I've moved!

Find me here at: Birch and Maple Cheers!

Like Athena From the Head of Zeus

The latest version of this blog has sprung fully formed over here. I actually still like Blogger - apart from the 'did that post?!' limbo and the whole 'you wanted to comment on another blog? You silly!' issue. Ultimately, though, I really wanted to be able to have more links into more easily changeable categories (although I can't arrange them alphabetically, which is annoying). I'm paying for what I'm doing, but hey, remember typepad does free blogs too! So...c'mon, change yer links to: Birch and Maple. And if anyone decides to change to Typepad, the import thing takes about 5 minutes to do from Blogger, easy-peasey! See you over there...

That Time Of The Month - UPDATED

For whatever reason, Blogger will not post my last two posts, hence this note here. Basically, I've moved. You can find me over at my new home at Typepad...guess it was just in time, eh? Anyway, please change your bookmarks to: Birch and Maple <------new home! Dear Customer - When I ring up your purchases and you then hand me an item that you've placed on the floor in front of the cash desk and then ask me, 'Did you get this?', the answer is going to be 'no'. That's because, see, my x-ray vision can't actually see through the desk because of the kryptonite-embalmed particleboard. And when you ask me how long it'll take for the money from your return to get back into your bank account, I can't tell you. Nor will my manager be able to, nor any other member of staff. No, we don't sell bibles. No, we don't know how long your special order will take to get to the store, because, as we explained, we don't technically do orders, we just call the other stores and they send the items to us, if they have them in stock. Honest, we're not lying to you. And yes, when you're answering your phone or completely ignoring the sales person when they're, say, trying to tell you how much your purchase costs, you are being rude. No, I can't sign your credit card slip for you. And yes, when I'm staring at you, with only your bagged goods, a pen, and a credit card slip between us - that means you're supposed to sign the slip. I think it's a good thing I've got this next week off, don't you?

This Just In! - uodated!

According to The Sun, there's a $60 million shortfall in NHS Grampian, who includes all the hospitals within Aberdeen. Welp, it turned out to only be $25 million. Apparently, the nurses have been holding tag sales and selling books in the hospitals to patients and their families. Not for charity, no. It's to pay for staff training. I'll leave you with that, shall I?

The Genius Of Language

I'm reading this totally cool book, The Genius of Language: 15 Writers Talk About Their Mother Tongues, and that got me to wondering about you, dear readers. I've had many years of French, a semester of Italian, four years of Latin, plus bits and bobs of self-study in Arabic, Greek, and, ahem, Sindarin and Quenya, etc. Anyway, I've always been a person who wished they could speak more than one language (and I'm not talking about Desperanto, either), and have always been impressed by people who were fluent in two or three or more languages. What I want to know, however, is if any of you know more than one language. Which one is your mother tongue? Why did you decide to learn the other language? Was a secondary language taught as standard in your school? Did you move to a new country without knowing any of the language, and just throw yourself into learning it? Do you find one or another language easier to express yourself in? Do you you ever get frustrated by the inability of other people to speak in your mother tongue? Have you ever felt stupid or been made to feel ashamed of not speaking another tongue? I'm just a curious fool, what can I say!

Monday Morning Blahs

I'm feeling better today. I think much of that's because I got my period yesterday and have so far only had a couple of palps this morning. And none last night. I didn't play WoW yesterday and my back is thanking me for it today. I've fixed my broken urls on the right, and added two new blogs: Hard Boiled: A Donor Egg blog (nothing to do with John Woo or Chow Yun Hot. Uh, Fat. Chow Yun Fat. Yeah, that's it...) and Within the Woods Somehow or another in my last retrofitting, I'd left Julianna off the list! Bad me. No wonder I've been thinking that I've been missing someone for the past few weeks. Band alert: Do Me Bad Things. They look like the Scissor Sisters, but sound a much rockier edge, less disco, more kick ass. Check out their video for their new tune, What's Hideous (links in the 5th or 6th paragraph). Here's Time For Deliverance on virgin.net.

More Random Blogginess

1) thank you all for the advice. Re: cold fingers, sweaty pits, er, that's actually my normal state, nothing unusual I'm afraid! It could be 90F outside and my fingers'll be cold...I used to walk up a steep, mile-long hill to work in the dead of winter. By the time I got to the building I'd be sweaty and flushed, while my gloved fingers would just be starting to feel warm. I know, I'm weird. 2) Click on the link at just below the headlines of this page. As people who takes lots of meds, I think we all deserve the laugh. And it's work-safe (the word 'sex' does appear, though). 3) Dawn could use some support. She's in a tres sucky situation. 4) I'm watching series 4 of 24 and can I just say, how gorgeous is Shohreh Aghdashloo? And the voice - oy! She was in House of Sand and Fog, among other movies, and I hear she was very good. I didn't see it as I'm not an Oprah Book Club fan (to say the least), but now I'm thinking of checking it out...

What To Do About Anxiety?

Seriously. I don't know about you all, but I've always been a very anxious person, and now with these constant (for the sake of simplicity I'll say 'constant', although what I mean is that they happen all throughout the day and evening) heart palps it's ratcheted up to a whole new level. I mean, hell, I'm watching Futurama and on the verge of tears, how wrong is that? What I need to know is what you do about anxiety. How do you handle it? What do you do? I'm feeling like I'm falling down this spiral of depression, or maybe it's been here all along and I just haven't noticed it, like I'm trapped and there's just no way out. Any advice would be greatly appreciated. And no, I don't want to tell Mr Oro, because I don't think he can help and I don't want to add on to his plate. Before I forget, anyone else experience freezing fingers and toes and goosebumps coupled with a flushed face and sweating armpits?

Why I Now Hate Dove

Not the pigeons (y'know doves are pigeons, right? They're just prettier), but the bodycare range. I hate them for their new commercial, which is all about the skin. We see freckled skin and scarred skin and pregnant, oh-so-very pregnant skin - in an ad with about 14 young women, at least half are pregnant. Wearing their underwear. Cuz, see, it's all about the skin. This now rates up there with tampon ads and air freshener ads, expecially the ones with little kids on toilets going, Ew, something's stinky in here! Cuz I really want to see that while I'm eating my dinner.

Random Things - updated

1) I just got a letter in the mail - there's now a 6 month waiting list for review appointments from the diabetic clinic. So unless lots of people cancel their appointments, I won't be seeing Dr Research until...September. 2) There was a kestrel in my back garden! I still can't get over it! It must have seen the pigeons, sparrows, robins, bulfinches, and blackbirds milling around the feeders and thought to itself, Breakfast! 3) still having palps, but they've calmed down quite a bit - yeah, sure they have. I've got an appointment with my GP (heretofore known as Dr E, as that's her name) on Friday, although I might cancel if they stop conmpletely by then. 4) the diarrhea has gone away, but the stomach cramps remain - wrong on that point too. I'm still quite tired, having slept for 9 hours Thursday night (I was too tired to read!), and 5 last night. I hope ye olde periode arrives tomorrow, although I am in doubt. Seeing as I have to work the next 6 days straight, it seems only right that I should get it on the first day of work for the week as well. 5)My back still hurts, although not as bad as it was earlier in the week. I'm Warcrafting a lot less (from lack of interest as well - yay depression), which is certainly helping. I hope it goes away soon. 6) the depression and teariness continue. Don't know why. 7) I'll fix Mare, Go Fug Yourself, and Pamplemoussey's links soon.

Boggling: 1 Mind: 0

How to combine extreme sports with housework. Ladies and gents, I give you: Extreme Ironing If that doesn't do it for you, why not try some Urban Housework?

Oy.

I now know how you lose weight taking Metformin - it's the damned diarrhea. And I've only taken two pills...

I'll Take The Malaise, With A Side Order Of Angst

I wish Mr Oro were home today. I generally feel better with him around. Today has been a crying kind of day, no matter the subject. I'm cold, but I refuse to turn the heat on (we have it on 2x a day, in the morning and evening) as I see no reason to heat a house just because my fingers and feet are like icicles. I've picked up - not that it makes a difference - made a half-assed stab at organizing a birthday box for my mother, am still contemplating refluffing my sofa cushions and vacumming the floor (remember I was going to do that last week?). Let us not forget the wad of pantyhose currently soaking in my sink, the bras on the bathroom floor that need washing, the general feeling of 'holy crap I hope no one wants to come into the house'. Let me tell you, I dread the days that the window cleaners show up. Yesterday I spent, oh, about $500. $200 of that was on compost (6 bags of organic compost, peat free, 50L per bag), 4 large glazed ceramic pots in cobalt blue, sea green, and dark red, and 3 lavenders, for a delivery charge of only $35, ha ha. I bought a shirt for work and 10 pairs of pantyhose (black, 15 denier, ladder resist) for $40, took $50 out of the atm for cash, bought a nice amethyst ring for $12, topping the day off with another 3 month bus pass at $250. So much for last month's financial surplus. And I still have to buy bird seed this month. Finally, I'm afraid to eat. I can cross apple and elderflower juice off my list of okay foods, and milk might be next on the list. Not that i drink a lot of milk, but, there ya go. Maybe in a few weeks I'll retest. Oh, I'm sad, sad, sad today. I do things, like laundry and cooking, and it seems to make no difference. Sure, I like the way it looks, but that only lasts for so long. Y'know, Dr Phil is perhaps not the right person for me to be listening to right now. He's doing some show on addictions and accountability. He's not even talking to me or about me and I feel guilty about being fat. You have to admit, that takes some doing, to assume a talk show host is talking about your whit. As far as I'm aware I'm not addicted to anything (besides blogging, obviously). And yet. I haven't decided wether or not I'm going to go do some Warcrafting or watch a movie or refluff or just stay in front of the tv. I can't say I hate my life, because I don't, but boy, I sure don't feel particularly enamoured of it right now, either.

Today's Mood: Mildly Depressed

Just took my first pill and am experiencing some mild stomach cramps, the kind that feel like you're just gassy. I ate a little less than normal, just in case, y'know, dinner comes up again. I took this test and got the following results: Oddly advanced: 26% beginner, 20% intermediate, 87% advanced, 72% expert. Maybe it's me, but that makes no sense at all.

How's This For Sweet

One of my former work colleagues dreamed she'd won the lottery, and gave me $40K so I could do IVF. And the other day, another said she wished she could do something to help. How can I let them know that just being able to talk about it is help enough?

Thunderbolt And Lightfoot

Speak not of the movie, but of the real history of these two. Chances are I've driven by the only round schoolhouse in the US, the one ol' Thunderbolt used to teach. Neat, eh? In other news, ye olde heart palpitations have continued. Which is a) annoying, b) unpleasant, and c) still scary. What I hate most is that I get so anxious and tense about getting them, which makes it even more unpleasant and scary. Just a vicious cycle, I know. So far the list of foods which don't seem to be triggers include: beef pork chicken sausages (so far) cabbage cauliflower apples carrots leeks lettuce cheddar mayonnaise butter olive oil creme fraiche/sour cream Foods that are probably triggers include: grapefruit juice thai style chicken things (processed deli chunks, yum) eggs - will have to test in another few weeks Blah. I've noticed that with the exception of eggs, I rarely eat the foods that seem to be triggers. I'm not a big tomato eater, because by the third bite of a raw tomato, my mouth starts to taste coppery. Cooked toms taste like that from the start, but since I usually eat them with other foods, spiced and herbed, I can ignore it. At my peril, it would now appear. Ditto for potatoes (which I've never really liked anyway) and eggplants and bell peppers. Makes ya wonder. And I've got this backache that simply will. not. quit. Most of this is due to the crappy seat I have for playing WoW, with a little bit stemming from the things I do in my sleep that exacerbate my pulled trapezius muscles in the first place. All my stress goes into my back and shoulders, and I pull one or the other trapezius muscle oh, every 6 weeks or so. It's not anything unusual. However, coupled with the palps, and hours and hours of folding towels and shifting curtains and carrying heavy bags out to customers cars...I'm a-hurtin'. Mere Ibuprofen (which, ha ha, also triggers palps) and aspirin aren't doing diddly. So now, the question is, do I just go see Dr Elliot and do the Holter moniter thing and get stronger painkillers? And if so, will that influence what the IVF clinic does (call me paranoid, but at this point I'm taking no chances)? I'm off to the dietician's tomorrow, so I'll go ahead and ask her (or whoever I see). Which reminds me, I'm getting my Met prescription tomorrow, too. Good thing I've got Thursday off, eh? Oh, and I think I might have offended the hell out of another blogger. I hope not. However, I do feel what was said needed to be said. I think sometimes it's all to easy forget the good things that we have in our lives right now when we live on Infertility Island. I am torn, because while I want to believe that infertility doesn't define me, every now and then, it so does. Depends on the day, really. Other times I feel like a poseur, as I haven't actually had any treatments or injected anything. Been probed, dildo-camed, and HSG'd, but hey, gods forbid anyone should try and and prescribe me some shit! I'm not, y'know, a real infertile, despite trying for 7 years. Hey - am I sounding defensive here?? Am I trying to stave off possibly unpleasant comments or another storm on the island by sharing my experiences of infertility because of what I posted on that other blog? I think I am. Hmm. I'll shut up now and let the chips fall where they may. Oh, I'm not going to post the url of the other blog (although the owner of said blog is more than welcome to respond to this post or my comments either here or on her own blog) because I don't want any spats - not that I think you would want to create them, mind, I just don't anyone to think I need defending or trying to explain what you think I really meant to say. I did mean what I said. I'm just not sure it was appropriate for me to say it at this particular moment in time.

And Then For Dinner I Had...

...Italian sausage by Sainsbury's and a small head of cauliflower. It's similar, but different to US style Italian sausage. Still, it's better than the regular sausages you get over here, which is this greasy paste in a casing. You can get good sausages, with the consistency of Jimmy Dean or Italian sausage, but you do have to pay for them. And they don't do anything remotely like spicy American breakfast sausage, alas. Or Kielbasa, for that matter, wth is up with that?! Anyway, about 10 minutes of eating my sausages, I had a palp - it was of normal strength, but I haven't had any since, so, fingers crossed. Kris' blog had this cool thing to do: Open up a book to page 123 find the 5th sentence down post the next three sentences But with the thinning game, and no rescue ship yet on the horizon, they began to ration supplies. It was Galle's idea to break out one box of bread and issue two pieces a day to each person. In this way, one box would last them twenty days. from Ada Blackjack:A True Story of Survival In The Arctic, by Jennifer Niven (who also wrote the fabulous The Ice Master: The 1913 Doomed Voyage of The Karluk).

Oh, Hell If I Know

Wtf is going on with me. I was so pleased to have figured out part of the equation the other day, and then today, after a breakfast of scrambled eggs with garlic and parsley, it started happening again! I'll cross eggs off the list - as a low-carber I eat a lot, a lot, a lot of eggs, and I have mucus issues with them, so it wouldn't surprise me if I were intolerant of them entirely. Either that, or it's the garlic. Which is a horrifying thought. I'm a quarter eye-talian, for gods sakes. Anyway...that's the report for this afternoon. If it continues beyond the week, I'll go back to my GP and do that Holter monitor thing - although I'll bet you by the time I get fitted for it, the palps will have stopped. Meh.

Hmm. Veddy Interestink.

After pondering Danae's comment and then eating a dinner of sausages, cabbage, with a few filched steak fries from Mr Oro's plate, I went upstairs to play some WoW. And lo, what do you think happened then? Why yes, palpitations galore. About 10 years ago I heard rumours of my favorite English professor (aka The Best English Professor Ever)having to go to the hospital, practically on her deathbed. A few months on, I heard that it was all down to allergies. Specifically, allergies to the deadly nightshade family. Hmm. Things I have been eating a lot of lately while ill: squash and ginger soup (so not homemade it's not even funny) tomato soup eggplant salad tomato soup cheese potato chips juice tomato soup chocolate What, you ask, is in the deadly nightshade family? How about these: tomatoes white potatoes chili, cayenne, paprika, pimiento, and bell peppers eggplant tobacco I think you can see where I'm going, here. Well! Enter yet another elimination diet...by the bye, it's also recommended that you avoid these foods if you suffer from any kind of arthritis. Oh, here's a great list and good info on the nightshade family.

