Silly sanity, who needs it?

As if you needed further proof that my mind is whacked out, allow me to grant you access to my recent ponderings..........

Ya know how you go thru your day, mindlessly performing routine tasks, and the brain seizes the opportunity to just completely trip out?
Please say yes.
It happened to me yesterday. There I was, minding my own business, going through the motions, when it suddenly occurred to me that I could have cancer. I spent the next hour or so inventing the worst-case scenarios from diagnosis to death, "acting out" every feeling and behavior I assumed that would involve - all in my mind of course.
But things got better.
On break at work, I stepped out back for a little fresh air. There, on the lawn, was a beautiful Cardinal. The Cardinal is Nick's way of contacting me, of this much I am certain. I believe I posted this as a comment somewhere else, so for those of you who aren't familiar with the subject, I will explain briefly.
When I was at my darkest, deepest point of depression, planning on how I could effectively end it all without any mess or missed opportunity, he came to see me. I was letting the dogs out in the backyard, and there he was, on the fence.
Now, my yard is a tiny 20x20-ish secluded area with no trees or anything ornamental. It is a square of dog shit encrusted, weed infested, barren wasteland, surrounded by concrete and fences. We have a cement block industrial building on the one side, a high wall with the street above it on the other side (my yard is sunken, entry from the basement; we're built on a hill), our home, and a gate leading to a rear driveway on the other side. No other yards touch ours. The closest bit of nature near my home is a good 200 yards away. If it wasn't for this patch of grass we own, we'd be nothing but a slab of rock in the middle of town.
Why this beautiful bird chose to land on my fence, I can't explain. Curiosity, maybe. We don't have wildlife; if the lack of vegetation isn't enough to keep the critters away, the dogs certainly would. Yet, here he was, just sitting there in all his crimson finery, ignoring the two slobbering mutts merely inches away. He did not leave. And the dogs ignored him.
Something clicked in my head, and I recognized him as a special visitor. I remember saying, "Thank you, Nick. I love you.", and he gently flittered off on his way. The fog began to lift around that time, and I have since seen a Cardinal now and then when I guess I really needed it.
When I lived in OK and VA, Cardinals were a fairly common site. I honestly can't say I have seen all that many around these parts, so whenever I do, it's a pretty awesome thing.
So, last evening, at work, there he was picking at some goodies on the lawn. Some other tiny little brown birds joined him, and I swear to you they were playing some sort of birdie games. It looked fun, and I was entranced watching them. Someone else came out to join me, and the Cardinal flew off to sit in a tree, still within sight, gleaming brilliantly red among the green leaves. I was distracted, thinking sad, loving, Nick-related thoughts to myself as I tried to telepathically transmit them to this bird. It was about this time that the mind games began.
Mind games: I'm pregnant. I bet I am. I'm not pregnant, stop it. But what if I am? What if I am?Shit, it's not going to be good. It won't take. I'm fucked up. Can I handle another loss? Yes, I can handle another miscarriage or two or three, just as long as it happens early. I could not handle another late loss. No, so I don't need to worry about that because this one would be lost very early. Oh my god what if it is a multiple. My whacked out body wouldn't let them form properly, so I probably have some misshapen blob growing in there. A twin that didn't separate right. Or triplets. What if one of them makes it and the other two aren't viable. I guess that would be okay. Weird, yes, but as long as I get to take one baby home I guess I could deal with it. Can you just imagine finding out. "You've got three!". Great. I blankly stare at the wand monkey. "Aren't you happy?" No. "Why?" Because I know I won't get to keep all three. I grab the doctor by his white coat lapel and tell him he has one chance to give me a baby, dammit, and he had better fucking make sure I get one. And what if I lose one early, one is chromosomally damaged, and one is perfect. Then what? I should be happy, right? What the hell is wrong with me, and why am I thinking these crazy thoughts? Rhetorical question, of course, because, well, I am crazy. Ok, that makes sense. Shit, is my break over already?
Now, if someone told me they had a dream one night like this, I'd probably think, you're a little weird, but it was just a dream, you can't help what you dream. But during waking hours? Daydreams are supposed fun and frivolous. It would be different if I was shmokin' something good, not just taking a break from reality. Frustrating.
The triplet thing stuck with me all night, try as I might to shake it, it kept creeping back into my head. What would I do? I tried to take my mind off of it by thinking about the tattoo I want. I have the heart, I have the flower, but it is missing something... maybe if I add little baby feet... hmmm that could be neat. [*] So, I'm designing this tattoo in my head (while working! Yes! I am multitasking!). This little activity takes me through to the end of my shift. Thank my lucky stars (ha. haha. haha.), the night is over, I can go home. Whew.
I work in the boondocks, and we have all sorts critters that wander around at the back of the facility. They keep to themselves, mostly, but since some people think it's okay to feed them, they tend to be a little bit more tame than I feel is properly acceptable. We've enjoyed the families of ducks from hatching of eggs to leaving the nest, the opossums that freak me the fuck OUT, and recently, a family of raccoons with their little ones beginning to wander away from mom and dad. Last night, three of these little coon babies were feasting on some breadcrumbs and critter feed that was left out for them. (Yes, we have a large bag of Purina Animal Feed available. Why??) These cute little buggers were no more afraid of me than I was of them. They were right at the edge of the sidewalk, ready to run if they felt the fear, and I was well aware that Mamma Coon could very well come charging at me if I wasn't careful. I gingerly stepped past them on the way to my vehicle. They were sooooooo damn cute, I swear I wanted to take one home. I quickly lost all track of cognitive thought processes once the radio came on, and I wandered my way home ready for bed.
This morning it hit me. What is UP with things coming in threes???

