Dia de los Madres

Headed down to see the mamacita for the weekend. She lives just 2 1/2 hours away from us now so it's a quick skip. The trip yesterday morning took me through Castle Rock.

Stephen King fans know the name of this fictional Maine town well. What you may not realize is that monsieur King lived briefly as a child in our lovely state. Makes sense, given that a few of his non-Maine books (The Stand, The Shining, Misery) are in fact set here. Thus, I choose to believe that above rock partly inspired the stories that have haunted me over the years.

Next stop, Colorado Springs, or as locals call it, the Springs. Gorgeous vistas abound, of the quality that make you think God likes this place. Perhaps that's why so many of his Christian followers flock here.

I snapped a shot with my phone that didn't come out of a Got Jesus? bumper sticker. If I didn't, do you think I could pick up a quart of Jesus at the corner store?

Finally, to casa de Mama. We spent a leisurely day lunching and taking the dogs (all 4 of them) to frolic in the Arkansas river.

Sunday we had waffles for breakfast and then headed out on the Royal Gorge train route. Mother nature cooperated and we were able to spend some time in the open air car. Here's a pic of the world's highest suspension bridge.

And finally, back home. Ripley and Roscoe were not thrilled by the long car ride.

Grassically Challenged

You probably realize that I like to garden, but it may come as a suprise that the spousal unit and I suck at keeping the lawn.

Yesterday I went out to dig out all the weeds that have crept in. Who knew it was so satisfying to call a dandelion a stupid twat? It's too bad though, because now most of the green part of my lawn, the weeds, is now gone. There are a couple rental houses in the neighborhood whose lawns are more dead than ours. I'm sure the neighbors on our street are pleased with us.

I know it would help if we watered the damn thing. Some day very soon we'll get our sprinklers running for the season. Fertilizer? Weed and feed? Got bags of the stuff in the garage but no clue when or how often we should apply.

And mowing? Let's not discuss that.

I think we're going to throw in the towel and hire a lawn service.

Moniker Chuckles

Just thought I'd share with you a couple of names that have made me giggle lately.

The spousal unit's boss is named Tom Waits. Seriously. Now, that's got to be a common name, a'la Rod Stewart or Chris Martin, but it still makes me grin whenever I hear it.

I love Dutch words and names specifically with their overabundance of vowels. I stumbled on an article in National Geographic the other day by one Stephen Van Der Aa. You have to pronounce it out loud to get the full effect. "Van Der Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah".

Share with me some names you've found amusing!

All is Not As It Seems

What is this, you may ask. Does Slave have access to Amy Winehouse's flat in London? Did she somehow get backstage at the Good Charlotte concert to whoop it up with Paris and Nicole?

Nope. This is what happens when you have to travel with injectable fertility drugs and are too lazy to clean up the mess you made using your in-room coffeemaker. They never give you enough sugar to go with the coffee!

Kudos to the spousal unit for having the presence of mind to capture this clever shot.

Bizarre Love Triangle

Roscoe and Sasha share a tender moment.




Ripley must console herself by remembering that she still controls the pocketbook.*

_{* Photos actually taken within seconds of each other}

A bad lead-in

I just came in from repotting a plant on my front porch. While I was outside a cute, clean-cut teenage girl approached my house.

The first thing she said was, "I'm not trying to sell you candy."

She went on to explain how she was trying to raise money for college tuition, and pulled a laminated card from her back pocket that had a paragraph on the front I didn't bother to read and a Colorado State University logo at the bottom.

I turned the card over. On the back were pictures of our local daily newspapers.

She would have been better off trying to sell me candy. Even if it wasn't a scam (which it most likely was), printed news is dead in our household. We prefer to cherry-pick what we read online, and I have no interest in bundling old papers for the recycling bin. We've even let subscriptions to Time and National Geographic lapse. The spousal unit still picks up The Economist on occasion, but the rest of our news is all virtual.

But I still felt bad when she walked away. She looked awfully sweet and was quite polite when I turned her down.

Whine not

It's amazing how much negativity gets batted about on the intertubes. At least half of the articles and blogs I read nowadays could assume an alternate title of "XYZ Sucks!!!!" What good does it serve? Live your life. Try to feel peace. Remember that the venom that you spew, even if in support of a noble cause, propagates more of the same. Venting is only productive up to a point, and then it just turns into whining.

I want to hear about the good things that happen in your lives. I can't resist a creative story. I can't keep reading, however, that my car isn't hybrid enough or that the other side are idiots because they are too liberal/conservative/gay/Christian/what-the-fuck-ever or that America's corporate evildom is dooming the entire world to futility. Yes, the world is full of injustice. It is no worse than it has ever been. We are dealing with our own unique set of problems just as those in the past have done and the unborn will also have to do.

Now if only the media would take this to heart.

JACC, I love hearing about how you enjoy something as simple as Pappys.

Chelene, nakedness and Spike Lee make me smile.

Beckeye, I adore your obsession with Michael Johns.

Tanya, I'll keep reading Alexander's blog in your absence because he is the most clever and fun baby ever.

Metro, your creative posts help me aspire to be a better writer.

Mur, you come up with the most random and clever posts that make me chuckle.

Pugs, I miss your more personal posts.

Amanda, I look forward to reading about Mexico!!!

Kevin, it's good to read about you and Jody and the new stage in your life.

And now I'll contribute a bit of my own.

Here's a flowerbed we built in the back yard a few years ago. The dark orange daylily is coming back full-force.

There's some cleanup to do, and notice the hole where Ripley can't resist an occasional dig. But this is the view from my office window and it is quite tranquil when things are in bloom. It gives me something to look forward to. I think we can all use a little more of that.

Pity me please

I'm working out on my deck this afternoon. My screen is sort of hard to see and I keep having to move my chaise lounge to follow the shade.

Don't you feel awful for me?

Consolation

Today at lunch I consoled myself about not going to China with some nummy Indian leftovers. The spousal unit and I combined them in one container, and they got all mixed together. I dubbed the resulting dish "Lamb-Chicken Sagaloo". It was quite delicious.

Nothing too fabulous over the weekend. Sasha escaped the yard once again. Usually I can go after her with the car and she'll hop right in, but she discovered that if she keeps running the chase is even faster than when I'm on foot. Ripley also decided that following Sasha on her wanderings is a good time. Bad bad dogs.

I puttered in the yard, pulling up dead things and making room on the deck for our outdoor sofa, chairs, and firepit/coffee table that are currently on order. I think we'll add in a raised pond (no room for a pool like some other lucky bloggers) to complete our mini backyard oasis.

