You're Looking Swell, Dolly

We figured a minimal Level 1 Hurricane wouldn't be that big of a deal. No one seemed that worried about it when we told them on Monday and the pilots and flight attendants certainly weren't mentioning it on our flights into San Antonio.

Then we got on the shuttle to pick up our rental car. A woman got on with 3 way over-stuffed backpacks and duffle bags. I could also see from the corner of her eye that she had a polo shirt on with her company's logo and some motivational phrase on it. Bless her heart, I thought. There's liking where you work and then there's being overly involved in your work. Wearing your shirt at the company picnic is one thing; wearing it on a trip is quite another.

Then I saw her FEMA identification tag. And then I read the insignia which was for the US Urban Search and Rescue Response Team. I looked at Dave. He looked at me.

Heh.

Then we got on the road for the incredibly long drive from San Antonio to the path of Hurricane Dolly, between Brownsville and McAllen, TX. And we saw all the traffic signs that said "Hurricane Warning for Brownsville.....(blink, blink, blink)....Avoid travel to that area."

Party on!

Then we passed all the Verizon Emergency Team trucks on the highway heading the same way we were.

At least we're going to where all the fun is.

When we got to the hotel, the manager was responding to call after call from people looking for a safe place to stay. This hotel is full. And the people we've seen arriving are coming in with more than just traditional tourist luggage. People look like they have left just their homes with everything they could put in there.

Still it didn't turn into a Level 1 Hurricane until we were driving to the hotel. How could it be that bad? Now, it's one mph from becoming a Level 2 and 1 and 1/2 hours from hitting shore. Our county, Hidalgo, wasn't worried about Hurricane Dolly because it wasn't expected to become a Level 2. Whoops!

This morning, Dave met a man who had been kicked out his original hotel because the National Guard took over. We looked in our parking lot and saw 6 ambulances from all over southern Texas on stand by for an emergency. We also saw more company insignias from more emergency response teams from around Texas.

So we came down early to the wedding to go to South Padre Island, a very famous and very nice resort town on the southen coast of Texas. That's pretty much where Dolly is making landfall first, so we have opted not to go there. Instead, we're going to be staying in our hotel room pretty much all day today.

Some families take their children to Disney Land for vacation. We take our child to the eye of a Level 2 hurricane.

Check us out.

UPDATE: Dolly is now Level 2 and all the ambulances have left the parking lot, we assume to be closer to landfall.

Hello Dolly!

We' re heading down to Texas for about a week for my good friend's wedding. Everyone keeps asking us "Where exactly in Texas are you going?"

We respond "To the southern-most point. Pretty much on the boarder with Mexico."

Now, you will know exactly where we're going: simply follow Hurricane Dolly's path and you will know where we're going to be.

We have decided, what with the 100% chance of heavy rain and wind, to skip going to South Padre Island on Wednesday. Nonetheless, we're going to run like bunnies from San Antonio to our hotel on Tuesday to get in before the hurricane hits. Otherwise, we're not how easily it will be to make it there.

Hopefully, it will be a wimpy hurricane and not do any real damage. If it isn't, Dave and I will be able to share our own experiences with our Frontier House Honeymoon and reassure them that something funky always happens in a wedding, and if yours is a hurricane, well, the grandkids are going to love that story.

Owl Be Darned

Apparently, we are not the only creatures in our neighborhood noting the extensive number of rats, rabbits and mice around our house.

We have three adult screech owls hanging around our house every night now looking for prey. On the one hand, Hooray!! Kill the bunnies!! On the other, ummm, is there a downside? We can't think of one! Both we and our neighbors are enjoying the nightly owl show in our back yard.

First, the owls are frickin' big. They fly low and they think we are not worthy, so they have no fear flying over our heads or watching us from low branches. Second, they love playing on our outdoor furniture and our car. We suspected owl activity from the massive bird poop we were finding on our deck and cars, but this week they've decided to truly make themselves known.

Dave came to get me one night to show me the owl on our car. We were standing at our back window watching the owl on the car while the owl was watching us, too. Then we decided to turn out the light so we could see the owl better. The owl thought that was bizarre behavior. He could still see us through the glass (those big owly eyes and such) and he was still quite curious at our behavior. So he started bobbing and weaving his head at us, I'm guessing just to make sure he could still see us. Then he apparently got bored of that and started looking around at different things around the car. Once his gaze was directly opposite of us, he all of a sudden whipped his head around and stared directly at us! He was trying to catch us doing! It was so obvious what he was doing, we laughed out loud.

By that time I think he trusted us enough to fly back and forth between the cars and walking around.

I just love having our owls in our backyard even if it makes me a little nervous to go outside and do something once the sun has gone down. They are REALLY big. And we can now recognize their screeches which lull us to sleep when we sleep with the windows open. However, now that we are all owly friends, I feel like I ought to inform that it's probably not the best hunting strategy to keep screeching every 3 minutes when you're on the hunt. Even the dumbest mouse and bunny is going to figure out that a screech could lead to a murder and to keep their heads low. Since our goal is for the prey to walk around waving their tiny rodent arms to attract attention to themselves, we might need to bring this up at our next owl meeting.

And on a more exciting note, I'm done with the Quantum Cleanse. I had my first cup of coffee this morning and it was delicious!!! And oddly, I could only drink one cup. More than that made me feel a little sick. Our new RE allows 2-3 cups of coffee, but I'm thinking I might stick to 1-2 cups. And tonight, I am so excited about the pinot grigio I'm going to put in the fridge!! WOOHOO!!

And I did lose about 6 lbs. I'm very happy about that. But I really want to lose about 4-6 more lbs before the IVF in August. So I'm still sticking with what I've been eating with a few modifications: no sugar, minimal wine, mostly vegetarian and less wheat than before. Truly, it would be great to be back down to my weight at Conor's pg when we go in for our IVF.

But now, it's time to focus on today and today's work and relish the coffee I had this morning!!

God

This week a friend of mine, 40 years old with three young children, died from breast cancer that came back as lung cancer. Last weekend, we found out that the mother of a friend of ours has lung cancer. And just this week, we found out that the doctors of a good friend who has been free from breast cancer for 7 years just found a spot on her lungs. She starts chemo very soon.

I don't talk about God a lot on this blog. I fully believe that many of the readers of this blog, even if they believe in God, may have different views about broad or specific details than I do.

But it has been bothering me that a friend is angry at God because (s)he let my friend with the young children die. So this is sort of in response to that comment and also to this horrible outbreak of cancer among my friends.

I don't believe God does that. I know some people do believe that God chooses some people to die from cancer and others to recover. I know that some people believe that God gives some people cancer (or some other tragedy) to "wake them up" and get their attention. I don't believe that's true at all.

People die. That is the only thing we know is this life: everyone will die. We don't know if we'll get married, have children, become homeless, or even find the cure for cancer. All we know is that we will die. Some will die old and others young. Some with young children and some with adult children. Some will die tragically and for some, death will come as a happy relief. But everyone is going to die.

And I'm not saying that some deaths really don't seem fair. I fully agree that for our neighbor, who lost her child at birth, that death was not fair. But I don't think God did that to her or her husband or to that baby.

God doesn't have anything to do with that. That is life. Death is life.

Where God comes in, to me, is in what the people do around the person and his/her family when they die. The comfort, the care, the reassurances, the family, the love they feel from others and the chicken casseroles, that is where God comes in. Or doesn't.

We are very, very sad for our friends. And we want God to show through us and to our friends. And hopefully, some comfort will be given.

Firetruck Birthday

This weekend was Conor's 4th birthday party. It was absolutely fantastic: for the first time we invited over school friends along with the neighborhood friends. We filled up the kiddie pool, turned on the slip and slide, threw out a giraffe tunnel, and sat back and watched them go crazy.

This picture does not do justice to the craziness that was involved. We invited 9 children over. We were crazy. At one point, I came out of the house and saw 5 children lined up on the slip and slide with 3 children in the shark pool filling and emptying water buckets, one child throwing the giraffe's head around the yard and one standing up inside the giraffe tunnel and walking around the yard. I'm telling you, it was a scene. And when the giraffe started walking around, I thought the adults were going to fall out of their seats laughing.

Of course, we had no idea that the real fun was going to be the tree house, which upon discovery, led to a herd of boys climbing up in it at once.

And thank god(dess) that it didn't rain until the end. I just assumed all along we'd be able to be outside to play. When we finally moved in to open presents (and the rain started) I got a glimpse of just how absolutely crazy it would have been had we had the children in the house the whole time. I swear when the last present was opened, there was a near riot from excitement and sugar in our house.

Sugar. Yes, sugar. THAT I DID NOT TASTE! I made a firetruck cake (birthday theme) and 24 additional cupcakes for all the guests and I did not once lick the spoon, the beaters or my fingers during the entire time, staying true to the cleanse. I'm proud of myself for that. The cake? Not so much. Dave thinks I put the bar too high last year with Curious George.