[*] tattoo - how many objects am I considering? Three.

Just shoot me now.

Hypochondriacal Haggling

I was going to write today about my latest IQ test, but choose instead to whine. Again. And seek advice/personal experience stories. Care to play along?
Ever since my first 'real' cycle after the delivery, I have noticed left sided pelvic pain, very similar to the sensations I'd felt back when my ovaries were riddled with cysts. If you've ever had an ovarian cyst fester up and explode on you, you know the delightful experience of which I speak. If not, I don't fault you; you no doubt have your very own set of painful experiences to share. Some of us are fortunate enough to have a plethora of problems at any given point. That's why we're here. It's a pity party without the hats. Have some cake.
So, in March, on CD21 (counting from the day of delivery; my lochia only lasted 2 weeks), I called to report sharp pangs on my left ovary. I was thinking ovulation pains. They were thinking an ectopic since I wasn't super careful. All tests were negative, and the pain went away. I didn't get a period until mid-April. So, again in April, May, June, and July, I have felt the left-sided pelvic pains, but not always within the supposed ovulation times (as if I were normal or anything). As a matter of fact, for the last 2-3 months, this has been happening about a week before I get my period. Which brings me to my next point.
I never have had physical PMS symptoms, that I am aware of, anyway. Sure, I can be a real bitch, but as far as cramping and bloating goes, I sure don't recall it. If this new discomfort is in any way related to something going on in there, I want to track it as obsessively as I can so I might get a clue to when I might expect my period/ovulation/etc. Sounds simple enough.
You may recall my ER visit in June. I was having debilitating back/rib/pelvic/kidney pains, mostly on the left side, very much 'internal', and not at all related to the muscle spasms the idiot at the clinic diagnosed. The muscle relaxers did/do nothing to help, but they make me feel nice at least. ;-) The NSAIDs Dr. Wonderful suggested do not help either, nor do they lessen the severity of my periods, as he intended (prostaglandin synthesis something or other, read up on it, I'm not clear on it).
I had the same sensations for July's cycle. This has moved beyond the ovary pain I described. Both times (June and July), I started my period exactly two days after feeling this. I must reiterate here that this does not feel, in any way, like anything I have ever experienced in relation to my periods. I have been having menses for 24 years now, and I guarantee I have not felt this as a symptom of it. I have had a miscarriage, I have delivered, I have had back labor, and invasive diagnostic procedures; this doesn't even feel remotely related to my girlie parts. Yet, there it is. And yesterday, I had it again. Today, too. So if I start bleeding tomorrow, I am pretty damn certain this is a new "thing" for me to track. Take into account that would put this cycle at a mere 19 or 20 days (with an "O" on cd9, mind you) and I'm really screwed up. But we knew that already.
Far be it from me to self-diagnose (insert laugh track here). But, all I can think of is endometriosis. I have read the standard definitions and signs/symptoms, but what I want is a first-hand account of what a real patient feels. Anyone care to share? Do you feel like you are being ripped to shreds from the inside out, and in areas other than your uterus? Does it occur right before your period, or mid-cycle, or is it just pretty much all the time? Does it make your bleeding worse; do you have episodes of no periods at all, or too-frequent and too-heavy cycles? What did your doctor to to diagnose it; labs, tests, procedures, verbal accounts of the misery? Where is the strangest place you've had the tissue grow? I swear on a stack of maxis that this feels like my left kidney or the lower lobe of my left lung.
I guess what I am searching for is an "in" to persuade the office to listen to me. You know how it goes - word something just right so they pick up on subtle clues. I am getting nowhere with my description of back pain. I DID NOT INJURE MY BACK. Sure, I stand all day at my job, but I have done that for 13 years. No, I didn't lift anything. Or bend funny. And if it really was an injury, why the hell would it only occur once a month right before I start my period?
It's like having recurrent, hellish headaches. If you give up trying to be seen via the standard methods, sometimes you have to up the ante a little. Add in vision problems and/or nausea and/or fainting, and *maybe* the doc will take you seriously enough to see you. Is that really all that wrong? I'm not condoning lying just to be seen, and one should never invent serious symptoms, but we've all fibbed a little once or twice. Admit it. If I am just dead wrong and a horrible person for thinking this way, you can tell me so - gently - but I think we've all been there. A little creative complaining can go along way.

