Chasing A Child

What a day!

I was pleased to see that the royal wedding apparently went off without a hitch.

Everyone was beautiful. The crowds seemed well-behaved. It didn't pour rain.

Women wore funny hats.

Most importantly, Kate's dress was stunning!

Oh.

What?

You don't want to talk about that?

Hmph.

Fine.

Be that way.

How about this instead?

My beta was 172.8. Just for fun, let's round up and call it 173.

I appear to have a stowaway on board.

Now what?

A few fun linky-links while we wait

This book.  

I swear, two different people told me about this within a 2-hour period the other day. I'm totally pre-ordering it.

*****

Oh, and this is a good one for today.

Being both a fan of Certain Presidents Who Happen To Be African-American and familiar with ... er ... mucus plugs, I found it hi-fuckin-larious.

But maybe that's just me.

When is a restaurant not a restaurant?

There is a middle-of-the-road, low-key brewpub just a block from our current apartment. It's the place that the Mister and I go when we want a basic burger (with cajun-seasoned tater tots!) and a decent microwbrew. The music is rarely too loud, the service is usually a bit slow, and there are always good people-watching and dog-watching opportunities from the big windows. We've taken Squeaker there several times for lunch or early dinner, and he always has a lovely time.

Last night, exhausted after several hours of verbal wrangling, and in need of the comfort of the familiar, we headed up the street for a late dinner, Squeaker sleeping in the big sling on the Mister's chest. We had just settled ouselves into a big comfy booth, when the server came over and told us that minors weren't welcome, and we'd have to leave.

Huh? What? We've brought him here before. This is the restaurant portion of the place, not the bar. We know we get kicked out of bars with him, but ... WTF?

"Oh," she replied, "after 8pm, this becomes a bar." Which clearly explains why all those people were eating burgers with their beer. It's not like there were dancing girls shaking their spangles in our faces or live music that started at 8pm. Nope, the only thing that changed in that place between 7:59 and 8pm was that Squeaker was suddenly persona non grata. The nerve of them!

Despondent, we came back to the apartment and ate spaghetti with vegetarian meatballs.

Discrimination against babies is alive and well in the PNW. You heard it here first.

I even have a red dress

I absolutely cannot believe I missed this party!  Why didn't anyone tell me?  Clearly, I'm not traveling in the right circles ...

Busy busy

I've been tagged by Almamay.   This meme actually fits in really well with my week, because it's all about the to-do list.  Here's how it works:

Step 1. Reference back to the blog that sent you.
Step 2. Make a list of 5 things that you have to get done this week, no matter how small.
Step 3. Get 2 other people off their asses to get their shit in order.

Things I Must Get Done This Week
1.  Make reservations for that conference in Las Vegas before there aren't any more rooms left at the oh-so-affordable group rate.

2.  Wrap the birthday gifts for my nephew and get them in the mail.  Hope that the fact that he's six years old will help him forget that it's already been a month since his birthday.

3.  Read the three ginormous Notices of Proposed Rulemaking recently issued by the federal agency that regulates my company.  (Note to self: perhaps a glass of wine or a bottle of A.dvil might be useful for this task)

4.  Finish adding up the amount we've spent on unreimbursed medical expenses this year so that we can then make an appointment with our accountant to do our taxes.  Yes, I think we've actually got enough medical expenses to meet the 7.5% of adjusted gross income threshold.  Makes one's head spin, that number.  I realized today that if/when we finally have a child, affording child care will be totally possible -- just swap out the amount that we've been spending on fertility treatments and voila!

5.  Desperately need to make a hair appointment.  It's way past the point of shaggy and very much in need of some color to hide the gray.

I'm tagging Luna and Melanie.  And wishing them a week where their lists include fun things, such as naps and eating ice cream and getting massages! 

Tag! I'm it!

And now for some frivolity. Thanks, Carrie.  Everyone should go congratulate her, btw.  Her embryos threw her a surprise party this week!  Whee!

Here are the rules to the game:

1) Link to the person that tagged you.
2) Post the rules on your blog.
3) Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
4) Tag at least 3 people at the end of your post and link to their blogs.
5) Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
6) Let the fun begin!

Here we go:

1.  I have big feet.  Size 10-1/2, to be specific.  Stores don't sell cute shoes in my size, and many shoe companies don't even make shoes in a 10-1/2.  I usually have to squeeze my feet into a 10 because I swim in 11s.  Which makes shoe shopping a bit of an excruciating experience, particularly since I left the Big City.  Thank god for Zappos.