Oh and a final word to anyone who wants to have the local fire department stop by during your child's birthday party. The firefighters are incredibly kind and considerate. But give them a really wide range of time to come (like the whole party) instead of the most convenient time for you, because otherwise, you're tempting fate to have not one but both trucks be called out for an emergency. The fire captain called 2 hours after the party to apologize, which was awfully sweet. But I really wish I'd given him a much bigger range of time so that Conor could have had a real firetruck at his party. Fortunately, it was a surprise and he had no idea what he was missing.

I will say in my Southern understated way that I think he had a good time anyway.

My Hair

This week, I went to have my hair highlighted again. I decided early on in the Make Anita Pretty process that I would shop around and try to find the best person to color my hair. I'll still the the Ouidad process done at a local salon, but I'd like to find a cheap colorist to color my hair. When I was in grad school, I had a woman who rented a booth at a local salon who charged me between $40 and $60 to cut and color my hair. I'm paying twice as much now (at least!) and the results have just never been as good as her.

So in February, I went to someone who owned her own shop to have some highlights put in. She just added some in and it looked nice. However, she just used straigh bleach (not clorox, but certainly not a color) and I thought it was too light for my hair.

So I went to someone else this week. I told him I thought the straight bleach look was too much for my dark hair. I pointed to a curl and said that's the color I want throughout my hair. He either 1) only heard that I thought the highlights were too light or 2) uses one particular procedure (a toner) which colors over the highlights and decided that's what he had to do.

In any case, he removed every and all highlights out of my hair and my hair is back to dark brown. AND I HATED IT. I called him up when I got home and said, I really don't like this can you fix it. So I went back to him yesterday and supposedly added a few more highlights and the toner again. AND I HATE IT. Now instead of dark brown, my hair is medium dark brown. I cannot see any highlights anywhere in my hair. I've cried three times already about how ugly I look. And I can't afford to go somewhere else so soon to have it fixed again. (He didn't charge me the second time for anything except the product, but I felt so guilty I gave him two tips for both colorings).

I cannot stress to you enough about how much I hate the color of my hair right now. I look old. A lot older with this color hair than I did with the bleach I didn't even like. And I don't understand why when I went to him the second time he didn't use the absolute lightest highlights he could to add some light back into my hair?

I HATE MY HAIR. I LOOK UGLY.

And I'm going to be in a wedding in two weeks. And I'm going to Los Angeles two weeks after that. And everyone is going to think I look bad. And in LA, they are going to feel sorry for me.

I honestly don't know if I can take looking in the mirror for three more months and hating what I see. I feel like I'm too old to get this upset about my hair. Nonetheless, I am. And I hate the color of my hair right now.

Word Girl

I love Word Girl. I mean I love her. I sing out her theme song at various times throughout the day.

She's like Buffy for the pre-school set.

Clean and Green

I'm finishing up day 11 on the Quantum Wellness cleanse. So far, I've lost about 4 lbs. I'm not tired. I'm not depriving myself of anything. And I'm certainly not hungry. What I miss thus far is coffee. I can do without the nightly wine, although, Wine is Good. But when I smell that coffee in the morning, I crave it. That is the first and perhaps the only thing I know I'm going to add back to my daily eating immediately.

And I haven't been perfect. On Thursday, at an Indian buffet, I'm pretty sure I ate something with butter in it. And then Sunday morning, I had grits with some soy cheese with casein in it. (You'd be shocked how full that made me feel afterwards, and not in a good way). And on Sunday night, I had a Boca burger, which I'll bet is not completely in the cleanse and a squash dish with some cheese in it. I ate it because I was a guest at someone's house and I am simply not the kind of person who will make my host/ess feel bad about what s/he has cooked by not eating it.

So, honestly, when today I felt more tired than I have since Day 3 of the cleanse. I wonder if milk makes me tired?

In other news, we are really trying to be green around here. We are cutting back water consumption as much as we can. Indeed, the highlight of our dinner party the other night was deciding that we could and probably should flush all the toilets before out guests arrived. It felt very extravagant!

You, of course, know the "poem"? Maybe not? Well, here goes:

If it's yellow,
Let it mellow.
If it's brown,
Flush it down.

Brilliant.

And we also bought a clothes line this weekend. The neighbors who don't like Patches' barking are going to love that!!! What was stunning was that it took 30 minutes to dry our sheets outside and just under an hour for Dave's shirts to be completely, crunchily dry. The air conditioner and the dryer are the two worst polluters in your house. We've really tried not to use our a/c this summer rejoicing in our attic fan and our new windows. And now we're going to start drying our clothes outside.

Although Dave is happy on our electric bill this month, it's not about the money. We've all been living too long with the attitude that if we can afford it, we can use it. That's not right. We need to take care of everything---air, water, animals, earth---so that everyone can have equal, healthy access to it. Otherwise, no one is going to get any of it.

Off of soap box. I'm trying to use this cleanse to be mindful of my place in this world and my impact on it. Just let me know before you come over and we'll be sure to flush all the toilets. That's how much of a giver we are.

Cleanse On!

So Day 4 was by far the easiest thus far. I wasn't tired, I found meals easily and everything seems dandy. (this of course means that tomorrow will suck tofu)

Another one of the reasons I'm doing this cleanse is that I would like my body to be in tip-top shape for the next round of IVF. Yes, we do have that scheduled. We'll be going to the West Coast and it seems like my ovulation cycle will be working quite closely with the conference we're going to be out in the West Coast for anyway. They will have to delay the start of my next cycle a bit to make sure it's that week, but overall, the timing is working out really well!!

So I thought, why not cleanse out my cells/body/gut and give this is a good try?

Also, I like moving back to my vegetarian days. I'm not sure I want to be a full vegeterian again and by saying that, I don't mean that I'm going to rank animals by intelligence and eat based on that. What I'd really like to do is choose meat based on its humane life and death. Dave and I have actually discussed this and it's one of the reasons we're seriously thinking about getting a chicken coop for our back yard. (I am SO not kidding)

Because we'd like to have local, grass fed, free range meat, we know it is going to cost more. And if it's going to cost more, we're going to eat a lot less of it. Ironically, this is how I was raised. (Locally born, grass fed, free range). HA! No, that's how the meat I ate as a child came to our table. But we did it because we didn't have a lot of money and did have a lot of land. Now, we're doing it because it's healthier, more ethical and more sustainable.

So yeah. I just found a farmer from Virginia who is coming to our local farmer's market every three weeks with meat that is free range and grass fed. It's really expensive. So, we'll have it on occassion. And for the rest of the time, we'll have a plant based lifestyle. It feels like it's the right next step for us to take.

The Cleanse, Day 3

I am taking this one day at a time. I really don't know if I will go the whole 21 days. I'm not even sure I will go a whole week. I'm really trying to do this one day and one meal at a time.

Today, I feel much better. My headache is mostly gone and I have not been nearly as tired today as the first two days. Meals are continuing to be frustrating. I'm not sure how to eat enough calories and still be on the cleanse. On thing is clear: when you've cut out animal protein in a salad, nuts and an entire avocado do not add that many calories. Yum!

But it's amazing how much I eat is habitual instead of what I know is healthy for me. I really feel like if I could just stick with this long enough, I would learn a few quicky recipes that I wouldn't have to think so hard about what to make for dinner. (Or lunch. Or breakfast)

Also, the point of this cleanse is not perfection but progress and I've had to remind myself about that. I, like many folks, have tended to believe there is an end point in life where we've learned our lessons, put in our work, done what needs to be done and have "finished." While I like to continually remind Dave that I have tenure, even then, I'm not "done." So doing this cleanse doesn't take me to any end point. Nothing really ever takes us to an endpoint. (She thinks she makes a profound statement, but realizes all pistons may not be firing.) Instead, I'm hoping this takes me to a slightly better place than I was before. That's really all I want from this.

I want to be more aware of what I'm eating and where it comes from and what it does to me. I want to not eat from habit, and instead, to sample from the wide range of healthy options available to me. (Rice noodles are GOOD!!!)

I'm also trying very hard not to judge others for eating things they think are on the cleanse but I don't (e.g., green tea) and for thinking that what I eat is on the cleanse but they don't (e.g., agave nectar--yum!).

I don't think I'm done right now. I don't think I've learned whatever lesson I'm supposed to learn by decided to do this cleanse.

I will be glad when I'm done. That's for sure. I will be very happy to have cheese, coffee and wine back in that exact order. At this point though, I'm thinking I may consciously stay further away from sugar than I have in the best. I am also not sure I'll be as cozy with wheat as I was before.