McBungles

Mr. Big was starving to death on the way to summer school this morning. He was wilting from the early-morning heat and humidity, what with not being fed and watered appropriately prior to our mad dash out the door. With much pleading and bargaining, he proceeded to convince me a stop at a drive-thru would be favorable.
I know I said technology was scary, but dammit, I think now-a-days it is downright necessary.
Pulling into the deserted parking lot, I thought to myself, "This can't be right". One car in the drive-thru ahead of me. They pull up, and proceed directly to the window. Hmmm. I pull up. "I'm sorry, but our system is down, could you please pull up to the second window?"
I proceed to wait at the first window.
Funny looking nerd in a ball cap taps on the window, frantically gesturing for me to move up.
Oh, yeah.
Wait behind the first person.
Waiting.
Are you sure you're really THAT hungry, my darling child?
Waiting. Sulking, seething, whimpering from seat beside me. "I'm going to be late".
Proceed to second window.
Nice lady at window hands me yogurt and water. I didn't order yogurt and water. Mr. Big rolls eyes and grumbles something naughty.
Proceed to actually order the food.
Waiting. New lady, again with the yogurt. Tempted to just take it.
Food arrives, paid with a $20, nerd in ballcap drags out abacus to calculate my purchase.
I'm in "luck", says he, we're not charging tax today. Why, thank you, my dear sweet fry monkey. Can I go now?
Mr. Big ravenously consumes his bagel and burrito, and mentions they forgot the hash browns. Pondering to myself if it is worth the trip back. Decide it is. I really like hash browns.
Drop of the boy, and head back to town.
Pull up to speaker box.
"I'm sorry but our system is down, could you...".... I pull up to the second window.
Explain the absence of said fried spuds, and bite into my own (now cold) breakfast. Wrong sandwich. Mention the error to fry monkey. Eyes rolling, he uses a pencil to write down what I had ordered the first time. Siiiiiigh, he says, simulating sincerity. He probably spit in my food.
There must be something inherently defective with children over 12 and orbital traction. Will have to research that.
New, hot, fresh food in bag, with hash browns, and I'm on my way. Give other (wrong, cold)sandwich to babydawg upon arrival home. Decided I didn't like the new sandwich all that much after all, give it to Bigdawg. Hashbrowns are all limp and rubbery. Pour myself the largest mug of coffee I could carry, and sit down here to bore you with my problems.
I'm lovin' it.

Riiiight....

