Saturday, December 31, 2005

Kiss My Ass 2005

Ok folks.
This means:
Baja Rosa
Fuzzy navels
Drunken olympics on my new ugly sheets.
Strawberry cream and tequila,
Orange juice with peach Absolut
Shit - that's breakfast in bed, right there.
Wore my lacy panties with white sweatpants - (and I did go shopping, DD!)
No rag.
Graced my new ugly sheets last night.
No rag.
Entertained my family all day long - including a two hour chat session with my mother during some stupid movie the guys were watching.
No rag.
Now, if none of that brings on a period, maybe a good old-fashioned hangover will. (?) !
Can you just imagine...
Bring it on, 2006. I'm ready.
Here's wishing each and every one of you all the best that the new year can offer. You deserve it.
For those of us at the point where hoping for good things lies slightly behind just hoping nothing else bad can happen... cheers.
To all the wonderful ladies who have helped me to survive, I thank you. From the bottom of my heart, I want you to know how special you are. I love you all.

My new ugly sheets

I want to write about my ugly, but comfortable sheets. Warm, soft, and cozy. April fresh. Horrible pattern. Distracting. Gift from the SIL. Am making my husband sleep on them just for spite. Damn, these are some butt-ugly sheets. Well, she got them for us, so, enjoy.
Waiting for The.Visitor.
You know, the bitch.
The curse.
May get it now, may get it later. Who the fuck knows. No signs yet. First cycle since the d&c. Might skip a month. Or whatever.
New, clean sheets; nothing begs on a period like fresh linens. Tomorrow I just might have to wear my lace panties under my white sweats. WITHOUT A LINER.
Oh yeah.
One more thing.
My tits are sore.
This isn't a haiku.
It is a drill.
Am I nuts,
or dumb?

My mom just arrived. Not the visitor I was anxious for, but it'll do for now.
Therefore, I should have some interesting tidbits to share in a few days.
Either she pushes me over the edge or I'm knocked up.
Who wants to place the first bet? Double or nothing.

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

He gets that from YOUR side of the family

Why won't dogs let you lick them?


Why won't dogs let you lick them? They lick us all the time, but when you try to lick them back, they get mad.

Josh, quit licking the dogs.

Monday, December 26, 2005

Let it go, let it go, let it go

Oh, the feelings inside are frightful
And sleep, it’s so delightful
But as long as you scold me so
I’ll let it go, let it go, let it go
The hubster and I have been at odds lately. Never one to try to understand another’s feelings, his quick-fix usually equates to a hearty “Get over it”. That is entirely his mother’s fault. Her standard response is “Don’t worry about it”, and all will be well. Just smash those feelings down, way deep inside, paste an insincere smile on your tear-stained face, and keep on keepin’ on. I suppose, under severe distress, one is allowed to mope a little, but time marches on, and you have to pull yourself together.
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da
I have been less than thoughtful of others lately. It’s true. I have been self-centered and withdrawn. I get reminded of that daily. Did you know that it doesn’t all revolve around me? I was previously unaware of that. I’m still not sure I believe it.
Always know sometimes think it’s me
But you know I know when it’s a dream
I think I know I mean, ah yes
But it’s all wrong
That is I think I disagree
So, this winter has been somewhat depressing. Sure, I suffer from a bit of Seasonal Affective Disorder anyway, but this particular year it is at an all-time low. To please the husband and the inlaws, I attended Mass on Sunday. I was unmoved. I sat there, looking at the statues and people, and forced myself to remain lost in my own head. If I thought too long and hard about my pain and the “whys” of it all, I would have begun sobbing, which is a bit of a distraction. For those around us, not just me. See, I do think of others sometimes. When I got to thinking about the ratio and proportions of the needs::wants, or rather the blessings::punishments, I started getting a little bit pissed. The priest spoke of faith and selflessness, beliefs and trust. “Do not be afraid”, he quoted. Guess one can’t be afraid, if they understand the random acts of fate and destiny. Just fly by the seat of your pants, because planning and dreaming does little good. It’s all a big throw of the dice.
Living is easy with eyes closed
Misunderstanding all you see
It’s getting hard to be someone
But it all works out
It doesn’t matter much to me
I’ve decided that for whatever cosmic reason, “this is here”. I have no explanations. I have no expectations. Like it or not, I can choose to live with it, or die trying. Didja ever get to that point where melancholy merged with apathy? Every day is another chance to look forward to another day which may or may not make any damn difference to anyone. If this is where I am supposed to be, then by fuck I’m gonna make the most of it. Besides, if I had all the answers, what fun would I ever have?
There’s nothing you can know that isn’t known
Nothing you can see that isn’t shown
No where you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be
It’s easy


