Ramping Up

Well, the medications are starting to ramp up for our next cycle.  We're heading out in a couple of weeks and I'm hoping things work out this time.  It's incredibly weird to be leaving for so long in the middle of the semester.  A good friend is lecturing for a week in my undergraduate class, and we're meeting over the weekend for my graduate class.  All in all, that will work out well.

I'm still recovering from Bunny Stomp 2008.  I did not get the reaction online that I received from my FtF friends--the screaming, the hold of one's face in one's hand and the general disgust at having someone who could step on a bunny in one's presence.

Perhaps I did a better job at describing the pitch black road between the two streetlights, the hard pillow/soft book feeling of that particular step, and the (not being flippant here) the horrible screams that ensued, both the bunny's and mine.  I have apologized to everyone I can think of:  God, the universere, the bunny, every one.  And I am still having a hard time dealing with that experience.  

People ask how I couldn't see it:  it is so dark here right now in the morning.  The sky doesn't even think of getting lighter until 7 am, and I was out there about 6 am.  

People ask how it is physically possible that I stepped on a bunny:  my call is that the bunny was already injured, a thought that comforts neither me nor the bunny.  

I don't know if I have shared my experiences of running and jumping over a bird that flew up between my legs or scaring a mouse once or getting into a fight with a squirrel.   But I'm starting to get a wee bit paranoid with the wild animals and my runs.  And wondering what it is about me and my running that I am a hazard to mostly innocent animals while I'm out and about. 

In Case You're Wondering

Citigroup buying Wachovia could be really, really bad for Charlotte. 

And Charlotte is still out of gas.  Thank goodness for the Jetta diesel.

Still Here

No, I have not fallen off the face of the earth.  It just feels like I have, at least to me.

I never believed folks when they told me that life after tenure isn't really that much different than life before tenure.  And in some ways, folks who told me that were really wrong.  I am much less stressed about my future here.  And I am sometimes highly cognizant that I am an associate professor with all the rights and privileges that come with it (essentially, I can be cranky and it won't bite me in the butt).  I am very happy to be on this side of that employment decision.  And that makes me very happy.

Nonetheless, things are not easier.  I didn't work two Sundays ago and thought I would die trying to catch up the rest of the week.  I still have a lot of manuscripts to work on, including one I'm turning in today (a revise and resubmit that I think is going to make a big splash in my research area).  I've got more students who are working with me and who want to work with me--all bright, hardworking students who I am thrilled to have on my team. But it's a lot of work.  I'm also upping my service work and am having to deal with a transition in one group that is, quite bluntly, been one of the biggest pains in my booty in my academic career.  And I'm going to have to do something pretty big.  It's the right thing to do, but it's going to be tough.  

And things are moving along in the IVF department.  Since the last two times, I've felt burnt by having to come back and report bad news, I'm not saying squat here until we know absolutely for sure one way or another.  

And I'm still trying to exercise.  I gave up running, but with my new orthotics, I think it's a possibility again.  However, it will not be a possibility again on my normal running route.  Besides stepping on a dying bunny in the dark (I think it was a bunny.  I stepped on something and it squeaked.  Gross to the extreme, even if I do hate bunnies now), I literally ran past two men stealing a car!  This was definitely in the shadier side of my 'hood and they were definitely up to no good.  They were fiddling around under the front of the car and in the glove compartment when I ran by and waved (I always wave).  And then I heard the trunk pop and I thought, it that was their car, they wouldn't need to finagle it to open the trunk.  I then sprinted as fast as my fat flabby legs could take me to a local gas station and called 911.  I would normally have waited to call 911 until I got home, but they saw me see them and the look they gave me was not "Good morning, jogger!!!" Of course, maybe they had a flat tire. I don't know.  In any case, the cops could help sort that out.  

So there you go.  Running over bunnies and into potential car thieves and not getting to eat bon-bons all day at work.

That is how this academic year has started.  Thank God(dess) that fall break is in two weeks.