But this is all day by day. And today is almost done. Hooray! And according to the scale this morning, I've already lost two lbs! HOORAY!

The Cleanse

I am on the second day of a possible 21 day cleanse. I meant to post this yesterday, but when I passed out from fatigue at 2 pm, well, I didn't get around to it.

This cleanse is the Quantum Wellness Cleanse that both Oprah and Dooce have done. And in all honesty, I didn't know Oprah had done until Dooce started talking about starting it herself.

It is not a fast, or at least what I would think of a fast in a typical sense. Instead, it is supposed to be a "cleanse" to rid the body of toxins. You abstain from sugar, alcohol, gluten (i.e., wheat), animal products (i.e., vegan), and caffeine. The theory is that by not eating these foods, you give your body a break and your body gets to heal a bit.

I'm not sure about the science of that, but I do know, as a psychologist, that a ritualistic event marking the passage from one place to another (maybe unhealthy to healthy eating?) is a useful thing. So in that way, a cleanse is a good thing, a nice marker to start being a healthy eater.

The weird thing is that I have lots of perspectives and ideas about this cleanse, but I'm too freakin' tired and unfocused to do so! I'm not as bad as I was yesterday, but I'm definitely a bit "off" (more than usual!). And it's not because I'm not eating enough or I'm not eating enough protein. We're eating a substantial amount of food, although with a 6'4" beanpole in the house, we're having to double the recipes. I'm also eating a sufficient portion of protein through tofu, beans, nuts, etc.

However, I definitely feel different. That sort of freaks me out. What is it in the (sometimes) minimal caffeine, minimal sugar, wheat, cheese/eggs/dairy that I eat or the alcohol that drink that causes such changes in my body that my body is tweaked when it's gone? That is weird and it bothers me.

Dooce and one of her friends stopped the Cleanse after 8 days because they both got so sick with sinus problems. I have subsequently seen that if you're really not eating well (i.e., eating the regular American diet), you should only eliminate one item for the cleanse--like just the sugar or the alcohol or the non-vegan parts. Otherwise, it could shock your body into a "health crisis" as your body tries to shed all your toxins at one time. After learning that, I have decided I will now eat vegeterian meats that are not vegan (they have some animal product in them, usually a milk byproduct). And you'd be stunned how much food that opens up!

So, there we are. I'm taking this one day at a time. I'm not sure I will go the whole 21 days and if I don't, I think I still will have done enough to pass the "ritual" of moving from bad to good eating. It's just so weird to be eating the same amount of calories and a relatively similar proportion of proteins and carbs and having my body freak out so much. That, to me, feels like it's says something.

Still I think that if eating healthy makes you really sick, you should eat healthy more often

Divorce

And no, I'm not talking about my own. Instead, five bloggers that I closely follow are either getting divorced or have recently gotten divorced. If Dooce or Defective Yeti or Hippogriffs decides to leave their respective spouses, I will shut down my own blog as a preventative measure for the sanctity of my own marriage.

Seeing a couple you know or care about divorce is weird when you're single, but its downright fear inducing when you're married. Could what happened to them happen to us and how do we stop it?

I'm old enough to know that we can never really see into the inner workings of another couple. One of my best friends in graduate school left her husband of 20 some odd years even though it looked like, from the outside, they were a great team.

I also know that sometimes couples just shouldn't be. I am thinking of a good friend of mine who left his longterm partner years ago and it was obvious he had grown deeper and further than his partner and it was time to move on to a deeper, healthier life. I'm also thinking of another couple married for 17 years until she found out he had been having an affair for the last 4 years after they lost their first child and, obviously, they didn't deal with that loss as a couple.

And I can also see how a person can feel like he or she is suffocating or being hold back or just can't breathe air because of their relationship. And this is the one that freaks me out the most. I can see how one could let their mind wander down that path and put the blame on one's unhappiness on the other person. Which could be the rightful place where it belongs. Or maybe it's not. I hope I will always choose not to go down that path in my mind.

I don't know if that is what has happened in these relationships I'm following online. I know it has happened in some of the relationships I've seen break down in the past, especially when it doesn't seem obvious to the outsider what is so wrong with these unions.

I do know that my relationship with Dave is the easiest one I've ever had in my life, even when he doesn't properly file away his bills or when I react too quickly at some small offense. (Of course, that last one is always easy on *me*!!) We've been together for nearly 8 years now, and at no point has it felt very hard. Am I not paying enough attention?

A friend of mine who seriously considered divorce last year (with what one might call really good cause) was stunned when I told her recently that "Dave and I just haven't hit a rough spot yet and I hope we'll be able to make it through it when we do."

Tenure? Miscarriages? Vacation? (her bugaboo with her husband) And no rough spots?

Well, maybe rough minutes. Maybe rough hours. But never rough days and certainly never rough weeks.

It just scares me that perhaps one or both of the partners in the couples I see divorcing felt the same way, too. And now they look back and see nothing but rough terrain on what they thought at the time was a sunny, stable landscape.

Monkey Daddy

"You know, I don't have a lot of upper body strength myself."

"Me either."

"But you have those long monkey arms."

"Yeah!," demonstrating, "And they give me leverage!"

Blerk

We finally got the occupational therapist's report on Conor's balance and coordination issues yesterday. The good news is that no one thinks that there are any problems with Conor's intellectual development. That is doing just fine. The other news is that yes, Conor does have a real problem with balance, coordination and tone. His teachers think that his body has just grown quicker than has his ability to keep up.

Indeed, in some ways, his gross body movements and his ability to move objects (i.e., throw or catch a ball) are similar to those of a two year old. YIKES! That part still freaks me out when I read it.

As I suspected, the OT confirmed this morning that the only real problem that would happen should we not engage in therapy is that Conor would become very frustrated in group activities when his friends could do things he could not. Speaking from our own tall experience, Dave and I can relate.

And yes, we have noticed things. Conor doesn't climb the monkey bars as well as the other children. Once, this weekend, he tried one funky ladder at the playground and when he reached the top and was supposed to lean over and climb onto the slide, his legs were visibly shaking, he was so afraid he was going to fall. Also, when we asked him to balance on one foot (a marker for this sort of problem), he wasn't not able to do so for one full second, a skill that he should be able to do for 5 seconds without swaying right now.

I pointed out to the OT that Conor can hit a ball with a bat when we pitch it to him and that he can really swing a golf club. The OT said it's not what he does, but how he does it. Conor has to contort himself to do these things. My hopes are that once his body can do these things more easily and gracefully, he could really be able to tap into that eye-hand coordination he has (and we don't).

I'm only slightly upset by this. There is no "real" problem here. He is emotionally, socially and developmentally really blooming. It's just a bit unnerving to find out that my precious little pumpkin is not perfect. (and no, I don't expect perfection, but wasn't that a nice alliterative sentence?) Dave and I both acknowledge that neither of us would have noticed this if the school hadn't. And if we can fix these issues before Junior High gym, why on earth wouldn't we?

So he will engage in play occupational therapy twice a week at school. From what I gather, it's called play therapy because it feels like playing for the children. (And the OT said Conor was one of the sweetest little boys she's worked with!) We will get some exercises to do at home, too. And also, she encouraged us to let him play on the playground more, to take him swimming and to enroll him in a gym class.

So there we are. I have to admit that I'm glad we're at this school where they are trained to notice these things. But I sort of wish we didn't think there was a problem. But it will give us all practice, no? Conor will practice now when it's fun and it's not embarrassing in front of his friends, and we will practice dealing with all the problems that are going to come up in our child's life.

The Microwave Done Dinged

I love my neighborhood. I assume that most people like their neighborhood, but I love where I live. (Apart from the evil rats--6 dead now!---and the wiley rabbits).

This weekend was the third Art Krawl in Plaza-Midwood. The neighborhoods around Charlotte have Art Crawls regularly, but only recently have they been getting more popular; they "sprint" now instead of crawl.

However, the one we went to on Saturday night rocked. It was jam packed full of people we knew and people we didn't, and I have to be honest that we knew a lot of the people. It extended from the Harris Teeter past the train tracks to DI Central, which if you know the 'hood is a really long way.

We saw art. We heard bands. We dunked the roller girls for $1. We helped the belly dancers find the tattoo and piercing parlor. We caught bubbles and mardi gras beads and we didn't have to show our ***s. And we stayed just at one end of the party/krawl. Next time, we're going to eat before we go so we can explore more.

Of course, there is a limit to what we can do. Part of the family friendly vibe of the festival means that families are on their way out when the more fun part starts. That's absolutely fine, but we noticed when we were leaving that it was already past dusk. And in the summer, that's late, my friends.

As we left with another family, I noted that The Butter was at Room Temperature in the Child Melting-0-meter. When we arrived at our friends' house and their son began wailing that the house was too dark, I upped the meter to The Butter is in the Microwave.

