I'm Not Discounting Ebola Yet

Finally back from all the High Holiday hoopla and the Bataan Death March that was our tour of the hospital where (knock on wood) we'll be delivering  [the maternity ward is a very short walk, but they made us hike over to the hospital wing 4,000 miles away where they'll be storing overflow post-partum cases.  They are anticipating an overflow due to all the babies who are about to be born because Keyzer Snowze happened 9 months ago, and apparently people who have sex during blizzards get babies.  (Silly rabbit, that's what cures IF)].

I had my second appointment yesterday with my new practice of midwives and it went really well.  Blood pressure is good; weight is good; baby is head down and is measuring right on time.  I'm spilling a little glucose, but the nurse thinks that's more attributable to the Starbucks Hot Chocolate I had yesterday morning, then anything to really worry about.

I also got a flu shot.  About three hours later, my throat started hurting and I started feeling really congested.  I've never had this kind of reaction to the flu shot before, so I'm thinking it's just the coincidental onset of a cold.  Or Ebola.  Cause you never know.  Now I have to hunt down whoever gave me this cold/Ebola  and kill them, since that's a proportional response.  (I just heard one of the admins coughing, so he and my MIL (who's had a cold since Rosh Hashanah) are now the prime suspects).

Speaking of the lack of proportional responses, my MIL and SIL seem bound and determined to keep me in the middle of their never-ending battle, with each complaining about the other to me.  I think they are both acting like immature hotheads, and I mean that in the most diplomatic way possible.  I do think that each of them would benefit from actually learning the lesson that it's possible to convey the same message in many different ways, some more offensive than others.  Given what I think is the generalized lack of understanding of conversational and social cues from undiagnosed and untreated Asperger's going on here, it's unlikely that either will learn this lesson, and that both people will invariably select the most offensive statement to use on any given occasion.

In other news, as I discussed with Calliope, LJ and Mel the other day, I'm now having nightmares related to my worries about SIL and her crazy intolerant very strong opinions on everything hand washing and the fact that her immediate family does not use any antibacterial products (which I'm OK with) and does not wash their hands with soap (which I'm not OK with).  One of the bloggers on Who Wants to Know recently did a post on these signs that you hang on a stroller or car seat to discourage random people with unwashed hands from touching the baby.  A little extreme?  Perhaps.  Would SIL respect the sign or my requests?  Given her previous behavior, that's a bit doubtful.  Suggestions for how to handle this would be appreciated.

I Heart Lists

Because I just can't go into how infuriating my OB's office is (current threat level: firebombing = proportional response), I present you with a List of The New Classics as seen on books i done read.  I've probably done this before, but I heart lists.

If there's any that I haven't read that you recommend, let me know!