Those Kind of Peoples

Conor:  Mommy!  Mommy!  What are we?  

Mommy:  What, honey?

Conor:  What kind of peoples are we?  We're what kind of peoples?

Mommy (recalling a conversation they had earlier running out the front door to the big tree swing):  Oh, yes.  We're Southern.  We're Southern people, Conor.

Conor:  That's right.   Daddy!  Daddy!! Mommy and I are Southern people!  And we don't wear shoes!!

(Almost) Victory Garden

Well, we did it.  We took the plunge.  

No, we didn't finally buy a gun and shoot the bunnies.  Instead, we put a fence around the garden.  And for the first time in a really long time, I now have lettuce, chard, beets, fennel, and broccoli growing in my garden.  It has been so very long since I've had the positive reinforcement of planting something and have it grow that I keep staring at these very small and common seedlings and feeling quite proud of myself.  

It took two days of hot, sweaty work but I think I might actually have my garden back.

Of course, there were some nibbles off of two of the broccoli plants and we suspect a rat.  Indeed, Dave set several traps and this morning, the leaves were all still on the broccoli, but there was one less rat.  

We are also quite pleased now that should we choose, we could put rat poison in one secure corner of the garden and Patches would be safe.  We could also electrify the fence (with a very, very low voltage--static to us, big zap to bunny/rat).  But at this point, we're sticking with the regular fence and the rat traps.

And we are greenly happy.  

I'm not sure if anyone has noticed the Twitter on the side of my blog.  I am finding that it is a lot easier to post a quick tweet than a full on post.  Feel free to check back in to the blog or even follow me, if you'd like.  I am fully aware that my life is not *that* interesting, but the mother thing does have more to say than she has time to in the blog.  

And for those other academics out there who may be reading, let me share that this first semester after tenure is crazy busy.  I thought I'd be all sunshine and butterflies, but lord, stuff is going on and it feels crazier now than it ever did.  The good news is that it's just a boat load less stressful.

G*ddamned Bunnies

I am not going to garden any more until we can fix the bunnies.  And by "fix the bunnies", I do fully recognize that I have the capacity to make organic bunny stew. I bought some broccoli the other day to plant in the garden and before I could even get it in the ground, the bunnies ate it to the nub.  Then I bought some more and was able to actually get in in the ground and cover it with a "bunny repellant" cloth before the bunnies ate them.  

That's when I figuratively threw in my garden hoe and said that's it.  The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.  I am tired of spending 5 to 10 hours a week in my garden just to provide some effing bunnies a free, all-you-can-eat buffet. So I'm done until we can get a bunny-proof fence around the garden.  I'm just not going to do it.

So there.

In other news, we're moving forward on both our house remodel and our rain garden.  In my cranky state after our return from California, I whined that I wanted to see progress at least on one of our major life goals this fall.  

But perhaps my main life goal right now really is the irradication of all bunnies near our house.  I truly hate me some damn bunnies.   I'm telling you that fantasies of bunny beatings are somewhat appealing right now.

So True

Holy Flood, Batman

Those 8 inches of rain we've had in the last 36 hours have lead to some real flooding here in Charlotte. The Observer has some pretty amazing pictures of our situation. (Here are more pictures) And I have to be honest that some of the worst flooding occurred 4 blocks away from us. I can hear the news helicopters circling our neighborhood checking out the flooding and the traffic. My understanding is that a bridge not too far from us on main avenue was underwater this morning. Well, they're circling because of the flooding or someone robbed the McDonald's again. It's a toss up on that.

We're expecting more rain tonight. Who knew Fay was going to be such a pain in the butt?

Fay

Dadgum, it's raining now here. The university is actually flooded and they had closed off roads around the campus this afternoon. Six years and a boatload of storms and I've never seen that before.

