In the same Not Me – You! vein as the last post, go check out Lesbian Dad’s series of the week about Being a Baba And How She Got There. Excellent as usual.
moar funny pictures
And for Chicory:
Check out this and this and then send in your cutest pictures of your kids. What’s not to love about this deal? Show off your kid anonymously, help change stupid, stupid laws. Ideal.
(You can send pics to me – firstname.lastname@example.org – if you’d rather.)
It was goodbye to the Saab today, my dearly beloved car. You’ll remember my love/hate relationship with cars – hate car culture, love my car, love going for a drive – or maybe you won’t. Either way, today was the end; today I sent my car away.
Some time ago, back when I was even smaller than I am now, we lived with some friends for a month or so while our house was being finished (actually, while we waited and waited for there to be a working well, but that’s another story). These friends had a Saab each and I loved them (the friends and the Saabs). My 11th birthday, they gave me a model Saab, which I loved and wrote an ode to in my English class. It went something like this:
You are red and you are black
With a gold interior
**blah, blah, can’t remember the middle part**
**blah, some other stuff I can’t remember**
My Saab 900 Turbo.
Literary gold, y’all – at age 11! Anyway, Saabs – I’ve loved them since childhood. I learned to drive on a Saab, and have had no other car to my name since. And this last one, it’s been Teh Best. 16 valve, so I can really kick some Other Car Ass; smooth, cool “rose quartz” paint job; rear hatch that, when the back seat was down made it almost like a truck; sunroof for extra breezes; the mileage could make a hybrid stand up and take notice. It made it through me helping a couple people into the wide and wonderful world of standard transmissions and never needed a clutch job. There were more Sunday afternoon drives through rural Virginia with LB and mixed tapes (mixed tapes?!) than there are stars in the sky and still there were less than 200k miles on it.
And it was mine, in that way things are when you really, really love them. I’d been driving it for so long, it felt like an extension of my being. I knew the sweet spot on the clutch like I know my name. The steering wheel must have had imprints from my hands on it. I could pop-start the motherfucker on a flat stretch of gravel with my foot out the door.
Good old car. It was 21 this year. I patted it fondly as I took all my shit out of the trunk.
But today was the end. I posted it for parts on Craigslist (I thought about posting last week’s unused sperm there, too – or maybe on Freecycle….) and got an email from some guy in the Valley saying he’d take it. So he came today and turned out be this scrappy little indy kid (or, rather, the kind of boy the indy kids *want* to look like) with a hat that said “ugly stick” on it and grease covered jeans. Totally adorable. So I was less sad, just because he was cute. He let me drive it up the ramps onto the trailer (woo! new skill!) and mentioned he runs demolition derby. He says my car runs so well he might use it for that! A far more glamorous end than rusting in a junk yard.
Oh, farewell, my dearly beloved car. Farewell.
My L-word dealer is out of town. No fix for me this week. Ack. I’ve been distracting myself with this. Warning – spoilers and sooooo NSW (nudity *and* guns).
Did anybody make dinner this week? I forgot. But next Sunday, I’m all over it. Tell me what you’re bringing so I can menu plan.
Oh, god. You’re all watching it right now! I’m dying…..
Well, the diner near me, that is. Yes, it’s CLAW. C***** Lady’s Arm Wrestling. Here’s a sneak preview with Down Low Cho and Lefty Red.
Despite the fact that Fed Ex managed to make a timely delivery of sperm, there will be no insemination this weekend. My u/s today showed what the RE thinks might be a polyp in my uterus – not a big deal and easy to get rid of if that is indeed what it is, but it is not desirable to try to grow a baby in an already occupied uterus. So no dice.
On the brighter side, I had one perfect 17mm follicle on the left and a nice 11 mm lining, which seems good for CD 13. I’ve got my operating instructions for when to call for luteal phase blood work and my appointment for next cycles HSG (which will clarify the polyp issue) and free reign to drink whiskey all weekend.
I love my acu doctor as much as I hate Fed Ex. More, in fact. Today was my first appointment in nearly a month; the holidays got in the way last time. Oh, it was good. It’s so warm there and he’s so kind and interested in how I am and the needles fascinate me and then there’s the mini massage with lineament and the heat lamp on my feet (!). Then the whole rest of the day is blissfull and cloud-like. I swear. This time I got some moxibustion (a term I know from a hysterical Chinese studies class I took in high school). “I’m just going to warm this one up a little” he said, referring to the needle in my belly. He thinks cold is one of my biggest problems. I’ve been cold since my period started – no lie. It sucks.
The minor annoyance today, ttc-wise – was good old Clear Blue. Poor thing. I ran out of her sticks. Some bff I am. So I have no hormonal data for today so far, other than that I can gather without the help of a machine. But tomorrow! It will be all pee all the time. Just you wait.
Tomorrow is wanding #2 – also known as “cheap lube saturated wang cam scan” which is my new favorite term I stole from my newest favorite mama bloggers. They are fab. And they use terms like wang, which I will be working into everyday conversation more often.
Anyway, Dr. Acu has massaged away all my angst over Fed Ex and I’m drinking my ovulation tea (And liking it – usually this is the herb mix that I like the least. This Means Some Thing.) and getting ready to do an opk before bed. Regardless of what it says, there’s sperm on it’s was eastward – should get to school sometime tomorrow morning. Last Ditch Hail Mary DIY insem, here we go!
Now I have to go give the cat her anti-diarrhea medicine. Don’t you wish you lived chez Starrhill?