Just when I thought it was it safe to go in the water.
I really don't know why I do this. Some sort of auto-focused passive-aggressive self-flagellation thing I do now and then (over and over again) just to make sure I still have an ounce of dopamine left in my brain.
Every so often, I log into Futility Friend. I find the experience somewhat impertinent, and at best it gives me a hearty chuckle. Out of habit, I do temp daily; it has become part of my wake-up ritual. Smash the snooze button, grab the thermometer, put on my glasses and turn on the light, log temp in notebook, lay back and sigh, then smash the snooze button again. Drag my ass out of bed, and voila! my bright shiny new day has begun. After a sufficient number of temps have been collected, I plot them on my own graph, and then enter them into FF. Just because. I really do not need the service, but I tend to go a little overboard with my efforts.
This cycle, the magical harbinger of frivolity has provided me with an alleged coverline and "O" date. Oh. Oh? Yeah right whatever.
I've only had this once before, back in May, on CD25 of a 34-day cycle. Nine day luteal phase? Yikes. I'm not surprised, I am well aware that it takes a while to get back on track after delivery. Looking back on my records, I've gone 27-27-34-30, with temps all over the damn place. I'm not even taking into account the quality of my time spent with Aunt Flo. I don't need to repeat my troubles, ya'll have been so patient up to this point.
So, on with the topic. This month, the system has deluded itself into insisting I did indeed ovulate again - ON CD9. Huh? Yup. And, it's giving me the score of "good" for my intercourse timing. Glad it thinks so.
This would make me 6dpo, and I don't give a damn. I am not going to fret around in the 2ww assuming everything is hunkydory, because I know damn well it is not. While it is fun to pretend there's a chance in hell that something might be going on, whatever it is won't be good.
But, I'm getting ahead of myself. Funny how a stupid little "tool" can really be such a tool.

Technology is scary

At first, I was curious and eager to see how many visitors I'd received to my blog, even if they were just lurking.
Then, I got even more curious as to where they came from. When I had my first encounter from someone not on"my" list, nor from "your" list, I realized this isn't a referral-only process. From outside of the loop, someone has seen me. Deep inside me. Somehow, this was a little disturbing.
After pestering a fellow blogger (whom I will not identify unless she agrees) for her secret weapon, I have been able to lurk the lurkers. Sort of. I see several other smart gals out here have the same device. After I noticed I could be (and was) listed in spots (NOT other blog lists, I do appreciate being included on there) where just anybody anywhere could wander in if they felt like it (really, are you THAT bored you just click random links to see what's out there?), I realized I needed to tweak my settings a little.
I don't know why I feel perfectly comfortable talking about wild monkey sex and dead babies in the presence of kindred spirits, but to have the general public know my inner workings gives me the willies. I'm a little strange, in case you haven't noticed. I don't know all the people who live inside my computer, yet somehow I feel a connection in our (sadly, large) circle.
I haven't had any search terms logged; some of the hits seem to have come from a random site generator via blogger, but most of the new hits have been 'referred' from various people on my list that I've visited. Which means they're watching you, too. They find your site, read your stuff, look at the comments, click a link, and the trail just keeps on growing. People from far-flung places, all across the globe. People with sites that are in languages I can't even babelfish into coherent translation. People with seemingly no connection whatsoever to anything I, or the rest of us, write about. Maybe it is just curiosity. It's really not hurting anybody, and no harm has come by it, that I am aware of. It just seems like more than I bargained for. Does that make sense? Did I really expect to keep a certain degree of anonymity? If that was important to me, then why the hell would I be sharing the nitty gritty of my life with, apparently, the entire world?
Now, if the hot guy in the tank top with those wicked tats wants to comment on my elongated menstrual cycle, I would welcome his insight. Not sure what to say about the visits from Big Brother, but I guess he really is watching after all. Yay Patriot Act, go America! And to my repeat visitor from Stafford, do I know you? Stop in and say 'hey'. :-)