After my first class today, I was wading through a river that is usually a sidewalk and, along with the students, decided to walk in the landscaping mulch as it appeared drier. And then my high heel shoe sunk into the mulch up to my ankle. I thought I was going to fall over into the water and spend the rest of my day in soaked, muddy clothing. Fortunately, I just screamed and grabbed a student! Then he screamed and grabbed another student. And then she screamed and grabbed other student who screamed and grabbed another student and so on and so on.

So here's a confession. If my semester is anything like these last two days (the first two days of the semester) my head is going to pop off of my body!! Good lord, I have been busy. I thought that tenure would mean a little breathing room. Certainly, the pressure is off. But oh my goodness, I do not have a second of free time. It's good, but it's also crazazy!!

We'll just have to see how this year all works.

Thank God the Olympics Are Over

Although I am dealing with a bout of pre-semester insomnia, I am so glad the Olympics are over. Maybe now, I'll stop worrying about who is going to medal in synchronized top tapping and finally get to bed at a reasonable hour and with a reasonable adrenaline level.

Seriously, this has been the best Olympics I can ever recall, but I am SO TIRED.

School starts tomorrow and I'm in a bit of denial about it. The good news is that I'm past the tenure decision, so this year is starting with a much different stress level. (And that's very nice!) And in the odd world that is academia, although the tenure decisions were made last spring, we are just now starting to celebrate them on campus with lots of receptions and public recognition. I like it.

And the whole atmosphere in my department is just so much better than it was last year, and I'm not the only one who feels that way. We're all smiling and happy and life is just so much better now than it was.

Now if I can just get to sleep, I'd be much happier and able to concentrate than I am right now.

Back on Track

Well, we're back from the CA trip. We were supposed to stay until Thursday, but since, uhhh, THAT PART FELL THROUGH, we came back early. We still went to attend my conference and see some friends.

We also went to Disneyland on my birthday. I cannot explain to you how wonderful it was to be at Disneyland for Conor's first trip on my birthday. (BTW, did you know you get a button for your birthday at Disney and you can adjust your age so that "all your dreams come true?" Very nice) Conor rode his first roller coaster (fun!), saw Minnie and Micky(fun! fun!) and saw his first parade in which a trombone player played specifically to Conor while Conor grinned and squirmed and died of embarrassed excitement. I know that the band members know that it's fun for the crowd to see that, but I guarantee they have no idea just how much it makes the parents' hearts swell to see this.

We also went to the beach in San Clemente, and I spent more time in the (frigid-oh-my-god-did-I-just-run-into-an-iceberg-go-on-without-me-and-save-yourself, Rose) water that day than I ever spent in the 10 years I lived in Los Angeles. Conor rode a boogie board and even fell over a few times without freaking out too much.

And on the day we were traveling back, we got a call from our cat/dogsitter that Patches wasn't eating or playing and Scarlett was peeing outside the box--a sign from our last trip that she was very sick. They very, very kindly took Scarlett to the animal hospital and we just prayed that both of them would make it by the time we came back. Early. Without a baby. No wonder why I was so weepy on the flight back, eh?

Patches is doing much better and is playing and happily eating again. I picked up Scarlett from the vet and I learned how to give her Sub-Cutaneous shots of fluids to keep her kidneys clean (for $80 a month! yikes!!) We've also decided that we can't leave the animals alone for this long again. So, Mom and Dad....stay free in October! The grandcat and the granddog and the grandkid are going to need you to babysit them while we make our I-hope-to-God, gods, and goddesses-last-trip-for-a-while to get pregnant.

Well, That Wasn't Our Best Day

Dave, at 10:00 last night, opening the second bottle of wine (thanks, Dad!), "So let us recap today."

"First, you are meditating and using incense to set the mood. And instead, you set off the fire alarm.

Then, after ADT calls, you decide to move the smoke out of the house by turning on the attic fan and while sucking up the smoke into the attic, it also sucks the 110 degree, 100% humidity air into the house.

And then you realize that the fan is still broken and you can't turn it off and, potentially, you will be sucking air into the house all day long on one of the hottest day of the year.