WTFF?!?!

Oh, I'm sorry, how exactly the hell does this help stamp out rape and pedophilia?

Must You Stare At Me?

Really, what's the deal with doctors staring at you while you try not to cry? I mean, can't they at least pretend to spare your dignity and look the fuck away? So I go see my GP yesterday, as Dr Director told me to do last Monday, for my Metformin prescription. Except, of course, the motherfucking prick hadn't sent it yet. That's Dr Director, not my GP, for whom I still haven't come up with a name. I was thinking of Dr-Been-Pregnant-Three-Times-While-I've-Known-Her, but thtat's obvuously too long to type, and I'd forget what the hell the acronym meant immediately after I posted, so for now, she'll remain 'my GP'. Maybe I'll call her Dr Nice(but occasionally dim). She is nice, and compassionate, and has one of those motherly figures that you just want to hurl yourself onto and sob. Afterwards she'd give you a hug and tell you to go out and play, y'know? Anyway, I can't stop crying. At least my eyes couldn't stop leaking, not on the way to the bus stop, not on the bus, not in the bookstore. By the time I got on the bus to work I was...okay. I popped a homepathic Blues remedy and if my day didn't exactly improve, it wasn't horrible, either. Apart from the heart palpitations. Now, I've had these palpitations since I was 14 and only one doctor, my first (and horrible) gyne visit. Don't ask me about the anal probe, that's all I'm sayin'. In any case, I went for years without worrying about them all that much. I noticed that they were most frequent around ovulation, and again when I dosed up on the Ibuprofen on day one of my period. Then, about 3-4 years ago, I got palps every couple of minutes for about 3 weeks. This completely freaked me out and I went to see my GP, who immediately asked all the heart attack questions (tightness in chest, dizzyness, etc), of which I had none. I got sent some test, which of course showed nothing, and sent on my merry way. I cut back on the amount of water I was drinking, cut out the tea and the coffee and the chocolate and the sugar and the exercise and various other things, and eventually everything calmed down and I went back to my usual schedule. Since then, I've discovered that there's an ingredient in chocolate, coffee, black tea, paracetamol, and some processed foods that will trigger the palpitations. It's not caffeine, either, because I can eat or drink things with caffeine in them and not get the palps. I can't remember what the ingredient is, but it's natural to chocolate, tea, and coffee. I find that it happens most quickly if I eat strong chocolate or drink coffee made from a cafetiere (I'm fine with drip coffee), all of which is leading up to the past few days, when I started getting the palpitations while walking to and from my bus stop. I'm fine at work, fine at home, fine in the grocery store, but on my to and from home - ! I don't know if it's just all the stress, the fact that I ovulated yesterday, my chocolate binge from Saturday (and it wasn't even good chocolate), or what, but I'm tired and scared of this now. It's not painful, it's more like, it's kind of like a heart hiccough (oo, look, she goes all proper spelling). I feel it in the hollow of my throat first, and then the heart kind of...loses rhythm for a milisecond. It's the kind of thing that by the time you recognize and realize what's happening, it's over. Anyone else experience this, or have any advice?

'Struth!

I love that Aussie-ism. It's short for 'god's truth', and since there seems to be a god talk around lately, I thought I'd join the party from a Pagan perspective. I speak for myself only, of course, as other pagans probably have different ideas on the matter. Here's the funny thing: paganism as a whole is seen by many as a fertility cult. I know. Hilarious. And yet...while we celebrate fertility, we also celebrate death and rebirth, that whole hoary cliche about the cycle of life. For some people, Eostre/Easter is the most important time of the year. Others find that Samhain/Halloween, or Yule/Christmas has most meaning. For what it's worth, I fall into the latter group. Actually, I really only celebrate two times of the year, the summer and winter solstices, as the deity(ies) I worship have no set rituals. My primary deity is a goddess, one who, ha ha, has no children. One of her titles, however, is kourotrophos, Nurse of children. One of her main duties was to protect women in labor and the subsequent baby and toddler. I don't take this as a sign of my future, but merely a coincidence. The other two dieties are gods, both of whom are worshipped for their fertility. I don't ask them to make my dreams come true (although that would be nice!). I ask them to help me reach a state of grace about my infertility, no matter what happens. I don't ask them why I'm infertile - not seriously, I don't angst about that aspect of it, I accept that some of the roads in life that I walk are far harder than I ever thought they would be, that seems to be normal for me. I want their help in getting through it, in moving on, in dealing, if you will. Perhaps that's just down to my character, I don't know. It's just that when I read other peoples posts about god, there's a fundamental difference that I can't quite put my finger on. Of course, maybe they do the same thing, but they're just not writing about it in the same way...? Again, I don't know. Having said all that, I do feel this weird pressure, probably down to no one but myself, that my fellow pagans are having a love affair with fertility...I don't know how to describe it. I guess I feel that if I were to bring the subject up, I'd get patronized, and I'm not sure how I could handle that without either crying or bitchslapping someone. I've not had any comments from online, but still...I'm wary. And now, I have to go to work. More ruminations later...maybe...

Your Questions Answered

The Barreness wondered: b) 1) What is the one thing you want to do before you die? Get published, dammit! 2) What is the one PLACE you want to visit before you die? Alaska 3) What is your favorite blogging wine? Organic. Also, I like shiraz and zinfandel. Or, y'know, whatever happens to be around. Even Boone's Farm, which doesn't really qualify as being a wine so much as an alcoholic soda... Scully mused: b.1. Will you ever move back to the States? Yes! We were planning on moving back 'after the children', but at this point it might not be for years and years. Wah. b.2. What is your favourite tv show ever? The X Files - yeah baby yeah! b.3. What is our dream job? Being a published, PAID writer! Ameyesq pondered: Also curious as to where (as in what region) you are looking to do your IVF. I'd prefer to be in New England, cuz then I could drive to and from home, but really, it's down to anywhere that'll take me. Journeywoman71 asked: 1) Star Trek or Star Wars? Why? Star Wars, baby! Which isn't to say that I wasn't a huge ST fan, I was...but it's very small in scope, without that Classic Heroism (of which the XF also partakes) that I love. I think Scott Bakula was completely the wrong person to play the Captain in Enterprise, that ST:TNG was too wishy-washy, and that Voyager was fatally flawed by bad writing and too big a crew. DS9 was really the only show besides the original that was worth the effort putting in to it, although they were NOT the creators of the story arc, no need to put your hands up J Michael Stracynski. 2) Who are your favorite authors? Uh, I'll give you my top, uh, list, for today: Jane Austen - sheer brilliance. You can call it domestic drama if you want, but studying her writing changed my life and my relationships forever. CJ Cherryh - Writes aliens like no one else I know. Not even David Brin. An incredibly intricate and detailed writer, she creates languages for her aliens. If you like SF but haven't tried her work, I highly recommend the Chanur Saga or the Morgaine Saga, one of the most non-romantic romances I have ever read. Utterly believable, gorgeous writing, political (but not as bad as, say, Cyteen). Merchanter's Luck is a good start to the Alliance-Union universe, and The Dreaming Tree is a great Celtic fantasy. Oh, I could go on. No, really, I could. Tanith Lee - I have no words to describe her work. Luscious, dark, erotic, macabre, morbid, funny, romantic, fantastic, sensual, decadent, bizarre - she's the writer people like Anne Rice can barely conceive of being. She write fantasy, science-fantasy, science fiction, childrens books, fairy tales...I just can't do her justice, nor can Victoria Strauss (another fab author) in her review of The Silver Metal Lover, and here's a fan website of her works. For an intro to her work, try these books, the anthologies Dreams of Dark And Light, Tamastara, Red As Blood(or Tales From the Sisters Grimmer), the novels Night's Master (first in the series, all are standalones), The Birthgrave, and Biting the Sun (comp of Don't Bite the Sun and Drinking Sapphire Wine), to name but a few. Maureen McHugh - unbelieveably emotional writing. It's plotless, but, really, you just don't care. Check out Mission Child and the stunning Nekropolis. She has Hodgkins Lymphoma - which also killed Martyn Bennett. Lois McMaster Bujold - gourmet popcorn, a wonderful hero (Peter Dinklage from The Station Agent is Miles Vorkosigan), fab writing, and great action. Check out her complete Hugo winning story The Mountains of Mourning on Baen's website, although if you're feeling sensitive, this story's not for you. That's all I can come up with at this late hour... 3) Who is the scariest villian in fiction Pennywise, from Stephen King's It. I swear to god I have not looked at clowns the same way since.

What I Should Be Doing

Because I feel like such a slacker at the moment, blogging about utter crap, I hereby present the list of things I could/should be doing instead of said blogging: vacuuming the living room - I have a cream carpet. 'nuff said. picking up in my bedroom - y'mean those books I've read actually have a home? wiping down the kitchen - it's just a bit messy, nothing major tackling the spare room - since we got free insulation from the council a couple of weeks ago, we had to take everything out of the attic. This includes a couple of boxes of videos, lots and lots and lots of boxes of books, and all of the flooring. We put the flooring back up, but all the books are still in the room. I have to go through all of them and see what's to stay and what's to go, then put them all back upstairs. And yet, here I sit. Y'know, I've never realized how many of the early Jackson 5 hits sounded exactly like each other. Oh Michael, how did it all go so wrong?

Oh Baby, Give Me One More Chance

Since I don't have to leave for work until 2, I've got a few hours to kill, which is being filled by blogging, reading, and watching the snow fall as well as wondering what the hell my neighbors are getting delivered to their house....looks like gardening/bird supplies. Anyway, while waiting for Judge Judy, I flipped on to MTV and watched about 3 minutes of The Real World. Now, I remember when the first Real World showed, oh those many years ago, and one of my roommates, Amy D, just had to watch it all the time. Of course she also had to watch Ricki Lake (clam), while I and our other roommate, Amy C, were dedicated Springer fans. And they'd mock me when I stayed home Friday nights to watch the X Files. More fools them. But gosh, these people on the Real World just seem so...juvenile. I won't say it's like they don't have real problems, because some of them most obviously do, and yet...I dunno. They don't seem insurmountable. In many cases it seems like a change of attitude would do, if you know what I mean. I flipped around, and have, wonderfully, landed on MTVDance, which is currently showing the History of Dance 1970-2005. What makes this totally is cool is that the show started off with the Jackson 5, and is moving through some of the classics - can't wait for SLy and the Family Stone! Ah, the days of my childhood...

Pamplemoussey

Where your blog at??

Jon Stewart On Blogging

Heh heh (quicktime) I can't remember who originally mentioned this on their blog, but having seen the trailer, I'm totally creeped out.

Thank God For TV

Because in the medical drama I'm watching right now, a girl who was raped and had an abortion is laying the guilt on her mom, who's had 3 failed IVFs, saying, 'You already have a child, aren't I good enough? You just want a baby with your new husband!' You just can't win, can you?

Human After All

I am listening to the latest cd by a huge (French) band in the Dance industry. It's been a couple of years since their last cd, and I can guarantee that you've all heard at least bits of their last cd, as it featured heavily in some commercials by a certain clothing brand. It's not actually being released until the end of next month (I sense someone's a-gonna get fired at the studio). Yes, I do feel guilty...but I'm listening to it anyway. It's hard to judge on the basis of two songs, but it does continue on from, say, the first 4 songs of their last cd. Still, though, who's to say that this is really the final version of their new cd (which I will be buying)? * * * * * * * * * * * * * I have the weekend off, which is nice. I have eaten some bread, and some candy, and now I feel extraordinarily tired. Of course, I didn't sleep very well, either, and got up at 7:30AM because I just didn't see the point of lying in bed any more. I'm still sick. I got some seed catalogs, which are always interesting, but I mourn for the catalogs I got back home. They don't have any zones in this country, so unless you're an experienced gardener you just don't know whether or not something's going to survive the year. I need bags and bags and bags of potting soil as well as digging implements and pots and bloody manpower. My front yard is laid to brick and gravel, but the weeds - apart from one winter pansy - punch through the gravel and the anti-weed mat underneath it as if they weren't even there. There are some pretty weeds, though, wildflowers that I'd like to keep, and the birds certainly like to have a wander and search for edibles. How the hell do I get rid of pigeons?? More and more of them keep showing up, even though i no longer put seed on the ground. The grass underneath the feeders is completely bare from where they run around, and I'm wondering if maybe planting some shrubbery might help? * * * * * * * * * * * * * I've been catching up on a few blogs that I stopped reading last year, and I'm glad for those whose pregnancies are going well, and saddened for those who have lost babies and who have received bad news after bad news. I hope 2005 is better for all of us. * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Barrenness said, in answer to my previous post: (a) I want you to recommend one of each to me: 1. Hide and Seek; Sideways Oh, I'm desperate to see Sideways...but of course have missed it. 2. The Once and Future King by T. H. White; Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins Loved TOFAFK, and Mallory's Morte D'Arthur, too. I've tried Tom Robbins, but I don't care for him. (b) 1) What is the one thing you want to do before you die? Be a published author. 2) What is the one PLACE you want to visit before you die? I'd love to visit either Alaska or Siberia. The wild calls to me. 3) What is your favorite blogging wine? Organic. Seriously, I've bever been a huge fan of wine, until I started getting the organic stuff. It just tastes so much better, without that awful bite in the back of your throat afterwards. As for variety, at the moment we're really into Shiraz. (c) If it feels like you're banging your head against a wall, you probably are. Stop and find an alternate route. Nothing good comes from braining yourself. Truer words were never spoken. Reminds me of what I think writer's block is - if I'm stuck on something, that means what I want to do isn't what's correct for the story. Oo, look, snow...remember that scene in The Mummy when they see the sandstorm coming? Well, that's what this snow looks like as it's blowing in. There's bright sunshine over my house and about a mile away, and the snow looks like smoke on the horizon. After this current squall, I'm off to go play WoW. I'm more used to games like Snood (buy it, it's worth it!), minesweeper, and Popcap, but now that we have a third edition to our computer family, Charity - oh, it's more hail that snow...no, wait, here come the big fluffy flakes - so this is my first time playing an MPG. I like it. Besides, it provides a great distraction from, like, life. And I get to be a skinny, yet buxom, elf.

Some Questions For Y'all

Courtesy of Journeywoman71: (a) I want you to recommend one of each to me: 1. A movie 2. A book 3. A musical artist, song or album (b) I want everyone who reads this to ask me three questions, no more, no less. (c) I want you to give me the best advice you think that you have to give to me. (d) Copy and paste this into your journal like i did, and see what kind of responses you get!

Mommy Mayhem, Or, My Mommy'll Kick Your Mommy's ASS!

What with all the hooha about that Newsweek article, I've been reading with interest the opposing points of view. I ran across a post on Geeky Mom, and had plans to respond here. Then I read this, and damn her if she hasn't already said what I was going to say. Hmph. One her her later and latest posts links to this article in Elle, which I find really fascinating. Except for one bit. Who says you have to be like this? What prevents women from just saying, Fuck you and your goddamned Tupperware/Fredericks Of Hollywood/Desperate Housewives parties! My kids won't die horrible deaths because I choose to take a 2 hour bubble bath instead of watching fucking Barney! Maybe it's because I grew up poor, and still consider myself poor (I'm only 'wealthy' because of my mother and my husband and that they have attained, to my mind, I myself have very little, with no savings and working in a minimum wage job), that doing these things for my children, or driving myself crazy trying to keep up with the Joneses, seems utterly ridiculous to me. Of course I base this upon the way I grew up, and I was a natural reader, a child who spent long periods of time with only herself for company, and thus was forced to entertain herself. Being poor helped, too. I went to summer camp, I went to horse-riding camp, I went to the library a lot, I got to play flute in band in school (before the music programs started being cut, natch). I dunno. I just feel like there's an assumption that all mothers are like this, that all mothers feel like this, and I simply don't believe that's true. D'y'know what? Ultimately I think this is a class issue. I don't think anyone would disagree that creches and in-expensive day care isn't a great thing, and wouldn't it be fab if we could do it in the US, but nobody likes to think of the practicalities of this. There's a reason why European countries can afford these things, and it's called Incredibly High Tax Rates (Britain is like the US in this regard) - Mr Oro thinks they're on order of around 40%. I gotta tell ya, that sounds like a hell of a lot to minimum-wage earning me. Hell, I couldn't afford to live on my own back home when I was working full time at a decent wage! I can't seem to articulate how I feel about all of this. I ramble on and on with verbal diarrhea, yet all I can come up with is, Pottery Barn People! I guess it's harder to worry about what other people think when I'm too worried about making the next mortgage payment, or wondering whether there's enough food in the fridge.