Caught the Merry Wives of Windsor on Sat. night. Live theater is the best. Here's a preshow shot of the convention center and a fun sculpture from the performing arts center balcony. Doesn't that piece of roof look like you could just break it off?

Send me your mojo

I'm trying to get sent to China for work. I'd leave a week from Saturday and would be there for 2 weeks. Destinations are Shanghai and 2 other destinations TBD.

Cross all your appendages and send me all your good mojo please! I'll find out tomorrow.

UPDATE: No China for me this time. But it could be in the cards for the future.

Bugs Husky

Sasha looooooooooooves carrots. She's learned to recognize the sound of the crisper drawer where we keep the carrots being opened. She'll come running in from the nether regions of the house, wagging her tail and wearing an expectant expression.

Roscoe and Ripley like carrots too but not like this cartoon character does.

Weekly oddity

I'm going to attempt to make this a feature on my blog. Here's this week's "huh?" moment.

Book Snob

For a number of months now I've been a member of a book club that a friend runs. So far there have been 2 books I could have done without (not worth mentioning), 2 I liked (A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and A Long Way Gone), and 2 that I loved (The Glass Castle, Water for Elephants (my choice)).

Said friend also lent me a book from her self-expressed favorite series - Confessions of a Shopaholic. I'd seen these books while browsing the chick-lit shelves in search of a beach read and they looked harmless enough, so I opted to give it a try. Being a female who really likes to shop, I figured we'd be compatible.

I can't say that I've ever been more disgusted with the "heroine" of a novel. This chick is shallow, stupid, dishonest, and a golddigger. Even the shopping was a letdown - I couldn't suspend my disbelief long enough to buy that a marginally employed 25-year-old can have a wardrobe sprinkled with Jimmy Choo and Dolce & Gabbana. The only redeeming quaility that I could find in the book was that the predicaments this idiot managed to get herself in were pretty funny.

So this friend is hosting next month and has selected another book by the same author. This book is sitting in my house because she left it here last month, and yet I still refuse to read it. I think I'm going to tell her that I'll be out of town for work. I realize I'm being obstinate and not entirely reasonable, but I just can't bring myself to pick the thing up.

So am I a total snoot?

Blood is still red last time I checked

Metro has a couple of current posts about how to help the environment. You can see I voiced my dissent regarding some of his views but it is a common cause. He reminded me of a post I've had in the back of my mind for weeks now.

As you can surmise, I've spent much more time than normal at the doctor's office lately. And it's struck me as a place that's in no way green. Every time I hop up on the table I sit on a disposable paper cover. I drape myself with a single-use paper "cloth". And then there's all the biohazardous waste that's incinerated. When I dropped off all my used syringes to be disposed of, I couldn't even keep the container for reuse.

Now, I realize this is probably a smidgen of a problem, if that, compared to emissions and factory livestock farming. But it still seems as if it could be improved upon. Or is there too much of a health risk involved? You tell me.

It seems as if syringes could be effectively sterilized and reused. Or maybe cloth drapes would be an option (except those too would need to be washed after every use). What else?

Human Garbage

Please read this story about a poor dog that was cruelly starved in the name of art.

A Costa Rican artist did an exhibition in Managua, Nicaragua. He paid some kids to catch an emaciated street dog. He tied up the dog underneath the words "You are what you read" pasted on the wall in dog food. He did not allow anyone to give the dog food or water. The dog died as a result of this exhibition.

Look at the third picture down. I'm really not sure who is worse - the artist or all these jackasses standing around munching wine and cheese while this poor creature suffered. It would have taken force to keep me from helping this animal had I been in attendance.

It gets worse. This creep actually won a prize for this "exhibit" and has been asked to show at a national event in Honduras. There's a petition to keep this from happening. Please sign it if you're willing.

Waterboarding? Too kind for this bastard.

Raktadana

Sanskrit for blood donation.

My friend Pugs over at Tittybits posted a disturbing story about forced raktadana in India.

India is such a conundrum to me. The standard of living varies so widely. I've worked with my share of Indians here on H1B visas. It's odd to realize that those people typically come from the higher Indian castes. And they still want to work here to do better.

That does seem to be changing somewhat. I think this is great. Maybe it's because my own job was never in jeopardy, but I'm happy with the effects that outsourcing has had worldwide. Despite the initial impact, it seems that the offshore movement hasn't really hurt the US IT field. There will always be a need for face to face operations as well as cultural familiarity in business operations that offshoring won't affect. And just because people live in India and not America doesn't mean they have any less right to a better life.

The spousal unit had a great time working with a bunch of Indian fellows last year. He had the unique experience of being the only caucasian software developer in the whole company. Extremely smart guys. Wonderful sense of humor. They passed on this entertaining piece of Indian wisdom:

Heaven on Earth
Chinese food
English house
American salary
Indian wife

Hell on Earth
English food
Chinese house
Indian salary
American wife

More dog yoga

Awhile back I linked to an article about dogs doing yoga. Well, apparently my crazy husky has jumped on the bandwagon.

They call this pose "Flasher".

Close to home

A friend from an infertility support forum sent me this poem. I'm normally not one to make weepy posts but this captures perfectly the anguish that that spousal unit and I have been dealing with.

Just Those Few Weeks

For those few weeks
I had you to myself
And that seemed too short a time
to be changed so profoundly.

In those few weeks
I came to know you
and to love you
You came to trust me with your life.
Oh, what a life I had planned for you!

Just those few weeks
When I lost you.
I lost a lifetime of hopes,
plans, dreams and aspirations...
A slice of my future simply vanished overnight.

Just those few weeks
It wasn't enough time to convince others
how special and important you were.
How odd, a truly unique person has recently died
and no one is mourning the passing.

Just a mere few weeks
and no "normal" person would cry all night
over a tiny vanished baby,
or get depressed and withdrawn day after endless day.
No one would, so why am I?

You were just those few weeks my little one.
You darted in and out of my life too quickly.
But it seems that's all the time you needed
to make my life so much richer
and give me a small glimpse of eternity.

...Author Unknown

Humph

I saw a clip of Bill Clinton stumping for his wife a couple of days ago. Bill usually tends towards eloquence, but the guy must be running on way too little sleep.

He was addressing Obama's campaign saying something negative about Hillary, and said something like:

"Apparently Mr. Obama thinks it's OK to pick on a girl."

I don't remember the exact wording other than he did call his wife a girl.

Huh? No, it's not OK to be mean to a 7 year old female. Is that really how a presidential candidate wants to represent herself? As a helpless child? Sheesh.

