Puppies: Our First Bath

I used the "mist" setting on the hose to get them used to being sprayed.

Boy:



They're inseperable. Bath time would not be the same if they couldn't do it together.



Girl giving Boy a reassuring kiss.



They follow me when I walk around the deck. Sad little wet puppies.



Our first bath was very tiring, so we must sleep here on the wet towel.



I will never again give both puppies a bath alone. Ever.

I'd nap there, but they won't let me

There's a minute between the time where the nurse removes the dildocam and washes her hands and leaves the room that is slightly awkward to me. It only takes a second for me to get up (though sometimes I find the dark room peaceful in spite of the position. Today I was told, "No sleeping.") What do you do in that minute? There's not much to chat about, really, she's just told me everything I need to hear. You could just get off the table and get dressed. What hasn't she seen already? But I don't like to clean up and get dressed with an audience (not that she'd be watching with a tub of popcorn or anything.) So I sit there on the table with my paper blanket and count the seconds until I can put my pants back on. Alone.

I am so tired.

Not looking forward to the part of stimming where you feel tired even when you're actually at rest.

In which I do not pray to pass out

As much as I loathe bcps, having a period on them is a dream. No shooting pains down my legs, no enormous clots, no searing misery in my ute or back. Not even a tylenol required. Ah, the good ole days.

only crazy people post here

While I wait patiently with clean white panties for day 1, I've been reading various message boards to get me back in a treatment frame of mind. When I'm not cycling, I try to stay away from these places because they usually depress me. I end up feeling like a failure because not only can I not "just" have sex and "just" get pregnant, I can't even "just" try.

While I try to comment on people's blogs, I haven't been a participant on any message board for a couple years now. (years? that's depressing.) (Seeing all my new friends "graduate" (UGH) was demoralizing and it seemed to make everyone uncomfortable. You've been there.) I do still lurk in a few places. Sometimes it's for actual info, sometimes for the feeling that there's someone else out there (even if they don't know that I'm reading their words) and sometimes it's just to laugh a little at the insane questions that other people ask (I probably wouldn't laugh at them in person. I think.)

For me, reading around puts me in a treatment frame of mind. I see questions about *gasp* giving yourself shots! in the stomach! It's good for me because I remember that I can do it. And not freak out. I see questions about clomid and I give thanks that I know for sure that I will never take that drug again. Ever.

Of course, reading message boards is also an excellent way to get irritated. If you've been there, done that for at least, say, a half hour, you know that 5dpo! is too early to test. Even if your boobs are sore! Even if your mouth tastes like a penny! Even if you feel that suspicious tugging below your bellybutton! You know that spotting on 8dpo does not mean Implantation! It could be! My temp dipped! Do I still have a chance? What if I fly to Hawaii and eat a bunch of fresh pineapples?

One word that I'm starting to get annoyed with is "swimmers." As in, "There's no problem with me at all, but I'm taking such and such to make more targets for DH's swimmers." Gag. Never used to bother me, but now it just sounds teenage girlish and lame. (sorry) SPERM SPERM SPERM. Your "DH" has SPERM. Not "spermies." Do you all "do it" with his "thing" too?

I get it that people all have different levels of comfort about these things, so I understand that some people need to communicate using euphemisms and cutesy glitter babydust words in order to feel okay with the subject matter. I know I'm poking at it, but I really do understand this.

But you see, I'm waiting for my visit, you know, from my aunt, the red witch, and pills make me cranky, and so, it seems, does stopping them, and I have these hooligan puppies to take care of, and I just wanted to write a paragraph about SPERMIES and well, this post happened. Scary.

Puppies: Up is much easier

Attempt...



Ok, maybe not this way.



We'll go together.



She wins!

Puppies: Going down the deck stairs is a bitch

The puppies really don't like being left behind. No one better dare take a single puppy down to the grass to go potty. The other pitches a fit at being separated.

However.

They cannot navigate down the deck stairs yet. It's a big struggle. Boy will try, but he gets about half way down and then gravity pulls his chubby self to the grass below. Girl just sits at the top and whines until someone helps her down.

did that really just happen?

did she actually tell me that the cysts were gone? that my chatty ovaries had gone quiet? that I could quit taking devilpills?

yes, I believe she did.

Injectables for the insane

I went to sleep last night feeling awful (actually, I went to sleep facedown on the carpet in the living room and woke up with stray grass on my shirt-- damn puppies!) I made my way to bed and had a crap night's sleep. Right before I woke up (the last time) I had a dream that I was at the RE's and I was getting injected with my Chinese baby named Charlotte. I wonder what gauge needle you'd use for something like that? I may have a fever. Thermometer? Bah.

Cyst check tomorrow. Please, please, let them be small enough to quit the pill.

Introducing...

"Girl" (red collar)



"Boy" (blue collar)



"Them"





My Very Favorite Time of Day:

P hears from an Old Friend, and I get kicked in the ute

Here's the gist of why yesterday kinda sucked for me:


Dear Old Friend,

Just wanted to say hey. I'm here in NewCity now. Twirl and I were able to get a nice house and a couple of golden retriever puppies. What have you been up to? Still hear from any of our other friends?

P

***

P,

Hey! That's a great state to live in because I'm from there. My wife and I had a baby girl this spring (pics attatched) and named her one of the most popular names in the last five years. Our Other Friend also had a kid last winter. Those are cool dogs to have; I had one when I was a kid.

Old Friend

***

Usually I'm not terribly bothered by other people having babies. Especially when, from my high horse, I have deemed the couple worthy of procreation. All of these people have good jobs and have been married long enough and floss every day and use their turn signals. Nothing at all against them, happy for them, blah, blah, blah.

I think what made me cry was the idea that this guy was telling P about his child, and P was saying, "Well, we just got two puppies." Like there is any comparison other than no one has gotten any sleep at all lately.

P tries to console me by reminding me that we're trying and we're doing everything we can. Swallowing bcps each day does not feel like trying to me, but he'll come back with something stupid and logical like reminding me that I need to take them to shrink my ovaries back to human size so I say nothing.

Some days doing "everything you can" is just not good enough. But hey, it's ok- we have puppies.

(Oh, and this is also my way of telling you all that we have two new puppies.)

In my backyard

The city girl in me is still in awe of such things.





I don't live in a rural area, but none of my neighbors have fences and there are tons of trees backing our property.

notes from last cycle

When a toddler witnesses an injection

Niece #2: Aunt Twirl, did you hurt your belly button?

(age 2.5)

weathering the storm

Well, at least it wasn't my house that got hit by lightening!

thank you,

but I grew some big fucking cysts.

I won't be passing go this cycle, but I will be shrinking the bastards with bcps.

