So there was the great post, all written in my head, about how today ran the gamut from bottom-of-the-barrel to woo-and-hoo! but I just finished figuring out how to post pictures over at wordpress for the CLAW blog and I am wore out, y’all. So, haha! I’ll give you a list and you can sort things into the good, the bad, and the SOOOOO-not-ugly your own selves.
- had very bad cold yesterday, as in very bad, causing me to miss brunch with some Crazytown extendo-family types and a memorial service that I really wanted to attend. Said very bad cold still present this am, but still I have to go to work because that is The Way It Is.
- scramble to find tylenol at the only store open between my house and school, because that is the only pain killer I can take in the ttw, and a pain killer will keep me from killing the children at school, where I should not be because of above-mentioned very bad cold but too bad because that is The Way It Is.
- cho-girl subs in my class and as a bonus to her greatness, brings me tylenol, because above-mentioned store only had the sinus kind or the allergy kind and those kinds will probably make my Baby the Possible have 3 heads and so I did not buy them, but drove to school near tears instead (crying in the privacy of one’s truck – or one’s dad’s truck – is far different from crying in front of Teh Public, plus, I said “near tears” not “in tears” see? I was sick! Cut me some slack.).
- half the staff of my school is out today – ok, not half, but 4 out of 14. No lie. But I get to teach with above-mentioned cho-girl, who is occasionally sympathetic but mostly just large and in charge of the children, which is just what the non-existent doctor ordered (things starting to look up here). Too much sympathy makes me woozy.
- manage to not kill any children at school, nor do I give them my very bad cold, because they must all be immune at this point, having already given it to me. Thanks, children.
- it rains. All day. We do not go outside, which means that I don’t have to wake up my nappers. More sleep = yay.
- Sandy, Sophie’s mama, is on the radio when I get in the truck after school (this is where things really begin to look up) and to sweeten the deal, Sophie is not too surly! That’s 3 days in a row! And is worth both of those exclamation points and this bonus one!
- my roommate makes enchiladas for dinner. Enchiladas which will also be my lunch tomorrow. It is nice to be hungry again.
- (the best for last) I got these in the mail today:
Thanks Mrs. B. Art saves lives, y’all.
My love of stylish glasses must be genetic. If she were wearing a more revealing top, you’d see I also got my boobs from her. Thanks, Grandma.
There is also my other grandma, aka Banin, of whom I have no good pictures. Poo. She is equally great. And busty. Yes, I get it from all sides.
Let’s get the business out of the way first – I think my insems were too early. Although I did have ovulation twinges this afternoon, so who the hell knows. Oh, well. While this was Teh Last of Teh Last, it was also the Throw Away Insem, the one that probably wouldn’t work. But whatever, I’ll take my prometrium like a good girl and we’ll see what happens.
Last night, I went out. Woo! Out! The Athens Boys Choir and Katastrophe were playing a free (free!) show just down the road from me and as I love, love, love Katz, I was all over it. It seems they did a Trans 101 workshop (also free!) that afternoon. Yay. I missed it, but yay. Both these kids are cute as buttons and said all the right things and had a gaggle, yes, a gaggle, of little femme girls right up in front of the stage squealing over them (it was kind of like Elvis only these bois are cuter). By said all the right things, I mean that their songs and poems spoke true and clear and funny and sad and all the things you might feel in your life. Katz spoke briefly about the horrifying statistics on hate-crimes against queers in general and trans folks in particular and again, he said all the right things. That is, he didn’t say much, he simply named some of the people, some of the kids, who’ve been killed recently and told us, instructed us, to remember them, to say their names. He had a poem about them, “Queer Revolution,” a litany of sorts, with slides – pictures and names, lest we forget. There’s not space enough for me to list all the names, nor, sadly, do I even know them all, but you can go here to remember, to have names to speak so that we will not forget them. And then, on a lighter note, he finished up with my all time fave, “Tranny Got Pack.” Well, maybe my fave is the Waffle House one….. sooooo hard to decide. (That’s a music link, so watch your volume if you’re at work or worried about loudness.)