The Easter Miracle

A few years ago we did Easter brunch with my in-laws and my sister-in-law's in-laws. The spousal unit decided to sit his nephew on his lap and tell him the story of the Easter miracle.

He told of how, on Good Friday, the Easter Bunny laid an easter egg. The bunny sat vigilantly on that egg until Easter Sunday, when lo and behold the baby Jesus hatched from that sacred egg.

His nephew listened, wide eyed. The in-law-in-laws are churchgoing, stern folks, and were not amused. The rest of us got a good chuckle from it.

Hope you all had a lovely Easter yesterday. I'm going to pick up some sticky-yummy-sweet marked down Cadbury Creme Eggs today. Thanks Easter Bunny, bwak bwak!

Comic Relief

OK, I think after my last post you might need a laugh. I know I do.

I've decided to share my most embarassing moment ever with all my dear bloggies. This is a privelege to be cherished. The spousal unit once told this story among friends without my permission and got the cold shoulder for days.

About 5 years ago I got laid off. My company had been a startup, was purchased by a huge defense contractor and was subsequently run into the ground. I was one of many victims of their incompetence.

The weekend after the axe dropped we went down to New Mexico to visit family. We stayed with my mother-in-law. I'd made plans to have a night out with some girlfriends, and the spousal unit went out with his own friends that same evening.

I got TANKED. My friends did too. They were smart and got picked up/driven home by the men in their lives. I was too drunk and full of self-pity to be that responsible and drove home. Luckily the story continues and does not involve me heading to jail.

Back at my mother-in-law's, I was fumbling to dress for bed. Where in the hell is that pajama top! Ah who cares, I don't need it, I slurred to myself and crawled into bed.

The next morning, I awoke with a pounding headache and a suspicion that I had done something incredibly embarassing. Must have been a bad dream. I rose, found the missing pajama top on the floor, and fell back into bed. The spousal unit was already awake and came back into the room braying with laughter. Looks like it was no dream.

Apparently after I'd partially dressed for bed, I went into the bathroom to pee. When I came out, I stumbled back into the bedroom. My mother-in-law's bedroom.

I proceeded to crawl into bed topless with my mother-in-law and spoon her. Seems in my stupor I thought she was the spousal unit. She tried to right the situation but I dismissed her protests, saying I was quite comfortable. I didn't leave her bed until the spousal unit got home and managed to drag me back to our room.

I'm very lucky that my mother-in-law has a good sense of humor. Her biggest concern was that I'd driven home in that state.

The definition of bleak

Our baby has no heartbeat. It's about half the size it should be at this stage.

We're going back to have one last look on Friday (we've had 2 already) but it doesn't look good.

Cruel twist? Apparently the placenta is still growing normally. So my hormones are still through the roof, I still have morning sickness, and my uterus still thinks things are hunky dory. This means that on Friday we probably get to figure out how to make my body void itself of our lifeless child.

My mind knows that it's for the best. That something went wrong and it wouldn't have been a normal child anyway. But that doesn't make it hurt any less.

The bitterness is starting to set in too. I'll spare you the details, but it really blows to experience this as the latest of a series of many disappointments in our 4 1/2 year quest to have a child.

NEW and IMPROVED

Morning sickness - now you too can have it all day long!

On the bright side, I haven't actually puked. But I do feel like I'm going to yak nearly constantly.

I need to get some saltines. And an accupressure bracelet. Any other remedies you want to share?

Blimey!

Have been in Phoenix since Wednesday visiting the spousal unit's dad. We'll call him the SUD for short. I should mention that he's originally from Scotland.

Thursday morning I get up and scrounge around for something to eat. The SUD gets up and mentions that his wife eats porridge every morning if I'd like some of that. Porridge? Images of Goldilocks and stories from the Brothers Grimm pop into my head, and I am indelibly intrigued. I express enthusiasm at trying porridge for the first time.

A few minutes later, his wife (American) approaches me with a chuckle. She explains that what she eats for breakfast is oatmeal.

Bloody Brits! Who knew that porridge = oatmeal? I'm convinced that the SUD knew darn well that I'd misunderstood and kept up the gag.

The rest of the time here has been spent working (boo), golfing (nice to see quail and roadrunners on the course in addition to the usual ducks and geese), and learning how to play the nifty game of pickleball. I managed to crush the spousal unit, stowaway and all.

How was your weekend? Would you have fallen for the porridge gag?

Appalooslave

This is what my ass is looking like these days.

I'm on daily progesterone shots until the 26th to help sustain the pregnancy. The needle is is an inch and a half long and must be inserted into my posterior muscle. In addition to the bruises, I've got little knots on each side too. It feels like my ass is full of marbles.

The spousal unit, who has the pleasure of administering the torture, is becoming much more comfortable as a sadist.

No you're NOT

It's funny how people get on the same wavelengths. I've been planning this post for a couple of days. This morning I checked out Amanda's blog to find that she has similar complaints. What's your carbon skidmark like?

But I digress.

The topic of this post is a phrase that I hate. That phrase is, "we're pregnant".

Now, don't get me wrong. I understand and even agree with its intent. Couples want to include the father as more than just a sperm donor. Of course. But then why in the world could we not have stuck with "we're having a baby", which was the preferred lingo for years?

Until science makes some major advances, a man simply cannot call himself pregnant. Participating in the pregnancy secondhand just doesn't count. If that were the case, the expectant mother's entire set of family and friends could also say they are pregnant, no?

WE are not pregnant.

I am pregnant.

:)

Help me go to Vegas!

I want to win ICHC's contest to send the spousal unit and I to Vegas.


More on the online Poker Cats Contest

Click on the kitteh picture above. Then click on the cheeseburgers above the picture to vote for me.

Thanks everyone! Even if you're just a lurker, you're much appreciated!

Bat Dog

Is it a bird? A plane?

No, it's a Roscoe!

How funny would it be if his ears stood up?

It's on!

OK kiddos. Come check out my non kerpupple rantings over at Slave to the Words.

Forgive me, I haven't updated my links over there yet. I will lead my meager readers to your blogs from there too.

Dog only blog?

I need opinions.

I've gotten a link on Dog in My Pocket, an I Can Has Cheezburger-ish website about dogs instead of cats. I think they prefer to link to other doggie sites, and I haven't really been doing much kerpupple blogging here recently.

I'm thinking about making this blog dog-only and setting up another for my random personal rantings.

What say you?

The Contest Queen

I may have blogged about this before, so forgive me if you've heard this.