The weekend update

The princess and the satellite dish. There just aren't words to describe my poor babydawg. She now is sporting an enormous cone collar, and looks quite goofy. The vet (omg, the vet. yum.) had to shave her rash area, which only adds to her humiliation. The area of irritation is at the rear, where her back and tail meet, and of course, on her rear. So, I have had to make the standard joke, repetitively, at her expense. They shaved her ass, and made her walk backwards. Blank stares. No one laughs. Is it that lame? I mean, really, c'mon. I just don't think they get it. Killjoys.
Anyway, it is not mange. Nor fleas. Nor any other kind of parasite. It is not spreading, and her brother, bigdawg, doesn't have any skin problems. We are leaning towards allergies of some sort, but, she was already on prednisone when this developed! Doc had given both the dogs medications for general itchiness when we were leaving for OKC. Nearly three weeks (tapering down doses) of this stuff, and she develops this rash midway through. It didn't keep it away, nor did it soften the severity of the mystery funk. Doc was confused. (Are you sure you administered it correctly?) Please. I am as obsessive as they come, you can guarantee I gave it right. We've used it before. Hmmm. ...maybe the dose wasn't strong enough. He cultured the crud. He expressed her anal glands. He was grasping at straws. So, now we have a little mutt with a big cone, a bald butt, hopped up on steroids. And she keeps running into stuff. She looks so sad.
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Have to take my vehicle in for some expensive-sounding repairs. For a while now, it has been making these squeaky springy metallic sounds that make me worry my front end is just going to fall off one day. At first, I deluded myself that the running boards were just loose, and I would crank the radio up and ignore it. I can't take it anymore, so I'm dusting off the credit card and we're going in. Hubster is not home this weekend, and I'm working 9 days straight after this weekend, so I really do need my wheels. I hope it is quick and painless. I need a break.
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Am currently making the transition from my old job into my new job. Foolishly doing the 'overlapping' thing where a day off here means I'm available there. And I wonder why I burn out. I'm excited about this new opportunity though. I worked in a similar situation last summer, and enjoyed it completely. I'll share the details at a later time, I am sure. Don't want to jinx it. Oops, I probably just did with saying that. Durn it.
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Got my order from MyForeverChild.com the other day. Oh, how I love retail therapy! I tried to take some pics to share, but I'm having 'puter problems... more on that later. I ordered some gold drop-style angel earrings with Nick's birthstone, and a crystal suncatcher with these cute little baby footprints on a heart charm. Very nice. I have a list of other things I want, but I will have to wait. Momma's got a birthday coming soon, though.... hmmm.
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I have a five year old Compaq. Top of the line when purchased, POS by the time it got out of the box. You know how it goes. One of the things I like about Compaqs is the ease of upgrades. It has very user-friendly slots inside for adding all sorts of goodies. Well. My latest endeavor was a new ethernet card and changing out my CD-rom for a CD/DVD-rom, and switching my 4x burner for a 48x. (This was about a year ago, gimme a break. I'll get a new system before I upgrade that again.) And did I mention my floppy drive is toast? Rarely used, it just died of neglect. RIP. Anyhoo... My USB ports on the front somehow got loose, and when I try to hook up my card reader, I have to jimmy around with it to keep the port from falling down inside. One would think I could just open 'er up and fix the problem, huh? Naw. I have this massive corner-style computer desk with a handy little cpu cubby on the side. What Compaq failed to do, is include long enough cords for all my little accessories, so I'm pretty much tethered in here really tight. Unless I'm feeling adventurous, I do not enjoy having to crawl around on my belly in the dark trying to unhook everything so I can haul the thing out for a seemingly minor repair. I'm lazy, I'll admit it.
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Promised myself I was going to control the jungle that is my yard this weekend. If I'm going to be grounded at the house while the chariot is under repair, I might as well make good use of my time. Bought a new spool for the weedeater, and some really wicked vegetation killer to murder the crap growing between the bricks of my sidewalk and rear driveway. Going to put the boy to work, too. He owes me a few hours of labor, and I'm going to cash it in. If I can get away with wearing my swimsuit while I work, I might even get something like a tan. Ahhh... the thought of cut grass stuck to my sweaty thighs. Maayyyybe not.
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Thinking we might go see some artsy entertainment next weekend. I do happen to be off opening night, but I might wait until the end. Not sure. Our local community theatre troupe does Shakespeare in the Park every summer, and this year, they are doing "Love's Labour's Lost". I know a couple of the actors; I always wanted to audition.
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Well, kiddos, that's about all for this report. Hope ya'll have a tremendous weekend. Cheers!

