Darth Vader GPS

(H/T to We Are THAT Family)

Heart Cake

In honor of the 300th (well, really 200th) edition of the Friday Roundup, Mel has asked everyone to post a cake photo and talk about what the ALI community means to you.

I consider myself truly blessed to have found this community and to have you in my life, and to share in your lives.  Blogging has served as a needed outlet for my stress, anxieties and depression related to our IF struggles, and it has been my readers and bloggy friends who have helped me to weather the storms and who have celebrated with me during happy times.

I fell in love with this heart cake by Amanda at I Am Baker when I first saw it, and hope one day to have the mad skillz to bake it.  (For anyone interested in doing so, Amanda has a tutorial on how to do so here).

Please join the party at Mel's by posting your own cake and/or commenting on one of the blogs in the Roundup!

Thanks A**hats for Proving My Point

Way to go fat-hating anonymous commenters!  Many thanks for proving my point on my last post.

I welcome all constructive comments, from those that point out that my health might be improved by weight loss to those that disagree with my political stances.  When it comes to needlessly mean and unconstructive comments, however, I draw the line.  At the very least, if you're going to insult me, have the stugatz (i.e., the balls) enough to sign your name.  Don't just hide your m.u.d. (made-up drama) behind an "anonymous" shield.

From now on, this blog will not allow anonymous comments.  Want to comment?  Sign in with any account that Blogger allows (e.g., Blogger, Google ID, Open ID, Wordpress, etc.).

My Husband the Geek

John Dear recently got a new computer game, Civilization IV.  In case you are unfamiliar with Civilizations I through III, this is a game where you become the leader of an ancient civilization and work to explore lands, increase your population and bring new technologies to your people.

Geek check: I really loved this game when I first learned how to play it in high school.  I have since moved onto bigger and better games like Minesweeper and Free Cell.

As with every new game, JD is dedicating all his free time* to playing.  For whatever reason, JD thinks I need to know how he's doing in the game.  The upshot of this is that every so often, JD will burst out laughing and announce to the room (well, me and The Boy**) that Rabbi Akiva has become the ruler of China or that Ghandi, the current leader of Britain, has formally adopted slavery.

I don't care how he's doing; those mines won't sweep themselves after all.


*the amount of which is considerable, considering his non-employed status.
**I'm quite sure that The Boy is not interested in the play-by-play either, but he never complains, so how would we know?

Fullness, Resolve and Hot Air Balloons

We stood in our new house and knew that this was the home we would raise our family in. The stars had finally aligned and the time was finally right to add a little one to our family. We were, at long last, both ready. And, this house felt right. It even had the most perfect little nursery. In fact, from the moment we laid eyes on that room, we knew that it was meant to be our baby's room. It wouldn't be long until that cozy, beautiful, joyous room was filled with the cries and laughter of baby.

Month after month, the room lost more and more of its beauty, its joy, the coziness that a baby would have brought. Instead, it slowly became cold, empty and taunting. We stopped calling it "the nursery" and referred to it as "the purple room." We decided that it might be less painful if it were less empty, so we started storing some things that that might otherwise have found their way to the attic. That made it less empty, but nothing more. It still silently taunted us.
On the day that we got the toughest news of our journey so far, I decided that it was time to take a stand. I could no longer take the silent taunting. There was that voice from somewhere in my head, that the nursery seemed to symbolize, that said we wouldn't be parents and this would never be a nursery. It was time to find a symbol of my own. I would, in my own quieter way, stand on the rooftops and proclaim to the Heavens that this would still, one day, someday soon, be a nursery.

My next act required nothing less than the effort of climbing to the rooftop...a trip to the children's department at Ikea....to buy a crib mobile. There were many things about this that seemed crazy. How weird it is to buy a crib mobile for a room without a baby, much less a crib.

And yet, this symbolic act, on this toughest day, was so powerful for me. I chocked back tears as I walked through the cribs, stuffed animals, changing tables and high chairs. But, I got all the way to the checkout line and then all the way home without tears, without a breakdown. It was all so raw, in the wake of our first bad news, that I had yet to be able to cry. I had yet to mourn the loss of our chance at a natural conception.