On the upside, I get to wait to take them because they want to do a beta anyway. As I bleed out on the effing dildocam like I'm Carrie or something and ponder which drugs would best ease the massive backache. Yeah, I might be pregnant. I'll wait on the edge of my bloody seat for that phone call.

timing isn't everything

So much for the perfect cycle.

If you feel like it, how about hoping for me that I have no cysts left over? (hope, but don't bet on it.)

Probably not interesting, but I have to get it out!

I watch Big Brother every summer.

There, now you know. I'm glad to have TiVo so that we never miss a show since the damn thing airs three times each week.

With P being gone, I haven't had anyone to watch with and no one I know watches so I have no one to bitch to about what's happening.

Last summer, like most people who watched, I rooted for the Sov6 (or sov4) alliance to beat the Friendship. Not because I'm in love with any of them (as some rabid fans apparently are) but because they were getting trounced by the more unlikeable opposing alliance.

I think too many season 6 people came back for allstars. It's not fun watching the same people win over and over again (no matter who it is) because it doesn't feel like a game anymore. I find myself hoping each week that someone else will win and even out the numbers a little. I'd like to see a little more competition.

So there. There's my confession and my rant. Back to real life.

Infecting the masses with order, one man at a time

After spending July in a hotel room (alone, and let me tell you, it wasn't pretty when I visited!) P is getting ready to come home. When I visited, my glasses vanished. (I pretty much only wear them for night driving, but absolutely dread the idea of selecting a new pair.)


P: I found your glasses.

Twirl: You did! Where?

P: Next to the bed.

Twirl: They must have fallen out of my suitcase.

P: I was straightening up the room and gathering my things together for when I come home.

Twirl: In advance? I'm so proud of you!

One more (serious) thing

I think everyone who possibly can ought to see the Holocaust Memorial Museum at least once. It's not a "fun" tour, but I think it's an important one. How anyone can deny the reality or the extent of the holocaust is truly outside the realm of my understanding.

Observations from our nation's capital

It's freakin HOT here.

***

When you take antibiotics that recommend you stay out of the sun, do it. As a person who already burns through sunscreen, I must have been suffering from heat brain to listen to my husband when he said we wouldn't be in the sun for very long.

Nothing is "just a little farther. Maybe a half a mile."

***

The fact that they have "taxation without representation" on their license plates makes me giggle. History geek.

***

I had never been to DC before this weekend adventure. A west coast girl, I had only been as far as an airport transfer. There's SO much to see! I was exhausted after the first day, but there was always another monument beckoning. I knew that I was tired to begin with so I tried to tell myself that it was fine if we didn't get to see everything we wanted this trip and that the museums and such aren't going anywhere.

The second day we visited the National Archives (a welcome rest from miles of walking in the sun!) Seeing the actual Declaration of Independence and Constitution was amazing. Plus they have a Magna Carta (there are something like 12 of these, only one of which is in the US) and do you realize how OLD that thing is?

If you think looking at old paper (and sometimes not-paper) you can barely read is dull, there are many other displays that you might find more interesting. There was everything from the land deed for the Louisiana purchase to the camera that the Zapruder film was shot with, (and it has the FBI tag still on it!) the investigation into the sinking of the Titanic, photos of young presidents, and the Zimmerman telegram. Original artwork, photographs, and film footage are everywhere. There are all sorts of visual/audio/interactive displays that would appeal to different types of learners. One of the best things I heard was a teenager say to her friend, "I have to make my parents come here. This is so awesome!" If you're interested in anything at all related to American history, there's something there for you. I had a great time and I know I didn't see everything!

***

I told P that the Washington Monument looked like a penis. Apparently he had never considered that, and so every time we saw it (and when do you NOT see it in this city?) he'd say something as innocent as "there IT is" and we'd laugh like we were the first people ever to say that. Who doesn't like a good running penis joke? Fun. Plus, you can then inflate your husband's ego by referring to his penis as a monument. You know, if such a thing occurred to you.

***

Cabbies here are just as crazy here as anywhere else. I think one of my favorite lines was, "Here's another one. She too is suffering from claustrophobia. She will not stay to the side and MOVE OUT OF THE WAY with the large car she cannot control." That was on the heels of him rolling down the window to make a rude gesture to a limo driver who made a lovely one in return. He then chatted with us about Shakespeare (we were headed to see Love's Labor's Lost) and he said that he did not like Shakespeare's philosophies.

P: Like what?
Cabbie: For example, "To live or not to live." That is just stupid. If things are not going your way you give up your life and drop everything and commit suicide? Idiot philosophy.

He also had some "interesting" political views. I will not go into them because I dislike political debates. I was, however, very grateful for my sunglasses, as I could then avoid eye contact and keep out of the discussion.

***

LOVE this:

Overheard at the Lincoln memorial:

"Dad, was Lincoln really that big?"

I was ovulating at my IUI appointment (and other fancy stuff)

The nurse that did my u/s showed me the follicles that were still on my right ovary. Actually, I think she used the dildocam to push my ovary back next to my right kidney, but the masochist in me liked the pain a little. It was like confirmation that I really did get swollen, multiple-follicle-producing ovaries and that there wasn't some mix-up after all. So anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, so then we had a look at the left ovary and I was ovulating (or had just very recently ovulated) right there. Pretty good, timing-wise.

I haven't had a completed treatment cycle in months. It amazes me that we did it this time. Other than P being out of town and having to use frozen sperm, there was not a single thing that went wrong. I only had to adjust my meds once. I did not get lost going to the office. Good response, good lining, good sperm sample. No one made me cry. I did not over/under-produce and get canceled. P's sample did not get lost/destroyed/given to another woman in a creepy tv plot. I'm not used to not being a problem case.

I'm trying to tell myself that I'm just happy to have gotten through this so we can keep moving forward. I'm trying to tell myself that the outcome isn't important for this particular cycle. Of course that's a lie. The truth is that it's really difficult not to get my hopes up. Why do this at all if you're not hoping for a child at the end? So there, I'm feeling hopeful today and if there has to be a letdown, it'll have to be later.

wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles

I made it to trigger. I did not make too many follicles. I did not make too few. My body actually did what the doctor "likes to see." Simply amazing!

I have some very unattractive belly bruising and I'm exhausted, but I'll take it.

The gonal-f pen is my new hooker not cheap, but sooo easy to use.

Thanks for all the well-wishes!

I increased today, with another check this weekend. I'm not asking for my numbers yet so that I can't obsess over them. Minor bruising, mild headaches, and I'm kinda tired already, (seriously?!) but nothing bad so far.