And then you call me and I can't come home and fix the fan and we realize that your arms are not as long as my monkey arms* and I cannot effectively describe my trick of turning off the fan and you are too lame** to actually do it yourself.

So then you stand outside in the 110 degree, 100% humidity weather turning the fuse switches off and on, off and on, off and on, multiple times around the box until you finally figure out which one turns the fan off.

And then you go out in the Subaru to run some errands. And the check engine light starts flashing while the power nearly cuts off in the car. You coast into the post office parking lot and call me. I call AAA and find out that they will not be able to tow the car for two hours. You have a choice of sitting by the car in the 110 degree, 100% humidity weather or walking back 15 minutes back to the house in the 110 degree, 100% humidity weather and then walking 15 minutes back to the car in the 110 degree, 100% humidity weather when the tow truck arrives and then walking 15 minutes back to the house in the (by then) 115 degree, 100% humidity weather after the tow truck leaves. You opt to walk and have some time in the a/c vs. sit by the car like a roasted idiot.

And then you get a call from our daycare at 4:30 in the afternoon to decide which pre-K class Conor is going enroll in: the going-to-kindergarten next year pre-K class or the going-to-wait-another-year-before-going-to-kindergarten pre-K class. This bring to a massive head the discussions we've been having for the last week about whether it would be better for Conor to be the oldest or the youngest student in his class. He will always be the tallest, but should we honor his introversion or his curiousity in when he starts kindergarten? We continue to note that everyone we know who has been the youngest in their class has hated it while those who have been the oldest or in the middle have not noticed it. The benefits for holding Conor back are numerous and could include more self-confidence now and college scholarships later. The benefits of letting him go forward include keeping him apace with some of his friends and keeping him from being bored for his first few years at school. Daycare gives us a week to decide while we try to make one of the biggest decisions in Conor's life thus far and we cannot get his reasoned input on it.

And then we get a call at 8:15 at night from the Fancy California IVF Clinic to 'discuss test results.' And while everything looks great on the fertility side (blood levels and egg counts), there is a problem with another test and they have decided to cancel our IVF cycle this month, resolve the test issues, and reschedule the IVF for October. You point out your lack of vacation days or sick days as a professor, but agree to the delay. They point out that nothing is inherently 'wrong' or 'bad' but we're delayed. Again.

So does that kind of sum up how the day has gone?"

Ummm, yes. Not the best day we've ever had.

*Maybe I was being cranky. **Maybe Dave was too.

Update on Me

I've gotten a lot of grief from blog readers, friends and family that I haven't provided any updates on my hair since my dramatic post a month ago about my hair. The good news is that you were right: the toner did fade after a few vigorous washings and some time in the sun. I no longer lood like Loretta Lynn. And I still don't and never will look like Pamela Anderson...my lips are too thin. Still, I'd be happy for a bit more lightness around my face, more like Sarah Jessica Parker, which I have been told I resemble, especially in her curly days. (it's the hair and her face; we both have that long, horsey face)

In any case, I'm going to wait and go to a bargain option at a local upscale salon and chose their "mantra" option, basically newbie stylists who will die my hair purple, I mean, highlight it the way I want, once I'm past the first trimester.

Ok. So just even writing that makes me start to hyperventiliate. No, there is no miraculous, money saving news I have to post here about being pregnant. I'm on too much medication for any slip up to occur. Instead, I'm freaking out because everything is going to go down next week. They've had me on drugs to stop everything for a month and now they are starting to ramp things up again.

AHHHHHHHHH!

It does freak me out.

Things are looking better this cycle. The antral follicle (resting egg count) count is higher. They have me on my auto-immune drugs now, which the other clinic waited until after retrieval to start. Stims are starting.

It's been a little weird to see how different the protocols are for each clinic. They are not massively different; that is, one clinic isn't calling for new meds while the other sacrifices goats. Still, it's clear that ART is more of an art than a science. I'm hoping we're heading to the "Monet" clinic, which we're hoping is just a little bit more successful than Cassat.