2.  Every guy that I dated in the Big City, I met online.  The Mister and I had both placed personal ads with one of those giant online personals sites.  His name came up in one of my searches and after reading his ad I thought, "Damn, if I meet this guy and there's no chemistry, we have enough in common that we're going to end up best friends and the last thing I need is another male friend who I met on the personals."  (I was a bit burnt and cynical at that point.)  So I didn't write to him.  A few weeks later, he wrote to me.  I saw his picture and thought, "Uh-oh, it's that guy! Do I respond or not?"  But he seemed genuinely nice, so I wrote back, and the rest is history.  He'll never let me live down not writing to him first.

3.  I grew up in a town with no stoplights.  Actually, the entire county has no stoplights, although I understand that one may be going in in the next year or so.  It was the kind of place where you couldn't do anything without someone seeing you and telling your mother, and the cops who broke up our beer parties were just as likely to come back and join us for a drink when they were off-duty.  That kind of place really shapes you, no matter how far you move away later on.

4.  I'm a huge Richard Serra fan.  We've seen his works at Dia Beacon, Storm King and the Gagosian Gallery.  The Mister has also seen his stuff at the Olympic Sculpture Park and (this one I'm so jealous of) his huge 40-year retrospective showing at MoMA.  I had to stay here on the west coast because of work.  The Mister called me the day he went to the exhibition:  "I'm looking at Richard Serra!"  I figured he was standing in the exhibit looking at a sculpture.  "Oh, that's great, how is the exhibit?"  "No, no, no, I'm looking at Richard Serra!  He's being interviewed on the other side of the room!"  Ohhhhhhhh. Ahhhhh.

5.  I've played the piano since age 5.  For awhile in my mid-late 20s when I was getting a music degree and practicing 6 hours a day, I was really good.  I can sightread like nobody's business and still hold my own musically, but my hands are dreadfully out of shape, so if you ask me to play chamber music with you, it will sound a bit clunky. 

6.  I sleep with a night guard because I have a horrible tooth-grinding problem and TMJ -- not sure which may have caused the other.  I've worn the inside of my front teeth so thin that they're practically see-through.  Acupuncture really helped with the TMJ, but my poor teeth!  The dentist gave me a little kid's toothbrush last time because adult bristles are too tough. 

So ... now you know.  I've tagged Almamay, BrooklynGirl and Vanessa.  Have fun! : )

'Twas the week before IVF #2

'Twas the week before an IVF cycle, and all through the blogs
Not a creature was stirring, though we all longed for sprogs;
Such high hopes were hung in our hearts with great care,
We dreamed that the Stork fella soon would be here;

The syringes were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of embryos danced in our heads;
The cats in their winter coats and puppy in my lap,
Would rather be taking a long winter's nap,

But suddenly my calendar said it was time,
I sprang from the couch and prepared for the climb.
Away to the refrigerator I ran like a flash,
Tore open the med boxes that had eaten our cash.

The vials of Lupron were enticing and glimmery,
Though I knew they would worsen my already bad memory.
Then, what did my wandering eyes happen to see,
But those miniature needles and the Follistim pen – whee!

With its rigid old dial, so clunky and slow,
I would shudder and cringe when the medicine flowed.
So twice every day I drew up 300 ccs,
While hoping the bruising quite quickly would cease.

"Now, FSH! Now, Repronex! Now, estrogen and blood tests!
On, BCPs! on HCG! On, progesterone and sore breasts!
Let’s max out the ovaries! Let’s thicken that lining!
Now fertilize! fertilize! fertilize all!"

Like old eggs that before the famous RE shiver,
When drawn from their follicles like arrows from a quiver,
So up to the uterus the sperm armies flew,
With their XY chromosomes, and all our hopes too.

And then, in a twinkling, my mind began messing
With the telltale signs of 2WW obsessing.
Though I knew it would be better to just clear my mind,
I thought about symptoms of all shapes and kinds.

I obsessed all day long, from breakfast to dinner,
For once being happy I wasn’t getting thinner;
I cherished each cramp -- for it might be a sign,
That at long, long, long last, that small babe might be mine.

My breasts -- how they ached now! My stomach how woozy!
The zits on my forehead were really quite doozies!
The fatigue that plagued me was welcome as snow,
And each food craving meant there might be life down below;

The fact that my bladder seemed to have shrunk small,
Was just another sign that the Stork might come call;
My moods were as changeable as the cramps in my belly,
My poor husband shook like a bowlful of jelly.

It wasn’t his fault; I was rarely myself,
It could usually be blamed on the drugs from the shelf;
Each PIO shot he approached with great dread,
He would rather do just about anything instead;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Gave me my injections and put up with my quirks.
The story won’t end until the RE says yes,
And we finally get that positive test;

Until then I’m thankful for your inspiration,
My cycling sisters have been my salvation.
And I must tell you this before saying good night,
"Good Luck to All! Don’t give up the fight!"

Things I did today

• Got dizzy walking across the apartment.

