came rushing through the doors as his shift ended. Damn. He caught a glimpse of his hero, but not in action. He was a great sport, promised that my excitement was enough for the both of us, then took me for some late night pizza. We hung out. I tried to relay the songs KRS did and didn't do - at one point, hubby ended up pulling out his mp3 player and just rolling down the album tracks with me going yes, yes, I think so, nope, not that one. Satisfied, we all went to bed.
What a great night.
I hope so. Because last night, me and the seedlings saw the best hip hop emcee ever. Ever.
A message on my phone yesterday afternoon asked me if I wanted to cover an event for the local alt newspaper that I write for. I knew the caller was connected with a local hip hop posse. (yes, I just said posse. In this particular situation, it fits and I couldn't really think of a better term to describe a tightly knit yet independent group of emcees, dj's, promoters, you know, a bunch of kids trying to make something cool happen in their hometown. So there you have it. Posse)
So, hubby and I pondered. hmm. What's going on tonight? What did we forget about? What show could he mean? And then it hit us both. Holy shit!
KRS-ONE.
At this point, I had to tamper down my excitement knowing that hubby would be leaving for work in just an hour or so and would most likely miss the entire show of his favorite hip hop artist. The person he claims changed his world view at first listen. The person he will, without hesitation, say is among the best and the brightest of the entire genre. Oh sweetie. He'd have to live vicariously through me and the twins, who would be getting their second dose of a live hip hop show in utero.
D*mn. These kids are spoiled.
So, I called my pal S., pulled out my press pass, had hubby set his camera to the most idiot-proof setting possible and switch out the new lens to an older one and off I went.
Here's a sampling of the conversations me and hubby's camera had:
"Hey, take a picture of me!"
"Sure."
"Ok. Now let me take a picture of you! It's cool. I'm in a photography class...."
"Hmm. I don't know about that."
"C'mon. It's only fair."
"Ok. But if you harm this camera, my life is in your hands. Know that."
"Cool. cool. [posing and ridiculous camera banter ensues] See! I told you I was good. Look. Here you are.....Damn! Your titties is huge!"
"Um, yeah, and believe me, it surprises me more than you. P.S. I'm pregnant so I think they're supposed to be like that."
"Right on, girl! you gotta feed those little ones!!"
And he gave me a hug, laughed and walked away. S. shook her head and asked, "did that guy really just say something about your "titties"? He did. He did. And somehow it was quite sweet.
S. perched herself on a stool towards the back of the club. I went to the stage to try to get some crowd shots and to get ready for the show. And oh my goodness, what a show. What a great frigging show. Maybe I doubted my hubby's claims. Maybe I thought to myself, ok, how good could this guy be?
He was amazing. And the vibe in the club was among the most positive I have ever experienced. Nearly ever person knew every word of his songs. Everyone laughed at the punchlines in his freestyles. The show went on and on.
And ended just as hubby came rushing through the doors as his shift ended. Damn. He caught a glimpse of his hero, but not in action. He was a great sport, promised that my excitement was enough for the both of us, then took me for some late night pizza. We hung out. I tried to relay the songs KRS did and didn't do - at one point, hubby ended up pulling out his mp3 player and just rolling down the album tracks with me going yes, yes, I think so, nope, not that one. Satisfied, we all went to bed.
What a great night.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Six Things (Tagged)
The Rules:
1) Link to the person who tagged you. (thanks, Stacyb for popping my MEME cherry!)
2) Post the rules.
3) Share six non-important things / habits / quirks about yourself.
4) Tag at least three people.
5) Make sure the people you tagged KNOW you tagged them by commenting what you did.
Ok, here goes:
1.) I have always wanted to be in a sketch comedy troupe. In fact, I tried out for one in college and almost made the final cut. I still bear deep, deep grudges to those whom I believe voted for Eli* instead of me. (*Real name. H*ll yeah, I'm calling you out.)
2.) Every month, I anxiously await the arrival of my beloved Lucky, the Magazine about Shopping.
3.) I obsessively check my blogs, emails, MySpace, and Facebook throughout the day. As in, every chance I get.
4.) Like Daisy, when I was little, I used to pretend I was on a talk show. Only I was always the guest.
5.) I hate feet. My feet. Your feet. I almost started a riot when a few co-workers started wearing flip flops in the office last summer. Flip flops!! Get those toes out of here. Conversely, I love shoes.
6.) I have dreams of being a rock star, specifically, a bass guitarist. Never mind that I have never even held one, let alone played one. The subject of lessons and a purchase come up every now and again. Frankly, I think it's never too late to try, right?
I hereby tag wifethereof, drowned girl and Tracy.
1) Link to the person who tagged you. (thanks, Stacyb for popping my MEME cherry!)
2) Post the rules.
3) Share six non-important things / habits / quirks about yourself.
4) Tag at least three people.
5) Make sure the people you tagged KNOW you tagged them by commenting what you did.