Thursday, December 22, 2005

Julie's Small List of Minor Irritations

I just don't have it in me to complain about EVERYTHING that pisses me off, so I'll keep it short. Sort of. Well, okay, maybe not as concise as one might prefer, but at least I'm blogging. Whoopee.
May God's blessings fill you with joy during this Holy season.
Yes, because the rest of this goddamn year has been such a fucking wonderful shitfest.
I have stuck to "Happy New Year", and that's as far as it goes. I know a multitude of non-Christians that may or may not give a rat's ass about it even being WINTER, much less someone imposing their religious beliefs on them. Everyone gets to start fresh in 2006 (except the Chinese, and those following the Hebrew/Islamic calendars; please forgive me if I've left anyone out, I do try to engage in diversity on occasion).
Commercials. Where do I even begin?
Two men fishing, and one is momentarily debilitated by arthritis pain. His buddy just happens to have an unopened box of a pain reliever in his fishing vest, which he thoughtfully produces along with helpful advice on combating the discomfort. Do I even need to explain how unlikely this scenario could possibly be in real life? And yet, it pisses me off. At least they weren't discussing constipation, hemorrhoids or freshness. And the disclaimers on pharmaceutical ads and automotive commercials just scream "you are a moron" (for those of us who actually read them). Do we really need warnings not to drive SUVs up the sides of cliffs, especially since we are not professional drivers on a closed course? I mean, even though I have no idea what ailment the drug you're pushing is supposed to treat, I so fucking want it. Then I could drive my new Insipid through Manhattan, completely evading any indication of traffic or pedestrians, and easily find parking any damn where I pleased, while butterflies and crisp white linens waft gently in the breeze on my way to wildflower pastures completely devoid of allergens. And my erection would be tremendous.
People. In general, not my favorite mammal.
Ran into a former coworker the other day. Worked with this woman for 3 years, had at one point assumed we were friends. When we lost Nicholas, she sent me a card telling me how sorry she was, and to call her anytime, asserting that she knows exactly how I feel. She, the #2 girl in our 3 gal office, was the one who couldn't find the time to come to the funeral, or check in on me even once. I took her up on her offer to "keep in touch", but 2 unanswered emails, 5 ignored instant messages, and one unreturned phone call later, I gave up. She was SO THRILLED to see me, and wanted to know HOW I WAS DOING. Mostly, she wasn't even listening anyway. She occasionally chimed in with her experience of her solitary 12 week m/c, or some of the dumb things people said to her. Yet, somehow, she managed to go above and beyond insensitive, and end up at downright stupid. The pinnacle: when relaying news to me that the sister of another mutual acquaintance had recently experienced a stillbirth, she said "And they took pictures! Can you believe it? I mean, how gross is that? I guess it was part of the grieving process for them or whatever, but, ewwwww." This genius, who knows exactly what I went through, was astounded that I had to give birth to my dead baby. Because, as we all know, they just evaporate when they stop breathing. When she had HER miscarriage, they just did a D&C. Do you mean to tell me I could have avoided all that?, I asked her, rolling my eyes so far back in my head I swear I nearly swallowed one.
Not quite sure how that balances out with my new family doctor, who seemed more than interested in my reproductive history. Seems her friend, who is in her early 40's, has been battling infertility. But, her situation is a little different, because she's never even been pregnant yet, poor dear. Can you just imagine? At least I know I can GET pregnant. She did have some valid medical information to impart. My ovaries are again riddled with cysts; the left one in particular looks somewhat menacing. Confused as to why Dr. Wonderful did not catch this? The brainiacs at the ER where my u/s was done during my hemorrhage sent the report to my primary doc instead of my ob/gyn. Because, um, well, I'm not really sure why. Some questions to ask when I get around to it: why would I have all these (presumably functional) cysts at the end of a 3+ month pregnancy when my hcg continued to remain so high as to register a positive an entire month after the pregnancy ended? If memory serves me right, progesterone interferes just enough with the rest of the girly hormones to put a stop on the old gals' activity. Unless, you know, I have a PROBLEM which might need to be ADDRESSED. The recommendation: a repeat sono in 6 weeks. From the first test. Done 3 weeks ago. And they scheduled it for...... January 25th. Which is 5 weeks from now, and a little off of the time frame. I gently suggested that 1) we confirm with my cooter specialist what he recommends, and 2) maybe we need to time this with my cycle to get an accurate reading. I am no stranger to the clumpy monsters that inhabit my nethers. Seeing as how my D&C begins the new and improved cycling pattern (HA!), maybe the 6 week indication might be a goal to consider. (?)
But, as my luck would have it, Dr. Wonderful is on vacation, and booked solid upon his return. Therefore, I will spend the next few days over Christmas worrying about the individual cysts that have expanded to >4cm and seem to have a certain "clouding" around them. Or, just go find a second opinion somewhere. Yeah, that sounds like a plan.
Turn left after the yellow dog. That dawg is BROWN, LaWanda.
Ok, how about TAN, then, can we agree on TAN?? Goddammit Cletus, why cain't you just shut-the-hell-up and stay outta this? Becuz they maht be lookin' fer a yeller dawg and git lawst.
We live in Appalachia. Now, before you start booking your vacation plans early, let me assure you that the tourist attractions here are cheap and plentiful, but could easily scar you for life.
Due to some faulty navigation courtesy of online coordinates, our mapped-out excursion to the middle of nowhere landed us in the Armpit of the Alleghenies. We simply needed to make it to The Boy's hockey game, preferably on time. Instead, we were stopping every 10 miles or so, asking directions, trying to find our way to civilization. Even though Cletus did not have a complete grasp of enunciation, he was rather helpful in guiding us closer to our destination. LaWanda, on the other hand, was as dense as molasses left out on the mudporch in March. Or something like that. But I liked her summer teeth.