• Lost my keys for a good half hour.  Searched every pocket of every coat in the closet, dumped the contents of two handbags on the floor, searched every surface in the apartment -- three times.  Finally found them in the vest I had been wearing about five minutes before realizing that the keys were "lost".

• Started to drive the wrong way down a one-way street.  Got about 1/4 block before realizing that there weren't any other cars going in my direction. 

• Listened to the Mister's message on the answering machine.  Then, while returning his call, professed complete ignorance of being aware that he had left a message.

• Opened the linen closet in the bathroom to hang up my coat.

• I know there were about 3 more things I was going to add to this list, but I've completely forgotten them.

Lost: One Mind.  Used to work well.  If you find it wandering around, mewling and confused, please return to owner for reward.  You may need to bring a printout of this posting to prove that owner intended to offer said reward.  Many thanks.

Holiday List

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags?
Both! Either! Depends on the gift.

2. Real or fake tree?
I haven’t had a tree for years, but this year I talked the Mister into getting a charming 3-foot tree for the table. He would prefer a fake tree, as he is a bit squeamish about killing any living thing, plants included. 

3. When do you put up the tree?
Second week of December. They start to drop their needles if you bring them inside too soon, and I hate to be one of those people who starts Christmas the week after Halloween.

4. When do you take the tree down?
The week after the New Year.  Party's over.

5. Do you like eggnog?
In small quantities, once a year.  I used to love it as a kid, but these days it feels a bit ... slimy to the taste.

6. Favorite gift received as a child?
When I was 5 , Santa brought me Sasha and Gregor dolls. I still have them in a box in the closet,along with Raggedy Ann and Winnie-the-Pooh. All of them are in, um, well-loved condition, and the Mister can’t figure out why I keep them. He was never a little girl, so I forgive him for thinking I should diss my Very Best Friends.

7. Least favorite gift ever?
The Worst of the Wrong Men bought me a set of Henry Miller books. Probably the most god-awful read I've ever attempted (critics be damned).  I didn't even finish the first of the three.

8.  Hardest person to buy for?
My dad. Mostly because he's the worst gift receiver on the planet – utterly incapable of pretending to like something that isn’t exactly perfect.

9. Easiest person to buy for?
My mom.

10. Mail or email Christmas cards? 
Mail. In fact, we just finished licking envelopes last night. The Mister designed our card.  Not quite as funny as this one, but then what is?  We usually find the time to write an individual note on each card, but this year things are too crazy, so we just popped the photo cards in the envelope and off they went.  Sorry!

11. Favorite Christmas Movie?
Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, with Hermey, the elf that wants to be a dentist. Oh, and A Christmas Story is always a good one … “You’ll shoot your eye out, kid!”

12. When do you start shopping for Christmas?
After my mom’s birthday in mid-December. Shopping before then feels like I’m buying into the whole obnoxious consumerism thing.  As Reverend Billy says, "What would Jesus buy?"

13. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?
Not that I can recall.  But the mother of an ex-boyfriend used to give us gifts that she bought at yard sales -- with the 25-cent stickers still attached.

14. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? 
My aunt & uncle’s homemade English toffee and my mom’s mulled wine. But not at the same time.  

15. Clear lights or colored on the tree? 
Clear this year, but I prefer colored. 

16. Favorite Christmas song?
There Is No Rose of Such Virtue, although not in its traditional arrangement. I sang this with my college choir years ago and still get chills when I hear it.  This group does a pretty good performance.

17. Travel at Christmas or stay home?
I have traveled and traveled and traveled and traveled at Christmas – which is why I haven’t had a tree in years. If you’re not going to be home, it hardly seems worth the effort. One year in college I had to work Christmas Eve and the day after Christmas, so my boyfriend and I had Christmas with his alcoholic parents.  And in the early 90s, I lived in the same town as my mom and brother for 3 years, so didn't have to travel.  Every other year since age 17 has involved going to someone else's home.  This year I thought we might stay home for once, but we decided to travel one more time. My current plan is that by next year we'll have a kid -- one way or another -- and then, by god, people can come to us!!   

18. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer?
You betcha.

19. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning?
Christmas morning. Although I think we opened them Christmas Eve at my in-laws last year, which was fun because it was different. I still like a leisurely morning with gifts and nibbly food for breakfast -- banana nut bread, mimosas and coffee perhaps (ah, coffee, I do miss it sometimes) … 

20. Favorite holiday tradition?
I’ve not been able to claim or create a tradition of my own (see response to 17). When I was a teenager, my mom tried to distract us from the fact that my dad wasn't living with us anymore by taking us to a midnight service at a nondenominational church. I’m not what you would call a religious person, so the best part for me was when they turned the lights down and everyone lit a candle while singing Silent Night. We’d all walk out into the dark cold night with our candles. That was nice. Peaceful.