Need Truck Insurance?

Hello, Insurance! I'm glad you found my blog, although, to be honest, I have no idea if my blog is what you were looking for, or, indeed, that there was so much need for a blog about truck insurance. Stop on by anytime!

Pah.

What's worse, there's no way I can actually finish my bottle of wine and still get up and be coherent for work in the ay-emm. Dammnit.

Post. People, Post!

Entertain me, dammnit! It's way past my bedtime, I'm sitting on two beanbags next to Mr Oro (who's playing with the latest PC, Charity, doing Linux-y things), typing away on Faith and eyeing the dregs of wine in my glass, and wondering not only in amazement at my lack of typos thus far, but how the fuck I can actually be drunk on two glasses of wine (or pf qinee, as originally spelled), and hoping against fucking fuck that the long-assed post - complete with links that took me ages to find (Google, how thou hast failed me) - that it's taken me nigh unto two hours to write, has actually posted. Damn you, Blogger!

The Little Red Schoolhouse

It's true. I spent 1st and 2nd grade in a one room, little red schoolhouse. Here's a picture of it as it looks now. On an aside, here's a house I used to see almost every day. It was a working farm, then, but now it's just a B&B. Still want it, though. Hey, I just found an interview with the founder and head teacher of the school, Claire Oglesby! She was an exceptional teacher, and a marvelous woman, to boot. Let me return to yesteryear, however. Mom and I had just moved to the area (I feel really stupid asking this, but how the hell do I link to an archived post on my own blog? I can't seem to bring up the post on it's own...I feel stupid. And that's not just the wine talking) and I remember coming up to this long, one storey red building just off the main road. There were kids playing in huge the field to the right, and while I don't recall the interview I had with Claire, I do remember running onto that field and learning that the game being played was something called 'soccer', and that I should just follow 'that guy'. On first appearance, the front of the school is very unprepossessing. There's a dirt, half-moon parking lot, and then the school itself - a low building clapboarded and painted red, with the typical fire-safe door, and two narrow windows on either side of it. Walking in, you're in the school (it's been remodeled since, now going up to grade 3 or 4, I believe!). I think Claire and the other teachers had an office immediately on the left, and then there were two toilets, but the majority of the space was completely open. I recall 2-3 very long bookshelves, children's desks that were also in two rows feeding off the bookshelves, and in the far right-hand corner, a 'nook'. It was a book nook, with two storeys, and soft cushions on both levels. I remember reading aloud in there, and being told to be quiet by a couple of children on the upper level. And so I learned to read silently. Oo, check it out, here's an inside piccy of the school taken during a project on China - the Great Wall in the bottom pic leads to the nook. Next to the book nook was the blackboard (a real one) which ran the width of the building, from nook to windows. The windows themselves spanned the back length of the building, overlooking the rear playing fields and the forested mountain beyond. There were tables underneath the windows, but I don't remember what else was next to them. We did do the chrysalis-in-the-jar thing, though, keeping it on the sill itself until one day, the magic happened and a butterfly emerged. Behind the school was a swingset, a set of monkey bars, a swing bar, and a sandbox. Besides the playing field and the forest, that was our playground, and oh, did we love it. I should mention that the rest of town is a blink-and-you-miss-it kind of place, just your typical New England town. Not all of town kids went to the schoolhouse - plenty were shipped to the blue school up on the mountain behind the schoolhouse, which catered for kids up to grade 5, I think, or over to the central school. I only went there for three months. Apparently I came home and told me mother I wasn't going back, and she said 'okay', transferring me to this school for the rest of 3rd grade. Word of advice - never send your child to a school run by parents. When I lived there, there were no restaurants (I doubt there are any now, actually), just a General Store someone ran out of their farmhouse (I think there was a gas pump outside?), a grange, a church, and a small library. The central school was okay. Or at last as okay as any mixed race kid can be when faced with ignorance and people whose social graces stem from about 1954. In any case, the little red schoolhouse is where we all dream of sending our children. It was friendly, child-centered. The teachers there wanted to bring out the best for the children who attended, and I can say that for myself, I reaped the benefits. Curiosity was encouraged, as well as learning by the examples of others. We went on lots of field trips, too. We went to a farm and a horse tried to eat my hair. Went to another farm, one where they had sheep - one where they slaughtered sheep, too - and we came back with a bladder that we blew up and used as a balloon, like they did in 'olden times'. We used it for three days, until the smell was too bad. I also recollect bringing home a sheep' skull and going at it with a knife on the picnic table, but I don't know if that's for real or just some completely bizarre imagining of my own. Chances are it's the latter, but hey, ya never know...It was during some film during class that I learned how to tie my shoelaces, and the beginnings of my 'issues' with math after getting incredibly frustrated at not figuring out the answer to 'if you multiply something by zero, what is the answer?'. I remember taking an IQ test. When my mother wanted to punish me she'd keep me home from school. Sometimes it was so cold in the winter that the school bus wouldn't run. We didn't have a telephone, so we'd have to trudge back up the hill to home. Gods, I miss living there. Anyhoo, the little red schoolhouse was but the first in a series of schools that I was lucky, fortunate, priviledged, serendipitous enough, to attend. I managed to start off in a brilliant place, went through both good and bad schools, both public and private, and, funnily enough, ended up graduating from one of the finest liberal arts colleges in the world. Nay, the universe. One which, amazingly, perfectly reflected the ideals of Claire Oglesby, even though it was founded in the 1940's. But those are stories for other posts.

Why??

Goddamnit. One of my very favorite musicians in the world has died. Martyn Bennett was brilliant, a talented musician who brought Scotland's traditional music into the electronic age, mixing and playing and singing and quite frankly, making extraordinary sounds. You can forget Mouth Music and Afro Celt Sound System and even, dare I say it, Capercaillie - no one compares. There are mp3's on his website from his albums, and several full downloads (Cowboy Fashion is hilarious), although they smilar to Harland in technique. I highly recommend starting with his self-titled cd, Martyn Bennett, and then moving on to Bothy Culture and Grit, and am just on my way to buy Glen Lyon on MusicScotland (another cd to try is Roots, Reels, and Rhythm) Hardland is...interesting, a not always easy-to-listen-to try at mixing bagpipes and hard dance. Oh, I just cannot believe he's gone.

Dear Jen P.

Please start posting again. I miss you. And the cats.

Fascinating, But Creepy

This is work safe, but lasts 8 minutes. Make sure the volume is turned up.

Mommy Madness

Michelle found this article in Newsweek, about how moms find parenting, housekeeping, working, and, like, life, really difficult. I read it and thought, "And?" It bothered me all day, and then, while I was...folding towels...I realized why: they were Pottery Barn People. They have it all, yet they still whine. Now, far be it for me to pass judgement, but hey, it's my blog and I'll say whatever I want to say about people who have it all and then complain about it. Don't you wonder, though? Don't you wonder how they can just be completely unaware of, like, life? That it can be difficult? That maybe what's best for your kids it let them be kids? That music and dancing and sports and tvs in every room maybe aren't creating well-rounded individuals, but just kids who are like every one else in their social-financial class? That maybe what their kids want isn't really the latest pair of Nikes or Juicy Couture tracksuits, but just watching Malcolm In the Middle with their mom or dad? Doesn't striving for perfection really just mean you can't deal if you're not in control? Or am I just way off base here?

My Mother's On Crack.

Mom, after I have gone through the plans for 1.5 years of IVF before proceeding to adoption: Wait, a treatment cycle lasts 2-3 months? You and Mr Oro can't do that if you come to the States! Me, incredulous: Um, yeah, that's what I've been telling you for the past year...it's not simply a matter of going to the US with Mr Oro and getting us some IVF. Crack. It's got to be crack. Because, seriously, I swear to god she has some incredibly select hearing going on.

Should I FInd This Funny?

RealityTV is showing back-to-back reruns of Cheaters today. Heh. It should be noted that I am, perhaps, only slightly less romantic than a rock.

Well, That Was Pointless

Dr Director: It's been proven that fat women have a more difficult time getting pregnant via IVF than thin women. I don't want you to feel as if you've been singled out for a particular reason. Apart from me being fat, y'mean? Or am I just living in a parallel universe where what's coming out of your mouth isn't actually what you're saying? We stared at him. He quickly moved on. That's right, buddy. You don't want to go there. Because, funnily enough, I've read that IVF is strenous on every body, regardless of weight. Now, underlying conditions are another matter entirely, but since I apparently have none except for PCOS (and even that I feel somewhat iffy about)...which is likely why I'm fat in the first place. Dr Director: I could give you a blood test today to see if you're insulin resistant. Me: There's no point, as Dr Research took blood in December. I haven't had the results yet as my appointment last week was canceled. Dr Director: Okay, I'll write a letter to your GP to put you on Metformin, then come back and see me in May to see if you've lost any weight. Now, maybe it's just me, but what kind of medical doctor, like, say, the kind that can prescribe hormones and do intricate procedures on your body, has to refer you back to your GP so she can write out a scrip for medication? Dr Director: You should be glad you're not in Glasgow, where the weight limit is 165lbs! Oh yeah. We're freakin' ecstatic. We made it very clear to Dr Director that we feel we have been completely shafted by the clinic, and why. I think he was a little taken aback when I said I'd seen 4-5 different doctors at the clinic, and that Mr Oro and myself had asked if my weight was going to be an issue every single time, and had been told 'no'. And again, when I said it was despicable that we had basically been lied to, and that I felt I'd pissed away what fertility I might have while waiting for a clinic that ultimately is telling me 'Do Not Pass Go'. Any private clinic in Aberdeen is out as the clinic's guidelines are the ones that are followed. Of course, I wouldn't go to any clinic that had any of the doctors from the AFC working there, anyway, but still. The 'good' news is that we'll be eligible to adopt an infant until I turn 40 I figure it'll take 2 years or so for an international adoption. That gives us a year, year and a half, to get IVF out of the way, then wait however long we have to wait to 'get over' our infertility and start the adoption merry-go-round. Just hurry up and stand still.

Being Sick Sucks

1) When cooking, you can't smell what's burning. Like, say, a roasting chicken. 2) Your muscles are sore from sneezing, coughing, and blowing your nose. 3) Nothing tastes good. Although chocolate still cuts it, sorta. 4) Having to go to work (I got to leave early, even though we were very short-staffed). 5) You want salty junk food, but you are a) a low carber and b) it's very very cold and rainy and windy outside and you don't feel like making the trek to the local Spar, or facing the delinquents who hang outside no matter the weather. 6) Not even popcorn has any interest. 7) You're already getting canker sores from the 3 (three) watered down glasses of Orange juice you've had. 8) You get up at all hours of the night after drinking 4 liters of tea during the day. 9. Paying more for the 'balsam' tissues for your delicate nose. 10. On the other hand: 1) You'll do your damndest to breathe hard on Dr Director when you see him Monday afternoon. 2) Husbands will sometimes recognize that actually, they can lift a finger 3) You would eat salty junk food anyway, because, dude, you're totally sick and stuff. If you had any junk food, that is. Like, Doritos. Or Fritolay Corn Chips! Wow, I haven't had those in years. Tortilla chips just aren't the same. 4) uh...

So Then Karen Said...

...this, and I was all like, yeah. And then I realized. Not only am I one of those women who have more male friends (why are some women intimidated by fat women? Or is it just an intelligence and non-game-playing thing?), but of my (two) friends that have children, one I was never close to because she doesn't like other women (she has two girls, of course), and the other had her son long before we met, long before I found out about my infertility. None of my other friends have children. I know people from school who have kids, but I see them so rarely that that has no impact on me (one of the benefits of living overseas, I guess). But I haven't had to see someone go through a pregnancy. Which is my long winded way of saying, well, that's why I don't read most pregnancy blogs. There's nothing there - I can commiserate to a very small degree, and after a while, all I can think is, well, I have nothing to say to you apart from good luck. Some I'll continue to read because I have to find out how things end...yet. It's the elephant in the living room. I can acknowledge it, just don't expect me to say anything beyond, Yeah, it's an elephant.

Positively Craptacular

Yes folks, that's the way I feel. I took Wednesday off because I pulled ye old back muscle (again), went to work Thursday, and by the time I went to bed, the sneezing and migraine had started. Took yesterday off, and now it's 6:30AM, I feel like shit, and I'm going to work. I've had a couple of hours sleep, having reached the 'my head hurts, my throat is so dry everytime I fall asleep I think I'm choking to death. Which is why, after staring at the clock from 3:30 to 5:45, I decided I might as well get up. I've showered, eaten, and am partially dressed (bra and undies). I can report that even satellite tv is crap at this time of the day. Even the foreign channels, with the exception of one, which is showing Bollywood videos. In fact I'm watching a clown (is it just me, or are clowns really creepy?) sing a love song...and now here comes the circus. Thank goodness choreography's improved. The dancers kind of look like that dance troup in Fatboy Slim's Praise You video. It's always weird seeing white people in Bollywood flicks. What's worst of all is that if anyone were to feel my forehead they wouldn't think I'm fevered. Why? Because I'm only a little above 'normal' - 99.1/37.3 degrees. Alas, my normal temperature hovers around 96.8/36 degrees. So I feel like crap, but I don't look like crap. Oh, I was going to mention something else, but I can't remember what it was. Hope your Saturday goes well.

Ugg, Ugga, Uggest - **UPDATED

Here are some Paleo Diet links, of which the first is a mega link site: Paleolithic Diet Page Paleofood - foods and menues Paleolithic Diet and Paleolithic Nutrition - Actually, I meant to put out the WARD NICHOLSON interview instead - my bad. It's still really long, though! A very long article, but worth the read! There's one section, I can't remember where it is, that flipped a switch for me. He talks about how our ancestry influences our diet, and for me, suddenly the things I like to eat made a hell of a lot of sense. My immediate ancestry stems from three continents - Africa, Europe, and North America - and the whole fresh veggie and meat thing just makes so much damned sense for me. Anyway, if you've got a couple of hours doin' nuthin' - enjoy. Metabolic Typing Diet - crap book, but has a fab questionnaire somewhere around page 90 or so. Very very helpful in showing how what you eat affects how you feel. Highly recommended for that reason, but hey, get it out of the library. YOU MUST TAKE THE QUESIONNAIRE IN ORDER TO FIGURE OUT WHICH WORKS FOR YOU. Seriously. I was very surprised to find out that I need a protein-based diet, far heavier, indeed, than what I would have ever imagined. And in truth, I feel best when eating this way, more to the point, I was ignoring what my body said because I was following what the Diet Dictocrats said instead. You can take a VERY BASIC typing test on Dr Mercola's site but you do need to sign up for his newsletter. What Native Texans Ate - an interesting article. It's fascinating to note that no matter where in the world you go, once Native Peoples started eating a diet not local to them, diabetes, obesity, and other diseases start to crop up with distressing frequency. In fact, I can't think of any native population where this has not been the case. Nasty, Brutish, and Short? - good article Weston A Price - Read every single article. Trust me on this one. And, I beg you, buy their cookbook, Nourishing Traditions. The wealth of information will surprise you. And sicken you. Beyond Vegetarianism - A fab site. Now, I'm not saying vegetarians are wrong for eating the way they do, I truly believe that vegetarianism suits some people - but I think it's all in the genes.