THE NEW CLASSICS

1. The Road , Cormac McCarthy

2. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, J.K. Rowling
3. Beloved, Toni Morrison
4. The Liars' Club, Mary Karr
5. American Pastoral, Philip Roth
6. Mystic River, Dennis Lehane
7. Maus, Art Spiegelman
8. Selected Stories, Alice Munro
9. Cold Mountain, Charles Frazier
10. The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, Haruki Murakami
11. Into Thin Air, Jon Krakauer
12. Blindness, José Saramago
13. Watchmen, Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons
14. Black Water, Joyce Carol Oates
15. A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, Dave Eggers
16. The Handmaid's Tale, Margaret Atwood
17. Love in the Time of Cholera, Gabriel García Márquez
18. Rabbit at Rest, John Updike
19. On Beauty, Zadie Smith
20. Bridget Jones's Diary, Helen Fielding
21. On Writing, Stephen King
22. The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Junot Díaz
23. The Ghost Road, Pat Barker
24. Lonesome Dove, Larry McMurtry
25. The Joy Luck Club, Amy Tan
26. Neuromancer, William Gibson
27. Possession, A.S. Byatt
28. Naked, David Sedaris
29. Bel Canto, Anne Patchett
30. Case Histories, Kate Atkinson
31. The Things They Carried, Tim O'Brien
32. Parting the Waters, Taylor Branch
33. The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion
34. The Lovely Bones, Alice Sebold
35. The Line of Beauty, Alan Hollinghurst
36. Angela's Ashes, Frank McCourt
37. Persepolis, Marjane Satrapi
38. Birds of America, Lorrie Moore
39. Interpreter of Maladies, Jhumpa Lahiri
40. His Dark Materials, Philip Pullman
41. The House on Mango Street, Sandra Cisneros
42. LaBrava, Elmore Leonard
43. Borrowed Time, Paul Monette
44. Praying for Sheetrock, Melissa Fay Greene
45. Eva Luna, Isabel Allende
46. Sandman, Neil Gaiman
47. World's Fair, E.L. Doctorow
48. The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver
49. Clockers, Richard Price
50. The Corrections, Jonathan Franzen
51. The Journalist and the Murderer, Janet Malcom
52. Waiting to Exhale, Terry McMillan
53. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, Michael Chabon
54. Jimmy Corrigan, Chris Ware
55. The Glass Castle, Jeannette Walls
56. The Night Manager, John le Carré
57. The Bonfire of the Vanities, Tom Wolfe
58. Drop City, TC Boyle
59. Krik? Krak! Edwidge Danticat
60. Nickel & Dimed, Barbara Ehrenreich
61. Money, Martin Amis
62. Last Train To Memphis, Peter Guralnick
63. Pastoralia, George Saunders
64. Underworld, Don DeLillo
65. The Giver, Lois Lowry
66. A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again, David Foster Wallace
67. The Kite Runner, Khaled Hosseini
68. Fun Home, Alison Bechdel
69. Secret History, Donna Tartt
70. Cloud Atlas, David Mitchell
71. The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down, Ann Fadiman
72. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, Mark Haddon
73. A Prayer for Owen Meany, John Irving
74. Friday Night Lights, H.G. Bissinger
75. Cathedral, Raymond Carver
76. A Sight for Sore Eyes, Ruth Rendell
77. The Remains of the Day, Kazuo Ishiguro
78. Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert
79. The Tipping Point, Malcolm Gladwell
80. Bright Lights, Big City, Jay McInerney
81. Backlash, Susan Faludi
82. Atonement, Ian McEwan
83. The Stone Diaries, Carol Shields
84. Holes, Louis Sachar
85. Gilead, Marilynne Robinson
86. And the Band Played On, Randy Shilts
87. The Ruins, Scott Smith
88. High Fidelity, Nick Hornby
89. Close Range, Annie Proulx
90. Comfort Me With Apples, Ruth Reichl
91. Random Family, Adrian Nicole LeBlanc
92. Presumed Innocent, Scott Turow
93. A Thousand Acres, Jane Smiley
94. Fast Food Nation, Eric Schlosser
95. Kaaterskill Falls, Allegra Goodman
96. The Da Vinci Code, Dan Brown
97. Jesus’ Son, Denis Johnson
98. The Predators' Ball, Connie Bruck
99. Practical Magic, Alice Hoffman
100. America (the Book), Jon Stewart/Daily Show

Shitteth Fanneth Meeth

Note Bene: everything is fine with the baby, and will be fine with me once I knock some heads.

I have tons and tons to post, but, as I think the title subtly hints, things are a bit crazed 'round these parts, specifically in the job sphere.  It involves the always pleasant People Who Hate Me and their sidekicks, People Who Are Freakin' Stupid and Need to Learn to Do Their Jobs.  See, if you don't tell me about something really important that needs to go in a document, I won't know it needs to go in said document and won't include it.  So, when you start yelling at me about the missing clauses, I can reference my 10 EMAILS TO YOU REQUESTING RELEVANT INFO.  Bums.

People Who Hate Me: The Fat Haters

Welcome back to another edition of People Who Hate Me, now with more hate.  Who's hating me this week?  The incompetent sonographer (we'll call her "Dum Dum") and her azhat supervisory doc at the testing site for my week 20 scan.  Why?  Because I'm fat, have bones and require the Zofran pump for my hyperemesis.