I'm sort of lucky when it comes to contests. In college I won a few CDs from radio station contests and a trip to Lollapalooza at a bar drawing. Since then I've garnered concert tickets to see Alanis Morrisette (by doing something that I would never dream of doing now). There's also the Build the Outfit contest at the Manolo's blog, and the denim wardrobe that I won from one of Lucky Magazine's online sweepstakes they hold every month.

Well darned if I didn't hit it again. Lucky Magazine strikes again! I'll soon be receiving a bra and panty set from Calvin Klein in the mail.

Would somebody please tell me how I can strike it rich with this mediocre fortuitous streak of mine?

It can always be worse

So a few posts ago I was whining about how cold it is in Denver in the wintertime. Wanting to run off to the islands. Well now I feel a bit better.

We've been in Oregon for a day and a half and it's been nothing but drizzle and drear. My cousins tell me this is a typical winter. You want nice weather? Come in June, they say.

At least through our cold and snow we get sunshine. 300 days a year, in fact.

I can see how Starbucks originated in this region. I've had massive coffee cravings since I've been here. I fear if I lived here I wouldn't appreciate all the lush green surroundings because I'd be inside hiding from the rain all the time.

Overshadowed

So between a busy week at work, starting our next IVF cycle, preparing for my cousin's wedding on Saturday in Oregon, and Superbowl fever, I'm totally unprepared for my birthday on Sunday. It's not an unsignificant birthday, either. I'm turning 35. As it stands we'll be flying home and heading to some friends' for the tail end of a Superbowl party.

My doll of a spousal unit is insisting on celebrating next weekend when we don't have so much going on.

I asked for a Wii for my birthday, but there are none to be found. Rats! Seems I'll have to settle for an iPod Shuffle, which will be perfect for skiing and working out.

Where's Leta Lynn?

On Sunday, Jan. 13th while in St. Maarten, the spousal unit and I supped at a delightful little outdoor pizza parlour called Mama Pizza. This place was very near our hotel and just on the French side of the island.

A trio at an adjacent table was engaged in an animated conversation. There was a man of German descent in his mid-to-late 40s, sporting a muscle shirt, camouflage cargos, and a rockin' Scorpions hairdo. A woman of about the same age had a wicked Long Island accent. The third member of the party was an elderly woman who spoke little.

As bits of their conversation drifted over we were able to determine that they were searching for someone. It sounded like a crime had been committed. Furthermore, they had been showing pictures around the hotel we were staying at, trying to locate a woman. Somebody said, "she's done this before". Then the woman kept saying that she wanted the police to use K9s. The man complained that the police were focusing too much on "building a case against him" and not enough on "finding her."

As morbid as it sounds, we were highly intrigued. During dinner I exchanged raised eyebrows with a woman at another table. She was clearly interested too. Back at our hotel, we searched for more clues to what was going on but found none. It felt as if we'd turned on a movie partway in and didn't get to see the ending.

Upon returning home, I enlisted my pal Google and found a St. Maarten news website. It turns out that Leta Lynn Cordes went missing on January 11th. She hasn't been found.

I'm really suprised this hasn't gotten more media coverage. Usually it's pretty big news when an American goes missing abroad. I hope they find her soon for the poor family's sake.

Heard while in the islands

"You two don't have an American accent. You sound like Canadians."

I don't know what the hell they were talking aboot. I don't sound like no Canadian, eh!

Vacay-fun

Hello friendly readers. Time for my overdue vacation recollections.

Man, coming back to single digit temperatures from being in the 80s all week suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucks. Would someone please remind me why I live somewhere that's so cold in the wintertime? Though there are others who have it worse. Did you watch the Green Bay-NY game on Sunday? Those guys looked truly miserable. I felt especially bad for the benchwarmers. Some of those fellas make less than I do (OK, but I don't get 6 months off a year), and the bench heaters were said to be broken.

Now...Sint Maarten/Saint-Martin.

Not a particularly large island, but big enough to explore. It's half Dutch, where they speak English and spend US dollars, and half French, where they speak French and English and spend euros. Lucky for us, many of the businesses on the French side offered a 1/1 euro to dollar exchange rate.

The Dutch side was being heavily developed. Lots of hotels, condos, and multimillion dollar homes going up. Our hotel, on the Dutch side but just a stone's throw away from the French border, was brand new.

The French side was much more rural. Its towns were more quaint. All the topless sunbathers were on the French side too. We spent an afternoon at Orient Beach, which is what I picture St. Barth's to look like (sorry Chelene, we didn't make it over :( ) with its colorful houses. we got the best service of the trip at one of the restaurants on this side, belying the French waiter stereotype. I think if we go back, we'll stay on the French side. Perhaps here?

Big disappointment? The casinos. We like to play poker, and we couldn't find a decent game. Aruba's casinos were much more fun.

We had great fun driving around the island in our rented beat-up Jeep Wrangler. I'm still fighting with Hertz about paying to replace a bald tire that blew out when we hit a pothole.

While dining one night, we were privvy to some details in a missing persons case. More about that next post.

And finally - scuba. I'm a certified open water diver! It was so much fun. Makes the whole not getting pregnant thing much less of a bummer. We saw eels, octopi, stingrays, and lots of gorgeous fish. The spousal unit is totally hooked - he wants to take classes to become a divemaster. Perhaps he could support us in a move to the islands?

Hiatus

I'll be back on the 17th. I'm off to St. Maarten.

A train wreck I couldn't avoid

Saturday while on the way to pick up some Gatorade to keep by the pool during our scuba lessons (These regulators are making me thirsty!), I heard a stupefying report on the radio that said that Britney may be moving to Denver.

First of all, I don't buy it. If she was serious enough to move in with this John Sundahl character we'd have seen a picture of the guy on The Superficial. And you'd also have to believe that the girl wants out of the limelight for awhile. Nuh uh.

But if it were to really transpire, I do have to say I wouldn't mind seeing a bit of that crazy in the flesh. The snooty folks in that neigbhorhood will be seriously pissed to be invaded by paparazzi. And I'd pay money to watch the girl try to drive, hold the baby, and text in one of our snowstorms.

UPDATE: I Googled this guy, and I have seen a pic of him on The Superfish. But I still don't buy it.

Fun for some

Obedience training taught us to flip Sasha over on her back when she starts getting uppity as a dominance exercise. As you can see, Ripley and Roscoe find the concept pretty entertaining.


























Sasha is not quite so amenable.

On the upside

Not being pregnant yet means the following:

• The spousal unit and I can squeeze in a SCUBA certification class and do our open water cert dive when we are in St. Maarten in less than 2 weeks.


• I don't have to drink virgin umbrella drinks while we're there.