I have some guests coming this weekend and I'm looking forward to it (even though my house isn't "done" yet and I'm a little type-a about that kind of thing. horrified that there are temp shades up in the guest room and all...) It'll be nice to have some company while P is away, but I'm sure after a few days I'll be done with having all those people around. I'm used to being alone, and I'm having two adults and three children stay with me. I love them, but you can all add this to the list of things that prove I'm insane!

it's on

I hardly know what to say. I have no cysts. Just a quiet lefty and some appropriately-sized potentials spawning on righty. I get to cycle again. Finally.

I wish my husband was home because it was a day with NO TEARS after the doctor's office! It probably seems silly, but stabbing myself in the belly tonight really gave me a feeling of triumph.

I'm sure the mood will be short-lived, so I guess that's all the more reason to document it!

The Game

Object: Get as many food bits as possible into the water bowl before you're discovered and scolded (and photographed and laughed at.)

Means: You may use only one paw at a time, but you may switch if a better angle presents itself.

Obstacles: If mom moves the bowls apart, even if by many feet paws, do what you must to push them across the floor so that they're touching.

Prize: Once he discovers the soggy bits, your big brother will "ask" for a fresh bowl of water and you will get to partake even though you've been caught. Not to mention the thrill of being naughty and the benefits of honing your fine-paw skills.

Today is better

The doctor I'm seeing now hasn't exactly ignored my pain, just postponed treating it (note that I didn't say that he isn't a jerk.) He didn't want to do a lap until I try a couple inj/iui cycles with him. He said that he "likes cutting people open, of course, but..." Basically it's not his routine. I felt a little brushed off, but I know that some of my objectivity is gone because of all the baggage I'm carrying from the old clinic. Those doctors routinely told me that the pain was not their problem and refused to do a lap. Not so with this guy, he just wants to do this first. It wasn't my first choice given the tylenol-only proclamation, but we felt okay enough giving him a shot. For now.

In any case, the backaches and cramps have subsided for the moment and hopefully I can actually do something with my day!

Day 1

I hope today is not foreshadowing for the rest of this cycle because I AM IN PAIN! Motherfuckingbastardassnutsucking doctors who ignore this shit and glorify tylenol (tylenol only? you're out of your fucking mind!) all oughta be filled with defective uteri and made to listen to a looped tape of someone telling them so suck it up, the pain is normal.

It hasn't felt like this in months and I'm feeling quite miserable. My back hurts and the pain is radiating down my hips. I prop a large kitty on my abdomen because the pressure helps somewhat.

I feel like my ute is falling out like a dead transmission and I just wish it would and be done with it.

Tell me, please, that it will feel better tomorrow.

My dear P,

Did you really read this? If you did and you thought I was "saying bad things about you on the internet," I want to apologize. You see, sometimes I have to gripe about your bitching on here to get it out of my system. It doesn't mean that I actually think bad things about you (or I that I don't get over it once I've had time to think about it more.) The people who read this are mostly going through the same stuff we are and they understand the frustration is about the situation more than anything else.

If your feelings were hurt, I'm sorry. I never meant for that to happen.

Love,
Wife

things that made my day better

• I went to Bed, Bath & Beyond in hopes of resolving the bedding issue. As I was crossing the parking lot this old lady stopped me. "I shouldn't have gone in there," she said, and I was confused until I saw how full her cart was. Then I haughed heartily. Expensive indeed.
• I think we've come to an agreement about the comforter. Huge relief. Am ready to buy curtains. No more whitetrashbedroom.
• Barring cysts, this cycle is still a go and things have resolved.
• Getting a grip and realizing that sometimes my husband just likes to bitch and it doesn't really mean anything.
• Watching my naughty cat play his food game (picture to follow)
• Kittenwar (link fixed)
• Shamefully, the start of Big Brother All-Stars (yes, it sucks that it's all-stars, but I'm nothing if not commited where TV is concerned, so I'll be watching this summer too.)
  

just a rough day

Is it so wrong to sometimes wish my husband was someone different? I mean, standard disclaimer, love him, many good qualities, wouldn't trade and all that, but sometimes I read about other people's husbands being all helpful, supportive, or involved and I get a little jealous. P is really good at standing up for me, he'll do things if I ask him to, and he goes to every appointment, willingly. Sometimes though, I just want my husband to have a freaking clue know what's going on, understand things like timing issues, share my feelings about this doctor, blah, blah, blah. I want him to refrain from bitching and moaning not complain about having blood drawn for the *gasp* third time. I want him to say that he understands that doctor visits are much more uncomfortable and unpleasant for me than for him. He's so internal about stuff that sometimes I forget that he really is there in it all with me. I know he loves me and he wants to have children with me, but sometimes it gets really old always being the one calling the show.

Of course

I'm late. No spotting. No red. No brown. Nothing inside or out.

P has been asking me constantly if this means there's a baby in there. I ask myself how the hell you'd get one "in there" in the first place. I let myself believe, just a little, that it was possible.

We've been waiting for day 1 to set up next cycle. P has to bring in his cup of love to the office tomorrow so they can store it for me (he will be traveling during IUI week) on the off chance I don't have a cyst and can actually have a medicated cycle before my fridge full o' needles expire. Because I was late we left this scheduling to the last minute and we now have no sterile specimen container (must remember to tell Nurse Helpful that "a pharmacy" is unlikely to have this product and she should therefore not suggest that patients go there. Also, really tired of saying "sterile specimen container" to strangers.)

P has had a couple of really unfortuante experiences with producing on the spot at the office so we try to avoid them at all costs by going the at-home route whenever possible. It's too late to change our time, of course, and we're currently living under Murphy's Law for all things, so I really shouldn't be surprised at this latest development.

Oh, and the pregnancy test that I had to go out and buy to satisfy my loving husband was negative (It's been forever since I bought one of these things. Can't believe I let him badger me into it.)

In case you were wondering.

Playing to my own crowd

You know when you have this thing that you think makes you a lunatic and someone says to you, "I do that too" and you think, "Wow, I'm not alone, maybe I'm not so crazy!" and then a little bit later you realize that you failed to consider the possibility that you're both nuts?

Yeah, that happened to me.

I am, most certainly, completely insane

There I was, standing in the aisle filled with baking supplies. Usually I hurry through this aisle, as I almost never need anything in it, and the boxes of coffee cake mix are far too tempting when I'm weak.

But not this day.

On this day, I lingered. I knew turning my cart into the aisle, looking at the spices and oils and sugars that I was going to stop. I had one thing on my mind: chocolate frosting. I needed to find some chocolate frosting that I could eat from the container, health be damned. And as I stood there, pondering the merits of milk chocolate vs. chocolate fudge and Pillsbury vs. Betty Crocker, I realized that I was probably more than a little crazy.

I'm pretty sure that once you've decided you're going to eat the frosting directly from the container with or without a spoon like a fat cow, you no longer need to analyze the various candidates and select the winner based on its freaking sugar/fat/sodium content.