Ok, here goes:
1.) I have always wanted to be in a sketch comedy troupe. In fact, I tried out for one in college and almost made the final cut. I still bear deep, deep grudges to those whom I believe voted for Eli* instead of me. (*Real name. H*ll yeah, I'm calling you out.)
2.) Every month, I anxiously await the arrival of my beloved Lucky, the Magazine about Shopping.
3.) I obsessively check my blogs, emails, MySpace, and Facebook throughout the day. As in, every chance I get.
4.) Like Daisy, when I was little, I used to pretend I was on a talk show. Only I was always the guest.
5.) I hate feet. My feet. Your feet. I almost started a riot when a few co-workers started wearing flip flops in the office last summer. Flip flops!! Get those toes out of here. Conversely, I love shoes.
6.) I have dreams of being a rock star, specifically, a bass guitarist. Never mind that I have never even held one, let alone played one. The subject of lessons and a purchase come up every now and again. Frankly, I think it's never too late to try, right?
I hereby tag wifethereof, drowned girl and Tracy.
Friday, February 15, 2008
More of Me
It's day 3 of lupron for this here FET cycle. And I'm feeling a little sleepy. More than a little lazy. Which doesn't bode well for my weekend plans. Not as monumentous as last weekend, but fun all the same.
Yes, that's a link to one of my other online projects that I mentioned a few months ago. It doesn't mean I won't be writing here. It just means that now I'm writing more. In fact, as soon as I open my eyelids a little wider, I'll tell you how and why I said thanks but no thanks to a "mock cycle" ending in an endometrial biopsy and opted instead to go full on into our first FET (with a little added pin action).
Talk to you soon.
Yes, that's a link to one of my other online projects that I mentioned a few months ago. It doesn't mean I won't be writing here. It just means that now I'm writing more. In fact, as soon as I open my eyelids a little wider, I'll tell you how and why I said thanks but no thanks to a "mock cycle" ending in an endometrial biopsy and opted instead to go full on into our first FET (with a little added pin action).
Talk to you soon.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Free Stuff
FYI - I'm probably going to chill out for a few days. Think happy thoughts. Try not to be on the computer too, too much. Wait patiently for the 23rd to come 'round without peeing on a stick.
In the meantime, Fertility Notes is giving away free copies of Cindy Margolis' new book: Having a Baby…When the Old-Fashioned Way Isn’t Working: Hope and Help for Everyone Facing Infertility. I read it. It's not bad.
Click here to find out how to get your book.
In the meantime, Fertility Notes is giving away free copies of Cindy Margolis' new book: Having a Baby…When the Old-Fashioned Way Isn’t Working: Hope and Help for Everyone Facing Infertility. I read it. It's not bad.
Click here to find out how to get your book.
Friday, August 3, 2007
TGIF
Oh friends, its been a long, long week. But ultimately, productive, eventful and dare I say, fun? I was even on TV! Ok, public access but still. It's not every day that a good hair day and new pants are saved for posterity, right?
I had to testify (can I get an AMEN?!) no, no, not that kind. In front of a legislative committee yesterday. I was nervous and that was probably a good thing because I prepared like I was facing some hardcore midterm exams. That was fortuitous because those old white men grilled me. And you know what? I aced it. I really think I nailed every answer in a way that was truthful, not defensive and conveyed the points my organization was trying to make. And I actually looked like I knew what I was talking about. (I've fooled them all! ah hah hah....insert more maniacal laughter here). As you can see, I am still flying high.
In other news, the house that I grew up in is now in the hands of strangers. Closing was Tuesday. My parents are relieved. In fact, could my dad have located his sense of humor and ability to be happy? Those things have been lost for quite a while. Was debt so overwhelming that that was what made him wish for death for the past few years?? My god. I guess we all deal with it differently, don't we?
After a few frantic days of last minute packing and cleaning, we all (me, hubby, brother, his g-friend, mom and dad) went for a celebratory dinner Tuesday night at a place where bro and I served as line cook and waitress respectively. It was awesome. Bro and I amused with tales of steaks and girls gone bad. My mom got totally tipsy on a frozen concoction. I overindulged in a baked sweet potato with cinnamon sugar and other things I don't usually eat. My dad just looked happy.
My dad looked happy. It was a moment.
They still don't have a permanent residence, but hell, if they aren't stressed, I'm not either. They both seem to be basking in the idea that they won't have to panic come the last week of every month or every time a new unpaid hospital bill appears in the mail.
All I can think of is that perhaps it was really, really a blessing that this last cycle didn't follow the original schedule. Sure, I know we all say that when things go wrong/not the way we planned. But seriously, there is NO WAY I could have done the things I've been doing this month with something trying to grow and be nurtured in my belly. I am bruised and sore and my muscles have been working overtime. I've never done so much heavy lifting and cleaning with toxic stuff. My thoughts have been elsewhere. Anywhere but focused on the creation of a happy womb. My time will come. This time is for my parents.
Here's the best part of the story. Today is Friday and my favorite band is playing tonight.
Happy weekend y'all.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
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