I Wish I Were Here...

I'm just one lost soul swimming in a work bowl......year after year.

I miss you all and will be back as soon as I can. I think we have the big IUI procedure this weekend so I'll be sure to update you after that.

The itch

Hay fever is kicking my eyes in the ass (How can eyes have an ass, you ask? Think of where the location of an eyeball's ass would be. That's my brain. Little more than the posterior of a ball of jelly). I have prescription allergy drops (Patanol) and Benadryl in my system but they aren't helping like they usually do.

Any recommendations? Pharmaceutical and holistic solutions alike welcome.

I am taking clomiphene citrate to turn me into an egg factory. I don't recall this as a side effect, but the symptoms did seem to coincide with starting to take these pills. Will have to Google any possible corelations.

weekend at Bernie's

Not Bernie's. Georgie's. As in H.W. Bush. OK, not at Georgie's. Near Georgie's. Semantics, bah.

Last weekend I had a company meeting in Kennebunkport, ME. Lovely place, Maine, but damn chilly for August. I can't imagine wintering there. Our hotel was just around the bend from the Bush compound. Wouldn't that be cool, to have not just a summer house but a compound? Here's a picture of the place.

As we were leaving we saw some cars pull up and a bunch of people pile out in front of the main house. Likely some of the lesser Bush clanspeople. A colleague's wife actually saw Papa Bush out sailing and took a photograph.

One of my colleauges went to India to get married in June (we were invited to the wedding - received the invite the week of the ceremony. Wouldn't it have been a hoot to show up? Oh, and there were 1800 people at the reception. Good thing food is cheap there). His wife was at the meeting and she appears to still dress in traditional Indian style. I had to compliment her on her saris - such a beautiful, colorful form of dress (no Chelene, I don't think they come in all black). Some genius came up with the suggestion that all the women should wear saris to our Christmas party. I'd feel like a huge poseur trying to wear one myself.

Unfortately the weekend was all business and I didn't get to pick up a tchotchke for our travel bathroom as I'd hoped. Such a shame, as the streets were lined with adorable shops. The spousal unit got to poke around the town while I worked on Saturday. We're thinking we'll go back some time, maybe take the mother-in-law.

Here's a video from the plane ride home. It still doesn't do the storm justice.

Feeling soooooooo sexy

Chelene just posted about bringing sexy back. I can relate to that feeling today. I may even have ya beat, girlfriend.

We've decided to go the IUI route for the fertility treatment. I started things off today with a baseline ultrasound. It's day 3 of my cycle.

Think about that one for a second.

I'm glad the tech was female. Very, very glad.

On the positive side, I've got some great looking ovaries.

Escape Fron Barrenithia

Yesterday the spousal unit and I had our initial visit with a fertility doctor. Based on the diagnoses we've received so far, we fully expected to start right with IVF to get me knocked up. However, the doctor seemed to think we should give IUI a try first, so that's the road we're headed down.

For the nonbarren, IVF = Petri dish. IUI = turkey baster. Need more info? Go here. Man I'm a smartass today.

I'm really lucky - my health insurance pays for both IUI and IVF. I've struggled with the option of going straight to IVF. On one hand, why the hell not? The odds of getting a bun in my oven are 60% on one try as opposed to 30% over 3 monthly cycles of IUI. On the other hand...IVF is so much more invasive. Shots every day (did I mention that I HATE needles?), surgical egg harvesting, multiple ultrasounds, daily doctor visits.

Ultimately my cheap ass will let the cost make the decision. I believe it will be about $500 out of pocket for one IVF cycle. For the IUI, at this point it's who the fuck knows. My insurance coverage is good, but navigating their byzantine set of guidelines and exclusions and preauthorizations is fucking maddening. Let's just say it will probably be less than $100 a pop.


So let's talk about drugs.

I'll be taking Clomid to stimulate multiple egg folicles. Yes folks, I could end up with twins (Possibly more, but I choose to believe that if I don't think about it, it won't happen)! And there are side effects. The most common is hot flashes. A preview of menopause - whee!!!!!!

And the spousal unit gets to stab me in the ass with a syringe to force me to ovulate. I'm sure he'll love every minute of have a really hard time with that.

And the grand finale? Shove a catheter up my cervix (luckily I'm prepared for this after having the HSG. Did I just say luckily about having a foreign body rammed where nothing was meant to be rammed? Sheesh), sending a brigade of only the strongest of the spousal unit's little soldiers (sperm only, semen can cause an infection) to try and conquer one or more of those hormonally stupefied eggs.

How jealous are you right now?

I/O Error

As in, Idiot Operator.

It's amazing how the quality of the pictures your camera takes improves after cleaning the lens.

Check the post below for an updated photo of the curtains if you're interested. They look much nicer.

An open letter to sloppy bastards

I attended the second wedding of the summer over the weekend and have noticed an extremely disturbing trend regarding the casualization of male attire. This seems to be especially the case the further west you are of the Mississipi. In my years of business travel, I've long noticed that Eastern workplaces are still more formal than those out West. Generally I'm OK with that, but it really ruffles my feathers to see it appplied to occassions such as nuptials that will always call for a sense of decorum.

I've put together a list of my complaints. Gents, if this applies to you, hear me and hear me well!

• Shorts are NEVER, EVER, EVER appropriate for a wedding. But it's on the beach, you cry! Find a comfy pair of linen slacks, I retort.