Just pick one so you can later fish it out of the grocery bag while still in the parking lot and have a fingerful right there in the front seat of the car, you raving psycho.

Brought to you by the letter W

W is for Waiting. I'm waiting to be a mom, waiting for my next period, waiting for stims, waiting to hear back about a master's program I'm interested in, waiting for the dryer to beep, waiting for my refund check from my old phone company. Update: it'a a no-go on the master's program, at least for now.

W is for Wildlife. In addition to the ducks, I've also seen a muskrat (had no idea what the thing was, thought a "muskrat" was a fake animal, had to google) and a blue heron and some turtles and a snake. P saw a deer and I missed it.

W is for Window Washing. I have 16 windows and two glass doors. I've used up 34 trees cleaning them.

W is for Wicked. How awesome was that show? I'm so seeing that again! Defying Gravity is my new favorite song.

W is for White-trash Window covering. Due to the down comforter issue, I'm renewing the search for bedding. I've been reluctant to purchase curtains until I finalize the bedding because if it didn't match I couldn't stand it. Yes, I do realize that some people have actual problems.

W is for Wishy-Washy. I'm pretty sure the cashiers are going to notice soon that I keep buying and returning things. I bought two dresses (for my mom's Wedding) and returned one. I've bought three different silverware drawer organizers only to find out that none of them fit. I bought a cordless phone for the wall in the kitchen but there's no outlet nearby so that has to be exchanged for a corded one. I'm returning the aforementioned comforter and the pillows I bought to match. I'm usually such a pain in the ass who takes forever to make a purchase thoughtful shopper that I actually feel bad for returning things.

W is for Where are my tickets? I think P gave me tickets to a concert in February. Before the move. And I just realized that I'm not entirely sure where they are. And he doesn't know yet. And the concert is next week. I better get off the damn internet and go look. Update: I found them. If I forget again, tell me to look by the alcohol.

good mama

P called me out into the front yard where we saw a family of ducks. As he approached them to take a picture, the mama duck quacked at him and herded her babies across the street.

they're just taking up refrigerator space

canceled.

More Cat Pictures

The boys are adjusting nicely to their new home. I'm pretty sure big kitty thinks he hit the jackpot, as this house is the biggest we've had yet (and has the most windows.) The little one might not know we moved.

Who doesn't love napping in a pedestal sink?


We don't know how long he was up there before we noticed him. We don't know how he got up there. He did look mildly concerned about his prospects for getting back down.



There are many windows to monitor. They often run from the front to the back of the house to track bugs, birds, etc. as they perform their watch duties.





The backyard is endlessly fascinating, however the pull of a morning nap in the sunshine is often too strong to resist.

Answers

5. Do you know the secret to not having your down comforter look messy on the bed once you put a duvet cover on it?

Ok, I was kinda hoping one you YOU would know the secret and tell ME. I've come up with these possible solutions:

1) Do nothing and have a messy looking bed. Ok, I couldn't even let that one stand, it's that absurd.
2) Discover that your husband is possibly allergic to the hypoallergenic down comforter and run various experiments that include benadryl, claritin, sleeping with the window open and then shut, removing the comforter and returning it to the store.

Now, which sounds like more fun to you?

Cats, I got clips that go on the inside and did a pretty decent job keeping it in place. Want em?

***
1. What's leatherman juice s2?

I blew it on this one. I meant the squirt p4. (P has the juice s2 and bugged me to buy it for so long it got stuck in my head.) Anyway. The leatherman squirt p4 is a really cool pocketknife. P made fun of me when I first got it (which is bizarre since he gave it to me) because of its size. It's small. It has scissors instead of pliers, which I find far more useful. I mean, how often do you reach for your handy pliers when you're out and about? Not often. But if you're carrying scissors, you can snip loose threads, price tags, security tags, and someone's hair if they're in front of you in line and they have 16 items in the express lane. Who, me? Nope, just putting my pliers back in my purse.

It's shiny and beautiful and red. And I use it a lot. And P has since eaten his words and borrowed it several times because he can't be bothered to go look for scissors. Hello! They're in the drawer. The same drawer I always hide them in! But, no, please, search my purse because that's easier.


***

And did the B&N card pay for itself?

YES! However, I think that's mostly because we made it part of our routine to go to B&N on the weekend and look around, read magazines, and buy overpriced coffee beverages fairly regularly. Each week we'd buy a beverage, a snack, and then our mags/books while making fun of the students who brought their homework to the bookstore and sat there for hours over one mostly empty frappuccino (ok, so we bitched about this when there were no tables available because some people are table hogs and only have a plastic cup of water and a calculus book, but whatever.)

We saved around $80 after the cost of the card, which I'm pretty sure just paid for the 'bucks we drank there each week.

***

Next up:

4. Yes! Always more cat pictures!

Five

I have mean things to say about:
my doctor
adelphia
above-ground pools and chain link fences
my silverware-drawer plight

however, since I've been tagged by Angie (OMG, really? someone reads here? and wanted to tag me?) I'll take this opportunity to not whine. For now.

Five Items in my Fridge
Corona
limes
Smirnoff Ice
Pur water dispenser
Arizona Southern Style Sweet Tea (this is my new crack!)

(hmmm... all beverages. perhaps I'm thirsty. I actually have a lot of stuff in there. do you care about all my salad dressings, dips, and vegetables?)

Five Items in my Closet
clothes
shoes
spare towels
laundry hamper
bag of purses I don't use

Five Items in my Car
satellite radio
coupons
prescription glasses so I can see at night
box of shot glasses from each state we passed through on our trip
toilet paper that I haven't brought inside yet

Five Items in my Purse
leatherman juice s2 (love the scissors!) ACK! I meant squirt s4. P has the juice.
mints
dental floss (I hate having something in my teeth)
sharpie mini
small notebook (where I've recorded each purchase made at B&N since last year when we bought their discount card because I wanted to be sure that it paid for itself. Also, I get ideas and I have to write them down.)


Um, I have to boss Five Other People? Last time I asked for participation it didn't go so well, so instead I'll ask you Five Questions.

1. Did you learn something new I should expand on?
2. Are you even more bored with me? (you know what? don't answer that.)
3. Do you wish I would go back to bitching?
4. Would you rather see more cat pictures?
5. Do you know the secret to not having your down comforter look messy on the bed once you put a duvet cover on it?

Top Ten Reasons to Love a Burst Cyst

10. quality middle-of the night time spent with your cats since you're down on the floor anyway

9. the added exercise you get when you realize all of your painkillers are at the complete opposite side of the damn house

8. finding out where the hospital is in your new city even if you don't end up going

7. not having to go out to breakfast when you really didn't want to but were going to anyway because your husband wanted to

6. finding you on the stairs shivering and only mostly conscious turns a tired, cranky husband into a helpful, caring sweetheart (who might drive you nuts by asking you every 30 minutes if you're feeling better. but hey, he's asking!)

