somebody should do some tidying around here

Aiming for once a week for the rest of the summer is do-able, don’t you think?  I mean, I’m hardly working.  And then perhaps I could also do things like clean up my blogroll, which is sadly out of date, and maybe log my lunch everyday.  Really, I have no excuse.

It’s been a hard couple of years, y’all.  But I think I am feeling better.  Time. I’ve taken two years of it and now I am calling you, though not in the morning.

Here are things:

• it is hot as fuck here, again, and there has been no rain and the plum tree has lost about 1/3 of it’s leaves.  Jim Waive saw fit to remind me that I like to freak out about the weather in July.
• I am gearing up for (yet another!) embryo transfer, avec steroids and lovenox, which is said not as if you planned on marrying an ox, but as if you started to sing “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” and then changed your mind and wanted to talk about vans and oxes.
• there is Neighborhood Dramaz.  Really.  More than one drama.  One neighbor is concerned that my cats mistake her front flower bed for a litter box.  Oops.  Not much to be done but apologize and give her some eggs.  Production has improved slightly since my last post,  btw. Other neighbor, previously featured on Caved as a Serious Cat Person, is very upset that another neighbor has vicious sounding big dogs that are not supposed to be at his house but for some reason keep coming back.  Written out, it sounds so silly, but she is truly distraught.  To the point of sounding irrational.  And the offending neighbors do nothing, which is the shame of it, I think.  Starrhill is pretty tight; there are really only a few of us in the place and this is how we usually handle shit: if you’re upsetting somebody, go talk to that somebody, hold your damn hand out and try to make some compromise.  I fear it has gone on too long for that at this point.  And that the actual owner of the dogs seems to be the sort that thinks she doesn’t need to hold her hand out.
• LB and I are splitting a share from Appalachia Star farm again this summer and it’s pretty great.  The tomatoes are about to come rolling in and I am very excited.  In other food news, I have pots of herbs that I am actually using for the first time in years.  It’s like being born again.  Sort of.  Being home to make a lunch is like being born again.
• I had another miscarriage awhile back – whee.  This one didn’t hurt, which was nice.  The sliver lining is that it put me up to the magic number of three miscarriage, which makes my insurance company willing to pay for the Big Giant Pannel of Autoimmune tests.  I do love a good visit to my lab people.
• my old neighbor, who should just move back to Starrhill, solving all the Neighborhood Dramaz, loaned me the book about running everybody read like 2 years ago, and which I also happened to give my dad but never read myself, and for about 5 minutes I was all “I could run!”  And then I laughed at myself.  Because the part of the book about eating beans and tortillas is really much more up my alley than running.
• one of the search terms I just saw in my stats is tiny tits.  Hahahahahahaha!  Sorry,  wrong blog.

I have been thoroughly enjoying Twitter and Instagram.  We can blame that for my lack of blogging, but didn’t everybody have that particular crisis like 4 years ago?  Only my laziness to blame, as per usual.