• I won't be in the last stage of my pregnancy during the dog days of summer.


• We can now definitely make a trip to Orlando with the niece and nephew in July.


• Delaying morning sickness - yipee!

We spoke to the doctor yesterday and are planning to start another IVF cycle right away. There are plans in place to change the protocol in order to increase our chances.

Apparently even though Fergus and Fergalina looked all nice and symmetrical, they really didn't stand much of a chance. At their stage of development they should have been 8-10 cells instead of 6. So those two just weren't meant to be babies.

Update

Didn't work. Got the call this morning. I'm not pregnant.

So it looks like the fertility posts continue.

Merry Christmas everyone! I probaby won't be back until Thursday.

A first peek

Here you go. The spousal unit has dubbed them Fergus and Fergalina. I'm letting him have his fun for now.

This is what they looked like shortly before being transferred back into me first thing on Thursday morning. 6 cells each, nice size and form. That procedure was a breeze, except....

I had to drink 32 ounces of water 1 1/2 hours before the procedure. Had to hold onto it until they were done. You should have seen me fly off the table into the bathroom when the timer went off. I looked like a star sprinter.

And a parting gift...the little fellas in their new home. I've circled where they were the doc said they were, in between 2 white air bubbles.

Easter in December

I apologize for not inviting you to the egg hunt. It happened inside my ovaries on Monday at my doctor's office. Lucky doc found 20 eggs!

So of those 20:

8 = immature
5 = duds (sperm injected but did nothing)
1 = freak of nature (fertilized, started growing irregularly)
2 = slowpokes (fertilized, not dividing yet)
4 = frontrunners (fertilized, 2 cells as of midnight)

I get to see video of the frontrunners tomorrow right before they shove 2 of them back in. The other 2, if they are still good, get to take a little nap in the freezer.

Come visit on Christmas Eve. That's when I find out if things took.

Play Along - Drink Most Foul

I've come up with a game. Please play with me.

The game is to invent a disgusting drink (alcoholic preferred but non will do) and come up with a name for it. This should provide loads of easy entertainment for simple-minded people like me.

I'll start.

Double Fountain - prune juice & tequila

UPDATES:
Swamp Water - wheatgrass and tequila, by Cat
Teeter Totter - Red Bull and Nyquil by Mur
Bubble Vision - Dish detergent and absinthe by Metro
Licorice Margarrhea - tequila, sambuca and Pepto Bismol by Beckeye

Keep 'em coming kids. Good stuff! Perhaps we'll put these on the menu when the spousal unit opens his bar.

Thank God for dead racoons

Headed out for the daily mail retrieval, kerpupples in tow. I haven't mentioned it yet, but the latest round of injections have me feeling like pure, unadulterated crap. And I'm getting a cold too. So I wasn't entirely with it when we ventured out.

Sasha spent yesterday sleeping and lounging, recovering from several days at the kennel. Today she's gotten her spirit back. All it took was a tired Slave to flub the leash when trying to switch it between hands, and she was off like the hellion she usually is.

I called her sweetly to no avail, and ended up chasing her all around the lake. The other 2 dogs joined me in pursuit.

Ripley managed to catch up with Sasha, and they had a fine time chasing the geese into the middle of the lake. But they made it back to shore and Sasha sashayed off before I could catch up.

My saving grace? They encountered the carcass of a racoon on the path. It's head was creepily, perfectly preserved. Sasha tried to grab it and run off with it but it proved too awkward. I waited near the treasure, and sure enough, she couldn't stay away. I snatched up her leash when she returned and started towards home, cursing and scolding her profusely.

She managed to snatch up what looked like a femur or a lesser leg bone as we left. I had to pry it out of her mouth before she could start crunching on it.

Most excellent timing

Last night I headed to the mall with a list of items to pick up in hand. One such item, a bra of a particular brand, could only be found at Nordstrom.

I parked outside Nordstrom and attempted to enter to find the doors locked. How odd! Another patron who walked by informed me that they were having "a special event" but it didn't start until 7.

So I went in another entrance and decided to acquire the rest of the things I needed first. I accomplished this task in nearly record time. I headed back to Nordstrom's mall entrance only to find it locked up. Huh?

I left through another store and noticed a sign outside Nordstrom's door. It said to please use the north entrance. Intrigued, I headed north.

Outside the north entrance sat a woman at a table with a list. It felt like trying to get into an exclusive club. The woman informed me that they were holding a "special event" (so much vaguery - I half wondered if there was to be an execution inside). When I asked if I could enter to purchase something, I was added to the list as a write-in and shown through the door.

Behold! Hors d'ouvres! Wine! Beer! Martinis! And I hadn't eaten dinner yet. What luck!

I bumped into an old friend inside who'd actually been invited to the shindig, apparently held for Nordstrom's big spenders. Funny story - my friend needed a fair amount of frequent flyer miles to book a trip to South America. So she buys a $10,000 pair of earrings, books the trip with the miles, and then returns the earrings. Quite ingenious.

Today I realized how fortuitous my timing actually was. My "egg retrieval" cycle starts today. That means no booze for the next month, or more like the next year if things go as hoped.

All hail Nordstrom.

Nobody's a-readin' the blaaaaaaaaaah-g

And why would they be? I'd need to squeeze some time outta nowhere in order to create some interesting posts. So here's some nutshells:

Injections: not-so-bad - YET

Thanksgiving: California, ham (I know, a travesty!), bacar, walking along Lake Chabot

Work: grrrrrrrrr

Kerpupples: missed-em-oh-so-much

New blogsession: The Daily Coyote

And a shout out to metro and cat (I love your blog name) for stopping by recently. Always happy to see a new friendly face.

And so it begins...

Today I start the official treatment for my IVF cycle.

I guess I've technically already started. I've been on the pill for about a month to "quiet my reproductive system". Today the magic ultrasound probe confirmed - I have calm ovaries.

So now I get to start the daily injections.

You should see the box of drugs that showed up at my house. I feel like I could open my own pharmacy. Pills and vials and creams, oh my! Some even need stored in the refrigerator. And if I happen to lose my job, I could make some green by keeping junkies in needles for a comfy amount of time.

I also have to take a low-dose aspirin daily. Of course I got the baby-aspirin branded version, cherry flavor to be precise. You have to take those throwbacks to childhood where you can get them.

A friend suggested I get weekly massages to help make the process easier. I think that's a damn grand idea.

Odds and ends

Strange sighting the other day. A teenage boy, dressed like a trenchcoat mafia member, riding a Segway on the sidewalk along a busy suburban road. Do you think it was his grandmother's?