5. funny tumor jokes made at the expense of your fibroid (poor bastard gets blamed for everything around here!)

4. staying in bed watching "Honey, We're Killing the Kids" for hours because you're too tired to do anything else

3. drug-induced naps

2. wearing fat pants, loose pants, or no pants is perfectly acceptable

1. decisions made for the indecisive. worried about your upcoming cycle? don't bother because your doctor will be very reluctant to let you go anyway. problem solved!

On our trip...

My boys inherited this bed from my mom's dog who never liked it.

At first, only my big kitty liked it.



Then, the "little" one discovered the glory of the bed.



But what happens when the little one won't get up when the big one wants to have a nap?

You sit on his insubordinate ass until he moves!



Sharing the bed is a tight squeeze, but it can be done if you must.



(none of the couches in these pictures are mine, they all live in various hotels.)

The loop

What's up with the all the disappearing blogs? Bueller?

cocklebur

A cocklebur is a desert shrub that grows in a "disturbed, moist area..." My little cocklebur is not a particularly problematic development. The nurse who found it on the ultrasound did not seem at all bothered by its presence and said that its size and location should not impair my fertility. ("should not" ha!) Not ever having a fibroid before, I was a little blindsided by this. That's silly, of course; why not a fibroid? why not me? But the appointment was not about that, and I was more focused on the fact that she said I hadn't ovulated yet but that I was doing a nice job growing a follicle. I wanted to remember my questions about their injections protocols. So when she was telling me about this fibroid, and even when she was showing it to me, I don't think it was registering. I also did not realize that there were different kinds of fibroids based on location. I'll need to ask more questions.

Anyway. The problem isn't with the little weed itself. It's psychological. Something is growing in there. Not a baby, but a tumor. A fibroid is a tumor. There's a tumor growing in my ute. Nothing grows in my uterus! When I was on my way back home I lost it a little. The tears came and I refused to talk to P and I took my pants back off and curled up in bed with my book. Sometimes you just gotta pretend you're not there. Later I told him (though I think I was cruel about it, telling him first that it was a tumor and second that it was not the cancerous, scary kind) and he gave me a hug and said that he was sorry that he hadn't been at the appointment with me.

All in all, I did not sleep well. Visions of bombs and tumors and creepy things growing inside of me did not make for a restful night. I'm pretty sure this is not a big deal and that I just need to get out of my head.

***

They're coming to install central air today. Money well spent.

irony, thy name is fibroid

and we thought nothing could grow in there!

I'm happy for them, naturally, but...

I was reading new blogs this morning looking for more good "still trying" ones.
I clicked on four in a row with positive betas being the first post.

And there's a fucking first response commercial on right now. Caress your flat stomach all you want, bitch, I hope you miss the stick and pee all over your hand.

Wrong side of the bed anyone?

feeling pretty is so hard

My SIL is serving my little brother with divorce papers. He hardly gets to see my nephew because he can't afford the gas. I haven't seen them since Christmas (which is understandable, since we live in different states, but my mom lives there and she doesn't get to see them either.) The whole situation just sucks.

Friends of ours just had their baby. The ones who I suspect had problems. I'm happy for them, but jealous and sad for me.

There's a chance I may not get to start injects again next month after all. Timing issue. We'll see. I've been looking forward to starting again, but I'm having a hard time getting excited. I hope getting pregnant does not require positive thinking or I'm screwed.

I gained 10lbs between the time we left our old house and when we got here. I'm getting tired of the constant struggle to get back to normal. I told P I was going to call about a job I saw advertised on Sunday. I never did. I never finished fixing my resume either.

Just having a down day.

In which I say, "right?" a lot.

Now, why do I have concerns about my new doctor? Well, the biggest, reddest flag is that he "knows" SatanInASmock the doctor who runs the program at BastardClinicFromHell my last clinic. (see, I can let go of the past!) I mention that I'm coming from OutOfState and he says he knows a guy out there. "It's not Satan?" I ask him, knowing that it is. Sure enough. It was all I could do not to jump up out of the chair and run for the stairs. That abruptly ended my monologue on "why I'm here and where I came from" and made everyone a little uncomfortable. He tried to make me feel better by noting that he and Satan do not exchange Christmas cards.

Just because he knows the guy is no big deal, right? I mean, I know there are a lot of REs, but it's not an enormous community or anything, right? It's probably just a coincidence, and of course he wouldn't violate patient confidentiality by talking to the other doctor about me without my permission, right?

Sigh. So much for my fresh start.

The good things:

1. No more clomid. He agreed that I'd done enough.
2. He did not say I was crazy because I said that dex made me psycho. He acknowledged that the "erratic mood swings" are rare, but entirely possible when taking steroids.
3. He is known for being the more aggressive Dr. in the group (according to the nurse.)
4. He seems willing to work with/around insurance issues. So far.
5. They are open on weekends and do blood draws on the proper days.

The questionable (aside from the unfortunate satan association):

1. He asked me if I was doctor or a nurse. At first it felt like a compliment, but now that I've had time to over-analyze it, I wonder if I'm setting myself up to be labeled a pushy patient again. Oh well.
2. He's not ready to schedule me for a lap. Though he "likes to cut people open," he wants to do a couple rounds of injects for now and gave me that "tsk, tsk, little lady, no sense worrying about what could be nothing" look when I began talking about endo.
3. The nurse instructed me to stop taking my big motrin. Um, ok, but you know my ute laughs at tylenol, right? You know that motrin is only the first line of defense and that I only left tequila off as a pain reliever because I didn't want to look like both a lush and a headcase, right? She okayed my tylenol with codeine though, and I got a lecture about NSAIDs.

It's really about me finding my way home

P likes to sleep late on the weekends and I don't. I prefer to keep a similar schedule all week. Why do you care? Because I had to go for day 3 bloodwork this morning (they only do blood draws until 9 on the weekends) and I had to go all by myself.

I woke up, detangled my legs from kitty-sleep, got out of my warm bed, and I made it there in plenty of time (I was shooting for 8-830)

She did not miss my vein.

She was nice to me.

She did not require ten vials of blood like the last clinic's intake required.

I made it home without looking up the directions, without using the GPS, and without getting lost! (um, until I drove past my house on my own street. But let's pretend that didn't happen.) When you suck at directions as much as I do, you celebrate the small victories. One of the hardest things about moving for me is finding my way around a new place.

Two hours later, P is still sound asleep.

And so, even though I have some concerns about my new doctor, my diagnostic cycle begins.

Walkin' up a tightrope

I was reading Katie's last entry and I thought, "yeah, me too." I lingered in the comments section and realized that I had more to say.