Oh, speaking of art and how my feet are not pretty, I went back to my podiatrist last week because my feet are about to fall off. Despite having my new orthotics, my poor left foot is miserable. I cannot wear much beyond my sneakers (I look so pretty in a dress now! Sassy!!! ) and I have not been able to run because my foot hurts so much.

He is designing new orthotics for me, even dressy ones that might let me wear less hideous shoes. But the goal is for me to have the surgery as soon as I can, after (hopefully) this next pregnancy. It's obvious that it's getting worse and we need to correct it. Otherwise, I'm not sure I'll even be able to walk in a few years time.

OK. Now you're up to date on me from head to toe, which a nice detour around the middle sections. Fingers crossed that everything turns out the way it's supposed to over these next few weeks.

Hotness Alert

We told Conor's teachers yesterday about his Strong Body and flirting with the girl behind us at the restaurant. They told us it was perfectly normal and an amazing outward sign that his self-confidence has really grown this year. They also pointed out that Conor has a keen awareness of attractiveness (actually, the teacher said "hotness") in the classroom. One of the class mothers is apparently quite beautiful and Conor asks her frequently if he can go home with her. And then when she says no, he asks why not!?

That little stinker!!!

We tried to get him to tell us which mother was so pretty today during bath time. (We all get ready together in the morning. It's lovely. And spacious, in our tiny bathroom. But when Patches stuck his head in to see what was going on, it was just a little too much). Anyhoo, we asked him who the prettiest mommy was in his classroom and he responded his teacher. "No," Dave said, "who is the prettiest mommy of the kids in your classroom?"

Conor smiled and said "Anita."

Suck up! The kid is brilliant, don't you think!?

Speaking of too smart for his own good, the first thing Conor asked when he got to school yesterday was if he could practice writing his letters again. He was very, very serious and didn't want to play any games, but wanted to trace letters because, as he told the teacher, "I didn't do it over vacation and I'm afraid I will forget how to do it."

I, too, have been accused of doing work during our vacation.

The teacher asked if we have been putting pressure on Conor on his writing? We haven't, that I know of. We are certainly proud of him being able to write at this age, but we don't try to get him to do it at home. Then I told the teacher about when I was a sophomore in college and realized that if I didn't a 96 or above on the test, that did not mean I failed. "The sun will still rise tomorrow and less than a 96 does not mean I fail the test. " (I remember those exact phrases) It's a good thing I realized that before the test because I crapped on that exam. Nonetheless, it was only as a sophomore in college that getting a B didn't mean I failed.

I don't really want Conor to live life with that sort of pressure. But certainly, it comes from me. As opposed to Dave, whose second grade teacher had to tell his parents about Dave's frustrating habit of working incredibly hard and doing a fantastic job on his assignments, until he knew he'd done "enough" to get a passing grade on his assignments and then basically doing nothing more.

On the like me/like him score, Conor is more like me in that. On the answering "Anita" whenever quizzed about the prettiest woman in the room? Well, Conor may take after his daddy on that characteristic.

What a relief.

I Can Tell, Dolly

We're back in cool, comfortable July in North Carolina which if you know how hot it actually is in North Carolina, you'll understand why I now think South Texas is a steamy version of hell.

Dolly's eye passed about 5-7 miles north of us, which makes the hurricane sound vaguely like an out of control country singer, and if that's the image you want to take with you, so be it. I've been in tropical depressions before, but never a "real" hurricane. It rained horizontally and we saw bits and pieces of roofs, trees and hotel signs flying by us. We lost power Weds afternoon and water Wednesday night. As an aside, it's really odd to spend the entire day watching the storm approach you on TV and then, when it does hit, losing all connection to what the heck is going on outside your own window.

Wednesday was a pretty rough day, what with no power or water in Satan's sauna. Also, since we were in a hotel, we didn't have all that much food. We did make it to Wal-Mart (speaking of Satan!) on Tuesday and PB&J for dinner Wednesday night and breakfast Thursday morning. But woman cannot live on PB&J alone, so Thursday lunch we headed out into the aftermath to look for food.