Don't ever wake a dog up in the middle of a vigorous dream! I made the mistake of doing so to Sasha the other day and she tried to bite me. She just sat there looking befuddled for another hour or so after that. I'd wondered a few weeks ago whether dogs understand the concept of dreams. I'd now guess they don't.

Another fun show I'll have to miss

Next week on the day we fly to California for Turkey day, Juliette and the Licks are playing a show at a small venue here.

Tickets are only $15. That's well worth seeing the freakshow of a performance the ex-almost-Mrs.-Pitt will put on. Have you seen her costumes? Girlfriend goes on stage wearing an indian chief headdress.

Of course, folks like justacoolcat may be at risk of getting a stiffy.

Consistency, please?

Is that too much to ask?

Freakin' garbage collectors.

One week they come at 7:15 AM, the next they come at 11 AM.

Oh, and if you try to run after them to get them to come back? You KNOW they see you. But they always keep going.

Jerks.

I guess if I had to do that for a living I'd be a dickhead too.

Decaffing

So in honor of the upcoming fertility procedures and the anticipated pregnancy, I'm cranking down the caffeine. I usually have 2 cups of coffee in the morning and an iced tea or a soda during the day. I've changed the coffee routine. I'll still have 2 cups, but I'm brewing a mixture of half regular, half decaf. I'll be buying decaf soda.


It's funny - I don't have any other addictions. But I'm not looking forward to this.

Be forewarned - any crankity posts are likely being generated primarily by caffeine deprivation.

I could also have a tendency to dozzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Ergh, see, it's happening already!!!

If I could bottle this and sell it....

I'd never have to work again.



I suspsect many a meth lab operator has had similar designs.

That rug downstairs never manages to stay straight with this bunch in the house.

Dogdial

I could set my watch by Ripley.

I started a ritual some months back of taking the dogs to go get the mail (our mailbox is down the street) every afternoon at 3 PM. This was a good point to break up the afternoon of drudgery work and late enough to ensure our mail carrier has been here.

So at some point I stopped having to call the dogs for our daily diversion. Ripley would show up next to my desk very near 3 o'clock, ears perked staring up at me expectantly.

So today at 5 til 2, she does the same thing. I chide her for being early, and then I realize that my dog's body clock does not observe the switch from Daylight Savings to Standard time.

The whole routine is repeated at 6 PM for doggy chow.

LOLDogs

Watch out, Paris and Lindsay!

Check out this little hottie.

It's my niece. She's 4.

Looks older though, doesn't she? She's got the hip jut and the half-smile mastered already. I don't envy being her parents when she gets into her teens.

Happy Halloween!

From the spidery witch

and the devil dog

Taking prophylactics (sorta) seriously....

Tee hee...

She's Alive!

Wish we could say the same for the Rockies. Touché, Red Sox, you are truly the better team.

I'm making my way down recovery road. Doc found a bunch of polyps in addition to my adhesions so a complete D&C was performed to get everything the heck outta Dodge. Pain hasn't been too terrible - no Vicodin at all today.

Halloween costume turned out well. I was happy with the dress, though not with the size of its wearer. Pictures to follow.

The south of the Slave

And not the slaves of the south. Check out the pictures on my Jefferson Davis link on the previous post. How many black folks do you think Confederate Memorial Day draws?

But I digress.

We're talking about my south end.

Tomorrow I go in for outpatient surgery. In the screening process for IVF the doctor found a uterine adhesion - a small piece of scar tissue connecting my uterine walls. They need to remove it before we can go forward with IVF.

I'm told it's an easy procedure, and that I'll be pain-free by Saturday. I sure hope so, because we have Halloween plans. I sewed myself a costume, and it turned out much better than those horrible pants. Pictures are forthcoming.

But if I'm not pain-free, I'm armed with Vicodin.

The south of the nation

I'm sorely overdue in posting about my trip to Miss Sippy last week.

First, Biloxi. Had dinner one evening at the Beau Rivage. World class casino. If you find yourself in the south and itching for a taste of Vegas, I suggest you stay here. The restaurant prices were also Vegas' equal. Yowza.

Next, Katrina. Her impact was still painfully obvious. Along the stretch of highway between Gulfport and Biloxi (the road where my celeb doppelganger Jayne Mansfield met her untimely death) where historic mansions used to sit across from the ocean, there's now...nothing. The debris has been cleaned up, so it just looks deserted. There was a motel which had been wiped out whose sign was still intact. Eerie. Jefferson Davis' summer home was completely demolished. Never fear though, my dear Confederates, for there's a society rebuilding it.

My colleagues told stories of the basement where we held our meetings. How it had been a biohazard and cleaned out by guys in hazmat suits because it was full of ribeyes, dog food, and chicken parts. Yum!

And now that your appetite is whetted, let's talk about the food. My research proved that the seafood was fine, so I indulged. It was delicious. Shrimp, snapper, lump crabmeat - all very fresh and very tasty.

The lunches during the meetings, however, were another matter. Whoever the caterer was had a formula. That formula was:

Meal = (Meat + MashedPotatoes)*BrownGravy + Vegetable + Roll.

Day 1: Chicken breast & mashed potatoes with brown gravy, green beans, roll
Day 2: Salisbury steak & mashed potatoes with brown gravy, butter beans, roll
Day 3: Shredded beef & mashed potatoes with brown gravy, corn, roll

I'm a fan of comfort food in moderation, and I even like butter beans. But I was dying for a salad when I got home.

My celeb doppelgangers

Check this out. I did it a few years ago with several different pictures and consistently got Scarlett Johanssen back as my best match. I guess the extra years and pounds killed the resemblance. Dammit!



Watch out Tom Cruise - I just may be able to pose as your wife (though why I'd subject myself to that I can't imagine).

UPDATE: Stupid template cuts off the pic of Jayne Mansfield on the right.

You want to put what where?

I think I've mentioned this before, and I know some of you have blogged posts to support my theory.

I think that travelling brings out the rude in people.

Here's the latest installment.

Yesterday, lunchtime, Memphis airport. I took advantage of the time and place to grab a little Memphis-style BBQ for lunch during my layover. Many other travellers had the same idea, so the Blue Note Cafe was hoppin'.

Smoking or non, queried the hostess. I replied with my stock "first available," and was escorted into the bar. I ordered and dove happily into The Other Boleyn Girl (Scarlett Johanssen, Natalie Portman, and Eric Bana to star in the screen adaptation? Can't fucking wait) while I waited for my turkey-smothered-in-heaven sandwich to arrive.

That's the odd thing about smoking bars in airport. They attract smokers. In droves.