I tell myself that I'm indifferent, that the pain and sadness that comes with infertility and childlessness is tolerable, that I'm used to it, that it doesn't effect my day to day existence. Then something happens to prove that I'm delusional.

I have things put away in the main living areas of my house, but the den is a disaster with office stuff everywhere. The "guest" bedroom is a mess where the movers piled clothes, books, and miscellaneous items into a corner. There are many things I can't find yet, but I know they're here, so I don't worry. P asks me for his large CD case and I can't find it anywhere. I tell him that it'll turn up and I stop looking when I have to actually move heavy things.

Then I realize that I can't locate my brown bag of clothes. This bag has a long history of meaning for me. When I was little, my mom used it to put treats in when we went to Disneyland. We had no money and I don't know how long it took my mom to save the money to take us on that adventure, but I bet it was awhile. She had things all planned out. We couldn't afford to eat there, so she packed bread, peanut butter, jelly, fruit, etc., and we went back to our hotel for meals. She couldn't afford souvenirs, so she packed the brown bag full of little toys, candies, and books that she could dole out as necessary. The blue bag was prettiest, but it was full of clothes. The brown bag is just special.

Sometime during a clean-out, years later, I come across the brown bag in my mom's donate pile. No way is this bag being donated, so I rescue it. For the longest time it held my baby pillow and blanket. Then it held t-shirts from school plays and events. Then it held nothing but a ticket from my first concert (The Village People, in 1997, to my chagrin) and a spot in the back of various closets. Still, it's the brown bag and I can't get rid of it.

The people who lived in our last house before us must have had a baby because they were on the Huggies diaper mailing list. I passed along as many diapers as possible to friends, but there were many inappropriately sized diapers that I tucked into a closet. I do have the packrat gene. Somehow this stash grew without me buying a thing and I began to store these little diapers in the brown bag.

P and I had begun trying for a baby, but were not buying any baby items. He was against it, and I went along. Eventually, he okayed an outfit that was on sale at baby gap and it was lovingly added to the brown treat bag. Every now and then, when I'm feeling hopeful, I'll give in to the impulse to buy something sweet for a child who may be. The diapers eventually came out of the bag as the bag filled up with tiny clothes. There was one cycle that I had "a feeling" about as I bought a tiny onesie and I put it in my dresser drawer, away from the items that were just hope items. I don't know if that makes any sense, but this blue striped onesie was special. That baby was real. Of course, I was wrong, and there was no baby, and the onesie made it into the bag. There are little things like that in there.

The bag lived in the spare bedroom for the years we lived in the old house up on a shelf in a closet. I didn't spend much time in that room. I only ever had one guest, my mom, and the room didn't get much use. It housed "the big dog" that my friend's daughter played with when she came over, and it stored a ton of books, blankets, and a TV in the same closet that held the brown bag. It got tucked away on a high shelf and I really didn't spend much time thinking about it. I don't take the clothes out and look at them. I don't think about them being up there, packed away and waiting. I don't long to put them on a real baby. I just have them. It's all abstract.

Yet when I can't locate this bag in our new house, I panic. I mean really panic. Everything that I've squirreled away since we started trying is missing, and I lose it. It's as if having that brown bag was a sort of safety that allowed me not to think about things that hurt to think about. It was there in the background like a life preserver on the side of the pool. You like to see it there, but you don't count on using it.

I see things that were in the same closet spread out among the den, the guest room, and the treadmill room. I look under piles and inside closets. I check the basement even though I know the only stuff down there is plastic containers that hold my teaching things and Christmas things. My heart begins to pound a little harder, and I go back upstairs. My life preserver is gone and the babies who do not exist are destined for nakedness and now I have to think about it.

I do finally locate the bag and I exhale a little harder than normal. It may have been in a pile of clothes, in with the shoes, under the fax machine, by the books I haven't read yet; it doesn't matter where it was or which closet becomes it's new home. It's here. It made the move, and my world, (though in a state of moving disarray,) is intact.

Some things

I feel like I'm always behind; I just can't catch up.

1. We moved into our new house.
2. We did get our utilities.
3. I do not have TiVo hooked up yet.
4. One of my boys cried for a whole day (I think he wanted to know where the heck our stuff was. It's here now and the crying has stopped.)
5. I had my first appointment at NewClinic. I'm not sure what I think of them yet.
6. I gained some weight on my trip and I don't like how I feel. I was more embarrassed than usual to be weighed at the doctor's office.
   
7. I never made a decision about grad school and now it's too late to apply this year.
8. Having a GPS is really awesome when you're in a new area. I am much more confident when I go out with it so I go out more (I suck at directions.)
9. I woke up last night screaming that there was a chicken in the bathtub.

Moving courtesy, FYI

When you move out of a house, the new owners usually can't set up utilities unless you cancel your service to that house.

You can set your cancellation to happen on a day in the future (say, the closing date) and use your utilities throughout the time you own the property.

But you really piss "people" off when you refuse to put the order through so that the new owners can't establish service starting on say, tomorrow the closing date.

Having to call my lawer about this is a real pisser.

.

So, I'm not crying anymore (I wish I knew what made this cry-when-frustrated thing began, and why, because it's annoying) and I rescheduled my appointment. I waited this long, what's a little longer, right?

This doc better be good.

This house better be good too.

Our bank, however, is about to lose our business.

complications

Of course, as soon as I actually get an appointment with the RE, I find out that our house is closing at that very same hour and I have not yet acquired the power to be in two places at once.

Having many problems today. Today sucks.

I'm glad I'm not a businessperson. Do they laugh and point when you cry because things aren't going your way? I'm frustrated. Everyone I need to talk to is out to lunch and no one will call me back.

I did it!

I put my big-girl pants on and made the appointment.

I feel better but also nervous. Not the doctor thing so much as the new doctor thing.

I never run out of things to worry about!

Fly by Night

We made it to NewCity.

It's all in which label is able to persist...

I've been researching fertility options in NewCity pretty much since I found out we were moving there. It was a huge relief to discontinue treatment where we were, but who really wants to wait? All of us still waiting want success, and we want it now. Or yesterday. Or two weeks ago so we can see a second line. Still, it was good to let go of the ClinicFromHell even if it meant a long pre-move break. Now that we're in transit (wheeee!!!!!!) I'm feeling the need to get going on things again. I don't want a long wait once we arrive, so I need to start setting up appointments now.

So what's the problem? Well, the problem is I'm scared. I had such a bad experience, I'm having trouble making decisions, phone calls, etc. I got my records from the last place and I just want to throw them in the garbage because that's what they are. They're full of crap that shouldn't be in there (rude doctors' commentary calling me difficult and non-compliant, etc.) that I don't want clouding my new doc's opinions/decisions. Not to mention the fact that there are places where they have things in there that are flat-out incorrect.