As you know, I'm receiving Zofran through a subcutaneous pump.  Here's how it works (in non-technical language):

1) Infusion site: This is a plastic disc about the size of a quarter that sticks to my belly.  The disc has a spiked, fixed tube on it that goes into my skin (hence: subcutaneous).

2) Tube: The disc is connected to a thin, 2 ft. long tube that attaches to a syringe of meds on the pump.

3) Pump: The pump is about the size of a remote control and you wear it in a purse-like bag with an arm strap.  You put a syringe of meds in the top of the pump and the pump's computer pushes on the syringe plunger, thus pushing the meds through the tube and into me, stopping me from doing my never-ending Exorcist imitation.

So, I can't stop the meds and remove the site for you, Dum Dum.  You are not worth continuous vomit.  You'll have to work around it.  This totally threw her.

Also throwing her was that I was fat.  Now, I am aware that extra padding does make it a little more difficult to do a sonogram; it does not, however, make a scan impossible.  In addition, I don't think it was my fat, I think it was Dum Dum's lack of knowledge of anatomy.  See, no matter how much you shove on my hip bone with the transducer, the bone will not move out of the way.  It's bone, that's how that works.

After Dum Dum finished the scan, we were sent back to speak with her azhat supervisory doctor.  He told us, "Your baby is really big.  It's something we're worried about and you should be too.  You're going to have to have a c-section because you're so big and because the baby is so big.  In fact, we've included a note on our report that the scan was technically difficult due to your fatness."

Fine, asshole, but is the baby okay?  Are all the parts in the right place?  Are all the parts there that are supposed to be there?  Oh, yes.  The baby is perfectly healthy.  F-ck you, you prick.

Thank goodness I was seeing my doctor that afternoon anyways.  She's awesome and was like, "don't listen to that asshole, he doesn't know what he's talking about.  You're measuring a few days ahead, the baby is a little larger than average (baby is 14 oz.) and you're not automatically going to do anything.  You're only at week 20.  The baby is fine.  Your weight looks great and your blood pressure is fine.  We can all calm down."  I love my doctor.

Don't F**k with Me

That's what the insurance company learned this week.  :)

After several hours spent in the ER receiving IV fluids, a diagnosis of a UTI probably caused by severe dehydration, and a serious threat from my boss* that our company would find a new insurance company to work with, I'm currently at home wired to an IV with fluids and a subcutaneous pump providing Zofran 24/7.  YAY!

My home health care nurse showed up yesterday evening and spent about 2 1/2 hours with me, going through the routine, checking vitals and setting up everything, plus teaching me how to do everything myself.  I had been pretty worried about the realities of the pump, as I'm not a huge fan of needles (who is).  Turns out, the pump set is realitively nothing to worry about, especially compared to the fact that I passed out and vomited when my nurse got my IV in.  It's always an adventure here, folks.

Hopefully, I'll start feeling better soon.  I replaced the IV bag this morning, but am not sure that I did it correctly, so I'll be calling the nurses' line to have someone talk me through it.

*Did I mention that I work for my family's company and that my boss is my dad?  That's right, insurance company, keep f**king with me, watch what happens.

You Thought I Was Crazy Before?

I'm quite certain that my crazy has expanded exponentially the past few days, but I think I've succeeded at keeping it internalized, or at the very least, keeping the crazy worries to myself.

Feel free to skip this list of lists of current concerns (now in new and improved anal-retentive outline form!), but know that if you skip it, you're missing a lot of mocking and schadenfreude opportunities:

I.)  My House Is A Giant Mess and We're All Gonna Die
    A.)  My house is terribly, terribly cluttered.  Would it be easier to just move?  Forget selling the current house, just moving.
    B.)  We have a second bedroom that is going to be the baby's room, but currently serves as:
           1.)  JD's cave (which he doesn't spend time in since he got his laptop, but is, nonetheless, stuffed with all his crap, including the closet);
           2.)  Main storage area;
           3.)  Guestroom;
         which boils down to making me feel like moving is the better option.
    C.)  Where did all this crap come from?  Firebombing is starting to sound like a good idea.