Are you there God? It's me, the patient idiot.

Oh, Aaron, you always know just the right things to say. ::sigh::

And now, without further ado, today's conversation between me, and the cosmic jester:
(audio accompaniment conveniently located in link above, sans my screaming and tears)

I know I've been mistaken
But just give me a break and see the changes that I've made
I've got some imperfections
But how can you collect them all and throw them in my face
But you always find a way to keep me right here waiting
You always find the words to say to keep me right here waiting
And if you chose to walk away I'd still be right here waiting
Searching for the things to say to keep you right here waiting
I hope you're not intending
To be so condescending it's as much as I can take
And you're so independent
You just refuse to bend so I keep bending till I break
But you always find a way to keep me right here waiting
You always find the words to say to keep me right here waiting
And if you chose to walk away I'd still be right here waiting
Searching for the things to say to keep you right here waiting
I've made a commitment
I'm willing to bleed for you
I needed fulfillment
I found what I need in you
Why can't you just forgive me
I don't want to relive all the mistakes I've made along the way
But I always find a way to keep you right here waiting
I always find the words to say to keep you right here waiting
But you always find a way
To keep me right here waiting
You always find the words to say to keep me right here waiting
And if I chose to walk away would you be right here waiting
Searching for the things to say to keep me right here waiting

And that is my morning in a nutshell. Off to the vet to get OMD #1's skinfunk under control, and then, hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work I go. It's going to be a great day. :-}


[PS - I know I make this look easy, but I kinda suck at html. I spent a considerable amount of time trying to get this to work *just right*, so do me a favor, and enjoy the complete experience as intended. Turn on your volume. Crank it up. Eat some cheetos. And for god's sake if you use a pop-up blocker, hold down ctrl (or whatever trick your particular program employs) when clicking on Mr.Hotty up there. That is all.] ~ Mgmt.

Apron strings

I was laughing today, as I clumsily helped my son fasten his garters to his stockings. I kept hitting my elbow on the cup in his girdle. He said to me, "Shut. UP." But I couldn't. I promised I would never tell anybody about helping him to dress, but I LIED.
My son is manly man. He plays manly sports. He is a large boy, who delights in using my head as an arm rest. He can lift heavy things. He mows the lawn. He has way too many girl friends who call him all hours of the day and night. He sucks at academics, is currently in summer school, and anticipating his vo-tech training as an electrician. I won't let him get his driver's license because of his grades. I'm mean like that. But I do let him play his sports. If I did not, he would likely explode. He plays golf and baseball, and currently is pucking around with hockey. You know what I love about a summer hockey league? It is just so COOL. Get it? Cool? Huh huh. Shut up, Beavis.
It is for this game of hockey in which I had to dress my little boy. You probably thought I had a bit of a cross dresser situation, didn't you? Hah, silly internet people. No, the requisite uniform for big burly hockey players consists of 20 pounds or so of hard shell padding from head to toe. Once the protective gear is on, it is no small feat to get the rest of the clothing and skates on. Normally, Mr. Big and his teammates assist each other in some secret locker room society ritual thing that he won't talk about. But today, I bought him new garters, and he just had to try them on right away! I was so proud. Over the shin guards go some nice knit stockings, (aka leg warmers) that attach to some shoddy velcro crap on the legs of the girdle. The girdle is like boxer shorts with protection. Anyway, when the stockings/leg warmers have been ripped away from the velcro a sufficient number of times (twice), the velcro no longer grips. Enter the garterbelt. This ain't no Victoria's Secret garter, honeys. This is a manly man's garter. Same technology, but in a more chunky, masculine style. No lace here, no way Jose'. Just thick black elastic with sturdy metal tabs and don't you ever bring it up either. They all wear them, we just don't talk about it. Except for me. Here. For the world to see. I'm a bad mommy.
So, the boy. I had forgotten how much being an adolescent really blows. Not having had the experience of growing up male, either, I now have a new respect for the assholes I dated in high school. Sort of. But, I'm getting off topic. Somewhere in the last year or two, my little buttmunch has grown about a foot taller, put on about 60 pounds of lean muscle, and got slathered in oil. I just don't get it. My husband doesn't remember being quite so greasy at that age, either. Possibly, he just chose to forget. Mr. Big showers two to three times every day. He wakes up with his hair almost slimy. His acne doesn't seem to bother him, because he's got a beard, dude. He carries a little travel-size deodorant with him, and keeps another in his locker. He marinates in some god-awful masculine-smelling body spray stuff that singes the nose hairs. The chicks dig it. Me, not so much. My house is so full of testosterone that I can't help but wonder if THAT is what is affecting my cycles. My (neutered) Chocolate lab, the king of the couch, won't hang around the boy much anymore, with the new Alpha Male status, and all.