Dave looked at me and said, "The Microwave Done Dinged."

So, yes, Plaza-Midwood and the South have rubbed off on all of us in this hood. It's a good thing we have no intention of ever leaving where we are.

This and That

I know that, according to the rules of good blogging, I'm supposed to have a point when I post, a shining insight into life as a mother thing. One, do not assume this is a "good" blog. And two, I shine not.

Instead, I kill rats. HA! 4 and a half rats dead. Two died right off the bat, umm, right off the trap. We found a half eaten rat carcass after our trip back to West VA. Gross, I know, but happily dead. We killed another this week. Dave noted it was fat. I noted she was pregnant. I felt bad about that until I saw a rat dive into our potato bed, and then my sentiment was to kill more the rats before they get their rat cooties on my potatoes.

Scarlett has been sick lately. I told Dave that if she "passed", I wanted a kitten for my birthday. However, last night he mentioned that he thought a pellet rifle would be useful, too. I seriously thought about it. How about a kitten and a pellet gun? That says a lot about the kind of southern woman I am.

*****************************************

The other night, Conor and I were snuggling before bed. He looked up and saw his Thomas the Tank catalog in one of his new bed's cubby holes! He loves to read the catalog as he goes to sleep and I think starting a habit of reading in bed before the age of 4 is pretty darn good.

"Do you want to read it?" I ask.

"No," he insists. "I want to snuggle with you."

He puts his hands on either side of my face and gives me a kiss.

(((pause)))

He looks deep into my eyes and then he begins pushing my face away. "You can go now."

Ok. Thanks! I won't let the door hit me on the way out!

*************************************

Steve and Barry's. Steve and Barry's? Folks, do you know about Steve and Barry's? God bless America, people. Do you KNOW about Steve and Barry's?

I surely didn't until yesterday. The NY Times recently featured Steve and Barry's as having some of the best quality cheap clothes in the US. Their goal is to have Old Navy, Gap and (sometimes) Banana Republic quality clothes FOR LESS THAN $10 EACH! Their shirts are definitely Old Navy quality. But their pants are NICE. And I bought a fitted Bitten dress for $8.98 yesterday. And it fits well. And the Bitten pants I bought fit well and they are pretty!!

I bought Mossimo shorts from Target last weekend for $16 and an Isaach Mizrhai sweater for $24 and neither of those have the quality material or construction as the Bitten clothes I bought.

Seriously. Everything in the store was $8.98. And it fit. And it looked pretty on me.

Wow. Dead rats and new clothes. What a great week this has been.

What My Husband Can Do

My husband made this bed. By himself. It is by far the best piece of furniture we have in the house. It's a captain's bed with 12 (!) drawers in which we can store all of Conor's clothes and linens as well as all of our guest linens and pillows.

This is about midway into the bed making when Dave was finishing up the headboard and the bed base.

Here is the foot board about halfway through the staining process. (I don't have a lot of early pictures because at the beginning, it was essentially just stacks of specifically cut pieces of wood). Also, Ithe dark stain comes from first staining the wood red and then staining it dark. (or something like that; Dave can explain in the comments how wrong I am)

Here are Conor, Patches and Dave putting the base in Conor's bedroom. Each drawer is custom fit to its slot, so you might see numbers in the drawers.

And here is the final installation with the steps Conor has to climb to get into his BIG big boy bed.

You may note to the right is Conor's "closet" in which we have now put all his toys stacked in bookcases. He has so much more space in his room now. And we have more furniture available to us (he surrendered his dresser to me. HA! I have my own dresser now!!).

It is amazing that Dave made this bed. It is truly beautiful and perhaps if you click on the picture above you can see the gorgeous hardware Dave bought for the drawers. This bed is so strong and sturdily made that I think our grandkids will use it.

All hail the hunky handy husband!

God Bless Neem

I have learned a lot this year in my gardening. First, neem is the best thing invented by trees in India and Pakistan. It's sort of like that other bug killer I love, BT: it kills the bad bugs and doesn't harm the good ones and has not effect on humans. My tomatoes were being attacked by aphids and after two weeks of neem application, my tomatoes are all happily climbing up their trellises.

Yes! I've got my tomatoes and cucumbers on trellises. Thank you Dave for making that for me! Theoretically, they should take up less space and keep the fruit healthier. I will tell you that both of those vine-y plants are growing up and I think this actually may work!!

I've also kind of figured out who needs extra fertilizer (asparagus) and who doesn't (tomatoes). I'm growing potatoes under 12 inches of straw. I found out today, I've probably put too much on there, but oh, well. I'm learning; I have not yet fully learned.

We have killed three rats now. It's nearly 100 degrees and bunnies often from the heat, so I have my fingers crossed for some dead rabbit soon. Groundhogs and chipmunks are not a problem here in NC, but I wish for their death, should others find them to be a nuisance.

We're still having problems--cabbage moths has eaten more of my bok choi than I have and our turnips are really bitter. (I'm thinking that's b/c they are better in the fall than the spring/summer) The onions I planted in the spring were still tiny; I think I should be planting them (along with the garlic) in the fall. So I shall.

I'm getting a pint of killer ladybugs tomorrow and we are thinking of buying beneficial nematodes to spray in the garden and yard.

I also found out that you can freeze dill and basil but not cilantro. I even bought a special freezer air vacuum thingy to help save some of our garden.

I still completely suck as a gardener. But I'm learning. I take a little step forward each year.

ETA: I totally forgot to blog about my whole reason for knowing I'm learning and knowing I need to learn more: flea beetles. They make these lacey little holes in eggplant leaves. I've had them every year and didn't know what was up. Well, it's a flea beetle. And flea beetles die, Die, DIE when exposed to neem. And beneficial nematodes. Who the hell knew?

Peter Rabbit Must Die

Once again showing the NY Times bases its stories on my life, today's lead in the home section is about (sub)urban farmers who resort to killing the rats, bunnies, woodchucks and groundhogs eating their vegetables. I am the target audience of this article considering my progression from "the bunnies deserve their carrot tax" to "Are guns organic?" to "I am going to kill me some motherf*cking bunnies."

Yeah.

So we've taken out two rats. Unfortunately, we've spotted more. We had this same problem last year and I be godd*mned if I'm going to turn my garden into a wildlife buffet.

I'm a wee bit salty tonight, eh?

My master gardener neighbor is currently stalking the bunnies. I really would not be surprised to see this very refined woman whacking a baby bunny with a shovel at this point.

We have declared war. And a pellet gun is not out of the question. Although I did buy a cage to encase the plants with this week. We'll see how that works first.

My Heart Might Really Explode

How is it possible to keep falling in love with someone over and over again? Although, I do fall in love again with Dave, it’s Conor who keeps making my heart want to explode out of my chest and shoot fireworks over my head.



When last we left the Mother Thing family, we had gone all the way around our ass to get to our elbow. Upon arriving at our elbow (i.e., West Virginia), we prepared for Cousin Rachel's wedding. Cousin Rachel is Conor's godmother and a recent graduate of the Naval Academy. As a four-year starter for the Naval Academy volleyball team and 3.9 GPA physics major, she has real problems with focus, talent and drive. She's also beautiful. Nonetheless, she still agreed to be Conor's godmother. And when she asked Conor to be the ring bearer in her wedding, we were thrilled. And under-prepared for the cuteness that would ensue.

Conor and the flower girl (age 2) practiced very, very hard at the rehearsal walking up and down and up and down the aisle holding hands. I told Conor he had to help her because she was so young. (I figured that would keep him less frightened for himself) But when they had to walk down the aisle for real, he was carrying a pillow and she was carrying her basket. They couldn’t hold hands and I think, by Conor’s slightly frightened expression, it was a bit scarier for them both.

When Conor arrived at my pew, he worriedly whispered, “Mommy! She didn’t drop her flowers!!” “It’s OK, honey!” I assured him. And then she realized what she had done, and turned her flower basket completely upside down and dumped them all right there in front of us! It was verrrry cute.

The two of them passed out in the pew during the service, exhausted from their adrenaline rush. But then they got better.

The reception turned into a dance-o-rama. This is a preview of Conor in about 18 years at a college formal (from the beginning of the reception), a little sweaty, a little too happy, and eyes partly closed.

And this is what Conor and his date are going to look like at the end of the evening.


Let me tell you that my shy son danced. He danced his heart out in the middle of the dance floor with strangers coming to take pictures of his adorable self as he danced. Conor kept trying to get her to twirl (because he and I twirl when we dance) but at 2 years old, she rightfully was not quite getting his lead on the twirling.

I tell you it was an amazing sight. He was in the spotlight for an entire day and blossomed in a way I could have never imagined. He never melted down once which alone is pretty impressive for an almost 4 year old.