II.)  I'm an IFer and Am Unable to Relax About Anything
       A.)  General concerns about every twitch and ache, wondering if they spell miscarriage or just gas.
       B.)  Worries that I'm gaining pounds by the second since the only thing that stops nausea is eating.  Saltines are working right now, but isn't that a lot of carbs?  Maybe too many carbs?  I haven't hurled yet, but I've been close a couple times.  The nausea is pretty constant, but most times I can will it to a dull roar.
       C.)  Need to exercise again, but can I really use the Wii Fit?  Will start walking again, damnit.
       D.)  Think that homebirth may be the right thing for me (right now, it all depends on my health and the baby's health), but am concerned about these issues:
              1.) Will I be too loud in our condo while laboring?  (Maybe we should move?)
              2.) Will the midwife be sympathetic to an IF couple and their concerns?
              3.)  Need to reread Nina Planck's Real Food for Mother & Baby, but am in the middle of another book and I should really finish that one first, but every time I'm reading the other book, I'm thinking of how I need to read the Planck book.
      E.)  What if I get so big that I can't wipe my own ass?
      F.)  What if I kill someone because they say/do something stupid?  What if that is JD?  My MIL?  My SIL?  Random passersby?
      G.)  Is there any way for me to lose weight so that I will look like a cute pregnant person with an actual baby bump, and not someone who's just fat and gotten fatter?

III.  Miscellaneous Worries
       A.)  My hair looks bad (need to get my highlights retouched, like NOW) and feels like straw.
       B.)  I don't feel that I look my best right now and I feel sad about that.
       C.)  JD refuses to get me anything on my Amazon wishlist for my birthday because he "doesn't like any of those ideas."  Hello?!  I'm the one who wants those things!  He's a bum.
       D.)  Passover is in a little over a month and I'm screwed.  House needs to get cleaned and need to get rid of four tons (ok, maybe just 4 lbs) of flour and yeast.  Will need to bake bread 24/7.  Must quit job in order to bake bread.
       E.)  Some guy was driving around the John Mayer concert last night with megaphones attached to his car, screaming about how John Mayer is a "bigoted racist."  Does anyone know what this is in reference to?

Other than that, I'm actually being pretty calm about all this.  :)
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Now Playing on WJEN:  "Birdhouse In Your Soul" by They Might Be Giants

Food, Folks, Fun, Fearsome Anger, Fehr Scores, Furniture Care

I hope that everyone in the US had a happy Thanksgiving, or at the very least, you've survived the long weekend. To everyone else around the globe, hope you had a nice weekend!

Our Thanksgiving was pretty good. We spend odd years with my family, so of course, that's always great. I successfully stayed on detox diet, but it really sucked to not eat stuffing or the four million desserts that were served.

For Thanksgiving, I had:
-Turkey (expertly made by my mom)
-Salad
-Butternut Squash Soup (also made by my mom, which I thought was awesome and everyone else thought demonstrated how long it's been since I had good food)
-Quinoa with Dried Fruits & Nuts (made by me)
-Butternut Squash Brown Rice Pasta Bake (made by me, not successful, will not be repeating)
-Baked Apples with Oats & Almonds (made by BFF, so I had my own dessert, yay!)

I did prevail upon my mom to give my containers of stuffing, green bean casserole and the pumpkin bread made by the Princess (my brother's wife), all of which are residing in my freezer awaiting post-detox feasting.
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On Friday, BFF and I finally made it to the tailor's, to get a bunch of stuff altered (hems, zippers, what have you). We then got lunch and braved the mob at DSW to get some shoes. Then, we just hung out at her house. We always have such a great time together and it was nice to just chill.
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Saturday, SIL and her family came over to use our pool. Then, we all met up with JD's parents to have lunch and celebrate SIL's birthday. My in-laws have now successfully ruined another one of my favorite restaurants. All they do is bitch, bitch, bitch. Nothing is ever right. I love them, but sometimes they really suck. Then, we had to sit at the mall's play area with them and four million little kids and babies to watch my nephews frolic in the chaos. It was not fun.