Back Once Again With The Ill Behavior

I didn't want to get up and go to work today. I wanted to stay home, cocooned in the safety of my house, doing laundry and maybe even cleaning, reading, writing, downloading. Instead, I walked up the hill and waited for the bus. After it arrived I hopped on, and it began. The anxiety. The tearfulness. The depression. Once at work I folded towels, answered the phone, made no effort whatsoever to be pleasant to customers. I felt better after shoving my awful lunch down my gullet, and perked up once C and I began to chat. But. Monday is D-Day. I've taken the day off of work, because let's face it, I'm not going to want to deal with pregnant women, babies, or toddlers after speaking to Dr Director, not even if I get the go-ahead. I know that the decision has already been made and that there's nothing I can do about it. We have a plan to go to the US and get treatment, but boy, not only will it be expensive, but I'll be apart from Mr Oro for weeks if not months. The nearest clinics are in Boston, eastern New Hampshire, and Rochester, Syracuse, Stony Brook, and New York, NY, all of which are at least a 3 hour drive from my house. Blah. So, the nightmares have begun again, and the migraines, and the depression. And if Mr Oro will soon be too old to adopt a child, what then? Moving to the US is not feasible at this time...does this mean we'd chose to be childless? If that's the case, I don't think this marriage could survive...after all, he's not the problem, I am. The question is, I've never envisioned my life without children, so how do I live with the possibility of not having them?

A Baker's Dozen?

My father had 11 children. He was possibly an only child, the possible product of a rape when my grandmother was fostered out. She tells different stories, so I'm not very sure of much of what she's told me on the subject. In any case, he grew up an only child, and I suspect had a very rough growing up. I don't know much because I was in touch with his side of the family only very briefly as an adult. In any case, he was married when he and my mother met, and had a three year old daughter when I arrived. He had left his wife (and had already met the mother of the rest of his children by this time)and was living with my mother when she got pregnant with me, and was probably seeing #3 by this time, too. My mom and he had a mutual parting of the ways after my birth, and he left to be with #3 soon after. They then had 9 children. So, I am the second eldest of 11. I am an only child. I met my older sister, once. Apart from her being taller than me, and thin, we look remarkably alike. I got along with her half sister - we're the same age - far better than her, funnily enough. I don't know if she doesn't like me because my mother 'stole' her father away, or if she just didn't know how to respond to me, but we've never spoken since. I got in touch with my 'family' after my mother's hysterectomy in 1991. She felt that I needed to have...I dunno, connection or support or something, and so we got in touch with my grandmother, and she got us in touch with #'s 1 and 3. I've spoken to one or two of the younger siblings, and for awhile we did the Christmas card thing, and i spoke to their mother after my father died, but overall, it's been...well. I am an only child. I have family in name only, for while everyone else knew about me, I knew nothing about them. I thought I was the oldest. I was surprised to learn that they knew my name, and who my mother was. I am still angry, although not to the degree I used to be, that my father never made any attempt to find me, or write to me, not even a birthday card that never got sent because he didn't know where I lived. Even though we'd lived in the same town for over 20 years. And my mother could have been found by either her married or maiden names. Or that I, indeed, could have been found, as I have his last name. We visited my grandmother once, in Chicago. She was an older lady whose age was never verified, although we believe that she must have been very very young, like 12 or 13, when she had my father. She'd traveled around the world by herself after her husband died and became a watercolor artist. But there is a coldness between us. I think it's because there were 10 others who visited, and made happy, and were present. I feel gypped, although there is no legitimate reason for feeling so. My mother believes that having a father is essential to a person's makeup. I, of course, do not, as do my other friends who are the children of single mothers. We can't imagine what it would be like to have that other parent there, because we didn't grow up with that. I never fantasized about my father, either. Mom told me good things about him, she told me bad things, she said he was an asshole, she said he made her laugh, she said he liked to frighten her by stalling the light planes he took her up in, she said he taught her photography and was a brilliant photographer himself. She is still angry at him for the way he treated her, and in the same breath shrugs her shoulders and says, That was John.

But How Does It End?

I speak not of books, but of blogs. With all the recent hullabaloo, and some bloggers deciding that blogland, or at least Infertile Island, is no longer a good place to be, and my own feelings, or, actually, mostly the lack thereof, I've reached the conclusion that I'm not involved as I thought I was. That is to say, while I hope said bloggers don't leave, but continue to post, it is fully their decision to make whatever decision they feel they have to make. The thing is, though, what I wonder, is how does it all end? Will those who leave the island, for whatever reason, ever report back and tell their stories? Will we hear second hand news? Will they simply disappear into the ether, never to be heard from again? For myself, Joanne puts it best. I feel somewhat divorced from it all, now. Of course, tomorrow may be a different story, and next week, when I visit Dr Director to find out whether or not I'll be kicked off the IVF program, you can pretty much be assured that reading about pregnancy is the last thing I'm going to be doing, no matter how much I might like said blogger. Oh, I have no idea if this post even makes sense any more. Let me just finish by saying that yes, sometimes I am offended by what other bloggers say, and yes, I do delete them from my blogroll or from my list of must-reads. It's nothing personal. It's for my own sanity and sake of well-being. Besides, who knows, maybe someday I'll feel like I no longer belong on Infertility Island, either.

El Presidente

The song is Rocket - what do you think?

Fogwatt Milbuie

Sounds like someone's first name, eh? Preferably English, and posh, with a hyphenated last name, something silly or unpronounceable like, like, like Fogwatt Milbuie-Strachan, 9th Duke of Earl. In reality they're the names of two towns we passed on the way up north. We went up to Inverness for the weekend, visiting the in-laws and chilling with Mr Oro's younger brother and his two kids. We had a pleasant enough time, apart from watching Shallow Hal - there's nothing like being the only fat chick in a room of skinny people watching a movie where being fat is both the joke and the punchline - and this morning's question from Mr Brother-in-Law about why we would ever want kids, after his 12 yo daughter gave him attitude. Ha ha. Yeah, I nipped that right in the bud. I said, 'X, you really don't want to go there." He was all, "But no, I'm really just asking." To which I repeated my statement. Then the kid got into the act and he tried to nip it in the bud. Eventually the topic changed, but it's amazing how you'll just be going about your day, minding your own, and someone will say something and the pain and the tears and the wanting a pit to open beneath one's feet leap into one's throat. Considering Cecily's news, it was fascinating to watch a father interact with his children, particularly his daughter. It was interesting, because I grew up without a father, and I have no idea what that kind of relationship is like. How amazing, to be able to trust an adult malelike that, how...odd. I don't really know what else to say about it except that. My eating went all to hell, as well. I may frequently indulge at home, but my meals are always low carb and filled with protein and fat. My MIL, well, she's low fat and low-cal all the way. So. What did I eat? Lots of carbs. I skipped the potatoes, but there was bread, crackers, dessert, chinese food...and yeah, I'm feeling it. Oh, and I got my period this morning. And that was my weekend - how was yours?

Curtain Poles, Skating

Forgot to add that when buying curtain poles, you need to add 8 inches to your window size. This allows for the ends of the pole to extend over the window by four inches on either side, otherwise the pole will look too small. Finials will add another couple of inches in decoration. So, if your window is 46 inches wide, your pole will need to be 54 inches long, not including finials. If you're not sure that this extra amount will be too little/too much, go for an extendable pole. If you have a dormer window, or your window is set far into the wall, you can get tension rods that adhere to the inside of your window frame. Generally they simply unscrew in the middle, much like a shower rod. Obviously they're not for heavy curtains! And yes, I love the new judging system in skating! I too miss the 6.0, but I think this is a lot better.

Show Me The Money

Michelle was talking about money and ART, so I thought I'd share how Mr Oro and I plan on paying for our IVF (if done Stateside): A)bank loan B)Mom Well, that was easy, eh? In order to otherwise afford IVF, we would have had to have been saving for a few years. Alas, with a mortgage, a low wage, and me being jobless, saving was pretty much out of the question. We could figure out something, but it would be tough. Sacrificing the little things - satellite tv, books, eBay, cell phones - just wouldn't be enough to make a dent, probably in the neighborhood of $200 a month. Hell, our bus passes cost more, about $2000 a year for the both of us, and as we have no car, buses are the only way we can get to town and our jobs. Most of our bills are via direct debit, but some of them come in quarterly, some monthly, some weekly. We get paid once a month. I work a rota schedule, so while I assume I will get base rate of $500 a month, I can't guarantee it. Unless I'm ill, I usually earn more. My wage covers the credit card bill, eBay, books, household emergencies, my bus pass, entertainment (dinner out, the odd movie, satellite, phones) and at a pinch, the mortgage. Mr Oro's covers everything else, plus his pension. The one bill that we have that's absolutely outrageous is our food bill, which averages out to around $700 a month. Real food is not cheap. The problem - and I lay it directly at Mr Oro's feet, as he is a seriously picky eater. I prefer food that has to be cooked, but it's hard to do when I get home at 9PM. I work weekends, some of my off days I just want to relax, and other off days I'm just too damned busy catching up on all the things I've ignored during the week. Mr Oro does not cook. Anyway.

Curtains - The Idiot's Guide

Seeing as I have absolutely no infertility related anything to pass on today apart from: a) my period is due this week b) no pregnant women should be allowed to wear cropped shirts of any kind, no matter how young they are, and especially not in fucking February c) your little darling is not, actually, what the world revolves around, so please, move your fucking stroller out of me way I thought a little session on curtains was in order. Now, this is all according to British custom, because I've never bought curtains back home, hell, I wouldn't even know where to get them, and my mom only has blinds, so, I'm clueless as to US/CA specifics. Keeping that in mind, here we go! 1) Measure your window. You'll need the width and the drop (where you want your curtains to fall to, be it just below the sill, lower, or to the floor). You can also simply measure your pole, and what drop you want. We use both inches and centimeters. 2) DO NOT MEASURE YOUR HUNG CURTAINS Really, I can't stress this enough. Because they are hanging, and thus pleated at the top, you will not get an accurate measurement. You can remove your curtains and measure them flat, but keep in mind that if you do this you'll want to look for a similar fabric. 3) Hanging style. In ready made curtains there are generally three varieties - tab tops, eyelets/ring tops, and three inch tape. Three inch tape is standard in the UK - you stick curtain hooks, of which these are one variety, into whichever loop you like, stick the hooks in the little rings and then put the rings on your pole. Tab tops are, well, tab tops, as are eyelets. Eyelets and Tab tops can be bought in smaller widths, as they will lie flatter when pulled shut than three inch tapes. 4) Technically speaking, one curtain should be enough to cover your window. However, that depends on how much pleating/gather you like. If your curtains are just for show and you don't intend on pulling them shut, then it doesn't matter what width they are, so long as the drop is correct. If the curtains are simply going to be swagged to either side of the window as in these first and second examples, then you have to remember to adde an inch or two to the drop, to ensure they drop to where you want them when they're pulled back. 5) If you like a lot of pleating/gather, go for 2x your window, if less pleating, go for 1.5x your window. So what does this mean in real life? Window X is 53"/134cm wide, and has an 84"/213cm drop. You might think you want a 53" curtain, but manufacturers use 'standard' sizes. That is to say, standard to them, not to your windows!! So, you're not going to find a curtain in those sizes. Now, if you like a lot, a lot, a lot of gather, you could go up to the nearest sizes, for example, a 66/167cm or 72"/183cm width. That would be like, totally bad. That would give you a total of 132 or 154 inches to cover your 53" wide window! So, you go for the next lowest size, in this case probably a 46 or 48" width, which will give you 92 or 106". Window G is 118"/300cm wide with a drop of 54" (radiator beneath the window). Here you have a couple of options. You can either go for wide curtains - 72" or 90"/228cm - but chances are you'll have a very long drop, as most manufacturers go for big widths with big drops, then hemming the drop to 54" - or go for a smaller width with the correct drop, buying 2 pairs of curtains and either joining each pair in the middle so you have two big-ass curtains, or adding one curtain to another so that you have 1 normal-sized curtain and another that's double width. In either case you'll still have covered your window completely. 6) Pelmets/valances (they're the same thing, btw) or swags/scarves - dude, wake up and smell the new millenium. They really only look good in very specific rooms, I'd otherwise avoid them. It all depends on the look/theme you want...just be careful, use in moderation, as they can become very very frou-frou very very quickly. The general rule is that if your window is under 6 feet, go for a pelmet of 140", if over, 230", and if you need more than that, you'll need to combine one or more together. 7) if buying made-to-order or having a seamstress make your curtains, you absolutely MUST have your measurements, preferably in inches and centimeters. Ask to take the swatch home BEFORE you sign any contract - make absolutely sure that the swatch suits the lighting and decor before order, as most times you cannot return made-to-order unless they are faulty. Ask how much extra lining, eyelets, or tab tops are, and if you can get matching tiebacks or cushion covers. If a seamstress or relative is making them, bring a sample of the fabric and ask how many meters/yards will be needed for the size of your window. Remember, the wider the curtains the more widths will be in them, which means for anything wider than 54"/136cm, there will be at least one join. This is because fabric is generally woven at 45, 54, or 65" wide. If the fabric is patterned, the pattern should continue over the join. 8) The above also holds true for voiles, those sheer curtains that are used to let light into a room, while still maintaining privacy (in the daytime). Voiles tend to come in fewer sizes, and if you can't find one size, try a different manufacturer. 9) Okay, I think that's everything...but I'm sure I've missed something. If you have any questions, ask away! And y'know, I say Idiot's Guide, but believe you me, the only thing I knew about curtains when I first started working at the store was that they were used on windows and in theaters. On yet another aside, Archie Kao on CSI:LV is a total hottie. Apparently he used to be a Mighty Morphin' Power Ranger.

Look Around You

Remember, back in the day, when in school, once a week two things would happen? The first is that they'd give you those little plastic cups filled with cherry red flouride, and you'd have to sit and swish for like, a minute or so? And the second, when they'd drag the tv from a corner of homeroom and make you watch 3 minutes of educatinal programming? Well! Genius comedians have updated this in a show called 'Look Around You', showing the future as it was yesterday. Or something like that. Genius, I'm telling you, genius! On an aside, I found tonight's ER (with the black woman who thinks her husband is breaking in to her apartment, and makes her kids jump out the window) absolutely heartbreaking.

All Sport, All The Time

For you skating fanatics out there, I speak of Eurosport's coverage of the European Championships. At the moment there's about 6-7 hours of coverage per day, interspersed with tennis from the Australian Open, skiing - Alpine, Cross-country, Biathlon, Slalom, ski jumping - skeleton and bobsled, rallying, Serie A football, um, and that's about it for the moment. Best of all, there are no talking heads a la ESPN. There's no sports desk, no anchors, just sporting events narrated by presenters at the scene but behind the screen. And what's even cooler is that for many of the live events, particularly the skating and the gymnastics, you can email the presenters with questions and comments about what's taking place! I got an aswer to a music question a couple of years ago, but of course now I can't remember what it was...bah. What do you all think of the new scoring system?

Ninjas. Yeah, That's It, Ninjas.

Sorry, Brian Joubert, Evgeny Plushenko still rocks. And I would say that in Russian if I could. Although, Stefan Lindeman and Stephane Lambiel aren't exactly chopped liver, either... And, yeah. Ninjas.