And the next morning, he woke up very early still buzzing from the previous day’s excitement. He snuggled in bed with us and said, “I like….” He paused. “Dancing with the flower girl?” I suggested. “No.” “Dancing with Cousin Carter?” I suggested. “No.”

Pause.

“I like…Cousin Rachel.” Because as much fun as he had that day, he knew it was really his godmother’s special day.

Things I've Learned

We are on the final leg of our one week family vacation. I've learned a lot on this trip. Beforehand, I thought that the fastest way from North Carolina to West Virginia was through Virginia. That actually still may be the fastest way, but Mapquest sent us from Asheville to Huntington, WV through Tennessee, Virginia, Kentucky and the final 10 miles in West Virginia. This morning, we went to get Conor's tux to be the ring bearer in a wedding (cute, cute!) in Ohio. I have travelled through some states this week, I'm telling you.

Second, we have learned that when Conor says "I have to pee" when he's in the car, he means I HAVE TO PEE.

Finally, we've learned that Conor has the bladder of a camel and should you need to put out a fire, our son could pee on it and extinguish it promptly.

These are all good things to know.

Might Take A While

Apparently, tenure isn't completely over. After what I thought is the Provost's "final" approval for me to officially get tenure, there is another vote back in the department. I can tell it's a big deal because everyone is talking about it. I am concerned about 3 people voting against me, but one is leaving and in a department of 30 people, 3 people who hate me (now 2) don't meant that much. And besides the provost and the dean have given me amazingly strong support. I have to be honest that I'm feeling my oats and I shout out "YOU CAN ALL BITE MY ASS!" during a faculty meeting.

Then I think about my garden. Then I am in my garden and I am late in planting what I need to plant in my garden. I have tons of open space and only weeds are going to grow and I am going to spend all this time and we'll have absoutely no organic vegetables to show for it.

I am a loser in every thing I do!!!!!

And then I wake up. "Dave, Dave!!!" I say pushing on my poor sleeping husband's shoulder. "I have tenure, right? I have tenure! Right? They can't change their minds now. Right?" I start shouting, "DO I HAVE TENURE!??!?!"

"Yes, honey. Yes. You have tenure. You will always have tenure. It's ok."

I calm down slightly. First, I vow to myself to never judge my performance in the garden again. It's supposed to be fun. With rats and bunnies and slugs and drought and the wrong planting time and everything else that can go wrong, this should be something that I enjoy and don't judge myself.

Second, I have tenure. And I will always have tenure. And now I know that the dreams I had in grad school in which I forgot to drop a class until the final which changed to the dreams I had as a new professor in which I forgot to prep a class which changed to dreams that I had not completed my degree have changed and will always now reflect not having tenure. It's apparently common.

There's a Rat in the Kitchen, What I'm-a Gonna Do?

I love youtube. I can start singing some song from my youth \, and WHAM! I can watch the video. (WHAM! Ha ha! Get it?!)

So why on earth would I be singing:

"There's a rat in my kitchen, what I'm-a gonna do? There's a rat in my kitchen, what I'm-a gonna do? I'm going to fix that rat, that's what I'm gonna do. I'm going to fix that rat!"

Three guesses and the hint is "Not My Kitchen."

First, I shall describe an afternoon earlier this week while I was working at my computer in my home office. I saw a movement out in the garlic. Now, I love working here lately because I can see the birds pecking around outside and it's quite nice. But as they say in some parts of the south, "That won't no bird."** I scream and run outside to the garden, because I'm an idiot. The rat screams a little ratty scream and then runs....into my rosemary bush!!! About 3 feet from me. Apparently, that's his little rat's nest. And although Friends and neighbors were incredulous, I found a bitten off piece of lettuce near where he'd been.

All this time, I've been trying to keep the bunnies and slugs at bay and my real enemy has been a g*ddamn rat! And you know when the humane, crunchy, granola garden sites tell you to kill the fuckers, well, that's what you do.

Last night, Dave set out some traps, to no avail. I set them back out this morning (keeping Patches inside the whole time) and worked at my computer to wait for the show.

Oh, I got a show alright. I watched as the rat wandered into the lettuce, getting closer and closer to the trap. Then he sniffed it. Then he walked over it and into the garlic finally meandering into the yard. Great. And yes, I have tried yelling at it to get out of my garden, but it ignores me. Apparently, rats acclimate to loud noises.

About 10 minutes after watching the rat mock our attempts to murder it, a BUNNY ran through the garden. What the freaking hell?! Is my garden the Mother Thing Wild Animal Park? I swear I thought Bambi was going to show up next.

You know, I am southern. I could get a little bb gun and sit here at my desk waiting for some interloper to stop by. I'm only half kidding.

**I am fully aware (now) that "That won't no bird" translates to "That will not no bird" but I'm telling you, that's a phrase to most native southerners have heard, if not actually said.

One Child Left Behind

I have been very upset by the news of the Chinese earthquake, particularly the stories of the parents who, due to the one-child policy, have lost their only child. I keep walking into daycare with wet eyes from sitting in the parking lot and listening to the sad end of the NPR stories on failed rescues. I know I should stop listening, but I also want to let my soul send out its support to those devastated parents.

As I told a friend this week, I don't have the one-child gene. This is despite the fact that many, if not most, of my friends are happy with just having one child. I really feel like there is an empty space in our family and there is a little soul is trying very hard to reach us. I actually stole that quote from the intake worker at the West Coast Clinic we are looking into. And yes, despite being all matter of fact when we were talking before, when she said that, I started to cry.

We still haven't had our debriefing meeting with the clinic here, and Dave keeps saying that we're not leaving here until we see what they are going to offer us. Nonetheless, my faith in this clinic is severely shaken. I know the success rate at the other clinic and it's going to take a lot for me not to insist that that's where we go.

-------------------

Ok. That's the easy part. I feel like I need to address the brouhaha in the comments from the last post. Gabi? Honey? You might want to step off a little. I don't want to reprimand anyone and, certainly, I don't want to censor anyone. But I do want everyone to play nicely and name calling does not fall under what I deem "playing nicely."

Also, I am not going to defend my choices here. I'm just not going to do it. And as my poor mother can tell you, it's been years and years and years and years and years (and years) since anyone has successfully told me what to do. I appreciate the different opinions of the people around me. It's nice and it's often quite useful (Weick's requisite variety and all). But Dave and I get to determine what is appropriate for us and our family.

So I certainly don't want to stop people from commenting here. I do want to encourage respect for other's diversity of opinions and experiences. And I really do want to give a mini-lecture from my knowledge of computer-mediated communication (CMC), and hyperpseronsal communication and the flashbulb effect of flaming on CMC research. But instead, I'm going to go read an article I'm co-authoring on EQ and stress and then read my student's masters thesis proposal on entitativity and online technology, and wait for the rain.

Not Doing as Well as I Thought

Apparently, Saturday when we got the news, was the numb stage of grief. Yesterday started the anger stage (which remains) and today is definitely starting the sad and for some reason anxious stage.

I really want to have another child. I'm afraid if we only have Conor, I will smother him with my love. I need to spread out all the attention and affection I have to give or it will be too much for one little boy to grow up healthy. And because we are not made of money nor covered by insurance, I feel like we need to be very calculated in what we do next.

One option we are seriously considering is going to a fertility inclinic on the west coast. They have outstanding success rates for women of my age and for problems like what I have. It's not convenient and it is likely to be a bit more expensive. However, it is also significantly likely to be more successful.

I really just want to have one or two "good tries" and this last experience does not seem like a try at all. If the path for us does not lead to a child, then I will eventually accept it. But I feel like we really have to TRY before I can say we've gotten there. And I just don't feel like we have.

Zero

Nothing made it through the night.

We'll be setting up a meeting at the end of the week with the RE.

I'm sad, but I'm ok. I may sound like a self-deluding moron, but I do believe the end of this path is going to be good. It's just not at a good place right now.

Not Good

We only have 4 eggs to work with. We won't even know until tomorrow if any of them fertilize.

I know I'm supposed to be all "the right thing will happen when it's supposed to happen." Nonetheless, I am very sad.

Still Working

Yesterday, a colleague approached me and said, "You look really good. Your skin looks beautiful. I can tell you are feeling much better."

"Thank you for noticing! I'm using some new skin products now, especially this new primer, Lorac Aquaprime, which is fantastic!! Thank you so much."

"Umm. No. It's your health. Makeup can't do that. Your skin is too smooth and bright."

Oh, OK. Sure. That's the whole point of having acid eat off the dead skin cells on my face every day and using this AMAZING new primer (much better than the Revlon one I was using) is to make my skin smootha and bright. But, sure. I am healthier than I was a few months ago. So, uh, yeah.

The eggs are looking goodish. We're in double digits. Not high double digits, but over 10. The scoop is that not all of them may be viable, but we'll see.