I asked for an endo consult no fewer than five times and it isn't noted once. It was, however, noted that I declined to participate in a study where you give clomid to patients with cysts to see if it really was a problem. HELLO! I have a history of ruptured cysts and that very cycle I ended up bleeding into my pelvis!

The records are just part of it though. I've never really been comfortable with doctors. I feel like I never say all that I want to and I can never accurately describe whatever the problem is. I detest that whole pain scale thing. I hate the smiley face chart.

I had really bad asthma as a teenager (my small airways only functioned at 53%) and was highly sensitive to cigarette smoke. I was taken to the ER via ambulance once and one of the techs accused me of faking it. Yeah, I'm faking an inability to take full breaths because I like the pretty lights on your van.

So what has infertility done for me? Well, it's sucked all my confidence away for one thing. P and I are both well-educated, intelligent individuals and I think that by not being treated that way for the last couple of years, I've forgotten how to be that person. Is that completely bizarre? I mean, I've never been super self-confident, but it's been years since I was a doormat.

Anyway, I truly believe that things can be different somewhere else, and I know that in the end I'm gonna make the calls.

I've done the research for myself, and I'm getting some outside opinions, and I'm ready... I'm still scared though.

guest blogger.

Sometimes living in a hotel is booooring. BUT, there are ways to liven it up. See, during the night it gets really dark here, not like at home, which is fabulous for hunting. You know where a great place to hunt is? In mommy's water glass (ignore daddy's--- it's no fun if you can't wake up your human.) Bonus points if you can knock it over and get her book and everything else wet. Double bonus if you do it two nights in a row.

There's plenty more to do.
I think I've decided never to sleep at night again. What I really want to do is get inside the drawers (these new drawers are awesome! you can totally open them up with NO thumbs!) and then jump out and listen to them slam shut. Then you can hop up onto the bed and get some attention. Oh, boy, mommy looks a little mad. Did she just call me a heathen and threaten me with going in the dumpster? She's all talk. But to be safe, maybe jump down anyway.


Chasing your big brother in a circle around the room, through the chairs up and down over the bed, on the people as fast as you can go is a great time killer. Watch out though, because if he stops, you will overrun him and you may hit a wall with a nice furry thud. No matter, you just shake it off and keep running. If he won't play, just practice jumping up onto the high armoire (with the desk next to it you have great access!) Knocking things off the desk is acceptable if it's nighttime. Plus, you might set something like, say, and advil bottle that makes an amazing noise as you bap it around the room.



You'll be pretty thirsty by then, so you might want to stop for a drink. If you've already knocked over the water glasses you'll have to settle for your own bowl. This is no big deal though, since it is 3am and you still have plenty of ways to make this irritating to your sleeping human parents. First, push the bowl with your nose or paw across the tile floor. This makes a fabulous scraping sound. You want to leave it in a walkway so that someone with human feet might just kick it or step in/on it and get water everywhere. Water tastes even better when licked from the floor. Trust me, humans like wet feet and a slick surface in the wee morning hours. It makes their feet feel clean and their giant human asses a little sore, but who doesn't appreciate that?

Speaking of asses, anytime you're in a confined space and your litter box has to share air with the humans' living space, you want to make sure you show them how you feel about it. I'm used to quite a bit of privacy myself, and this whole exposed, in-the-bathroom thing is seriously lacking in defined territory. I like to make the smelliest poops possible as many times per day as possible. If you don't have to go, that's ok, but make a good show if it by getting in and out of the box whenever you think of it. Just digging around in there is good fun and you get the added pleasure of tracking the crystals out onto the tile. If your mom likes things clean like mine does, she'll appreciate the opportunity to practice using the broom and dustpan several times each day. If someone objects to your smell and cleans your box, feel free to get right back in and go some more. There's nothing like a clean box at 4am, and there's nothing your person wants to do more than clean up your smelly crap when it invades the room.

My dad has gotten wise to my night games and now locks me out of the bathroom.

I guess there's just too much fun to be had in there. Truth be told, it's also a tad dangerous here because there's no lid on the toilet. I've only had one accident so far, so I think I'm doing pretty well.



Sometimes I think I'm ready to be a good cat like my big brother, but extending my kittenhood is just so much fun I'm not sure I'm ready to give it up yet. Plus, I know I have done mommy a favor by getting her up so early. She got to get a load of laundry done while it was still kind of dark out (daddy needed socks again and I do love to play with a good pair of balled up socks!) I'm pretty sure she mentioned something about death, but I don't think she was talking to me because she was having pretty bad back cramps this morning. I think that made her enjoy me being up with her even more.

She can repay me by giving up her spot on the bed so I can take a nice long morning nap with my dad. I think I've earned it.

"Aunt Twirl" is different

My two year old "niece" asked me the other day,

"any news on your baby?" (Someone in her family is adopting from Guatemala and I guess she's heard adults talk about "baby news" a lot lately.)

"No, sweetie, I don't have a baby," I explain, with broken glass in my throat.

"My mommy has three babies. I'm two years old and my big sister is five years old and my new baby is no years old. That's three babies."

"Yes, I know, your mommy is very lucky to have you."

"My new baby is very little so you have to be careful. I have ice cream pajamas and I'm a princess with my Cinderella. You are coming to visit us soon and you send us presents in the mail. Are you bringing your kitties and your baby?"


I love talking to the girls, but sometimes they break my heart a little.

Dear Sandman,

Since I can't have a baby, it would be great if you'd stop making me dream that I have one. Waking up this morning without my daughter was excruciating.

(also, is there a reason you made Avril Lavigne my realtor? Because she did a pretty damn good job. And I'm not interested in joining the swim team, even with my verybestfriend. )

Thanks,

Twirl

Calling all pet owners!

If you have indoor-only pets, do you vaccinate them? Against everything, or just some things?

If not, do you get grief from vets who push vaccinations?

(This is mostly curiosity because with air travel, decisions on this subject aren't mine to make.)

It's Moving Day!

On the edge of your seat, right?

In case you were wondering about my house-hunt (and let's face it, it's all you can think about, right?) we did pick a house. We began to negotiate on it, but House#14 (suburban paradise) was not meant for us. We had some problems with the jackasses sellers and walked away from the table. I'm glad. I wanted the house, it was our first choice, but it was so difficult to pick in the first place that I don't feel at all bad about moving on.

So now we have an accepted contract on our second choice (House #3) and I can't wait to live there. Should something go wrong, I feel pretty good about our third and fourth choices too, which is a great feeling! It's nice to know you have options and that none of them suck. It's also a plus that my preview trip was not a waste. I did, however, feel like I was in an episode of House Hunters and Suzanne Whang spent a lot of time narrating in my head ("will it be the new build with the great master suite farthest from the office, the house in the suburban neighborhood that needs just a few repairs, or will it be the home at the top of their budget that's just minutes from P's office...")