I peer around me as I dig into my sandwich. A suprising number of people in the bar are like me, eating but not pursuing lung cancer. The ones who are puffing away seem to be pretty mellow about it.

And then the psycho smoker strikes.

I pick up my sandwich for another mouth-watering bite. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a man heading intently for my table. Is he going to refill my soft drink? But no, as he closes in he thrusts his weapon past the glass. What was the weapon, you may ask? His ash-dangling cigarette. He deposits said ash into the sparkling clean ashtray on my table. As I was taking a bite of my food.

Now, the spousal unit sucks on the despised cancer sticks. I am never idle in chastizing him for tossing butts carelessly about. But even he knows that this is just not done.

A few minutes later, the guy makes another lap. Apparently he hasn't ordered anything - he's just found a place to wander around while catching a drag. As he passes my table, the guy at the table behind me notices me watching Ashomatic and asks me, "Did he do it again?" Aha! So I'm not being unnecessarily indignant!

I'm so thankful I never picked up that habit. Look what it can make you do!

Pants post

So as my city gets caught up in baseball postseason fever, I've only just noticed that most of the players are now wearing long pants. What gives? I feel like Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own - "There's no long pants in baseball!"

Seriously though, baseball is all about showing your socks. There's a reason there's no Boston Red Trousers or Chicago White Shirts. I'm ok with keeping the short pants and losing the stirrups - I wore those stirrups as a kid and they're not the most comfortable things. but it's a cardinal sin that so many players are now hiding their socks.

And deviating from pants a bit, I also must say that the Rockies' sleeveless jerseys with T-Shirts underneath look pretty ghetto. What's next, wifebeaters?

On to more pants. Yoga pants.

I recently purchased a few new pairs and wore one for the first time on Wednesday. Super comfy, great material, wonderful coral color. The problem? They show sweat worse than anything. I'm going to a new class in a heeated (not Bikram-hot) room, and by the end of class I looked like I pissed myself.

Southbound

News flash:

Next week I'm headed to Gulfport, MS for work. I'm tickled that I'll be staying at a hotel/casino while I'm there. Nothing like a game of poker to take the edge off an endless day of requirements gathering!

I'm looking forward to checking out this area of the country. I wonder how visible the impact of Katrina will still be. I do know that some of the users for the software system we'll be developing are housed in the company's "Katrina Village". That doesn't sound particularly pleasant.

Another concern is the seafood. I've heard horror stories of how Katrina polluted the Gulf's catch. I'll have to do some research, but I may be limiting myself to land creatures while I'm there.

Hopefully, some interesting pictures will be taken for blog fodder.

Also going to have to remember to use the local pronunciation - Miss Sippy.

Cat, you should giggle at this. I told my hairdresser I was going to Mississippi and she asked if I'd get a glimpse of the collapsed bridge. Snort. I guess geography requirements are minimal at beauty school. Really - is there any state-monikered river that stays within the confines of its namesake? I don't know of any.

Random 10 Cop Out

OK, I really really really want to be creative. But I've been bleedin' busy. So I'm bowing to the cat and posting 10 from the workday's iTunes party shuffle. Here ya go:

1. Soundtrack To Mary - Soul Coughing
2. Acrobat - U2
3. Sex-O-Matic Venus Freak - Macy Gray
4. Love Me Do - The Beatles
5. Smile - Lily Allen
6. Tchaikovsky: Serenade For Strings In C, Op. 48 - Waltz - Peter Wohlert; Berlin Chamber Orchestra
7. Runaway - Del Shannon
8. Country Death Song - Violent Femmes
9. Hands Up - Black Eyed Peas
10. Blue Savannah - Erasure

Nice to see some different faces pop up among the usual suspects.

Doggie U

Last night, after 4 long months of group obedience classes, Sasha finally got her off-leash obedience diploma. I was such a proud doggie mom!

There is, of course, a caveat. Classes were starting to get really large. We got unlimited classes as part of our board-and-train deal, but I know not all who attended group classes had the same arrangement. I have a sneaking suspicion they wanted to graduate her to make room for more "paying" customers.

That being said, she did really well. It was only the fourth time we'd tested her off-leash, and the first two times she ran like a banshee partway through. This time I stood yards away from her while she lied down and stayed. Other dogs caused chaos. Horses penned nearby piqued her interest. And still she stayed.

Wish we'd done the same with the other dogs. I think Roscoe would have graduated very quickly.

Caribbound

We'd been thinking of booking a trip to Europe for our next vacation, hopefully to be taken right around now. Now it looks like the soonest we'll be able to escape is January.

So Ms. Bargain Hunter Slave started poking into destinations where the climate in January is more pleasant than it is at home. Places like Kauai, Phuket, Rio, and Paradise Island came to mind.

The spousal unit wasn't wowed by Hawaii on our honeymoon, so that was the first to go. Asia and South America were next based on flight times and ticket prices. This meant that, for the second year in a row, we'd be headed to the Caribbean.

I started looking in the Bahamas since it's a relatively short flight and we've heard good things. Was all set to have us on a vacay on Cable Beach. But the spousal unit balked, fearing the weather would not be quite warm enough in January.

Next I eyed the Cayman Islands. Alas, flights within out frequent flyer/voucher system were not to be had.

Finally, my eye was caught by St. Maarten. We enjoyed the Dutch hospitality shown last year in Aruba. And an added bonus is that it shares an island with the French territory St. Martin. The average temperature was to the spousal unit's liking, and airline tickets were in reach. So we'll be there for a week in January.

As I poked through travel guides, I realized how close the celeb getaway of St. Barts is to St. Maarten. Perhaps we'd do a side trip for a couple days and rub elbows with George, Brad, or Matt! Then I started looking at hotels in St. Bart. Suffice to say, our visit to that island will be confined to a day trip by ferry.

Anguilla is another option for a day trip, but St. Barts looks prettier.

St. Maarten/Martin apparently has the best food in the Caribbean. This is a real draw for me, since I'll hopefully be pregnant and unable to imbibe spirits.

Any tales or anecdotes from these islands to share? Let's hear it!

Snort THIS

This morning I was eating breakfast and allowing Today to numb my brain while my morning coffee attempted to awaken it. I'm sure the two cancel each other out.

Off topic, but how sad is it that I notice that a Royal Caribbean cruise commercial plays on this show every morning at the same exact time? I first noticed this nearly 2 years ago, and it's still going.

Anyway, a commercial for a nasal allergy spray called Veramyst comes on. I happen to notice a caption that flashes briefly on the bottom of the screen. It says (I'm paraphrasing):

"It is not known exactly how this medication works."