So Katz was great and he’s really what drew me to the show, but the bonus prize was Rocco (he introduced himself to me when I bought a CD from him – sqeee! (Lord.)). So um, yeah, I spent the whole show thinking how familiar he looked and how I knew the name Katastrophe from *somewhere*….. and then after I got home and read the liner notes with the CD (10 pages!) I remembered. Michelle Tea’s partner. Yeah. I am behind the times. Anyway, he was great. So great that my friend D, who’s a nice gayboy, said, as he climbed up next to me on one of the pillars for a better view, “oh my god! I have the hots for a transman!”* We speculated that he’d have to fight off the gaggle of femme girls to get to his new crush. In honor of the show, D wore his Lesbian Clothes – a tie and a zip-up hoodie. Adorable. He looked just like a lesbian. Good job, D.
Nothing like some hot trans men talking about social justice and peace and feminism to make you remember what it’s all about. MySpace links here and here. And, yes, I have a little celebrity crush. *sigh* But honest, y’all, they’re so good.
Also, I got a new, big girl couch this weekend, thanks to the KP. This meant, among other things, that my roommate and I had to quite literally break the frame of the futon I had been using as a couch so we could get it up stairs so she could use it as a bed. In retrospect, this is funny. Moving furniture sucks. But woo! Big girl couch!
In other news, I booked tickets to go to New York for a smidge during spring break. I was ambivalent about going – I want to see my friends up there really bad, but it’s sort of expensive, I’m not sure how to deal with cat care now that one of the cats is deaf and another still has some – ah – bowel issues, and the usual – I kind of love to be at home more than anything. But then I was looking for some old emails I’d written about school and I came across one I’d sent to Z the Ex from back in 2004 when I must have been up there for some Montessori related thing and then I totally wanted to go.
Yesterday I saw a magician. I was on the train, going from Ian’s back to
Williamsburg, and I was tired and feeling weird (what’s new) and I’d finished
my book so there was nothing to do but sit there. As we were whizzing along under
the river, a magician came clanging in from the next car. He had a little
folding metal stand with big loud metal bells on it and a black case that he
pushed in front of him and a nice black top hat. He was mumbling loudly in
Spanish and so, in spite of my heritage, I understood nothing. He set up shop
right in the middle of the train, swinging the black case up onto the metal
stand and arranging all sorts of implements on it. He tried to get this one guy
to hold his magic wand for him, it was pink lucite, I think, but he refused.
Then all the other people he tried shook their heads, too. It was so sad. But
then this guy sitting across from me agreed to hold the magic wand and tap on
the special magic box and so the show could begin. I got to open the magic drawer
in the special magic box and a small furry animal popped out and I jumped. Then
he did all sorts of other tricks, like making soap bubbles turn into giant
marbles and then popping the marbles or making a girl’s purple lacy panties drop
to the floor and then trying to give them to the guy across from me. In
addition to finding the small furry animal (maybe it was a mink?), I got to
hold the magic wand and tap on a small metal dish that was upside-down and then a
dove flew out from under it. Amazing. And then he was done. He collected
some money and packed up his case and rattled on to the next car, all in the space
of 2 stops, before we got to Graham Ave.
I walked home and stopped by the liquor store, feeling much better.
You know you wanted to relive that 10 minutes on the L train with me. So I’ll be in New York for a smidge in April. Who’s around?
*edited because, while I was quoting somebody and while this was back in the day and while my friend D wasn’t using it as a slur, that word I used before is not ok. My apologies.
From the Crazytown kids. The KP called for answers in the comments, but I’ll run with it and make a meme anytime I can.
What’s On Your Nightstand?
Rules, rules, rules: post what you’ve got on the table (chair, nightstand, whatever) beside your bed. Leave nothing out. Nothing. Heh. Link back to the kind person who tagged you and then tag 3 other folks. Really tag them – none of this “whoever hasn’t done this meme yet” tagging.