The night improved though, because we had Chinese food and I watched Eric Fehr (whom I met at Hockey 'n' Heels) score a goal 10 seconds before the end of the third period, helping the Caps win in an overtime shootout against Montreal. Yay!
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Sunday was spent in lounging around, picking price stickers off our china, washing our china, putting away our china (one day my house will be clean and organized; I hope) and watching TV. Oh, and we had Thai for dinner.

It Was Negative

I went in for my beta at 8:30 AM. I did not receive a call until 3:30 PM. They made me wait all fucking day for this.

All these symptoms and it means absolutely nothing. I really thought this was it. It was all for nothing.

Giant289Pig

Please forgive me for interrupting the current programming with a surprise part 3 of our four hundred thousand, seven hundred and ninety two part series...

People Who Hate Me

So, I had to reset a password. The site sent me a temporary password to log in with. Yeah. The title above is my temporary password. They don't even know me and they're calling me a giant pig. Effers.
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In other news, I commented at:

The Pitter-Patter (on her BFN)
The Baby Chase (on her pregnancy after IF)
On (In)fertile Ground (on being lapped)
Local Nourishment (on an awesome reusable grocery bag)
Into the Light Again (asking a question about knitting)

I returned a comment to:
Grace by Inches (aka Girl, Esq. who I know IRL!!) (on making good choices for herself)

I Forgot

Forgot to mention that my period started yesterday afternoon. That may explain a teeny, tiny part of the craziness that's been goin' on 'round these parts for the last week.

I think that I've never been so happy for a CD 1.

Now, that it's CD 2, I'm remembering it's been a while since my last "regular" period and it seems that I've forgotten that periods are an absolute pain in the arse.

Wanting to kill people.
Re-remembering that I need to lose 7 more pounds to do Round #2
Depression.
Wanting to kill people.
Cramps.
Wanting to kill people.
Digestive issues.
Coming close to actually killing people.

She's dangerous, folks! You there, spending more than 30 seconds standing in place, saying "ooh, that looks good" while in line at the La Madeline counter -- whatta ya got a death wish or something! MOVE!!

To sum up, it's yay for CD 1, I need to lose 7 pounds in the next two weeks so that we can start Round #2, and don't stand in front of me in a food line unless you want to lose your life.

Open Letter to a New Yoga Teacher

Dear Yelling Stressball,

I attended your class last night with some trepidation. I have been taking similar classes at this center for the past year and have greatly enjoyed the classes. Yet, they have all been under the auspices of the same instructor, Awesome Lady, and I was hesitant to take a class with a different instructor, since, as we all know, WE FEAR CHANGE.

I'm not sure if you were aware, but the meditation class that you taught last night, and indeed, most yoga practices, are considered to be stress relievers, not stress-inducers. If your plan was, in fact, to increase my stress level greatly, then I must wish you a hearty congratulations, because you were amazingly successful. If stress inducement was not actually your aim, might I suggest a different profession? Boot camp drill sergeant, perhaps?

Unfortunately, I don't find myself in need of additional stress at the moment. When I do find myself relaxed for a long period of time, I'll make sure to give you a call. Till then, I'll be skipping your yogic stress classes.

Sincerely,
Jendeis

Vacation?

Please excuse the below which is not well-drafted, whiny and tends to the run-on sentences.

An ongoing issue: JD doesn't have opinions about things. Or maybe he does, but he really doesn't care, so it's basically a lot of, "Well, what do you wanna do?" But when I hear that, I think he really does have an opinion, but he's going with what I want so he can then throw it back at me that we never do what he wants to do.

Maybe I'm overthinking it.

Anyways, because JD has been without an income for a year and doesn't want to spend the money and is not a planner and even though I am a planner, I've been working my arse off, we find ourselves with no vacation plans. This stinks. A whole lot.