I got home and was grateful to find that I had the house to myself. I paused at the door to the nursery, mobile in hand, and took a shielding breath. I didn't bother doing anything special to hang it. Why did it matter where it hung if there was no crib to hang it over? I found a random nail the old owner's had left in the wall and hung in there.

As soon as it was hung, I fell in a heap on the floor and cried. For the first time, I cried about the emptiness, the stillness, the left-behind feeling, the loss of "conception by romantic evening," and, mostly, the unknown. I sobbed. And then, when I had cried all I could cry, there was nothing left but resolve. I said, aloud to this empty room--to the baby that will someday, somehow call it home--that we would not give up until our baby, from whatever path was necessary, found its way here.



The nursery still serves as a halfway point to the attic, rather than a haven for baby. It is still absent the sounds of babies' laughter or tears. But, it taunts me less than before. Mot days, it's less of a cruel reminder and more of a source of determination. Most days, I smile at the dreams my mobile represents, rather than cry at the empty room. This lone baby item, my hot air balloon crib mobile, is a silent reminder of what will be. In many ways, that room is filled will our hopes and dreams and everything we want for our family.

As it turns out, our nursery isn't quite as empty as it once seemed.
_________________________
This post is brought to you by Geohde's Great Cross-Pollination. Can you guess the author? You can find my Cross-Pollination post for today at Lin's blog, Our Someday Family.

Infected

My now-not-so-beloved has downloaded a virus onto my laptop. AGAIN. Brought it into work and they said it was fixed. Guess what? It's not.

Now I've got to lug it in again. Grr. (And on my white suit day too (see the comments)).

Outwardly, I've been very calm. I mean, what can you do? Things happen. I do think, however, that JD has finally gotten the message and the reason why I do not want him working (read: playing some stupid computer game) on my computer.

I told him yesterday that I wanted to get him his very own laptop for our anniversary (coming up at the end of August). He said that he hadn't come up with an idea for a gift for me. I said, "You don't understand. That is the gift for me."

Darn it. I should at least get a china cabinet out of all this. This is the one I have my eye on. Isn't it beeyooteeful? And only for the cost of a fertility treatment or two.

***

Work has been insane and I'll be travelling on Sunday for a shiva call (my brother's wife's brother passed away unexpectedly last week) so I may not be posting much in the coming days.

I'm a Copier

"First, Madonna had one. Then Angelina had one. Now, Bruno has one."

Yeah, I'm a copier, completely following Leah and her "Leah understands..." post.

Since I was certain that I would not garner enough finds with "Jendeis," I searched with "Jen understands."

Jen understands how to create a brand from the top down...
Because grass-roots organizing never works. Oh, except for that pesky little civil rights movement in the 50s. Oh, and women's lib, Earth Day, and RESOLVE.

Jen understands the emotional journey we all travel, while offering hard facts to help overcome expected challenges.
Yes, I feel your pain. Additionally, did you know that Leo Gerstenzang was the inventor of the Q-tip?

Jen understands you "use it or lose it" and that fitness of any kind, at any level, is truly medicine to our bodies.
Unfortunately, I don't think I ever had it to lose it, but yes, fitness is important for our bodies and minds.

Jen understands that selling your home can be a stressful and emotional process.
Why not add in buying a new home, moving, having your car die and getting married in addition to the selling part? Just get all the stress in at once.

Jen understands the importance of investing in our communities to enhance our economy and our quality of life.
That's why Jen wants to move, so she can invest in a community she wants to be in, rather than in NoVA.

Jen understands the holistic approach the average athlete needs.
Sorry, I can only come up with dirty answers to this one.

Jen understands the composition of the world is not always black and white, but RED, the color of flame.
"She dreams in color, she dreams in red. Can't find a better man..."

Jen understands that there is satisfaction in clearing, but it can also be emotionally charged and draining at times...
For example, sometimes someone has a 3-foot broken trophy that he refuses to get rid of for like 4 years. Not like this is personal, I probably just heard that somewhere.