But he's still my baby.
And I still ground him. He still has to do chores to earn an allowance.
He has a curfew. He still likes to do stuff with mom.
He still gives me a kiss goodnight and tells me he loves me everyday.
I miss him, though.

Lefty loosy, Righty tighty

One of the advantages of being together for nearly two decades, is the familiarity. Like your favorite end of the couch, where the pillows are smooshed just right to cradle your tired body at the end of a long day. Granted, sometimes you'd like to just set the couch out in the yard in the hopes someone else might appreciate it just a little more, but that takes more effort than you'd care to expend. It takes too long to break in a new one, anyway.
I digress.
One of the advantages of being with the same man for half of my life, is the familiarity. We know each other's needs, and how to get them met. Sure, it takes a little of the WowFactor away, but I've had enough Wow for now. Libido-wise, he has me beat. Anytime, anywhere, anyway you want it - that's the way you need it. C'mon, it'll be fun. Welcome to Casa de Quickie, "Where your free time is always well spent!" TM
Here are the ground rules:

• The lady of the house must be deeply involved in some terribly unsexy chore of which she should not abandon right at that moment.
• Phones and doorbells must be activated frequently during foreplay; teenagers experiencing minor crises are optional.
• The seductive suggestion of showering must be made at initial contact. Surprise requests once the ride is in motion will bring the vehicle to a screeching halt.
• Advancements in technique and technology are appreciated. Although not mandatory at this time, management does encourage staff to upgrade their skills annually.
• He who finishes first is not automatically declared the winner. Prior to commencing any activity, please clarify today's rules for any changes that have been made.
• Similarly, activity may only be initiated by the man of the house. Unless the rules were changed on that given day. Please see the assistant manager for updated regulations.
• Please keep your arms around the vehicle at all times, remain seated with your safety belt attached, and do not exit until the ride has come to a complete stop.

There are several kinds of intercourse. The sweet Romantic lovemaking sessions, the hot and heavy Monkey love, the aforementioned Quickie style, and the well-known "babydance": Deathmarch baby making sex. Which, in my book, is no more of a "dance" than changing the oil in your car. Sometimes you get a pretty even merging of two (or more) types during any given session. I said SOMETIMES, people, let's not get all worked up now. The house special (formerly known as "QuickDeath") here at Casa is a fine blend of rich espresso and pallid hopes, resulting in a mediocre treat that quenches the thirst yet is not overly satisfying. Great taste, less filling!
I have my moments. Really I do. He could tell you of no less than two distinct occasions when I rocked his world. Of course, I had to spend precious 'cuddle time' explaining what came over me, and where I picked up those moves. Kind of a buzzkill, ya know. Most of the time, however, my efforts lead to nowhere because it just isn't morally acceptable for the woman to be the aggressor. You know the old saying about wanting a lady in public but a ho in bed? Well, sometimes I think I have married Ward Cleaver. If he puts me in 'that kind of mood', it is a turn on. If I arrive at that state by my own accord, it isn't quite as exciting. Why is that? I'm just pondering the ins and outs of of marital relations. (Pardon the pun).
Overheard on any given weekend are those three little words that set my heart a flutter. "Hey, you busy?" Why, no, dear, praytell what did you have in mind? Oh, you want to put up the dishes and fold the white clothes for me? ::swoon:: My breathing quickens as small beads of perspiration form on my heaving chest. Well okay, but let's be quick about it, I have to get dinner started.