I am, however, determined to go on vacation this summer. Just where we go is the real question. Due to JD's issues with pain and his inability to walk for long distances, we can't go anywhere that we'd be sightseeing. So, strike off anywhere new.

I hate that we can't go anywhere new because, in my bring-on-the-parade-of-horribles mind, it means that we will never go anywhere new, never travel anywhere and be stuck at home forever and ever and never go on vacation and I'm just stuck. Plus, I really, ruheaallly need some time off and if I don't get it, I might start having to kill people.

Again, I might be overthinking this.

My parents have a house at the beach, so we may spend a week there, or, we may go to a resort in the mountains that takes our credit card points. I just wish that I didn't have to plan everything and that life was easier. Don't we all?

Enough of the whining! Where do you think we should go?

Forecasting

First, my morning, then the forecast.
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6:12 AM Get up and get dressed

6:30 AM Wake JD and inform him that if he wants to take a shower before we leave for the Giant Fertility Clinic, he'll need to get up now

6:45 AM Wake JD (again) and let him know that I'm taking The Boy to doggie daycare and that he needs to be ready when I get back and that I cannot wait for him, he must be ready.

7:05 AM Call JD after dropping off The Boy and inform JD that I will be home in 10 minutes and could he please be waiting out front for me.

7:15 AM Pull up in front of house. Shocker - JD not there. Call house and JD picks up. I say, "I asked you to be downstairs ready for me. I can't afford to wait for you." He says, "I'm coming down right now!"

7:20 AM Still not there. I am fuming. Decide that if he doesn't come down in the next 5 minutes, it's over. Because if he doesn't come down, he doesn't give a crap about me or our family. And eff him, I'm done with his B/S.

7:25 AM He finally gets in the car and I drive like a maniac up to GFC. He apologizes for making me late. I alternately silently fume and rage at him, saying that I woke him several times, spoke to him last night and this morning of the importance of not being late and being ready, and that the fact that he was still late demonstrated to me that he doesn't give a crap about me, is utterly insensitive and is not supportive of me.

He tries to apologize for taking so long and making me mad; I yell that it's not that he takes so long, it's that he doesn't give a sh-t. If he gave a sh-t, he would've made sure that he was up and ready and downstairs waiting. EX: (which I didn't use at the time), if it's something he cares about, like cartoons, or his f-cking computer games, he's up and ready.

I tell him that I feel alone in all this and his actions just give more demonstration to that effect.

7:55 AM Averaging 80 mph the whole way, we get to GFC late for our appointment. They take us back to ultrasound after about 10 minutes, but then make us wait for 20 minutes while I have no pants on. JD says that he's sorry that he let me down again and that I'm not alone and that he's here for me. We are OK, but I am so sick of him only caring about himself. I realize that he has Asperger's and that it prevents him from understanding the world outside of his own point of view, but sometimes, I don't think it's Asperger's, I think it's just that he's an a--hole. Course, the two are not mutually exclusive.
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So, we met with SuperDoc (our doc is on vacation), his assistant and the Sonographer Extraordinaire. They are awesome.

We saw a small sac in the uterus. Thank G-D. This brings our chances of having an ectopic down considerably. There was a line of fluid next to the embryo which may be the cause of the cramping.

Here's our chances:

80% Non-viable intrauterine pregnancy

18% Viable intrauterine pregnancy

2% Ectopic pregnancy

SuperDoc said that he could not rule out the possibility of an ectopic totally, and that we would do another ultrasound on Friday to see what was happening. No methotrexate (drug used to help the body terminate a non-viable pregnancy) for me today!

Are You? Are You? Are You?

John Dear has resorted to asking me if I feel pregnant about every 10 minutes. He intersperses those questions with "Are you pregnant yet? Are you? Are you?" I might have to kill him.

Why is it that he doesn't understand basic biology? I am blaming it on the school system in Virginia (where he grew up and where we live now). I don't think anyone from the great state of Maryland would make these same mistakes.