No, Really

1. What book/movie/tv show/cd/dvd have you really enjoyed? Book: Fire Logic Movie: The Station Agent TV Show: Battlestar Galactica, Rescue Me, Two Pints of Lager And A Packet of Crisps 2. What book/movie/tv show/cd/dvd have you thought was completely overrated? TV Show: Deadwood, Sex and The City Movie: Moulin Rouge, Matrix 2 3. What book/movie/tv show/cd/dvd do you think has jumped the shark? Friends! Seasons 8 &9 of my beloved X Files 4. What was the last book/cd/dvd that you hurled across the room in disgust? Too many books to list. 5. What friend/coworker/family member would you like to slap silly? From work, C and Psycho 6. What friend/coworker/family member do you like/love, but can't tolerate for long periods of time? I shall leave this blank. 7. What's your least favorite fashion accessory (any year/decade)? Legwarmers. 8. What fashion did you actually wear that makes you wonder, Why, God, Why?! Ponchos. And legwarmers. And bellbottoms. In corduroy. 9. What book/movie/tv show/cd/dvd do you think we all should read/watch/listen to? Book: To Kill A Mockingbird, Affinity Sandman, by Neil Gaiman et al. TV: Odyssey 5 - cancelled. Farscape - cancelled. Spaced, Monkey Dust... Movie: Shaun of the Dead, The House of Mirth CD: Qntal III 10. What's your favorite food? Cheese or beef. 11. What's your favorite season? Winter 12. What do you miss most in your life right now (apart from a child)? My mom, my friends. And a car. 13. If you had the opportunity to do it over again, would you or would you not have gone to college? Still woulda gone. 14. If you're currently in school, what are you studying? I just finished my last sewing class! 15. If you could go back to school, what would you study? Criminology. 16. Can you crosstitch, sew, crochet, knit, tat, darn, or do any other feminine art of the classical variety? I used to crochet and knit, but I was crap at both. I'd like to learn crosstitch. 17. Do you play an instrument? Would you like to? Which one? I used to play the flute, now I just sing. 18. If you could have any job in the world, what would it be? Bookstore owner. 19. If you won 10 million dollars, would you give any of it to charity? Which one(s)? Medicins sans Frontiers (dr's w/out borders), local SPCA, programs needing money, particularly those dealing with a) displaced peoples, b) animals, c) the land. etc. 20. Do you volunteer? No. Yes, I feel guilty. 21. Do you still want a pony? Even a little black one? Especially the little black ones named 'prince' or 'lady', who have big assed attitudes and think it's funny to 'play' with you by, say, leaning against you when you're between it and the stall wall, or slowly dropping its hoof when you're picking it clean? The little bastards...but I digress. Even a little black pony would do for me. I'd like to have a rescue horse, even one that couldn't be ridden, or an older horse in need of a home for the rest of its life. 22. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be, and for how long? Siberia, Alaska, Finland...I don't know for how long. 23. If you had the opportunity to go to Thailand or any of the other tsunami stricken-areas for a working holiday, would you? Yes. 24. What comedian makes you laugh the hardest? Bill Bailey, Simon Pegg (writer rather than comedian), Chris Rock 25. Do you believe in the Illuminati or other conspiracy theory type thingies? No, but the stupidity of people never fails to surprise me. 26. Do you have a crush on a celebrity? Uh, no? I admire and respect people like David Duchovny and Angelina Jolie, but I wouldn't go so far as to say I have crushes on them. 27. If you could travel amongst the stars, would you? Oh yeah. 28. Are you for or agin' human space travel? I'm all for it. 29. Do you recycle? If not, why not, and if not, do you feel guilty? Yes. 30. Global warming - true or false? True 31. Would you rather save money for goods of high quality, even though they might take a long time to buy, or buy things of lesser quality that you can have right now? (obviously, this does not cover necessary things, like white goods) Quality goods. 32. What's your favorite accent? Scottish! Although I like the Newcastle accent, too. 33. Do you like sports? Will you be watching the World Cup? I will indeed be watching the World Cup, particularly since Team USA did so well in '92. Right now I'm watching the mens program of the European Figure Skating Championships - Plushenko still rawks, but I'm waiting to see what Brian Joubert will do. I do like sports, everything from Biathlon to Fencing to K1 to Eventing. However, Baseball, Football, and Soccer bore the hell out of me apart from championship games. I did watch them when we had Sky Sports 1-3, but now we only get Eurosport, so I tend to go with the flow, apart from watching particulars like skating and the Tour de France. 34. Do you prefer flowers or greenery in a garden? I like both. 35. Are you tired of answering these questions? Not really, no.

New Story

There's a new story over at Purity Control, one which has taken me the better part of two years to write. It's fic, and not for the...I don't want to say 'squeamish', but I've been told that it's very disturbing. Go me!

Because I NEED To Know

Somebody, anybody, tell me who won My Restaurant Rules?! :grumble: I hate it when I get caught up in a reality game show...damn tv channel showed the finale and I missed it! :grumble:

What Do You Think?

Poor Couples Want IVF Anonymity What people want anonymity for is sperm and egg donation, not ART. I don't really know what to say about that. On the one hand, I can understand why someone would want to be anonymous, and on the other, I can see why someone would be curious. An act of selflessness at 18 or 20 could have long-term repercussions at 35 and 40, when you're married or in a relationship, maybe with other children. Still, it's an interesting dichotomy between rich and poor. The only reason I can come up with is that poor people's wealth comes from children, and from having that specific genetic link - poor in money, but still desirable for their fertility. And don't most of us feel that way? Lois McMaster Bujold says that 'all true wealth is biological' in one of her novels, Cordelia's Honor, I think. I wrote a fic called All True Wealth based on this idea. That story has quite a few warts, but I'm leaving as it is for posterity, to remind myself of the errors I made so as not to make them again. Anyway...

And Another Thing

Could my ovaries stop hurting like little motherfuckers? That would be cool.

If You Can Hear Me, Don't Go Into The Fog!

Which has nothing to do with anything, apart from the fact that I bought The Fog: Special Edition yesterday (thanks to my Mom and the joint credit card) and Mr Oro is watching/listening to the Director's commentary right now. We both love John Carpenter, and The Fog, like Halloween, is one of the best horror movies of all time. I've seen it many times and it never fails to freak me the fuck out. If you've never seen it, trust me, rent it and watch it late at night in a dark room. And yes, there will be a test afterwards. In other news, I realized yesterday that I'm back to feeling like my old self, back in the early days before I new I was IVF bound. Or maybe I'm just in denial, I don't know. My appointment with Dr Research has been cancelled, so it looks like I'll be facing Dr Director next month with no yea or nay from Dr Research. Somehow, that just seems par for the course. I'm eating for five, apparently, too. Emily speaks about this in her latest post as well, although I've never been thin, so I have nothing to compare myself to, if that makes any sense. I can see that I've gained weight, as I have done since last year, and I seem unable to not eat things that I know are bad for me, like wheat, and sugar. I seem to be telling myself, "Well, you're probably going to be turned down for IVF, and you've probably pissed away your fertility, and it'll take you the remainder of your life to get to insurance table weights, no one gives a shit about finding out what's wrong with you, so why bother?" Maybe things would be different if I actually saw results on a regular basis, if I lost weight with any kind of consistency (for example, losing .5lbs one week, gaining 3 the next week, not losing any weight for another month, etc), or, these days, at all. Maybe I would feel better if I could express my frustration to people, most of whom seem to think that what I'm saying has nothing to do with reality. I can hear it in my mother's voice, I can see it in the doctors eyes, that ever so slight glazing over as they tune out, I can feel it in their touch, skittering across my skin as if they're afraid the fat might catch. Actually, that's true of a lot of people, not just doctors. I'm not used to being touched, yet I crave it even as it skeeves me out. Anyway, I feel like I'm floating on top of the abyss. The surface is calm, but beneath, well, I don't want to think about what's beneath. I have to hold it together, because if I don't, where will I be then? I have 10 days vacation between now and the end of March, so I will be going home, but I'm going by myself and I don't know who's paying for it and I don't know whether or not I should make an appointment at the clinic in Ohio or try to get one at Brigham & Womens, seeing as there's a lovely 13 hour time difference between the two. Boston is far closer, but I don't know if I could get an appointment for a consult, whereas Ohio is a looong drive or ride on the big silver dog. Besides, I hate Ohio. Not nice things have happened there. But, I could get a consult in Ohio within a week of calling. How sick is it that the fare for Greyhound is $9 less than flying? And that doesn't include the cost of driving or taking the bus to the nearest airport. Crap. Of course, all of this could be moot, Dr Director might say yes. Have I mentioned I'm selling a bridge, real cheap, in New York City?

The Questionnaire

1. What book/movie/tv show/cd/dvd have you really enjoyed? 2. What book/movie/tv show/cd/dvd have you thought was completely overrated? 3. What book/movie/tv show/cd/dvd do you think has jumped the shark? 4. What was the last book/cd/dvd that you hurled across the room in disgust? 5. What friend/coworker/family member would you like to slap silly? 6. What friend/coworker/family member do you like/love, but can't tolerate for long periods of time? 7. What's your least favorite fashion accessory (any year/decade)? 8. What fashion did you actually wear that makes you wonder, Why, God, Why?! 9. What book/movie/tv show/cd/dvd do you think we all should read/watch/listen to? 10. What's your favorite food? 11. What's your favorite season? 12. What do you miss most in your life right now (apart from a child)? 13. If you had the opportunity to do it over again, would you or would you not have gone to college? 14. If you're currently in school, what are you studying? 15. If you could go back to school, what would you study? 16. Can you crosstitch, sew, crochet, knit, tat, darn, or do any other feminine art of the classical variety? 17. Do you play an instrument? Would you like to? Which one? 18. If you could have any job in the world, what would it be? 19. If you won 10 million dollars, would you give any of it to charity? Which one(s)? 20. Do you volunteer? 21. Do you still want a pony? Even a little black one? Especially the little black ones named 'prince' or 'lady', who have big assed attitudes and think it's funny to 'play' with you by, say, leaning against you when you're between it and the stall wall, or slowly dropping its hoof when you're picking it clean? The little bastards...but I digress. 22. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be, and for how long? 23. If you had the opportunity to go to Thailand or any of the other tsunami stricken-areas for a working holiday, would you? 24. What comedian makes you laugh the hardest? 25. Do you believe in the Illuminati or other conspiracy theory type thingies? 26. Do you have a crush on a celebrity? 27. If you could travel amongst the stars, would you? 28. Are you for or agin' human space travel? 29. Do you recycle? If not, why not, and if not, do you feel guilty? 30. Global warming - true or false? 31. Would you rather save money for goods of high quality, even though they might take a long time to buy, or buy things of lesser quality that you can have right now? (obviously, this does not cover necessary things, like white goods) 32. What's your favorite accent? 33. Do you like sports? Will you be watching the World Cup? 34. Do you prefer flowers or greenery in a garden? 35. Are you tired of answering these questions? Feel free to send on - I'll try and answer them myself tomorrow.

You Just Can't Make This Up

Customer, holding a 46X72 curtain in its package: My window is 94 inches wide, will this cutain fit? C: No, you need a 72 or 90 inch curtain. Customer: But my window is 94 inches, 90 won't do. C: It's 90 inches per curtain, so it'll be a total of 180 inches. The one you're holding will only make 92 inches. Customer: Well, it's only two inches, that'll be big enough. * * * * * * Customer, with 90X90 package of curtains in hand: Hi, um, I have a window that's 46 inches wide, but I want to cover the entire wall with this curtain. Can you tell me if it will fit? C: How wide is your wall? Customer: I don't know. C: Oh, I can't tell you if it'll fit or not without the measurements of the wall. Customer: Why not? C, trying not to smile: ...Because I've never been to your house? Customer's husband: Oh, yeah... Customer: So you mean we'll have to go back and measure? For fuck's sake...

The Red Shoes

I speak not of the movie, but of the cd I'm currently enjoying, The Red Shoes, by Kate Bush (most well known in the US for Hounds of Love). I haven't heard this since I moved to the UK, but I though the first song was appropriate for the likes of us: Rubberband Girl See those trees Bend in the wind I feel they've got a lot more sense than me You see I try to resist A rubberband bouncing back to life A rubberband bend the beat If I could learn to give like a rubberband I'd be back on my feet A rubberband hold me trousers up A rubberband ponytails If I could learn to twang like a rubberband I'd be a rubberband girl A rubberband girl me A rubberband girl me Oh I wanna be a rubberband girl When I slip out Of my catapult I gotta land with my feet firm on the ground And let my body catch up A rubberband bouncing back to life A rubberband bend the heat If I could learn to give like a rubberband I'd be back on my feet A rubberband hold me trousers up A rubberband ponytails If I could learn to twang like a rubberband I'd be a rubberband girl A rubberband girl me A rubberband girl me Oh I wanna be a rubberband girl Give like a rubberband Twang like a rubberband Snap like a rubberband Rub-a-dub-a-dub-a-dub Rub-a-dub-a-dub Rub-a-dub One rubberband won't keep you up Two rubberbands won't keep you up Three rubberbands won't keep you up Here I go......(aDLib) .... Yeah! One rubberband won't keep you up Two rubberbands won't keep you up Three rubberbands won't keep you up PS: Rumour has it that she's working on a new album...

How Much For The Girl?

Regarding Mare's post adoption in the UK, you have to wait 6 mos to 1 year after your last treatment before you can even apply. Yeah, tell me about it. Now, I went to a fostering/adoption agency a little over a year ago, and found it not very informative whatsoever, except that there would be no possibility of us getting an infant, due to age/nationality/race factors. In fact, the woman I spoke to pretty much said we should look at older toddlers and pre-teens, and that yes, most of them would be, in my words, not hers, messed up in some way or another. I'm not opposed to adopting children who have learning disabilities or who have come from hard backgrounds - I just don't think I'd be capable of dealing with those issues for my first child. I mean, that's the deep end of the pool as far as I'm concerned, and I so need swimming lessons. Adoption is treated oddly, I think, here in the UK. Or maybe it's because of where I'm from, and the little girl my former employers adopted, or just my own attitude, I don't know. Anyway, here it's still a very hush-hush thing, almost shameful. Don't forget that Scotland has a different legal system than England, Wales, and Northern Ireland, too. Isn't that web page just chock full of governmentese which doesn't actually seem to pass on any information to the prospective adopter? I particularly like the lack of financial information. Mr Oro is convinced that it costs nothing to adopt within Britain, but I can't believe it's that simple. And we'd be adopting internationally, anyway, so... On the one hand, I am conflicted about adoption. I worry that we won't be good enough, that their birth family will want them back, that the child will eventually resent us for removing them from their birth family, blah blah blah, all the things that Karen and Soper have discussed. I worry least about what family and strangers think, fuck'em if they can't deal. Of course there's the financial issue - after IVF (Stateside) - will we even be able to afford it?

Yo, MFG Blogger

Timestamp? Can we keep at the time I'm actually at?

Yo, Blogger

WTF can't I comment on other blogger blogger's posts? And wtf is windows bringing up a stupid search bar when I use apostrophes or slashes?? Oh, I can comment, but I don't know if it posts...cute.

What Makes America Great

See, this is the kind of thing that's really hard to explain to Europeans...

Don't Ever Think, Ever Think, Ever Think Too Much...

Haha! No hangover here, me buds. Thank goodness for water, and the tea I drank last night before I went to bed. Oh, the somewhat sober sex was good, too, although you know when you think you're all set and ready to go, and the sex is fine, and then afterwards you're there with a ring o' fahre between your legs and you realize that, actually, foreplay might have a been a good thing? Yeah, I had that. Other things that annoy me about sex - why on earth do I have to pee afterwards? Is it the body's way of cutting down on pregnancy, cuz like, my body didn't get that message. Damned RNA. We had a spectacularly boring day at work, as our delivery was cancelled due to the 'bad weather', including the 'bitter cold' winds. Call me a New Englander, but 'bitter cold' does not mean 38F. Including the wind chill factor. Apparently there was snow in the central belt and on the west coast, but here in Aberdeen it's just been windy with a bit of rain. So I folded towels for 5 hours, which was thrilling. And that's been my day.

t-r-a-s-h-e-dd

3 large glasses of red wine one glass of JD and Coke 1 glass of champagne Obvioously, I make apologies for the numerous spelling mistakes that are now set to occuras I type bty the glow of my lcd screen. Laptops. y'know. ALso, I'm trying to watch Battlestar Galactica, I'm partially in a food coma, and I'm trying to make peppermint tea to settle my stomach, and as well as Mr Oro's stomach. Starbuck, dude, wtf is your deal? In other news, I am very glad next monday is my last sewing class. Getting up early on my day off totally sucks, and with my projected trips to the States this year for some I-V-F, gods know I;ll need the time and the moneyl, Or something. It's also bleepin' cold out, with the wind picking up since last week. At least my back fence is now fixed! ON another note, wtf is up with all the pregnancies on tv? Farscape: The Peacekeeper War, Emmerdale, bloody American Spendor? Hello? Only in Britain would you have a holiday camp called 'Hoseasons'. That's just wrong. Wrong, I tell you, wrong! Okay, I have to go sober uo now.