One might note that not a lot of people will open their restaurants without power and water. We did find 3 places open: Church's chicken, Pizzaria Uno and a taqueria. Dave and I are one on this one: I don't care how desperate we were, we didn't travel to the south of Texas to eat Church's chicken. So we opted for the taqueria, which was honestly, REALLY GOOD. I have absolutely no idea what we ordered or how, but we ended up with about 12 beef tacos with some yummy, soup-y beans (which we were later told were charro beans). Despite the fact we were sweating profusely, it was one of our more memorable meals.

Sweating. Yeah. That is one thing I will remember about this trip. That and also being told by the hotel manager not to yell at him because he didn't turn off the electricity. Dave took over at that point, although I was shocked he said that: if he thought *that* was yelling, he better step back should anything ever happen to my son. Dave then pointed out that yes, we knew he didn't turn off the electricity, but we happened to notice that while our room had lights but no a/c, the unoccupied room across the hall from us had a/c and but no lights and this room had been cool if not actually snowing for the last 3 or 4 hours. We wanted that one. Dave got that room for us and the manager and I avoided eye contact for the next couple of days.

Until breakfast one morning, when a woman approached me asking where we were from. (People can be very friendly in a natural disaster) It was obvious we were tourist as we stood apart from the folks fleeing South Padre Island (very tanned), the rescue workers, the national guard and the insurance adjusters. She told us that she was from Harligen where they weren't expecting electricity for another week and her kids thought it was just mean to be staying in their hot, un-air-conditioned house, when. . . .she turned and smiled at her husband, the hotel manager, who agreed to let his wife and kids come stay in the air conditioned hotel until their power was turned back on.

That, my friends, is irony. Who's the crazy, hot mother yelling at you now, huh?

Ah, yes. The rest of the trip was fine. The wedding was beautiful and I got to meet my friend's friends and her husband's family, all of whom make me realize that friends pick our similar friends and so it's easy to like friends of your friends. They are obviously similar for a reason.

And Conor had a good time despite (or because of?) all the adventures. One thing is for sure, we do NOT need to worry that Conor is too shy and doesn't initiate interactions. Conor basically spent this entire trip engaging people about all the things that we were doing and trying to share with them the special parts of this world as he knows it. "Mr. Chris, did you know you can get your bathing suit on and get in the swimming pool?" "Mr. Chris, did you know my mommy can give foot massages?" "Mr. Chris, did you know I like sausage pizza?" To a girl at Burger King, "Did you know that I thought the playground would be a bus, but it's a train. You can climb and play on that train."

One might note that Conor was especially taken with Mr. Chris, a friend from Charlotte at the wedding also. Hugging him and holding his hand whenever we were out and about with Chris. And Sunday, in San Antonio at the River Walk (LOVE THAT PLACE!), Conor got all excited when we saw a pretty girl and her date behind us as we left a restaurant. He got all excited and jumped up and down and pointed them out to me. "Look, Mommy! Look!" I turned and looked at these strangers and said "Yes, I see the people behind us." Then Conor made a big production waved a big wave at the pretty girl. She smiled at Conor and us, while I just stuttered, "I think he really wants to say Hi to you."

Of course, the interaction I will never forget came on Friday when I was having lunch with the other bridesmaid and the bride. Conor and Dave stopped by to say hi and Conor told me about a girl he met on the playground: "She's a little bigger, and her name is Jennifer, too. And she is nice and she likes my strong body."

WHAT??

I am pretty sure that the 6 year old girl did not tell my 4 year old son that she liked his strong body, but What The F*ck? What is going on that curly little head of his that would ever prompt that thought? What is going to happen when he hits puberty.

Well, if he ends up having some strange attraction to women named Dolly, we'll have an idea of who or what to blame.

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!

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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!!!