For those not in the know, there's a big rivalry around the DC area as to which state is better: Maryland or Virginia. Guess where I come down?

Dizzy and nauseated (unless I'm eating), so mah nishtanah halilah hazeh mikol halailot? (why is this night different from other nights?). Going to have an acupuncture session before my yoga class tonight. Been eating well and ate a bunch of pineapple this weekend as I read somewhere that pineapple core aids implantation. Plus, I love pineapple.
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Where I've Commented:

The Meatless Chulent

Baking and Books

Eggs on Sunday

Geek by Marriage

Local Nourishment

I Returned a Comment to:

Becoming Whole

Vent On and Off

Oh, I'm so ready for my tea today. This Friday has been dragging on and on.

Nothing really going on here. Lemme just vent for a second: John Dear doesn't open mail. Any mail at all. Because his mother never let any of them open the mail, so now he just brings it in (if he even bothers to do that) and dumps it somewhere or everywhere. Come the f-ck on! WTF do you do all day? You can't even open the g. fricken. d. mail!? Why do I have to do everything?

Vent over. I found a big envelope from the Giant Fertility Clinic, which was mailed before our nurse got the news that we were going forward with donor sperm as opposed to IVF. It had a whole lotta stuff that we needed to get done before we cycled; luckily, most of the stuff only applies to IVF and I don't need to worry about it. The things that we do need are: to get consents signed (no problem), GYN checkup (done and faxed over already) and renew blood tests. So, tomorrow morning, instead of going to my first ever farmer's market, I've got to spend a couple hours with the unwashed-and-presumably-incubating-swine-flu masses at our local lab. At least I have a large amount of books from the library to go through while I sit waiting for the vampires.

After I get back from the Faux-Cullens' (the lab for you non-Twilight-ers out there), we'll probably be going directly to the CAPS game - Game 1 of the second round of the playoffs. Let's hope we play better overall in this round against the ever-annoying Penguins.

I think we're going out for dinner on Saturday night with a friend of JD's and his fiancee (I think I spoke about them once before as Hogan and The Cake Taker). Hogan can be a lot of fun; The Cake Taker is tolerable, when I practice patience.

Vent on again. On Sunday, it's one of JD's nephews' birthdays. SIL thought up a great idea for the activity and that was to draft all these 5-year olds into manual labor. Don't want to specify as to what, but suffice it to say that what they will be painting doesn't require great technique and allows the kids to get as dirty as they want to be. MIL told me to wear ratty clothes. Um, hi, I am not 5 and, as such, will not be participating in the activity. No need to lay out the dress code for me, but thanks.

In the same conversation that she told me about the dress code, MIL also told me that she thought up a great gift that I should get SIL for Mother's Day. (Screeching tires). What, what, what?!! I won't be getting anything for SIL for Mother's Day because, as I'm sure you're aware, she is not MY mother and I'm not about to celebrate her simply for the fact that she does have kids. Hopefully, I get through Sunday without killing any of my in-laws. Vent off again.

My New Name

I am no longer Jendeis. I am now Kills Ants With Dawn. Die, you emm effers, die!!!

They are in my office, crawling through the wall, running up and down one of the window jambs. Ugh, aaaahhh! I'm not a fan of bugs. Am now typing, pausing every 30 seconds or so to twitch in revulsion and fear of bugs crawling on me. Hoping that the residue of the dish soap that I liberally cleaned the jamb with (killing a zillion ants on the way) will deter them till the building services people come with heavy artillery.

Ants: stay outside if you want to live.

Letting It Out

I have to vent and it's a lot of pain and I'm just trying to get it out and I publish everything I write, so I couldn't just save it.
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I hate everyone and everything. Eff you, eff you, and eff you. You f--king people with your "problems" and your bitching and your whining. Eff you.

Is this what life really is? I am in emotional pain every moment of every day. I don't think I'm going to kill myself, but the idea of not being in pain is extremely appealing. I cannot believe that everyone else goes through this. How do you do this and not be a complete wreck like me? What is it that I'm doing wrong?