You Are Watching, Right?

I speak of Navy NCIS, a fab tv show with pretty people, good plots, and very very smart writing. Although the pilot ep is crap, I'd avoid it. Did I mention it's funny?

Whattup, Bloggers?

Sweetsiu, I can't read your blog for some reason. It just keeps reposting, but instead of loading the page again, it just goes to a blank page? And Sheri, I tried to comment on your 1/11 post, but blogger tells me blog doesn't exist... ...

Whattup, Bloggers?

Sweetsiu, I can't read your blog for some reason. It just keeps reposting, but instead of loading the page again, it just goes to a blank page? And Sheri, I tried to comment on your 1/11 post, but blogger tells me blog doesn't exist... ...

Sigh

I want this.

Renovate My Family

I had the day off today, which is good, considering the gale force winds not only ripped off the door of our garden shed thing, but also broke the wooden stockade fence in three places. The road to work was closed for a few hours today as a roof had been blown off in the night. Yep. Not normal for these parts, not at all. At least we don't have to worry about flooding...although the guy who's coming to fix our fence did mention that a stream used to run behind our house...figures, eh? But anyway, I was watching Renovate My Family, hosted by Jay McGraw, son of Dr Phil, and while fascinated by the idea, hated the patronization of the family. Dr Phil and co were going to 'save' this family and make them better people, by renovating their house and making them healthier. Never mind that all the kids are in school, Mom and Dad both work hard, nobody does drugs, and that they all love one another. Yeah, but they're poor and they're fat, so Dr Phil to the rescue! Fuckwad. I tell ya, though, watching those people pant their way through 8 minutes of walking - walking! - on a treadmill had induced me to start working out again. I mean, that's just pathetic. On another note, does anyone else think The OC is a lot better than One Tree Hill?

Tiny And Pink And Perfect

One of my coworkers brought in his newborn, a girl of one week's age. He is older than I, and either his wife has, in the fashion of British women, aged very badly, or she is close to 50. It occurred to me, seeing that baby, all tiny and pink and perfect, that Mr Oro and myself have been trying to have a baby for almost 7 years. Any my mother wonders why I'm bitter.

Heaven Ain't Close In A Place Like This, Or...

...a random title from the music video I am currently listening to (The Killers - Somebody Told Me). Could be worse, could be something random from, say, Coldplay, or some group equally depressing/annoying. YMMV. Anyway, events of the weekend inclue Mr Oro's pc's motherboard going kerfluie in the middle of a 33 hour long download (and we've got broadband). In fact it broke so hard he thought he'd lost everything on it. So far it looks like he's recovered about 50% of the data, including my writing, my XF fic, my fic archive, his download (he's beta-testing the latest World of Warcraft), and some other stuff. Nonetheless, we ordered a new PC last night on interest free credit, but it got referred and now we don't know if we're going to get it or not. If yes, then we have to hope it shows up on Tuesday, which I'm going to take off...or Wednesday morning, before I go back to the diabetic clinic to see the dietician to see how much weight I've lost. HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA. Asking someone to lose weight over a holiday is kind of like sending someone to Jamaica, then telling them not to go out in the sun. My fingers are so bloaty. I ate heaps (compared to my usual amount) of candy at work over the holidays - honestly, we went through about 6lbs of chocolate and hard candies over the course of a week. Hell, we shocked ourselves. Oh, and had two slices of sticky toffee pudding, which, dear gods, I MUST NEVER EAT AGAIN. Seriously. This is a cake that gives chocolate a serious run for its money in terms of bad-for-you goodness. It's a coronary on a plate, it clogs the arteries just to look at, it is the ultimate PMS food. Even more than Chubby Hubby, which in my world is pretty close to sacrilege. Even if I haven't eaten in it several years. But back to sticky toffee pudding. Imagine, if you will, a cake the consistency of a hot brownie. It's soft, it's moist, it smells not of chocolate, no, but of butter, and sugar, and every so slightly like butterscotch. It looks like it should taste of warm gingerbread. Instead, it tastes like salty sugary buttery caramel-y popcorn, only without the popcorn, sort of like Cracker Jack. But Cracker Jack for sophisticated adults, y'know, like at the Ambassador's, where they serve Ferrero Rocher. Yeah. It's like crack. Very addictive. Time to read some blogs...

Am I The Only One Thinking This?

Okay, now that Brad and Jen have broken up, here's the question I'm wondering about: both of them, for the duration of their marriage, spoke about wanting kids. And yet. Maybe I'm just reading too much into it. However, it just seems odd to me, that if you speak publicly about wanting kids for years, and there's no sign of them, well, doesn't that suggest there's a problem or seven? Not that I think that's why they broke up, but who knows. They sure made a pretty couple, though.

Extreme Makeover: Home Edition

So I caught this show for the first time the other night, the one with the 8 kids and the parents had died the previous year? It was...interesting. Amazing what they did, too. I'm not convinced it's must-see TV, however. Which segues nicely to my own childhood, and the houses therein. The first house I remember living in was on Newbury Street in Boston. Newbury St is a pretty hip, happening, expensive place to live now, but it must have been affordable in the early 70's. Our neighbor was a black drag queen who frequently came downstairs with homemade peanut butter cookies for me. I don't recall much of him except that he was tall, and nice. I remember our house in Jamaica Plain, the ground floor apartment of a 3 or 4 story building, a co-op that my mom had bought into with the money from her father's death. I remember eating sourgrass (sorrel?) that grew in the parking lot, and playing with bugs and calling them pets, and going upstairs with my 'boyfriend' and being really angry with our neighbors when they laughed after we told them we were getting married. Ah, the statements only three year olds can come up with. My last memory of Jamaica Plain was lying in my mother's bed, listening to the crackle outside, watching the smoke drift in and pulling the covers over my head. All of us kids were packed into a neighbor's house across the street, wrapped in blankets while we watched the fire engines coming through the living room window. Insurance gave us the money to move to Vermont, and after crashing at various places, eventually bought some lumber and built a shack on a mountain. That's where my childhood really began, I think. I had such freedom, freedom that we can only dream of for our children nowadays. But first, the house. It stood (still does, actually!) on several concrete blocks, and was smaller than your average one-car garage. It had a slanted roof on one side, and was covered with the proverbial tar paper. There were windows on all sides, including several high up on the north facing wall, so we got plenty of light during the day. As we weren't on the grid, we had a Coleman kerosene lamp and candles for lighting at night/winter. We had a parlor stove and a huge cast iron kitchen range that looked very similar to this, except ours had a top part that ran the length of the stove and all of it was enameled powder blue. I don't know where the heck my mom got it, but it's since disappeared. Our stoves ran on wood, which is good considering we were surrounded by forest. Down the hill and across the dirt road (this was the old road that let to a town some few miles away, but which eventually just turned into a barely visible track after a couple of miles, disappearing into the forest) was the stream from which we got our water and washed the dishes. At the top of the mountain there were three houses, two for the summer people and a third, an old farmhouse built I don't know when, but where one of my future bosses would live. When I was last there, in the mid-90's, it was still lit with old gas lamps - to say I was shocked in a bit of an understatement! They weren't on the grid, either, and those lamps, which surely must be illegal, were their only source of lighting besides candles. Anyway, one of the summer people's houses was stone built, with a black marble koi pond outside and a view over the valley and forest to the north, east, and south. I was never inside the house, but based on what it looks like, I think it was probably built in the late 1800's or very early 1900's. It has the feel of new money. A smaller stream was between the road and our house, one which necessitated a large steep pipe to form a culvert. There was a small parking area, then a steep hill to the clearing where our house was. My mom tried to grow squash and watermelon in the clearning, but the soil was too acidic. And let's face it, a garden surrounded by forest is just an invitation for critters to dine. Not that they didn't have enough in the wild blackberry, raspberry, and red raspberry bushes that were on the edges of the clearing and hill. Anyway, we had all we needed in our house. We had two cot beds, the stoves, two bookcases, a lleaved, yellow table with folding legs (which I used when I moved in to my second apartment), a wooden toilet that we could line with newspaper for number 2's, which would then be wrapped and burned in the stove, the lamp, candleholders, and an old brown radio that ran on D batteries. There was also a bit of an attic above the door (wood, painted red, with a window in the top half) stuffed with of toys, dolls, crayons, and paper for me. Mom had bits and pieces in boxes at the houses of her friends, too. I miss the simplicity of those days, although I don't miss the poverty. I went to school (a little red schoolhouse! With only 1st and 2nd grades! It was fab) with powdered milk or Grape Nuts for lunch, or worse, spaghetti sauce sandwiches or huge bags of puffed rice. At home we had occasionally had eggs and meat (no fridge), ate lots of canned food, including the hated Spaghettios, bread, spaghetti, etc. Mom also managed to borrow from the local (blink and you miss it) corner store, which was run out of a former hotel (think old farmhouse turned into a boarding house) in the town 3 miles away. She got oranges, avocados, bacon, and when we went to the big grocery store in the town where I grew up, she got Saltines (we still eat them spread with good butter), pomegranates, rutabagas(swede), kale, and sometimes fish like scrod, haddock, and pollock, back when fish was cheap and plentiful. Basically, if it was cheap, we ate it. Hey, does anyone remember the days of government cheese? The kind that came in the big blocks? Or in the late 70's, early 80's, when grocery stores like P&C selling all those ultra-cheap goverment foods like mac 'n' cheese and bread in the black and white boxes?? Anybody? Anybody? Beuller? I can't imagine why any of you would think I could possibly have any food issues. Speaking of food, these are the staples I must have in my kitchen, even if I don't eat them: olive oil garlic pasta beans (dried) oregano, thyme, basil, rosemary, salt beef, chicken, vegetable boullion Always gotta have enough food, because you never know. There was a spring outside our house. We had a dowser come up and check around, because it was a bitch in winter to get water from the stream. Weather was different back then, with hard snows and bitter winds. Remember when you could expect snow before Thanksgiving? One time I woke up to go to school, and the entire road was covered in two inches of ice. Paul, Mom's friend from California, decided to took me to school - or would have, if the bus had been running. Anyway, we slid our way down, me on my belly in my snowsuit, although I was terrified I'd either go off into the stream now 15 feet down from the road or straight down to the paved road and get run over by a car. Making our way back up to the house was most definitely not as fun. So...that's where I lived from age 4 to 8. As I've said before, I wouldn't trade it for anything. Well, it's a little past noon and it's taken me quite a while to write this, and I've still got to make lunch and get dressed and go to work, so I'll save the other houses for another post. Btw, Mare, there's nothing wrong with being an Emmerdale fan.

A Bad Week

Frank Kelly Freas Jerry Orbach

Oh For -

What are the odds of finding infertility in hard-core porn. Very, very, very small. One would think.

Challenge, Or, I Forgot

I have not forgotten my task for the week, and shall be putting it up tomorrow. Since it's more of a memoir than a story, it's going to ramble! Just so ya know.

Hopping On The Band Wagon

As provided by Julianna: 1. What did you do in 2004 that you'd never done before? Buy a house. 2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I don't make new year's resolutions. 3. Did anyone close to you give birth? Nope. 4. Did anyone close to you die? Nope. 5. What countries did you visit? None. 6. What would you like to have in 2005 that you lacked in 2004 Some mo-fo'in' IVF. 7. What date from 2004 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? 2004, the year of suck, when I realized I'd been shafted by the ABERDEEN INFERTILITY CLINIC, in case anyone's Googling. 8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Getting a job. 9. Did you suffer illness or injury? Yes. 10. What was the best thing you bought? House. 11. Whose behavior merited celebration? ... 12. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Dubya/Cheney/Rice 13. Where did most of your money go? House, eBay, food 14. What did you get really, really, really excited about? IVF in 2005, moving into my house 15. What song will always remind you of 2004? Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day 16. Compared to this time last year, are you: i. happier or sadder? Sadder ii. thinner or fatter? fatter iii. richer or poorer? same 17. What do you wish you'd done more of? ... 18. What do you wish you'd done less of? eat 20. How will you be spending or did spend New Year's? I babysat. 21. Did you fall in love in 2004 ? Only with my house. 22. How many one-night stands? None 23. What was your favorite TV program? Didn't really have one...but at a pinch I'd say Garth Marenghi's DarkPlace, the new Battlestar Galactica, Cold Case, L&O, etc 24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? Gwyneth Paltrow. 25. What was the best book you read? Non-fiction: The Ice Master by Jennifer Niven Fiction: The Tawny Man trilogy by Robin Hobb aka Megan Lindholm 26. What was your greatest musical (re)discovery? Susumu Yokota - I adore Grinning Cat and recommend it highly. It's fairly uncategorizable music, although at times he seems to be channeling Copeland or Gershwin, but with a Japanese ambient/dance/pianotastic spin... 27. What did you want and get? A house. Pregnant. But not a pregnant house, because that would be weird. 28. What did you want and not get? IVF 29. What was your favorite film of this year? Bourne Supremacy? 30. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? I worked, and 36. 31. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Some IVF. 32. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2004? Black and white. 33. What kept you sane? Um... 34. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? David Duchovny, Eric Bana 35. What political issue stirred you the most? Iraq, US Elections 36. Who did you miss? My mom, everyone at home. 37. Who was the best new person you met? Besides bloggers, G, with whom I work. 38. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2004: Never trust a doctor. If they say the sun is shining, make sure you go outside and check. 39. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year: "My Shadow's the only thing that walks beside me" Boulevard of Broken Dreams Green Day 40. Where do you want to be this time next year? At home, diapering my baby.