Fuddled

I'm in neutral. Idle. Fork in the road. Lump on a log. Stick up my ass.
My much-anticipated appointment with Dr. Wonderful was thwarted by Nurse Sowhat. When I was told to call at the start of my next cycle, I was assured we would be doing an endo biopsy, and quite possibly a hysteroscopy. And labs. Lots of blood work. Serial quants of hormonal measurements over days on end. Much rejoicing was had by all.
I expected nothing but an easy ride on the stirrups of bliss. I charted and plotted and made lovely graphs and tables and piecharts and lists, color-coded and indexed and placed in a handy little binder for easy reference. I even did some personal landscaping.
His next appointment is in October.
October.
Like, the month after the month after next.
"But," I whined, "he said to call in July when I started my new cycle...". He's booked up, there's nothing I can do, says the scheduler. I am transferred to the nurses' voicemail, where I leave a long and explicit message. The resultant reply is that he is just too overbooked. "Yes, I understand that, however I was told to call when I started. I have started. He wanted to see me early in this cycle. We did not KNOW when this cycle would be! I just got it. He needs to see me now. Please, can you just check with him, maybe he'd like to at least get my labs out of the way, or something?" Nope. "Please, can I just leave a message for him?!" He's out of the office today. Tomorrow? "I'll see what he says". Nothing. Calls left, unanswered. I try again the next day. "He said to take the next available appointment". And if that falls out of my window of opportunity? "He'll still be able to consult with you". I need more than a consult, I beg, did you ask about any testing he wants during my menses, like he told me? HE SAID TO SCHEDULE WHEN THERE IS AN OPENING. And, as I said, that would be in October. Giddyup.
I don't know why this surprises me. Actually, I believe "surprise" is not the word I need to use. How about, I do not know why I find this worthy of mention. For one, it is not a major problem, in the light of other things. I just like to hear myself gripe. Secondly, it is not as if any of this "testing" phenomena really would make much of a difference. Normalcy is not an easily achieved state in this household.
But I SO wanted to use the machine that goes "Ping!"
I'll just save up my nervous energy and hope for a miracle between now and then. Wasn't really looking forward to the snatch-spelunking, anyway.
So, back to my cycle. Sorry to leave you gripped on the edge of your seat with curiosity, and all.
30 days, this time, and Red was only here for three days. Afuckingmazing. Have determined that the midback and pelvic pain enjoyed from my previous cycle must be a new PMS symptom for me. At least I am getting a little forewarning, though. Gotta love it.
What I do find most distressing about my delay in treatment, is this amusing little "plan" that the hubster and I had devised. We decided it would be nice to get pregnant in October, or by December at the latest. Well, it sounded good at the time. Just get myself regulated between now and then, take the Clomid, get pregnant on the first round, and Voila! All the planets will be properly aligned in my house of make-believe, purple ponies will dance on the lawn, and Genuine Saskatchewan Sealskin coats will come back in style. Delusional? Well, DUH. I am exercising my right of creative absurdity.

Time passages

Well I'm not the kind to live in the past
The years run too short and the days too fast
The things you lean on are the things that don't last

The child I miscarried on Thanksgiving 2003, was due on July 13th 2004.

I conceived Nicholas on or about that same date.

I cried last year, on this day, for one baby lost.

Today, I cried for two.

May the Farce Be With You

Drumroll, please...
Ah, the hell with it, gimme a rimshot.
I have returned, slightly beaten down, yet mostly unscathed. I may have lost a few IQ points in the process.
All the tantalizing details shall be shared in due time.
Must.Get.Sleep.
Happy Independence Day to my American readers, and a belated Happy Canada Day to my friends up North.
Happy goose-down pillows and air conditioning to my family, and dogs, and me.

PS - Special thanks to (another) Julie for finding this site and linking to it so I could find it, too!
You should really visit and browse around, there are several very nice items to be had.
My Forever Child

Amended (7/5/05 @ 11:45am) to add: I finally did my linky thingy. What a tedious chore that is! It is not quite polished and perfect yet, but at least I started it. Any changes, additions, corrections, etc., please let me know!