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?
There really is no need for the boring details. I mean, it’s Fed Ex – I should expect them to fuck up at this point, right? They’ve done it before.
Anyway. I though the delivery of this cycle’s bio-tranz kit to my donors was totally fucked, but thanks to my donors’ willingness to drive way the fuck out to the central Fed Ex lair, we should be in business. Let me reiterate how much I hate Fed Ex. One of the many, many reasons I will be glad to be done with this, baby in hand, is that I can then never. ever. ever. use fucking Fed Ex again. Never again.
Yes, it’s my Really Truly Last Chance DIY Insem. My Hail Mary insem, as some would call it. There’ll be no prometrium to work it’s magic with my luteal phase this time, as I’m being monitored by the RE to get a nice baseline for his future work. So it will just be me and Teh Spermz and whatever help old Mary’s willing to give. And, yes, my atheist ass will be counting off the Hail Mary on my fingers (no rosary to be had) because what is prayer but ritual set up to bring on comfort and hope. I’ll also have my voodoo charm from de-cryptic stashed under the bed, just in case you thought I was slipping.
*sigh* Stupid Fed Ex.
Virtual Sunday dinner.
What? Did you think I’d start before you got here? Nah. Go sit by the fire and entertain me while I cut up this chicken.
Could you please distract the cats? I might loose a limb.
Shh… this is the part where I kind of need to concentrate. Note my new pan.
You like gravy, right? Everything in this is local, mostly stuff I froze from summer. Except the peas. Oh, and the potatoes. Those are from the store. You can’t have everything.
Ok, let me get this in the oven and then you can refill my wine glass. You did bring wine, didn’t you?
Wash your hands, now. It’s time to eat.
I sure hope one of you brought salad, because I don’t have any. There’s lots, so whoever wants some pot pie – come on down.
Oh, boy! Tagged! By Chips! Woo! And Hoo! And more exclamation points!
Everything You Wanted to Know About Me But Were Afraid To Ask:
(ok, not everything, just 6 things)
1. I have wanted for the past decade or so, to change jobs to be something like a mail carrier. Or a taxi driver.
2. I love cheetos. Love. Them.
3. Also, I love chickens. I’d get a few to have here at my house but one of my cats is a menace and I can’t in good conscience bring small fuzzy chicks into my home. They would quickly become a tasty meal for Fifi. This is unacceptable as it would not allow them to lay eggs to be a tasty meal for me.
4. I have not had my hair cut in a salon/barber/beauty shop in something like 6 or 7 years. It’s all been done like this every 3rd or 4th summer, then it grows out long and I do it again.
5. It is harder for me to think of 6 things about myself than I thought it would be.
6. My earlobes are not the same. One looks regular and the other has a little extra bit of lobe. My grandma and my cousin are the same. Some people notice it right away, some people take years to notice.
Bonus Extra Credit Thing You Wanted To Know Because #5 Didn’t Really Count – I love trashy novel. All sorts – from the cheesey ones in the supermarket to the old school Naiad romances.
My Mother Said To Pick The Very Best Ones And You Are It:
The Injector – who will likely not play, but still
Vee & Jay -to occupy them during the 2ww (yes, that’s both, so 2 posts, please )
Gold Star – to return the favor
Gypsygrrl – so I will remember to add her to my blogroll
1) Link to the person that tagged you. (that would be me)
2) Post the rules on your blog. (rules!)
3) Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself. (hmmm….)
4) Tag at least three people at the end of your post and link to their blogs. (yikes – who to tag?)
5) Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog. (this is the part I might forget)
6) Let the fun begin! (memes – cheesey but so fun!)