I'll let you know what I know when I know it.

Doing My Civic Duty

I'm just back from voting here in the 15th precinct in Charlotte. We're expecting this to be a record turn out if the 45,000 early voters (up from 5,000 for the last primary) are any indication.

After I voted, I went for a jog around the neighborhood and counted 22 Obama yard signs, 12 Hillary yard signs and 1 Ron Paul. I love the Ron Paul sign; it seems symbolic of our neighborhood.

We tend to be a liberal, diverse 'hood. We went 90% Kerry in the last election and pretty much, you can pick any variable you want (ethnicity, age, SES, sexual orientation) and it describes us. And everyone seems to be talking about the election. I was walking through the parking lot of Home Depot on Sunday and two apparent strangers were discussing Obama versus Clinton. At Lenscrafters last week, some older woman was proclaiming the strengths of Obama to one of the employees. This is not a common occurrence in the keep your politics to yourself culture of the South.

I'm excited and anxious about the results tonight.

Much like I am excited and anxious about the upcoming IVF. Despite being Ms. Blogarama (Dr. Blogarama?) about some pretty gory details of my life, I feel myself holding tight to some of what is going on here. I don't want to jinx anything. I do feel good. I'm not having any hyperstimulation signs. And other than that, I will tell you that Things Look Good. But no more.

As soon as I have actual numbers of retrieved (Friday) and fertilized (Saturday), I'll post. Fingers, legs and hair crossed that everything stays on track and we have something to transfer next Wednesday.

GO OBAMA! Go little eggies!!!

Maynia

Yesterday was the annual M!dwood Maynia neighborhood festival. On the one hand, this is one of my favorite times to live where I live, what with the 5K race, the pet parade and the 6 hour festival in our park. On the other hand, this is the year anniversary of my running the 5K and losing my 11w5d daughter.

I think that miscarriage anniversary was less painful because we are right in the midst of the IVF cycle. So I have hope and excitement and not just waves of regret for losing our last pregnancy.

Plus, the pet parade is just so much fun! All the dogs and cats and gerbils and (fake) iquanas following behind the Charlotte Youth Organization Drum Corps is just a lot of fun!!!

So yes, the festival was fun. And the IVF is moving along. I think I mentioned that I wasn't quite sure if my estimates were correct about when everything would happen, and I was right in that I was wrong. It's *this* Friday not last Friday that they will collect the eggs. The good news is that so far, I'm doing great! In fact, the nurse used the word "perfect" so we have our fingers crossed that it will all go well. I'm not having any signs of Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome (OHSS) so that is good news. Although we want tons of eggs, we don't need to have me get really sick in the process.

So Dave has finished up his Cipro and I remain on my drugs until until and we'll go through the monitoring as we need to next week. The estimated day of transfer back to me is May 14th and I'll be on bedrest that Weds-Friday. That's the status for right now.

Finals are this week and I still have quite a few papers to grade. But things are moving along and we're happily moving along with them.

Not Quite Getting the Point

Two scenes from daycare.

Scene #1

Conor is running around the room. He goes up to the one child in the room who I can safely guess his parents are Republican. They still have their Bush sticker on their car from the last election. Conor obviously has no conception of "Democrat" or "Republican" but nonetheless, he leans over the other boy and says Obama! Obama!! ObamaObamaObama!! (It is a fun word to say). The other boy rears back, scrunches his face, and says "Stop saying that!!!"

Yes, indeed. Parents do pass their politics on to their children. (At least when they are really young!) ;-)

Scene #2

The teacher asks Conor what does Obama mean. Conor tells him it's the sign, with the two poles that goes where the grass lives.

"Yes," the teacher says, "but what does it mean?"

Conor thinks a bit about this one. "It means keep off the grass."

Apparently, Some of the Advice Works

Yesterday was the last day of classes for this school year.

HOOORAY!!! YIPPEE!!! OH JOY! OH JOY! OH JOY!! OMYGOD(DESS) YESYESYESYESYESYES!!!

((ahem))

Besides being THRILLED OUT OF MY SKULL that the last day of classes was here, I realized I had not worn the pretty dress I bought last fall with the express purpose of impressing my students that I actually could look decent. I also had purchased the Appropriate Support Garmet (girdle slip) as recommended by my How Not to Look Like a Used Up Old Hag book. I have to admit that I felt pretty.

I walked into the classroom and everyone oohed and ahhed over my new dress. (Although I do try more on days that I teach, I still think it's obvious that my usual motto for dressing is to Not Be Naked) Then one particularly attractive woman said "Oh my GOSH! You've lost so much weight!! How much weight did you lose?!!?!?"

I replied, "20 lbs??? 30?? Exactly how fat did you think I was? Check minus for you!"

Actually, no I did not say that. It would have been funny. Admit it. And I didn't even say "Girrrrl! I'm wearing a girdle! I haven't lost any weight at all!!!" Normally, I would say that, but I'm trying to be more discreet lately. (ha!) I just said, Oh, I don't know! But I thought this was such a pretty dress!!

And then I thought, good advice, this control slip. I do look nice!

Reading

Conor can now reconize and read two words effortlessly:

Conor

and

Obama.

Glorious, Gorgeous Rain

It's really clear that we haven't had a lot of rain around here when I sit in my home office watching this steady rain and am happy. This rain could make a great deal of difference in our drought if it stays steady.

The weather is also coolish. We've had our heat/AC off for nearly 3 weeks now. And the windows we installed last fall may actually let us keep the AC off for another month or so. We can finally get cool air in our kitchen and in our bedroom. We can also hear the birds chirping in the morning which on the one hand is nice, but on the other is a bit annoying. I know the early bird gets the worm. But the early bird might also get a shoe thrown at his head if he doesn't watch it.

I've got most of the garden in including my tomatoes and peppers who I do not think are going to like the 40 degree low they are forecasting tomorrow night. Any suggestions on what to do?

I'm also really, really excited that Dave put up a fancy trellis that we're going to try to grow both the cucumbers and the tomatoes on this year. If we can train them to grow up instead of out, we'll have a lot more room in the garden and supposedly better veggies. I also realized why my carrots have all died. I wasn't supposed to plant them until this weekend, not a month ago. Whoops! I can see the new rhubarb from here and I'm very disappointed with this year's asparagus crop. I did something wrong last year (maybe trimming back the ferns?) and we are not getting much at all this year.

Finally, I hate slugs. I think we have the worms and bunnies under control, but I can now spot slug eatage. And somebody is going to pay for that. I may have gained weight in the last few years, but I be damned if a slug is going to get the better of my garden.

Now, back to the article I'm reading on bribery. Interesting, but not enough so to keep me from checking email.

Thank God(dess) for Photoshop

Oh my word. Why didn't anyone tell me about the full set of baggage I've been carrying under my eyes? I had my official headshot made for campus this week. They are doing a feature on my research for the alumni magazine and needed a mugshot, I mean, headshot for the story. Why oh why did I not get this picture made 6 years and 20 pounds ago when I arrived?

I looked like a complete and utter HAG! The photographer assured me that he could help with photoshop and demonstrated by covering up the ginourmous vein on my forehand, my deep crow's feet and even the pores around my nose.

Ummm, thanks, for making me feel so beautiful!

In all honesty, I have rarely felt so ugly.

That said, I'm thrilled about the photoshopped results. I do look a lot younger if not much thinner.

Oh, I haven't shared much about the Not to Look Old efforts. I'm using most all of the Oil of Olay Prescriptives products. I *thought* they were working until I saw the bags under my eyes and the wrinkles around my eyes. I guess that the problem is that I don't grin like a complete fool when I look in the mirror, but I nonetheless cannot help myself in front of a camera.

Oh, joy.

Packin' Heat

It's been an eventful week already. (Did I mention spending last Thursday in two doctor's offices because they thought I had a hole in my eye? No? Well, now I did. Everything is fine, but I was not amused at the time). Ok. Back to this week.

The doctor's visit on Monday was uneventful but exciting. They did an ultrasound to check for ovarian cysts and a blood test to check that my hormones have stopped. Everything looked great and they have given me my schedule for the estrogen and hcg. It looks like we're aiming for retrieval starting next Friday and up to Monday. I felt like they were wanting to have me hold off until Monday so that the embryologist could do the ICSI (sperm injection) and monitor embryo growth, but I guess we'll have to wait to see what happens when it happens!

As for school, so far none of my colleagues have had anyone demonstrating with their empty holsters. And interesting very few of the students have heard about the protest, but as I predicted, those who have heard are appalled. As one grad student commented, would you really want to give an F to as student with a gun?

In any case, there has been no holster or gun sighting. Until today.