*clock radio from Roses
*Burt’s Bees foot creme sample tube
*Badger Sleep Balm, aka The Sleepy Beave (don’t ask)
*small lamp from the SPCA rummage sale circa 1995 with pink shade from Roses
*Burt’s Bees Milk and Honey sample bottle
*tiny pink claw clip that some kid put on my shirt at school
*orange sticker from Toys in Babeland, not yet stuck anywhere
*tie-tie, black (for my *hair* y’all, my hair)
*star charm from a necklace that was a gift for my 30th birthday
*votive candle, Newberry Holly scented, as yet unburned, but very dusty
*capped plastic test tube, empty (I already tossed the syringes and the catheter)
*handful of earrings I had to take out for surgery and have yet to put back in
*small Buddha statue, the Chinese style – tall and skinny with flowing robes – from my mama
*fancy paper clip with 90º corners instead of round bend-y ends
*dust and cat fur
What? No books? Nope, I keep the books in bed with me.
I tag….. ummmm…
The Injector who is tagged first to ensure that she’ll play along
Cali, of course – tagged with love
Mrs. B in hopes that she’ll send me some tiny art in the mail as a thank you for tagging her (subtle, no?)
J, who will forgive me for praying that she’ll say there are car racing magazines on her nightstand.
Oops. That’s 4. Oh, well.
ETA – comment away if you don’t *ahem* have a blog (*cough* Hard Girl*cough*)
CD 13. High says old Clear Blue. 17.5 mm follicle on the right. Good looking CM. Ovulation Chinese herbs and robitussin taken. Sperm in the air, on it’s way to Richmond from the West and then to Starr Hill, arriving tomorrow. Plus Fertility Hennaz™, of course.
Last chance DIY insem, here I come.
I fear I have mislead you. I am not myself an Arm Wrestler. I am a Rule Keeper. That is, I watch to be sure no rules are broken under the table. My post is up now, over here, after some technical difficulties.
Also, I am not quite so nice as y’all think – my neighbor’s Condition means many things to me – both positive and negative. We’re tight, so it is generally positive, especially because they will at some point need infant-style childcare. Which, providing I knock myself up sooner rather than later, fits well into my financial plan, because I’d be the infant-style childcare. So the almost happy is actually pretty self-serving.
And, since I know you’ve missed hearing about my ovaries: I went to the RE’s today. It’s CD 10 and I’ve got one 10-11 mm follicle on the right and a nice 5 mm lining. “Good,” according to my RE, who it turns out, developed a way to check estrogen levels in blood back in the 70’s. Prior to this? Yes, my IVP friends, doctors did just what we’ve all done at home – looked obsessively at CM. Serious.
On a more cheerful note – I’m occasioanlly blogging over here with the other Arm Wrestling kids. Remember arm wrestling? I’m The Empire over there, so we’ll just keep Starrhillgirl under our hats, shall we?
CLAW is a blast, y’all. Come on down.
My neighbor is knocked up. By accident. I am mostly happy for her.
(This is not yet news for public consumption, oh, ye local kids who know who I am talking about. She’s only 8 weeks.)
So it’s been weeks since I worked a full 5 days in a row. Weeks, I tell you. There’s no school today and it smelled like spring when I opened the front door to let the cats in. I’ve given up on cutting out coffee and so I am here in the sun with a totally indulgent cup of 2/3 coffee, 1/3 heavy cream. And did I mention the sun? And the lack of school today?
I woke up and walked down here to pick up my milk first thing, because I have been slack this week and didn’t pick up on Wednesday, which is my usual pick up day. The whole milk deal is a little shady, which I kind of love. You cannot buy or sell unpasteurized milk in Virginia, so people get around it by purchasing a share in a cow, so the milk is technically theirs and they consume it at their own risk. I do sometimes wonder what part of my cow I own – the tail? The cute nose? Anyway, I’m not one of those Raw Milk Will Save the World people, but I’m pretty happy to have local milk and I’m always after food that’s had less shit done to it. And it is good – the real test for what to buy and eat in my mind. Local and organic and unprocessed are fab and all, but really, I’m into food that tastes good. Which this milk does. The poorly lit warehouse and the old soda refrigerators and the sneaky hidden key are all pure entertainment for me – the real deal is that I like this milk better. Now if only I could ride my bike down to the IX to get it….