I don't think we're infertile anymore. How can we be infertile if we're not doing anything to get pregnant? I just think about time passing us by, me by, and the tears spill. In May, it'll be 2 years. Two f--king years.

But what does that matter? We probably won't have children. Hell, we may not even stay married. Our marriage is who knows where and everything in my life is on hold.

I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry.

Vent

The following is just me venting and doing a brain dump, so please take it with a grain of salt.
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BAD THINGS
I hate everyone and everything. Eff all y'all, you g-dd-mn shiny, happy people.

I'm cold, my feet are freezing. I feel like I'm taking the Bar again. It was so cold in that arena, you could see your breath. In July, people!!!

I'm supposed to take this new pill in the morning and in the afternoon, and I'm just not managing it. I'm a total f-ck up. Plus, I'm getting better without it (HA), so I'd like to stop it.

My back hurts, my shoulders hurt, my neck hurts. Depression hurts, I'm not on Cymbalta, so it ain't helping me.

My nails are short and I can't find the time to polish them.

I came up with a great idea for homemade holiday gifts and it's not as easy as I wanted it to be and I think it's going to take a lot longer than I thought to do them all and I'm worried about it. But if it works it will be awesome and it's a good gift and even though I'm spending money to make it, it's still a LOT less than I previously spent and the savings will go to the Debt Snowball. (Not that we're in a bunch of debt, just that I'm going to add it to the next car payment).

I need to take a shower desperately. My hair hurts and itches because it's dirty. I am disgusting.

John Dear returned my audiobook to the library because it was 3 days late and earning fines. I wasn't able to renew it because someone had the book on hold. Except I was on disc 32 of 36 discs. I don't know when I'll be able to get the book back and I was loving it. Darn it.

JD started work yesterday (yay!) and I'm concerned that there will be a reversion back to me doing everything. I expressed that concern yesterday and he said that he will do his best to continue the partnership we've had going the last couple of months. I'm waiting. I'm not even guardedly or cautiously optimistic -- I'm just waiting.

I don't know why bad things happen to good people, why the caged bird sings or why birds suddenly appear every time you are near.

GOOD THINGS
I am now addicted (again) to Jon and Kate + 8. I love the current commercial that TLC is running with the Jon and Kate smiling at each other in the field. I am a tremendous dork.

Top Chef has started again. Yay! I will be watching the premiere tonight over TiVo.

JD and I exercised last night for 40 minutes. We rocked it hard-core.

I had a three-bean salad with couscous (on the nutritionist's plan) for lunch yesterday and it was legen - wait for it - dary!!! I must figure out how to duplicate this salad (from Jason's Deli). I know that it has: kidney beans, edamame, garbanzo beans, minced red onion, diced red and yellow bell pepper and cilantro. Don't know what the dressing is. If you know, please tell me! I could eat this every day.

We're having a surprise birthday party for my dad (he's turning 65) and making a video documentary about him and he has no idea!! I'm so excited!

BOTH GOOD AND BAD
I've got the Sanford & Son theme song in my head and can't get it out. It's catchy.

Pain

Depression, sadness, blah, blah, blah. Whatever. The pain that I am experiencing now is due to Halloween. Specifically, Halloween candy.

I did not have any candy yesterday (our building did the trick-or-treat thing last night) and have not had any so far today. Can I tell you that I am in physical pain from not eating the candy right in front of my face?!

I've been eyeing the candy and know that I would not be able to stop at 1, or 10. Maybe if I made myself sick. Nah, I'd probably eat more after I threw up.

Kay, so I haven't eaten any candy and it's killing me! Aaaaahhh!

Okaaaaaay

SYDNEY, Australia (Sept. 24) - Having trouble conceiving a child? Maybe you should consider taking a dip in Australia's "fertility waters." It worked for Nicole Kidman ... or so she claims.
The 41-year-old Aussie, who gave birth to daughter Sunday Rose in July, said she and six other women who swam in the waters of a small Outback town during production of the epic romance "Australia" fell pregnant.

F--k you.