Today was the first day of presentations for the students in my class. I was sitting in the middle of the room listening to an interesting talk on interent gambling when there was an usual and persistent knock on the door. People do not knock on closed university classroom doors.

"Come in," I called out.

Some dude with his hat on backwards, jeans, and a baggy jacket said "I need to see the class instructor."

I noted how odd it must be for me to rise from the middle of the classroom and I walked to the door.

"Yes, what is it?" I asked him.

"I am a police officer and I need to see one of your students," he said.

Sure you are, punk, I thought to myself, being well versed in stalking and domestic violence and I was generally not trusting this dude whom could I towerover. Out loud I said, "Can I see your badge?"

He pulled back his jacket and then I could note, quite easily, that he was packin'.

OHMYGOD! I thought!! IT'S A NUTJOB!! (I'm a psychologist; I use the technical terms.) OHMYGOD!!! OHMYGOD!! Out loud I said pointing to his gun, "ARE YOU ONE OF THOSE PROTESTERS????" and regretting my post earlier that I trusted the protesters not to really bring guns on campus.

"I'm not in uniform. I'm doing a lot of undercover work."

The dude looked 18 years old at max. He handed me an ID and a badge. I remember he did because I remember the physical motion. But I am here to tell you that I have no idea what either one had written on it or what they looked like. As I have taught both Intro to Psych and Critical Thinking, I can tell that I know about the weapon effect, which basically means that whenever a gun is involved, all focus goes to the gun (which was snapped into his holster). I'm here to testify that it's true, even for people who know about it.

"I need to see your student AC. Her car was broken into and we think we know who did it." We've had a string of on campus crimes and the police have not been amused.

Ironically, guess who was giving the very interesting talk on internet gambling?? AC!

"She is doing her class presentation right now," I told him. "I mean Right Now! Right Now!! You're going to have to wait."

So then I came back into class, and honestly, the presentation was so good that the students were questioning AC without me being in there. That is not typical! I reassured them that all was ok and waited for the questions to subside. They didn't and I had to call out "One last question!" in a high pitched voice. And then as AC went back to her seat, I had to intercept her in the middle of class to let her know that oh, by the way, the officer is here for you and your car has been broken into! And I want to do this giving the woman some privacy while we are standing in the middle of class and all the other students are watching. This is a small, interactive class that has developed real feelings of groupiness together, so let's just say it was awkward and I was still freaking out about the gun outside!

So we did find out later that she's ok and a good samaritan student called the cops to stop there being more damage on her car. (We're such a tight class, she just posted her update on the class blog) I really am still a bit amazed by the whole experience. Of all weeks to have an armed undercover cop show up at my classroom door...

Really. Can I have an easy uneventful week or two until I can get this IVF thing done? I'd really like it.

Betabase

What is up with Betabase.info? It's the best site to obsess over beta numbers and it's been down since Friday. The only thing I've been able to find is this, the google cached version of the main page. If anybody has any information, please leave a comment.

This and That

You know, considering the name of the blog, I do think it's ok to sometimes have a collection of topics in one post.

So, the lupron. I am not having night sweats or hot flashes. No indeedy. I am not having any of the typical menopause symptons. Instead, my main side effect is that I am a bitch. (More so than usual) And I am tired, really, really tired. Yeah, so I'm bitchy and tired. Who wants to be around me in about 15 years!? Won't that be fun!

On a more amusing note, last week I went to collect Conor from daycare. His school has a separate class for art and the kids go there at assigned times. I arrived when Conor was still arting. I walked into the atelier (really, that's what they call it), and I saw my son running around the room with his Thomas the Tank sunglasses on, a wand, wings, and a long pink frilly dress.

"Mommy!! I'm a butterfly! I'm a butterfly!"

"You're beautiful, son!" I called back to him. The teacher was worried that I would be upset upon seeing my son in a long pink frilly dress. (Little does she know!)

"The kids all love that dress," she reassured me. "They all want to wear it."

"Oh, that's fine," I assure her. "But the next time he puts it on, could you get a camera?!" I was thinking to myself, I don't care if he goes to the prom with a girl, a boy or a turtle, that picture is definitely coming back out!

We're anticipating fun times at school this week. In "honor" of the Va Tech massacre, students who believe that they should be able to carry concealed weapons on campus with the correct permits are planning on wearing their empty holsters to class all next week. As this is their first amendment right to protest (which I fully support), we have been instructed on not drawing attention to the students nor singling them out of anything bad. However, that's definitely NOT what we need: students who are hopped up on hormones, lacking the requisite amount of sleep and often hungover or high being able to carry guns to class. Yeah. Not so much. We have been instructed about how to contact the police should something be amiss, but I doubt there will be problems. I imagine the students are taking very seriously the limits of what they can and cannot do as part of their protest. I also suspect there will soon be a counter demonstration and that their goals are going to backfire. I am not looking forward to class next week. I sincerely hope none of my students are going to do this.

That's about all! (It's enough!) My cycle started over the weekend, so I'm going in on Monday to have my next round of blood work and then find out when I start my estrogen and Hcg! I'm hoping that This, That and the Mother Bitch will be able to retire for a few more years.

Bouncing

Besides my fat a$$, it's possible that emails sent to me in the last 2 days will bounce. We upgraded our cable and like the phone companies of yore, they switched our internet service provider without our consent. We are working to get our account back.

Thanks!

Trial Transfer

I'm just back from my trial transfer for the IVF. The point of this visit was to make sure there were no surprises when the doctor moves the (hopefully) two blastocysts from the "test tube" to my warm welcoming uterus.

As the doc said, now the hard part begins.

On the one hand, I'm excited. On the other, I feel like we're just paying good money so that 10 years from now we can say "We gave it our best."

Running Around Outside

(((Brrrringgg. Brrrrring)))

"Hello?"

"Anita? This is your neighbor, C***."

"Hey! How are you doing?!"

"Fine. I just thought you'd want to know that Patches is running around in your backyard with something that looks like shorts."

Pause.

"Are you sure it's shorts and not underwear?"

"I'm just saying it looks like shorts."

"Thanks!"

Still Psyched

Despite being absolutely knackered from the lupron, I am still quite happy to have the official word about tenure. I've known since January that it was highly likely. My letter from the Dean in support of tenure, which I got in January, was quite positive. Although I've only ever seen one letter for tenure (my own), my chair described the letter as very enthusiatic. That's always nice to hear!

Folks, I honestly have typed and deleted, typed and deleted, and typed and deleted half a dozen other thoughts about this process. But I have to tell you that I am not kidding when I say I am absolutely exhausted. I'm not even sure I can think straight to write much more on how happy I am about tenure and how I can't wait to see what happens next.

Big Ass Promotion

One of the frustrating things, I discovered, about being an assistant professor is abbreviating one's profession. I don't really want to write down that I am an ass professor (I'm not that self-deprecating!). And asst professor doesn't adequately distinguish between being an assistant and an associate professor. So for the last 6 1/2 years, I've not been able to abbreviate my job.

However, as of about 45 minutes ago, I can now write assoc professor (with tenure). Yes, I've finally received the official notice that I have been promoted to associate professor with tenure as of July 1. I'm a Big Ass now.

This has been a hellish process. I have not been able to blog about it as I would have liked for fear of being dooced. But the nice thing about tenure is that they can't fire me now unless I skip my office hours or sleep with a student. Unless, I'm a man. But that's a whole other story.

I fully realize that the tenure process is rough on everyone. But no one who knows my situation would deny me when I say I've had it rougher than most. Let me let you in on a few secrets. My miscarriages have run about lockstep with most of the really bad things that have happened at work here. A false correlation? Maybe. But I have yet to have the pleasure of saying, well, my job has problems, but at least my family is growing. (Or vice verse, but truly the former is more important).

I will hopefully reveal a bit of my anger over this tenure process with a story: Over the Christmas holidays when we went to Omaha for a wedding, we had to fly through Chicago. As we landed in Chicago, we hit some turbulence, and my morbid mind immediately thought "We're all going to die." And then I followed up with a scenario in which the Charlotte Observer profiled all the local residents who died in the crash. In this scene, they are interviewing my chair who says "Yes, she was in the middle of the tenure process. It's very sad. We've decided to award her tenure posthumously." A millisecond later, I imagined my bony, charred arms rising from the grave to give a two bird salute to this man.

To say that none of my good friends or family would be surprised to see a whirligig of birds being flipped from my raised and rotating arms would be an understatement. Indeed, my favorite response when people ask me about my future plans at work is to say "I really want to apply environmental psychology to virtual communities. I see myself really making new inroads into the theory of online behavior. Actually, I envision a lot of bird flipping."

But enough of the negative. I can only bitch about this so long. I have tenure. I am an associate professor. I'm going to go home and drink champagne. Finally.

Conversations You Don't Have

"You know, things are still a little tweaked. And the weirdest thing is that I can poop on demand."