Monday, December 12, 2005

My bad, yo

I must apologize for my lack of recent updates.
I am alive, and doing ok. Thank you for your concern, comments, and emails.
I have no time available for anything at the moment.
Christmas is WHEN? Holy shit.
I have approx. 6.32kajillion fragmented posts rolling around in my head, and yet there they remain.
I miss ya'll. I haven't even been reading much; I have a lot of catching up to do!
I shall return. Promise.
Love, Me

P.S. For some real entertainment, hop over to watch Julie's Baby Einstein parody. Funny stuff!

Saturday, December 03, 2005

Uh. Yeah. Can I have mine "to go"?

So, you see. It's like this.
You know that little baby that just fell out of my vagina a month ago?
It was a girl by the way. Perfectly normal. More on that later.
And apparently my body thinks it is fucking hilarious to keep taunting me.
Like, you know, how I kept bleeding for 27 days.
And then that day I woke up to slaughtered deer guts on my bed? Oh that's right, that was MY blood.
And then... this is funny, guys, listen to this shit....
I'm still pregnant.
Heehee! My hcg was still in the double digits!
My husband would be the first one to tell you I have trouble letting things go.
Sometimes, it leads to rage. Or, 'rrhage. Hemorrhage, that is.
I just spent 3 restful days in our local hospital with all kinds of tubes and tests and catheters and poking and prodding and milk and cookies and dancing clowns holding winning lottery tickets.
Got my very first D&C. I am now a member of The Club.
Also got 4 units of blood (packed RBCs but let's not get too technical).
I don't even remember one whole day of my life.
Which is fine. I mean, really. Hypovolemia, shock and cardiac monitoring aside, I'm still alive after all.
And now, let us take one moment to ponder irony.
Due to a full census, the only available room to admit me (once stabilized) was.....
Somebody up there wuvs me.