Our current house may close late, but everything looks good and we're moving out THIS week! After that it's hotel time, move time, drive across country time, a little more time, and then in May we ought to be in NewCity for good.

Yep, I'm telling the internet

I opened a high cupboard in the kitchen this morning and a great big smile came to my face. There, crumpled up on a shelf, was my pink bra and the shirt I was wearing last night.

I think we're finally getting some of the fun back after all the suckiness that is infertilitysex.

Top 3

It's our last real day here in NewCity. We went to the open house and really liked it! House #14 is in a great little subdivision and looks like the perfect picture of suburbia. I actually saw a Girl Scout delivering cookies (P was sold!) The big downside for this house is that all the floors will need to be re-done. They have the different carpet in each room thing going on and I can't stand that. After adding this home to our list, I wanted to review two of my other favorites.

It's really hard to do this alone (well, not totally alone because my mom was there and that was AWESOME, but she's not P.) I wish he could see everything that I'm seeing because now all of his opinions are really just my own filtered back to me. But he asks good questions and I've drained my camera battery each day taking pictures. Still.

The top 3 have been selected and we have a big decision to make now!

***

We had some extra time, so Mom and I went to Target where I made my very first ever impulse buy on shoes. I wear sandals (more flip-flops than anything else) almost every day and shoes always seem expensive and uncomfortable to me. So I saw these boots. Beautiful brown boots. I picked them up and took them to the cash register and bought them without even trying them on. Kiss of death.

P's always telling me to relax a little and be more impulsive. I don't buy anything without thinking it to death first, so I was feeling pretty proud of myself.

Back to the hotel and I hate how they feel on my feet. I don't have time to return them so I have to pack them in my luggage and return them in CA. Stupid freakin' impulse buy.

I saw a lot of NewCity (from the passenger seat of CR's car!)

Today was the day you see all the bad houses. It was a looooong day. We planned to be done around 1 or so and then go to lunch, but we kept finding "one more house" to look at and before we knew it it was 5. I am tired and hungry.

One house I couldn't even stand to look at because it reeked of cigarette smoke so strong that I couldn't breathe. Houses #4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11, and 12 did not make the final cut.

I'm glad the first day went well, otherwise I'd be totally disappointed by now. It was handy having some finalists because they made comparing each new house easier. Is this better than what I saw yesterday? No? Well then, let's move on. I feel upbeat.

After seeing all the rejects and missing lunch we were really ready to be done. Then we got a tip from another agent and found another brand new home so we drove out to see it. House #13 was awesome! New, big, and just what we needed to see after looking at so many nos. Way better than the other new build. Some little upgrades were missing, but the price was right. Definately a consideration.

I'm glad I saw all the ones I didn't like because I feel much better about liking the ones I do.

On the agenda tomorrow: an open house, and a second look at a couple finalists.

On the house hunt...

Ohmygoodness morning came way too early!

Free hotel breakfast was pretty damn decent, but we inhaled it so I'm not sure how it tasted.

Found CompetentRealtor's (CR) office. Located P's soon-to-be office. Got a PO box. Three tasks down!

This was a day all about house-hunting. I had a bunch of listings before arriving and a list of other possibilities. CR had even more for me to look at! She knows this is going to be a short trip and I want to see as much as possible.

We came away from the day totally satisfied and with three possibilities!

House #1 is on a cul-de-sac and has a cool loft and great deck. Downside is that the master is not attatched to the master bath and is right next to the kitchen.

House #2 is a new build, but there aren't any restrictions so the neighbors can put four cars on their front lawn if they want to. And they did. New and pretty though.

House #3 is in the very area we wanted. It's beautiful inside and out but it doesn't have central air and is at the top of our budget.

I sent pics to P, and House #3 is his current fave. We'll see. I have at least 8 more houses to see tomorrow!


Oh, and yeah, it's cold. But believe it or not, I wore my jacket and I survived. I did slip on some ice though and fell on my ass. Oh well. Bound to happen.

BPT (Day 2)

When Day 2 began, I wasn’t entirely sure that Day 1 had actually ended. The flight was pretty damn early. Of course, I’m pretty sure anything before 5am is “still night.” Anyway, I got a tiny nap and began my next day of flying, now with my mom.

We:

• Were a tiny bit late boarding one flight because we were looking for something to eat (damn all the bastards who only serve breakfast. Especially when there’s no sign.) so we were paged. A first for me.
• Waited in line with Raj from the App*rentice. He did not hit on either of us. My mom helped him with his coffee cup while we (and all the passengers waiting to board) got a lecture about how people with too much luggage are what make all these flights late and how if anyone had a wheeled bag, too bad for you, it’s not going carry-on. Mom and I having small bags got to go to the front of the line, but the lecture thing was a little lame. (Raj had to stay behind with his big suitcase.)
• Tried, unsuccessfully, to sleep on the plane.
• Did not eat anything decent after all.

But we got there! (Grandpa, we drove in snow and didn't die!) So far the people in NewCity are very nice. We got a non-smoking room even though there were "none available" and are dead tired. Can't make internet work. Will need help or a wireless network at starbucks. Am computer loser.

The Big Preview Trip (or, All the Pressure’s on ME)

Day 1:

I’m sitting on an airplane right now in a cramped and tiny seat (of course.) The old lady in front of me has her seat so far back that it makes my laptop screen tilt down. But she’s sitting upright. Anyway, that’s not the point. I’m headed to NewCity to check things out. See, as things stand right now, we’re for sure moving there but we have no place to live. I thought we’d just rent a place and then look for a house once we got there, but P thought it would be a good idea for me to take a preview trip. So I booked it. Part of the plan was for me to meet with a realtor and get an idea of what’s available. Good idea. Here comes the big but. BUT, now P thinks I can find a place on my trip. Uh, no pressure. We’re going to be homeless, dear, unless you find us a house this weekend. It better be a good one too. What if I pick the wrong one? I see so many ways this can be all my fault.

*

If you know where I’m going, please don’t tell me to bring my warm clothes. I’m aware that it will be cold. I’m aware that it will be a big change. I will survive.

I will, however, be asking dumb questions later on. I know there’s a lot that I don’t know about living in the cold and snow. (example: when I was going through P’s things after the wedding and I was moving in I found this plastic stick thing with a brush on it. Apparently it’s an ice scraper. Who knew? I like my ice blended and in a margarita. Or cubed in a margarita.)

So, I’m sure there are things I’ll need to know. But the fact that it will be cold and I should bring my jacket and gloves is not one of them.

More to come…