More Good Things (tm)

The Ice Master, by Jennifer Niven - The incredible, and I do not use that word lightly, incredible true tale of the Karluk, bound for the North Pole. I was actually in tears several times during this book, and that's something that's only happened with a few authors (Erikson, Kay, Donaldson). I've got another of her books, Ada Blackjack, on the way as well. Touching the Void, Joe Simpson - Okay, I read this a few years ago, but I tell you, this is one of the most amazing stories of survival I have ever read. It made me realize that I why I'm not a person cut out for adventuring or mountain climbing - it's not the decisions you have to make, it's the living with them afterwards that I couldn't take. The Perfect Storm, Sebastian Junger - again, I read this years ago, and if you haven't read it yet, you're missing one hell of a story. I vaguely recall hearing about this storm and the missing boats when it was going on, but life was too busy at the time to pay attention to the missing or the dead. The film is crap, btw, the book is much better. Having said that, it's a rather detached journalistic work, the story frequently interrupted by, for example, meteorology or the science of drowning. The pacing worked for me, but I'm weird that way. The DaVinci Code, Dan Brown - yeah yeah, you've all heard about it. I have no idea if it's true or not, but it's still a ripping yarn! Lee Child - Lee Child is a bad writer(doesn't he look like Garth Marenghi?). Seriously. He's terrible, the sort of writing you talk about in class because it's so bad. However. Jack Reacher is an ex-MP, Dangerous-But-Handsome Drifter, the kind of guy who Always Gets Into Trouble. If this were a movie, he'd be played by Daniel Craig or Sean Bean or Viggo Mortensen. Oh, time for my weekly hospital drama fix, Casualty. (Mare, stop rolling your eyes)

What I Did On New Year's Eve, By Orodemniades

Oro babysat. Although, when both children are 14 and 11-going-on-37 respectively, can you really call it babysitting? The 11yo is the daughter of one of Mr Oro's best friends, Shell (pseud). They met when he was dating her sister, Iris, the mother of the 14yo. The woman who got pregnant by him, dumped him, and then told him, 'oh, btw I've had a termination'. Alas. Anyway, he'd raised the 14yo from birth to age 4, when said dumping occurred, and last night was the first time he'd seen her in 10 years. She had a vague recollection of who he was, but the details were very fuzzy. I think that might be a good thing in the long run - not because Mr Oro would want to treat her like a daughter, or that he wants to get back together with Iris, but for her sake. I'm not sure what it is I'm trying to say, here, save that I think it's good for her to start out with a mostly clean slate where he's concerned. The 14yo is another person shafted by the NHS. She's 14 and is approximately 4'5" tall. Her thyroid problem was discovered when she was 11, and apparently it's 'too late' for growth hormone treatment. She takes meds daily for her thyroid. She had to buy pj's as they were spending the night, and as I was opening the bag, I noticed that the size was for 8-9 year olds. Scotland does officially have the shortest women in Europe, but still, I do not envy her during her high school years. Her mother has 7 children, of which she is the eldest. The other six are by Iris's ex - the one who recently tore up all of her pictures because she wasn't his child - and she has seen far too much for her age. Her mother and aunt share the same upbringing, but Shell is a single parent, having had only a couple of boyfriends since the birth of the 11yo. Although she did have a miscarriage last year...one has to wonder if it was at the hands of the physically abusive bf Shell had at the time, the one the 11yo detested. The 14yo is a lovely child, however. I wonder if her solid, loving foundation with Mr Oro has anything to do with that? Or is that too early by 'formative years' standards? I fear that she is a follower, though, getting in trouble because of the things others do. In any case, the two of them toured the house (or as Mr Oro put it, 'She just kept opening drawers!') and then discovered by my dance closet. Dressing up then ensued, followed by champagne and 'Let's make dresses!' at midnight. Cue Oro sewing until her machine went bust. Then there were pillowfights, running and screaming, hot chocolate, hot chocolate spilled on the green carpet, Oro yelling 'pipe down out there!', Mr Oro getting up at 3:30AM to let Shell in, all of us being further awoken by fireworks at 4AM, then blessed sleep until 9:15, when Oro's internal alarm decided she'd slept late enough. And thus is 2005 ushered in.

Hey Scully

Are you home yet?

Good Things(tm)

I'm bored with my own whining, and have decided, in typical Gemini fashion, to focus on the shiny. Top Cool Things Of 2004: Napoleon Dynamite - a very odd but very funny movie about teenage life in Preston, Idaho. A fantastic companion flick is Welcome to the Dollhouse (dir. Todd Solondz, Happiness, Storytelling), for everyone who's ever been 12. City of God - life in one of Rio's favelas, City of God. Refreshingly uncondescending, brilliant acting. Not for those of weak constitution or those who don't like looking at the dark side of life. Shaun of the Dead - A rom-zom-com, sheer genius from the writers of Spaced. Holes - fab 'kids' movie that adults will love, too. Bourne Supremacy - Matt Damon. You so rawk. Garth Marenghi's DarkPlace - I actually forgot that this wasn't really created in 1982...that's how fantastically crap it is. Seriously. Check out Garth's website here. Sabriel by Garth Nix - Everything you've heard about this book is true. Trust me, go read it...you can always fob it off on some child if you don't like it... Nekropolis, Maureen McHugh - another heartrending work by McHugh, although this one has slightly more plot that usual. Mission Child is somewhat less heartrending, but for different reasons. Kushiel's Dart, Jaqueline Carey - a book I avoided for a long time, and fell in love once I began it. Unfortunately Carey has a tendency to write about 200 pages past a good stopping point, but these standalones are very much worthwhile reading. Steven Erikson - Okay, I only read book 4 of his monumental series, Tales of the Malazan, the Fallen, but day-umm, the man can write. Gardens of the Moon, book one, is the place to start, even though the writing is not all it could be. Nonetheless, if you like fantasy on the large, but human, scale, this is the series for you. In all honesty it is in my opinion the best fantasy series of the new millenium. Works on par include Tolkien (no, really) and Donaldson (more the Gap series than White Gold Wielder), George RR Martin, and Tanith Lee's works (all of them, Night's Master series particularly). The Devil and Deep Space, Susan R Matthews - I just can't get enough of Andrej Koscuisko. Yes, he's a Ship's Inquisitor (that's torturer to you and me), but he's very conflicted about it. Cuz, y'know, while Fox Mulder is my number one sekrit boyfriend, and Jason Bourne could be if he probably wouldn't get me killed, then Andrej is definitely in 2nd place. I know I read other books, but they'll have to wait for another post. Hope all y'all's day is going well.

Sounds Stupid But...

I just realized I'm fairly depressed. No need to alert the media, though.

Those Crazy Germans

QNTAL - the band I love, the name I dare not pronounce. What can be said about a group that takes medieval music and adds electro-beats (but not electro, if you know what I mean), digderidoo, electric guitars, Jew's Harps, ancient instruments, plus other various and sundries, then adds one of the most incredible female vocalists (Sigrid Hausen/Syrah, also sings with Estampie) ever? Seriously. Good. Shit. I highly recommend QNTAL III. My mom adores it, and you will too. You can check out some of the remixes here (the extended remix of Ecce Gratum is a fab indication of what their music sounds like. And yes, Ecce Gratum is indeed Orff's version from the Carmina Burana and if you don't have that already, what's wrong with you?! (a big fat Ditto for the Dead Can Dance) The Eugene Ormandy version is best). As for other, similar type bands, it's taken me a while to warm to Helium Vola, created by one of QNTAL's creators. It's got a much harder sound, with far sharper vocals. My favorite tune is the last, Selig, which is absolutely gorgeous. I can't say Vas impressed me all that much, it's a little too Llewellyn for my taste. Azam Ali has a lovely voice, but it's all just a bit...blah. And thus endeth the music lesson for this day.

One Ringie-Dingie, Two Ringie-Dingie

"Hi, I bought some curtains at your store three or four years ago. They were called...something, I think they started with 'C'. Do you still have them?" "No, I'm afraid not. That range has been discontinued." "Would any of your other stores have them?" blink "No." "Are you sure?" "Yes, the company has changed hands since then and our ranges completely changed as we also changed suppliers." "Okay, thank you." * * * * 30 seconds later * * * * * "Hi, I just called to ask about some curtains. Could you tell me who the manufacturer was, so I could call them?" "I'm afraid we don't keep that information, ma'am." "Oh...could I get your number for Head Office and see if they would know?" blink blink "I'm sorry, we don't give out that information." "Oh. Okay, thank you."

And The Horse You Rode In On

Yesterday, like today, was a bank holiday. This is sort of like Federal holiday, except the buses run on normal or Sunday schedules. If a store is open, it's generally a late start and an early close. Like, say, 6 pm. Because I work for morons, I was supposed to finish at 8:15pm. Needless to say, we had an early close. I won't go into the finer details, but let's just say that my assitant manager, heretofore known as AssMan (believe me, no), knows he did a very bad thing, and it's going to take some time before we all stop bitching about him. To his face. Why yes, we don't actually give a shit.

A Challenge

I recently completed a new X Files story (Secret Santa fic), and enjoyed writing it so much that I've decided that I need to get back into the saddle. In fact, I'll be posting some of my favorite stories on Purity Control, linked on the right. Btw, I do intend to finish 3 Sisters - just as soon as I figure out wth it's all about - with a deadline of this time next year. Or NaNoWriMo, whichever comes first. I think a good baseline for wordage is 5K per month. Might sound like a lot, but back when I wasn't working I was writing 1000 or more words a day. Still, that's about 500 words a day, which is manageable. Anyway. I need some non-XF related writing to get the juices flowing, so here's the deal. You give me the plot and characters and I'll write the story, to be posted here on Birch and Maple. Plot/story idea can be any topic, any genre. If you have really specific ideas of what you want to see, let me know and I'll do me best to fulfill your wishes. Time limit to write the story - one week. So...bring it on!

Now With Even More Pathetic Whining!

I can't believe it, but I'm actually going to leave the previous post up...even though it's horrifying in it's whinyness. Even by my standards, it's bad. Anyway, the weather's too bad and we're not going. We're going to get together at New Year's instead, which is when champagne should be imbibed, anyway. Adding to my guilt over not wanting to go is learning that it's just the two of them this year, as M's mom and stepdad are going elsewhere... Bah humbug. At least Mr Oro liked his mini-fridge...

The Weather Outside Is Frightful

So of course, we have to take two buses to get to a friend's house for Christmas dinner. Seriously, there are gale force winds blowing outside, plus tiny snow, plus it's fucking cold as hell, the buses only run for a few hours today, and Mr Oro's all upset that I 'never told him' that I'm working tomorrow. I don't want to go out today. I don't want to share my expensive champagne that I bought for the two of us. I don't want to spend my day off amongst drinkers and really heavy cigarette smoke. I don't want to watch Mr Oro get drunk along with everyone else while I'm stone cold sober. I don't want to go out today. Crap.

Wait, What Show Is This? now with Update!

Stargate or Farscape?? Mr Oro and myself are very confused. And no, I'm not going to spoil you. Besides, chances are you've already seen this episode anyway. Ah, all is explained...and of course, there's a pregnancy involved.

Next On FOX!

Uh...okay.

Sunday

I don't have much to say. Survived the rest of Saturday and talking to my mom, who's now convinced that herbal treatments will make my PCOS go away, and that all I need to do is go to the whatever clinic in Edinburgh to treat it, and that both Mr Oro and myself should quite our jobs, move to the States, and do whatever we have to to get us some IVF. Meanwhile, back in Realityland, I went to bed early, got up early, missed the postman who was delivering on a Sunday, showered, fed the birds again (hey, we got Bulfinches!!), read some more, and ended up going out to lunch with Mr Oro and his brother. The topic of children was studiously ignored by all, except for the precious darlings screaming their little hearts out at the tables near us. I had a really bad Long Island Iced Tea (it was like dark rum and coke with mixer in it) which I didn't even finish, and a Never-Ending Margarita which also had too much mixer in it. BTW, should you ever ask for a Black Russian in Scotland, you can expect a large glass filled with Kahlua and...Coke. Yeah, gross. So today has been okay, apart from Mom's email. She does her best, but she can't fix things or wish they'll be better. Finally, thank you all for your kind words, particularly Emily, who somehow ferried out my secret crack whore longings. Damn, she's good...

Yeah, I Want A Baby Too...

...but day-umm. It's just fucking sad, for all involved, y'know?

3:21 AM

That's when Mr Oro's sobbing woke me up. I couldn't decide between oblivion via wine or going upstairs to read, but reading eventually won out. Besides, the wine was making me feel nauseaous, or however you spell it. So I read for a couple of hours, then lay in the dark waiting to fall asleep. At some point I must have, which is when the crying woke me up. My house may be made of concrete block, but even with closed doors, sound carries very well. I came down into the living room to find Mr Oro listening to OMD, drinking a G+T (they don't call gin 'Mother's Ruin' for nothing, y'know), and chatting on asd. I asked him what was up, even though that was patently obvious, then got him some tissues, gave him a kiss, and left him alone to mourn in private. Wonders will never cease, as I managed not to cry once I returned to bed. I read for another hour, then dozed a little more, finally getting up at 8 to watch the Home and Away (with its infertility, surrogacy, and teenage pregnancy storylines, natch) omnibus. Mr Oro is currently on the couch, sleeping. I am on the loveseat, now watching Smackdown!, having fed the birds, loaded the dishwasher and washing machine, cooked my breakfast, folded towels, retrieved my books from upstairs, showered, gotten dressed, lit some scented candles and incense... And thus have passed the first 14 hours of my day off.

Oh, The Food Thing

I don't want to eat. The very thought of it makes me sick. But I want to live.

Because Injury Can't Be Without Insult

The bottle of wine is open and I'm halfway through my glass. After an 8 day work week, I have the weekend off. Which is good, because I am very tired. Awaiting me on the kitchen counter was the letter from the IF Clinic, which I read, but didn't read, if you know what I mean. Basically my case is going to be 'revisited' in January after my appointment with Dr Research. It doesn't really matter because one of two things is going to happen: A) they will tell me to lose X lbs and no IVF will occur until that happens or B) I will be denied. As they're going to limit IVF to women with a BMI of 30 or under, I assume that B will be the 'choice' made for me. Because, y'know, fat women shouldn't be allowed to breed. And for some countries, fat people aren't allowed to adopt. So, now I have to find a clinic Stateside who will take me, and figure out what I have to do to get over there, and more importantly how to get Mr Oro over there, seeing as he has the career and all that. Of course, I speak as though he's with me on this, and he's not. He wants children, he's not sure he can be bothered to do whatever it takes to get them. Yet there is always choice three, being childless. But then we'd have to move to the US, because I couldn't live in this hellhole if that were the case.

Happy Holidaze

I was relieved to get my period on Tuesday. I haven't been taking my temps, so I was clueless as to when I'd ovulated, and it seemed like it had been a long time since my last perion. Irony of ironies, I was afraid I might be pregnant. Afraid, because my chances of an ectopic pregnancy - should any sperm be courageous enough to brave the corrupted horror of the twin failures known as my fallopian tubes, and assuming, of course, an egg managed to reach escape velocity and spin free of my ovaries - are incredibly high. I see no reason to blow an ovary. So Mr Oro and myself have sex during those times when any such chance is least likely. Although there were no scares during the four years when Sex Around Ovulation Would Get Me Pregnant Real Soon Now, so I don't even know why I bother. Anyway, today I realized that had I been going ahead with IVF I would have called the clinic to let them know that my cycle had started. Yeah. Then I got started thinking about next Christmas, and how I'll either be searching for a clinic back home that's not fat-phobic and might accept me, and how expensive that's going to be, or I'll still be here, waiting for my second cycle to start (because they're now down to 2 treatments per year, due to budget issues). Or maybe I'll have given up and moved on to adoption. Or maybe I'll find out that I ruined whatever chance I had by waiting. Mr Oro made a half-hearted attempt to say this wasn't my fault, but I told him it was. And it is. Somewhere along the line, I did something, maybe I just wasn't clean enough, or maybe I never should have worked at that one job, even though it meant college money... I've never said it, but if Mr Oro wanted children off another woman, I'd divorce him in a heartbeat.

Hey, America. Travel, Good For The Soul, Nightmare For The Wallet

Not that I'm going anywhere. However, if I could visit one place, it would be in Wisconsin, former home of The Gobbler. Take the tour. Go on, I'll wait - but don't even attempt to eat or drink anything while you do, okay? Lest you think that their carpet style was odd, I'm living in a country where carpeting the kitchen and the bathroom has only just gone out of style, and where wallpapering the ceiling is not uncommon. My customers frequently want everything to match - curtains must match bedding, couch, wallpaper, or carpet, and gods help you if you tell them 'no'. I've actually had people rant at me when I've told them we don't have pelmets/valances for curtains. Yes, even if it does have on in the picture on the packet. Because the company buyers didn't buy them, that's why. Yes, that is a legitimate reason. No, calling another store won't help, because they won't have them either. * * * * * * * Conversation overheard at a dollar/pound store: customer to salesperson: Could you tell me how much these are? There's no price on them. salesperson: blink blink customer helpfully shows salesperson the bar code. salesperson: they're a dollar... customer: Oh, thanks. Oro to self: dear god... * * * * * * * Some of the boys working in the store during last week's "refit" were from Glasgow. One referred to me as 'America', and constantly quizzed me on how easy it was to get a gun. He'd heard that Wisconsin, funnily enough, was best. I suggested Texas, for obvious reasons, and then Mexico. His dream is to get American citizenship and go 'shoot stuff'. We also had a good entertainment when the price of prostitutes in Glasgow came up (20 quid for a handjob, 30 for a blowjob, 50 for the full monty - not that he's ever been to one). Obviously, the place we're most likely to run into this character is on the 6 o'clock news. The shop was, of course, open during the refit. So there's lots of mess, workmen running around, lots of things moved and in heaps on the floor, power tools going off in the background, plenty of signs mentioning said refit, yet still, customers would come up to the front desk and say, "Are you getting a refit? I didn't even notice when I came in!" Hmm. Have you no eyes, people?? * * * * * * * If Wisconsin's not your thing, but you think California sounds fab, then perhaps you'd prefer to stay at The Madonna Inn. It's not as...striking...as The Gobbler, but really, can anything? It's got more rooms, though, all 109 of them...and remember folks, each and every one of them is unique. However, if you're an East Coast type of person, then forget your Ritz-Carlton's, your Hilton's, give me New York's Library Hotel. You'll find me on the 8th floor, home of Literature.