"Poor Demand."

Cropdusting

You'd think I'd be referring to yesterday's war declared on slugs and bunnies. However, I'm actually referring to the low flying planes canvasing our 'hood today and aiming to kill those evil cankerworms that inhabit and eat our trees. I grew up in the era of mosquito trucks which sprayed the campgrounds we stayed in and I even recall running behind these trucks and their non-organic pesticides. (Explains a bit, eh?) This, however, is a massive spraying of BT, my favorite organic pesticide, which will cause the cankerworms' bellies to explode. As our local columnist implied , at this point, if the best option involved pointing flamethrowers at our house to kill them, we'd take it.

I thought the planes would go by just once, but they keep coming around. It's Bizarre, folks. But Charlotte apparently has the worst canker worm infestation in North America and if I have to run from my house to my office like a scene from North by Northwest, I'll do it.

Are Guns Organic?

The IVF lab was packed, PACKED, this morning when I went in for my lab work. This would not seem surprising except this morning (depending on when you read this) was Sunday morning. Who knew that infertility clinics that were busy every single day of the week. I guess that ovulation happens all the day. Still it was surprising.

I spent the rest of the day working in the yard and the garden. This spring is really beautiful and I don't know if it's because I'm actually paying attention to it because I'm not working as hard or if we are really getting a nice extended spring this year. I did not mention this, but a couple of weeks ago, Dave and I were featured in the Charlotte Observer for practicing organic techniques in our vegetable garden. (I would link to the story, but it's no longer live). Although one might think the keyword in this story was "organic", truly the most important word is "practicing."

This point was brought home to us when we proudly walked out to survey our organic garden and saw that all our lettuce had been eaten. The two main culprits are slugs and bunnies. Personally, I think the bunnies were responsible for this lettuce-i-cide. (I blame the slugs for what I saw killed today). Being that we had just been featured as presumably being successful organic gardeners, I felt very much like a loser. I then recalled that last year we had really didn't get nearly what we planted because something....some DAMN BUNNY....kept eating our young vegetables.

"A gun. Is a gun organic?" I asked Dave. "If we shot it and ate it, would that be a natural gardening technique?"

Instead, I busted out the Deer and Rabbit repellent and marked around the garden. I'm not really sure it has worked. I'm not 100% convinced it wasn't slugs. However, we left a plate of beer out and didn't catch any slugs (or drunk rabbits), so I'm not sure they are the culprits either. I am spraying the heck out of everything with BT, a bacterium that makes worms stomachs explode. That is helping our cabbage and broccoli, but the bok choi and lettuce are really taking it hard.

I have to be honest that today I was feeling pretty damn rough as a gardener. I'd like to find a hobby thta doesn't make me feel so bad about myself. I feel behind on getting the seeds in and I'm really discouraged that some FREAKING evil animal is eating my seeds. I just want some lettuce. I'd like to actually have a few carrots make it. I HATE whoever ate my cilantro. And I had BETTER get some turnips and beets this year or someone or someTHING is going to pay (Bunny/slug, did you hear that?).

In other more pro-chemical warfare news, since I could not pull up ivy due to my surgery, Dave mowed it down and sprayed it with Round Up. It's Dead. I mean, it is dead dead. Not kinda dead. Not wounded and able to make a comeback. I mean the ivy is finally gone from the side of our house. Some of our greener neighbors say that Round Up is not a bad chemical because it becomes inert as soon as it touches the soil. Still. I was once again discouraged.

I can tell you right now that if I don't get some lettuce this year, I will seriously consider some chemicals in our garden. I don't mind hard labor. But when there are not fruits of my labor, something has got to give.

Dismissed

"Why, oh, why, oh, why did I post that we were going to cycle?" I asked myself as I headed to an unscheduled visit with the surgeon. I really am not particularly superstitious but sometimes I do feel like I can jinx myself when I publicly express a hope that is not yet real.

So why was I heading back to my surgeon? Well, it had to do with the blood in my stool that's been happening on and off for the last 5 days. And this blood is nothing like the problems I had with my booty previously. This was obviously Blood In and Around the Things You Do Not Want Me to Discuss on this Blog. When it started on Sunday/Monday, I thought it was due to the double dose of naproxin I took for the HSG. Indeed, when it went away on Tuesday, I rejoiced. And then, when it came back Wednesday night, I despaired.

So I drove to the surgeon, not at all happy that I was bleeding out my butt again and that I had talked about starting the cycle on the blog before everything was official. The "good" news is that I'd had my final blood panel to prep for the IVF on Tuesday and I was able to call my IVF nurse and ask her for the results, telling her I was feeling a bit dizzy. (I didn't want to mention the extra blood as she might automatically cancel my IVF).

Let me pause for a moment and say that there is NO WAY I want to do this without being 100% healthy. I don't want to waste the money nor the eggs without knowing that I will actually live to give birth and not leave my children motherless. So I am more than willing to wait however long the doctors want until I'm in a fit state (as opposed to pitching a fit). So I was and am more than willing to wait to be a healthy woman to start this.

The nurse called back and although my hemoglobin was quite high for me (12.6 when 12 is the cut off. I usually run around 11.9), my hematocrit was low at 35.6 when normal is 37. Crap. (Literally, if you will)

So into the surgeon's office I went, having my IVF nurse fax over the results, both of us feeling crappy.

And then guess what? No. Big. Whoop. The surgeon says it isn't typical, but it's not abnormal either. Essentially, it's like I have an internal scab that my poop has picked off my colon. (Lovely!!) But it's *nothing* to be concerned about and *nothing* to stop this cycle.

So we're still on!!!!

And when I called my IVF nurse for the third time today and told her that I had a positive OPK and she called back making it the fifth time we talked to each other *just today*, we were both pretty dang excited. I go in Sunday for my first set of bloodwork for this cycle to make sure I've ovulated and then, I will start Lupron next week.

What an emotional day.

ETA: I forgot to put in here yesterday that the reason for the title of this post is that the surgeon dismissed me from this illness and seeing him again. I'm done! I'm healthy or soon enough I will be.

I Think This is Really Happening

I've been waiting for the official word that things are going to be starting for us for IVF, and apparently there is no "YES! You may proceed after surgery!" proclamation that is handed out. (And no, this isn't an April Fool's joke....unlike the one I pulled on my class this morning when I told them they were going to have a pop quiz. The look on their faces! The dread!! The "Oh Shit" attitude!!! Teehee! In case you're wondering, you just don't give pop quizzes to senior level students. So when I said "April Fools!", it took them a while to recover, but it was heee-sterical!)

Ok. Back to the real stuff. Dudes. We're starting our suppression cycle! Now! YIKES! I just got off the phone with the special order pharmacy and the medication arrives tomorrow. And our insurance is covering A LOT more than we thought!! And for the other medications, we joined a VIP/Frequent flier program at the special order pharmacy for $12 a year and a boatload of the meds will be less than half price. All in all the medications have thus far turned out to be half what we budgeted! Whew!! We still have to pick up some things from our local pharmacy, but it's antibiotics and a Valium for the transfer so things are looking great medication-wise.

And tomorrow we take our injectibles class where Dave and I learn to give each other shots. Well, he learns to give me shots and I learn to give myself shots. And on Friday, I had another HSG (just to make sure there is nothing in the way to prevent a pregnancy). We have our trial transfer scheduled in 2 weeks (to make sure the docs can actually do the transfer of embryos with no big surprises). And presently, we are just waiting for me to ovulate so we can wait a week or so before starting the Lupron to turn off all my hormones. (And put me into a menopausal state and scare the crap out of Dave. I might have read somewhere that "irritability" can occur.)

So despite trying to be up on everything I just leared that the first month, the docs turn off everything and the second month, they slowly turn everything back on so they can do all the things they need to do when they want to do them. Or something like that. Hopefully, I'm going to be responsive to the drugs which means that things will go quicker rather than upping the dosages and waiting until I respond before everything starts.

YIKES!!

The good news is that because of the timing of my cycle, the retrieval/transfer will happen at approximately 2 months after my surgery date which is when our doc said we could do this. Really, folks. It was Friday when he did my HSG that he gave us the go-ahead based on my cycle and the surgery and the expected timing of everything that we got the OK for this.

This may have something to do with my insomnia lately. Do you think? But it appears to be really happening. Really! Of course, now I fear that my excitement will lead to abject failure and that tomorrow we'll be told it's a No Go and that everything was not as we expected and that this is not going to happen. I have to tell you that although that fear may seem irrational to you, it seems all too real to me based on everything that has happened these last two and a half years. And of course, the probability of success is pretty low. So don't anybody get their hopes up!

Nonetheless, I *think* it might work. And I know I just told everyone not to hope, but I do hope that it will.

YIKES!!!!!