Yes, it’s true. I do not know how to ride a bike. I thought this wasn’t news here on teh internets, but the injector has only recently discovered my lack of biking prowess and is threatening to come come south and remedy the problem. Others have tried – valiantly – before, but with no luck. (somewhat embarassing pics here)I’m not so good at the whole practicing thing, you see, and I think that’s probably key. Anyway – I do want to know how. It fits in well with everything else about my “Lifestyle.” But falling is so scary!
Moving on to other things I cannot do yet – let’s talk about ttc, shall we? (That’ trying to conceive for those of you just joining us here in Starr Hill.) Here’s the lowdown from the RE’s visit this week: I will be doing an unmedicated, monitored, home insemed cycle this month. Woo and hoo for the home insems! Go DIY AI go! There’s several things going on here so I’ll try to be all linear and shit so you can get the full picture and the you can weigh in as you see fit.
From the information gathered during my monitored cycle in January, the RE thinks that I had 2 problems: old Polly and low progesterone. Now we’ll all bow our heads a minute to Polly and then move on because that particular problem is gone. Woo! So then the issue becomes the prog. Now, I knew from blood-work with my nurse practitioner that my progesterone was low back last summer and she put me on prometrium (by mouth – whew) for it, but her protocol for the dosage was very different from my RE’s protocol and I don’t wonder (or rather I do wonder) if hers was not so hot. See, the half-life of prometrium is 12 hours and my NP only had me take it once a day, so I’d imagine the level could float around more than would be ideal. The RE has folks take it 3 times a day, which know knowing the half-life of it (thank you Obsessors) makes far more sense.
Anyway. My RE deals with low prog in one of 2 ways: dose with prometrium or take…… clomid. His thought process is this: The corpus luteum is what produces progesterone after ovulation, so if there is a problem with progesterone, perhaps tweaking the follicle that will become the corpus luteum will make for better progesterone production. Plus the “bonus” of more follicles – i.e. more “targets” for the sperm to hit. He very, very slowly and seriously did the math for me on how the chance of multiples goes up in this scenario and listened patiently when I said in no uncertain terms that I was scared shitless of the mood swings I hear can come with clomid and said femara was a fine choice when I asked about using that instead. The man’s a dream. And he delicately pointed out that, in his view, time is not an issue. I’m young and healthy, as they kept telling me before my surgery. All that said, I am going with no meds for this cycle other than a prometrium supplement. Because I like to ramp it up slowly.
As for the home insem part – well, there’s some bureaucracy involved here. In the past, sperm that needs washing for an IUI would get sent to Richmond, washed and sent back. But my sperm don’t roll like that because they’ve been Bio-Tranzed. The shipping method my donors (Remember them? You can’t beat them with a stick.) and I are using, bio-tranz, only keeps those kids alive for 24 hours. Not enough time to get from the West Coast to Richmond and then here. They’d be dead. Now, the University has been promising my RE a machine for washing sperm here for sometime now. They said October 2007 at the latest, he told me. Then we both looked at the calendar and sighed. Any day now, they keep telling him. He sighed again. So if there’s a machine here, I’ll wash those prostaglandins right out of my sperm and do an IUI. But I’m not going to count on that, so we’ll just all plan on one very last home insem. What do you say?
There’s a mess of us cycling together this time, which has to be worth something. There’s me, the injector’s best girl KK, Mrs. B, Chips, Tiff, Katie who has no blog (ahem) from FF…. damn. I though there were more of us. Anybody else? Anybody?
And now I must sing The Song of Praises to cho-girl.
Kind beyond measure and able to read my mind in a single bound.
Possessed of calm in the face of my own misery and like to a beacon of light in the dark.
Speaker of several of the best languages and bellwether of Teh Internets.
Mama to my tiny BF and his brilliant brother, co-parenting with her Smoking One to near-perfection.
Cynical at all the right times, making perfect light of overly weighty situations.
Adept at toddler wrangling and crafting – all in the same moment.
Deliverer of the perfectly timed “ha-ha!” or “woo!”
Keeper of my humility, and often sanity.
If you don’t already have her, you know you want her.