Jen understands the likely misapprehensions that Hector has right now regarding this pneumonia.
Luckily, she knows other pneumonias that she can introduce him to.

Jen understands little of this as it seems to her that honor asks the impossible.
Not really. Only two things: "Justice, justice, shall you pursue" and "Truth, even unto its innermost parts."

Knew That Was Weird

So, remember how I left the voice mail, but it wasn't my nurse's voice, just an automated response?

Yeah, that was cause it wasn't her phone number. Have no idea's whose it was -- well, someone in the universe just got a chuckle. :)

Called the main line, got the correct number and left a message. Should hear back from nurse today or tomorrow.

Smooth Jazz and Choose Your Own Adventure

Oh, yeah (must be said in the Kool Aid guy's voice).

Within 5 minutes of my sending a Friend request (it turned out that I hadn't done it the first time), HS boyfriend accepted my request AND sent me a note. Man, is he desperate. (j/k).

I still got it. (blows on fingers and rubs them on shirt).

Hips swivelling a little more this morning.

---

If I was an actual writer, this post would now go into an articulate and poignant essay on how Facebook and similar sites draw you back into the past and ask the question, "can you ever really go home again?" Unfortunately, I am not an actual writer, so you're going to get an inarticulate and rambling essay.

The problem is that as quickly as you are drawn back into your past self, you really can't go back there. Not while you're still in the here and now.

I often wonder if I could go back and change my actions/words, would I? I think my life would have ended up differently. I would not be the person that I am today. I'm not sure if that's good or bad. It's not about regrets, for me, these questions are more about what if?

Except, when would I go back, what would I change? Something big? What if I went through life as a thin person? That's major. What if John Dear and I had broken up when we had first started going out and he revealed some definite breakup-caliber things, or later, when he almost called off the wedding?

Yet, everything affects everything else. Who talked about the butterfly effect? It could be something as trivial as missing a train, like in that Gwyneth Paltrow movie.

It was so much easier with those Choose Your Own Adventure books. No decision was final because I could hold my place, see what happened and if I didn't like it, just choose the opposite path. I guess what I'd love is a save and restart option on this life of mine.

Mea Culpa (Maybe)

Gave into the Facebook demons and added High School Boyfriend as a Friend. I think.

Facebook help needed! Is there a way to keep track of who I've added prior to them accepting me? Cause that way, I can really keep track of the rejections. Also, cause I think I clicked on "Add a Friend" but then the person keep showing up in the sidebar as "You May Know this Person."

I used to get stuff done at work, you know. (Stop laughing).

Round One

Summary: Jendeis is an utter loser. She is aware of this fact.

Facebook pulled up high school boyfriend and asked if I wanted to Friend him. I'm not doing anything unless he tries to Friend me or slips me a note in study hall that looks like this:

Otherwise, am setting myself up for rejection and I went through that the first time around.

At least I got to see his picture. I'm pretty sure I've won this round (aka Who Has Better Hair?). Though the more I consider his hair in the picture, I can't decide whether it's improved from high school or not. Mission Impossible: must find a solo picture of myself where I (1) don't look deranged, and (2) definitely resemble attractive non-deranged movie star.*

In the absence of those pictures so far, have posted interesting pic from my wedding as was clearly last time I looked non-deranged, though was on heavy drugs at the time, so maybe drugs are the answer for my non-deranged look.

*Assuming there are any attractive non-deranged movie stars left.

You Gotta Have Goals

Goals for Today
1. Lose 100 pounds and post a photo of such before high school boyfriend can discover you on Facebook.

2. Um, I think 1 is enough for today.

Vote Vote Vote

Did you know that Mel's blog, Stirrup Queens, has been nominated for an award? Stirrup Queens is a finalist in the 2008 Weblog Awards for Best Medical/Health Issues Blog.

You can help! Anyone is allowed to vote - plus, you can vote once each day. Please support Mel's blog by voting here.

Wanna do something more? Blog, twitter and post on Facebook about the awards and tell everyone you know to vote for Stirrup Queens!

Feel free to take the button I've created and put it on your own blog. Just save the image below. You can even link it (like I have) to the polls page.