Please tell me why somebody would see this caviat and still spray this crap up their nose. It's OK for me to not know how it works. But shouldn't the pharmaceutical have figured it out before the FDA approved it to be sold?

And what, did they stumble onto this by accident? Oh hey look, I accidentally snorted a bit of this HIV counteraction serum, and look, my nose isn't running any more! Yeah, I'm running out to buy some of that right now.

I'm So White

Here's a quickie I can share with you that should make you chuckle.

I've had the Timbaland song Just The Way I Are playing in my head nonstop. Despite my dismay at the grammatical incoherence of the title, the words are catchy and the beat is reminiscent of his work with my shameless crush JT.

So I've had these words running through my head:

I don't need the cheese on my crackers
Boy I like you just the way you are

Well, the real line is:

I don't need the G's or the car keys

Hmmm. Would you have guessed that I grew up in a small town where the black population was possibly only 2 digits long? Or that I live in a pretty damn caucasian state now? I think you would.

But...

That doesn't stop me from thinking that the Jena 6 were/are being extremely unfairly punished. The white adults in Jena that allowed this situation to escalate and explode with these ridiculous charges, and most especially DA Reed Walters, have a special hot seat in Hell waiting for them.

Blah-g

Where is my motivation? I have some funny doggy pictures I want to post, but I'm too lazy to add captions to them.

I have more entertaining travel anecdotes swirling around in my head, but can't manage to materialize them to keyboard.

Right now the most mesmerizing thing I have to say is that I just enjoyed a divine frozen custard swirled with peanut butter. How's that for a literary device, huh?

I can't even summon the minimal amount of wit required to mock Britney Spears.

Oh, you freaky readers

I've had a rash of folks hit my blog lately from Google searches. As usual, I have to shake my head when I see what people out there are looking for.

First, we have the fertile-ly challenged, like myself, who are looking to go straight to ivf. But humans aren't the only species that have difficulty reproducing. Luckily, there are fellow doggy lovers out there who are interested in using clomiphene citrate with dogs.

We also have some kinkier canine coddlers, who are just searching for a wife slave with dog. As the spousal unit pointed out, you never know what to expect from the French.

And let's not forget the junkies. Enterprising addicts utilize tools on the Internet to get their meth hints.

Let's hope he left the private jet at home

Look guys...Ali Larter from Heroes looks stunning in this red dress.

But would somebody please tell me what the hell Al Gore is doing at the Emmy awards ceremony? Making sure it's green, no doubt.

No bebe

Turns out it was just Aunt Flo, taunting me. We've got a consult with Dr. Makeababy today to figure out the next steps.

Quickening?

Could it be, folks? I'm not due to find out for sure until next week, but there have been some possible signs.

The twins are sore. Now, this is a normal PMS symptom for me, but it seems a little different this time. Extremely sensitive headlights. Could be entirely psychosomatic, and not enough of a sign on its own.

Today I did a regular yoga class for the first time in awhile. I'm forgoing the Bikram until post-delivery - it's too risky for my taste. While in cobra pose, I began to feel a vein pulsing internally. This vein was in the uteral vicinity. This has never happened to me before. Is there a reason my blood seemed a bit more anxious than normal to flow to that particular region?

Stay tuned!

An unexpected sibling

I'm so embarassed about this.

A few months ago I found a blogger, via justacoolcat and Beckeye, who was holding an Adopt an Actor auction. I requested an actor, but then promptly forgot which blogger was holding this fabulous fete.

I just stumbled back onto Splotchy's blog today, and discovered that to make it official, I have to post my request on my own blog.
.
So...without further adieu, I give you our possible-child's adopted older brother, Mister Tom Skerritt.

Do you think he didn't notice?

Yesterday I took my flight home from Boston. And no, I was not concerned about flying on 9/1l. I seriously doubt that another plane-bomb attack will be attempted on that date in the forseeable future. But the flight was very empty, and I was afforded a coveted exit-row seat.

Unfortunately, this seat was near the toilet. An older businessman (normally I'd refer to him as a gentleman, but not in this case) across the aisle from me kept ducking into the toilet. Whenever he emerged, I was immediately assaulted with the most horrific odor. Seriously, I think the guy was committing war crimes in there. At first I thought it was the bathroom itself, but I noticed that the odor was not present when other passengers left the crime scene.

So did he not care about the torture he was submitting his fellow passengers to? Or do you think he felt so crappy all he was interested in was just evacuating the toxic waste from his body? His demeanor was annoyingly pleasant otherwise, so I have my doubts about the latter option. I think maybe it smelled of roses to him, because it was his.

But you'd think the nasty faces and dramatic arm hand waving in front of my nose from me might have clued him that it was not so.

Reprieve

I look like part of the table down here, don't I?

The female alpha has been gone for days. I think the evil white dog has gone and scared her away.

I don't need to hide down here right now. The alpha male has taken the evil white dog off to wherever it is she gets taken. I'm sure it's somewhere they'd never take me. Bitch.

But until the evil white dog gets back back, I'll resume my role as The Queen. It's good to be queen.

Oh, and please don't blame the quality of this photo on me. Unlike the female alpha, I don't have opposable thumbs and am thus incapable of cleaning the camera lens.

An excerpt

From the funniest show on television:

Cheryl: Where've you been?
Larry: Eatin' some penis.

Welcome back, Curb. I've missed you.

Ketchup!

Hello bloggies! How I've missed you all.

I'm in Boston for the weekend for a wedding reception. They got married in June in NM but his mother is having a reception for them here. I've been friends with her since high school - nearly 20 years! It's so odd to think I've known anyone for that long.

Anybody up for meeting in Beantown on Sunday? Shopping on Newbury street?

So, to catch up....

I had to sign up for MySpace for a book club. Oh, how it sucks you in to its evil ways! Check out MyKerpupples if you're interested.

And I owe you some details on our little fertilization experiment.

It didn't go as well as hoped. Not as many little swimmers as they like to see. Stupid nurse kept babbling and yammering all the while failing to get the stupid catheter into my cervix. She had to take the instrument of torture speculum out to start over and asked if I'd prefer another nurse continue. I responded with a very enthusiastic "Yes". Anyway, the doc wants to have another consultation with us. I'm thinking if we're not knocked up this round she's going to want to move us straight to IVF next cycle.

I should have known the day boded ominous when one of these little fellows commited harikari by flying head-on into one of our picture windows the morning before the procedure. I had to threaten Ripley with harm to get her to drop him. Little fellow was gorgeous, but alas, his poor neck had snapped like a twig.

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.