• Wearing a $100-plus silk leisure shirt does not make up for the fact that you are wearing shorts to a wedding.


• Leather flip-flops do NOT count as dress shoes.


• You are entirely defeating the point of wearing a neatly pressed long-sleeved button down shirt if you refuse to tuck it in. Better to go with the silk leisure shirt if bunching at your waist concerns you.


• Crocs are only appropriate for the garden if you are over the age of 10.

This last wedding also saw a blatant female offender who was attired in a snow-white dress, the ultimate show of disrespect to the bride. She'd just had a baby and may not have had any other dresses that fit, but how hard is it to borrow a colorful belt or a shawl? Humph.

We the Simpsons

Because I've been way too busy to be creative, I'm going to completely rip off Beckeye and post myself and the spousal unit as we would appear on The Simpsons. I have bangs now and don't usually wear my glasses (which I really should do more often, they are Lulu Guinness with the most adorable bling), but you get the gist.



That photo of me was taken with our now-defunct camera. Clearly it once functioned properly. No word back yet from Costco, BTW. I think they are stalling, hoping I'll just go away.

On another note....

Why is it that so many of the womeen out there in the workforce are either twits or bitches? They give us competent, reasonable gals too much to make up for. Grrr.

@!$#JIOE

So if any of you clicked on the curtains pic in my last post, you'll no doubt notice the extremely poor quality of the photo.

I think my digital camera is skrood. Which really blows because we just got it over a year ago. Tons of noise on the digital display which seems to also transfer to the picture itself.

You know the worst part? This thing got the highest rating from Consumer Reports. Love the size but the picture quality has degraded to being nearly worthless.

Suggestions on where to go next?

UPDATE: I've emailed Costco where we purchased the camera to see if they will still do an exchange. We'll see how fabulous their return policy really is.

A peek inside the catacombs

She climbs to the top of the stepladder to drill the holes into which she will screw the final curtain rod mount.

Damn, holding this drill at eye level on a ladder is awkward! Aha...done. Screw in the last mount, and you can finally hang the frickin' things. I can't believe you're hanging curtains in August that you made in February!!!

Movement at the front window caught her eye. A hummingbird was querying the feeder, empty for months, for a sip of nectar. She brightens at the sight. The feeder had been given up long ago as hung too far from the edge of the porch to attract any of the delightful little birds. She watched the tiny creature try for a few more seconds before it flitted away.

I need to refill it! Quick, do it now before you forget!

She climbs down the ladder and walks out the front door to retrieve the feeder.

Crap - I forgot how high this thing is. Oh, and I had to jerry-rig it by tying yarn through the loop on the top to the chain extended from the ceiling of the porch. I don't want to bring the ladder out here...let me just cut this yarn with the shears that are next to the orchid next to the front door inside.

With a quick snip, she frees the feeder and carries it inside to the sink and opens it for a refill.

How much sugar do I use? I'd better go Google that.

She walks to her laptop, then realizes how distracted she has become. Is it any wonder it's taken her this long to hang those damn curtains?

Right. Back to the task at hand.

She remounts the step ladder and reaches for the screwdriver to finish screwing in the mount. It's not there.

OK...I must have carried it out to the feeder. Whee, isn't this fun? The twit on the ladder goes up and down, up and down....

She retraces her steeps between the porch, the sink, and the ladder. No trace of the screwdriver, and she's now a half hour further into the task than she'd have liked. Managing to avoid giving up in disgust, she resorts to using the heavy cordless drill to finish installling the mount screws.

She hangs the curtains, and is quite pleased with herself at the result. These are the first items she's ever sewn.

Many hours later when she checks her email before bed, she discovers the elusive screwdriver next to her laptop. She shakes her head, bemused at the fact that she manages to get anything done.

On perspective

Check out this picture.

You may ask, how did you hang the evil Sasha from the couch? But then here is her same pose from a different angle:

Freaky dog likes to lie on her side with her legs up in the air against the wall/couch/whatever vertical surface she's next to.

Next, I have to rant about the guy in my row on my flight home from Cool-umbus yesterday (the trip which explains why I've been so quiet all week). You know those wealthy folks who go to pains to say and demonstrate that they are not but then in the same breath make statements that illustrate they have no clue how normal they're really not? That was this guy.

"Oh, JK Rowling won't write any more books. That's what she said when I met her. I'm weird, I'm a book collector. My father had a bunch of books that turned out to be worth 1.4 million, and I couldn't afford to insure them (?) so I had to turn them over to the Royal Museum to keep them safe. So now I'm collecting Harry Potter first editions and I just paid $15,000 for this one. I'm visiting my wife's family who is from Colorado and will never leave. We bought into a ranch in the foothills with them, and we paid $300,000 for some property in Frisco that she got offered $3 million for last week. Her brother has a real nice house in, Cherry...what's it called? Across from the country club? [Note: this is Cherry Creek, arguably the poshest neighborhood in the entire state] It's nice, but they have no land! We have 50 acres outside Columbus. My wife made us get horses, she was raised with them. Her brother is making me play polo tomorrow, I really don't get that sport."

And on and on and on and on......Did I mentioned the guy seemed rather self-centered? He must have recalled his therapist's instructions at some point, because he did manage to ask me and our fellow rowmate where we lived, but that was about it.

And finally, Sarah Ashlee makes an excellent point on the lack of the subject of this post that Americans and specifically our media are exhibiting.