Our Lexicon

If you haven't come across them before, welcome. Why yes, Mr Oro and myself are looking forward to sending our children to therapy. And, here's why I need to win the lottery.

If I Wanted To Hear The Pitter-Patter Of Tiny Feet...

...I'd have bought shoes for my cat. Heh. But how about this? Damned animals makin' me cry. sniff

So My Teacher Said To Me Today...

...We're trying to get pregnant. Long story short, I told her that she should go to her GP and ask to be referred to the IF clinic, and lie about how long she's been trying (only been married a little over a year). Of course, a few months ago she'd told me she wasn't sure she wanted children, but it looks like the Law Of Pregnancy has not followed through - she's not pregnant after 6 months. I managed not to say 'I'm sure it'll happen for you', and instead told her to lie, and go private as soon as humanely possible. Being thin, and 34, she will of course have no difficulty getting IUI or IVF asap. Not that I'm bitter. She also said she has irregular periods, and I said the magic letters P C O and S, and she nodded. Seems like she's hip on that, which is good. I said if she needed any info that I was the person to speak to. Go me. Wish I didn't have that knowledge, though...

But Not In a Beavis Or Butthead Kind Of Way

I speak of the fire that happened the other night in my hometown. It was a beautifl building, overlooking two rivers, two bridges, and a mountain. Thankfully it didn't get into the historic theater next door, but still, one person died, pets are missing, and it's a shame to lose a town treasure.

Riding The Ho Chi Mood Swing Trail

Since I'm currently pre-menstrual and therefore more cruel than usual, it seems only appropriate to post a link to the Star Wars Kid. The first one is the best, but the LOTOR kicks ass too. I wonder what Ghyslain will do with his fame? Apparently he's already undergoing therapy...

Metformin

I'm just going to post the link about Metformin and weight loss here, and Metformin and PCOS here, because I don't really want to think about any of this before I go to work. Although I will say I'm awfully suspicious about not having a fasting glucose blood test taken, as Dr Research said "It doesn't really matter." Hmm.

A Bit Of Spring Cleaning

Just tidying the links a bit to the right. I've rearranged a few things and added a link to Fitday. Now, the link on the right is actually my public journal, so you can see what I'm eating and if I'm completely whack. Obviously my goal weight is ludicrous. I'm leaving it there to remind me of my failure.

Today I Cried Over...

...curtains. Because, of course, I didn't have enough rings to hang them, or enough hooks. Metaphor for my life.

HTTP This, Buddy

While trying to fix the font size of the lyrics I quoted yesterday, I needed Mr Oro's help. Obviously, this was a mistake, because the formatting is all messed up, and I've saved it to draft until I decide to fix it. Which might be never, just so you know.

According To Mom

I should just 'stop finding things to be depressed about', adopt, and 'move on with your life'. Oh, and 'stop overeating, because that's what's making you fat'. Also, did I remember that neighbor with the dog? Cause he and his long term girlfriend, who each have a kid and used to have a lot of problems before finding some kind of equilibrium and deciding to get married, were killed in a car accident over Thanksgiving. Hmm. Okay then.

Three Words

Depressed Angry Tearful

Awful, But Hilarious

Arkansas Woman Killed in Mistaken Rapture by Elroy Willis ARKANSAS CITY (EAP) -- A Little Rock woman was killed yesterday after leaping through her moving car's sunroof during an incident best described as a "mistaken rapture" by dozens of eye-witnesses. Thirteen other people were injured after a twenty-car pile-up resulted from people trying to avoid hitting the woman, who was apparently convinced the rapture was occurring when she saw twelve people floating up into the air, and then passed a man on the side of the road who she believed was Jesus. "She started screaming `He's back! He's back!' and climbed out through the sunroof and jumped off the roof of the car," said Everet Williams, husband of 28-year-old Georgann Williams who was pronounced dead at the scene. "I was slowing down but she wouldn't wait till I stopped," Williams said. She thought the rapture was happening and was convinced that Jesus was gonna lift her up into the sky," he went on to say. "This is the strangest thing I've seen since I've been on the force," said Paul Madison, first officer on the scene. Madison questioned the man who looked like Jesus and discovered that he was on his way to a toga costume party, when the tarp covering the bed of his pickup truck came loose and released twelve blow-up s e x dolls filled with helium, which then floated up into the sky. Ernie Jenkins, 32, of Fort Smith, who's been told by several of his friends that he looks like Jesus, pulled over and lifted his arms into the air in frustration and said "Come back," just as the Williams' car passed him,and Mrs. Williams was sure that it was Jesus lifting people up into heaven as they drove by him. "I think my wife loved Jesus more than she loved me," the widower said when asked why his wife would do such a thing. When asked for comments about the twelve s e x dolls, Jenkins replied, "This is all just too weird for me. I never expected anything like this to happen."

A Few Laughs

A new priest at his first mass was so nervous he could hardly speak. After mass he asked the Monsignor how he had done. The Monsignor replied, "When I am worried about getting nervous on the pulpit, I put a glass of Vodka next to the water glass. If I start to get nervous I take a sip." So the next Sunday, he took the Monsignor's advice. At the beginning of the sermon he got nervous and took a drink. He proceeded to talk up a storm. Upon return to his office after mass, he found the following note on his door from the Monsignor: Sip the Vodka, don't gulp. There are 10 commandments, not 12. There were 12 disciples, not 10 Jesus was consecrated, not constipated. Jacob wagered his donkey, he did not bet his ass. We do not refer to Jesus Christ as the late J.C. The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are not referred to as Daddy, Junior, and Spook. David slew Goliath, he did not kick the crap out of him. When David was hit by a rock and knocked off his donkey, don't say he was stoned off his ass. We do not refer to the cross as the Big T. When Jesus broke the bread at the last supper he said, "Take this and eat it, for it is my body", he did not say "Eat me." The Virgin Mary is not referred to as the "Mary with the Cherry". The recommended grace before a meal is not "Rub-A-dub-dub, thanks for the grub...yeah God". Next Sunday there will be a taffy-pulling contest at St. Peters, not a peter-pulling contest at St. Taffy's * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 1. What's the difference between a girlfriend and wife? 45 lbs. 2. What's the difference between a boyfriend and a husband?45 mins. 3. What is it when a man talks dirty to a woman?Sexual harassment. 4. What is it when a woman talks dirty to a man? £3.99 a minute. 5. How can you tell if your wife is dead?The sex is the same, but the dishes pile up. 6. How can you tell if your husband is dead? The sex is the same, but you get the remote control. 7. What's a blonde's favourite nursery rhyme?Humpme Dumpme. 8. What's it called when a woman is paralysed from the waist down?Marriage. 9. How many men does it take to change a light bulb? None, they just sit there in the dark and complain. 10. What's the fastest way to a man's heart? Through his chest with a sharp knife. 11. Why is it so hard for women to find men that are sensitive,caring and good looking? Because those men already have boyfriends. 12. What is a man's view of safe sex? A padded headboard. 13. How do men sort their laundry? Filthy" and "Filthy but Wearable" 14. What's the difference between a new husband and a new dog? After a year, the dog is still excited to see you. 15. What makes men chase women they have no intention of marrying? The same urge that makes dogs chase cars they have no intention of driving. 16. What do you call a smart blonde? A golden retriever. 17. Who is the most popular guy at the nudist colony? The guy who can have a cup of coffee in each hand and still carry a dozen donuts. 18. Who is the most popular woman at the nudist colony? The woman who ate the last donut. 19. What is the difference between a battery and a man? A battery has a positive side. 20. Do you know why they call it the Wonder Bra? When you take it off, you wonder where the breasts went. 21. Do you know the punishment for bigamy? Two mothers-in-law. 22. How many men does it take to open a beer?None. It should already be open by the time she brings it. 23. Why is a Laundromat a really bad place to pick up a woman? Because a woman who can't afford a washing machine will probably never be able to support you. 24. Why do women have smaller feet than men? It's one of those "evolutionary things" that allows them to stand closer to the kitchen sink. 25. How do you fix a woman's watch? You don't. There is a clock on the oven. 26. If your dog is barking at the back door and your wife is yelling at the front door, whom do you let in first? The dog of course. He'll shut up once you let him in. 27. What's worse than a Male Chauvinist Pig?A woman that won't do what she's told. 28. I married Miss Right, I just didn't know her first name was Always. 29. I haven't spoken to my wife for 18 months.I don't like to interrupt her. 30. What do you call a man who has lost 95% of his intelligence?Divorced. 31. Scientists have discovered a food that diminishes a woman's sex drive by 90%. It is called Wedding Cake. 32. Marriage is a 3-ring circus: Engagement Ring Wedding Ring, Suffering. 33. Our last fight was my fault. My wife asked me "What's on theTV?" I said, "Dust!" 34. In the beginning, God created the earth and rested. Then God created Man and rested. Then God created Woman. Since then, neither God nor Man has rested. 35. A beggar walked up to a well-dressed woman shopping on Rodeo Drive and said, "I haven't eaten anything in four days." She looked at him and said, "God, I wish I had your willpower." 36. Young Son: "Is it true, Dad, I heard that in some parts of Africa a man doesn't know his wife until he marries her?" Dad: "That happens in every country, son * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Mr Blobby and Mrs Blobby are sitting in bed one night, when Mrs Blobby turns to Mr Blobby and says "Blob, blob, bobbity, blob, blob, blib, blurb!" Mr Blobby replies "For ****s sake, just swallow it!" * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Thanks to UKPagan for the jokes.

The 12th Of Never

Oh yes, that's right. The IVF will no longer be taking place in Jan/Feb, but will be delayed to an uncertain date In The Future. Do I know this for sure? No. However, I think it's safe to surmise that if I get any IVF at all anywhere in Scotland before I die, I will be lucky. The appointment at the diabetic clinic was...interesting. I learned that I'm fat and that my blood pressure was high (gosh, I can't imagine why). I got to wait for an hour, trying to keep my arms close against my body as I was suffering from Cold Sweat Syndrome with the added benefit of the Constantly Flushed Face and eyestrain from reading small, light print in bad lighting. Honestly, battleship gray is not the best color for a medical facility. On the outside, sure, but not on the inside. I'm just sayin'. I met with Dr Research, did the weightloss history, or lack thereof, the low-carbing history, etc, and was astounded when he actually talked about the latest research concerning Metformin and infertility! After I'd picked my jaw up off the floor, he decided that he wanted me to do a further lower-carb plan through mid-January (the clinic has their own lc plan!), then come back and see if I'd lost any weight. He said that if nothing or very little had happened, he'd put me on Metformin immediately. When I went back out to the waiting room for the last time the other patients were talking about the doctors, and how Dr Research wouldn't try anything twice, but would immediately move on to something else if a treatment wasn't working for a patient. Which gives me great heart. Too bad he isn't my IVF doctor. I fully explained to him that I had already asked for Metformin, and that no one at the clinic seemed interested in listening to what I had to say. He asked my about my clinician and whether or not he was a consultant or a doctor (like I know the difference), and I told him it was Dr Hesitant and that I had no clue as to his position, as I'd only met him the one time. I added that I'd seen different doctors with every clinic visit, and he didn't seem too impressed. So...I'm feeling a wee bit better. I feel like there's some movement in my future, even though it might not be IVF - at least not in this country. And really, six weeks isn't so long to wait. If I do lose any weight, yay, and if not, then we can give the Met a try. Either way, he seems to be on my side, that is to say, he genuinely would like to see me be as healthy as possible, and didn't blame me for my weight, which is way cool. Mr Oro seems to have recovered from the shock of yesterday and today's news, although he did say that maybe he couldn't be arsed to go ahead with all of this if it's going to be so much of a struggle against the system. I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. We came home and he took a brief nap, and now, on the surface at least, appears to be his usual self. Fingers crossed that what he said was just depression and sadness talking, rather than how he really feels.

What. The. Fuck.

Why, people, why? At what point, after having severe post-partum depression, do you think having another child is a good idea? And why do they always seem to be Christians? What's up with that?

Fuck You, Fuck You Very Much

Dr What'shisname, heretofore known as Dr Hesitant, called me just after I'd gotten in to work today. As of last Thursday, I am now too fat to go ahead with the scheduled January IVF. Why last Thursday? Well, that's when they decided that you had weigh under 224 lbs. As it would be, see, "less stressful on the body". So, no problem then, I can just whip off those 30 extra pounds in 6 months or less. But without dieting, because Dr Hesitant doesn't think I should go on a diet. Yet if I don't lose weight, I might be removed from the program. Hmm. Let's see. I've waited over 3 years, asked to be put on Metformin repeatedly, asked if my weight was going to be an problem repeatedly, was told 'no' and 'no' repeatedly, and now that I'm less than 8 weeks away from doing my first IVF cycle, my weight is an issue. I have an appointment with the fat doctor at the diabetic clinic (guess who's not a diabetic?) tomorrow, and it will be up to him to decide whether or not I can lose weight in the next 6 months, which means it's up to him whether or not I have IVF. I repeatedly asked Dr Hesitant what would happen if I didn't lose weight, and he hmm'd and hawed. I wasn't able to get a straight answer, which I shall take to mean 'ain't gonna happen'. I guess my 30 years worth of experience of not losing weight means jack shit. I guess my desire to have children means jack shit. I guess the fact that this is my freakin' life means jack shit. I am not past the sobbing stage. Half of today was spent trying not to cry in front of the customers. The other half was spent trying to be nice to them, because quite frankly, I could give a shit whether or not your curtains fit your window. The plan is to talk to Nurse Awesome tomorrow and lay it on the line. I'm not going to pussyfoot around or be 'nice'. Nope, this is going to be a straight out 'I have no confidence in my doctor' and 'what the fuck are you people playing at' and 'I can't afford to wait any longer', amongst other things. By the end of the day she will know exactly how I and Mr Oro feel, and what we expect of them. Assuming it's a no-go for January, I'll have my mother make an appointment with her gynecologist, go home for a week and have some testing done, then come back to Scotland and await the results of those tests. If they can schedule me in for 2005, I'll work as much as possible, then convince Mr Oro to spend all of his holidays stateside with me, quit my job, go home, do a cycle, and then, then, then I don't know what. So fuck you, Aberdeen Fertility Clinic, fuck you very much.

Crack, Apparently

Was what I was on when I decided to try and write a novel in a month. Lessee...it's November 21. I have 9 days to write 47000 words. Yeah. Exactly. Things I have to do at the same time: go to class, go to work, do shopping, laundry, dishes, cook make a stab at cleaning this sty of an abode, go to bingo, go to my appointment at the fat doctor, sleep, cry, and go mental.

Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair

After reading Michelle's great post on Christmas gifts, I present to you my best suggestion for gifts: Lush I have a lot of favorites from Lush, but if you're a newbie to their products and don't know where to start, here are a few of their best. FACE Babyface - Ultra Bland in a bar. I have combo skin, and this is a fabu smooth, soap-free cleansing bar that I can rub on morning and night. I find it's easier to remove than Ultra-Bland. Remove with a cotton pad or natural sponge. Angels On Bare Skin - a fantastic smelling, soft exfoliator that I could use even when in the midst of my worst acne rosacea breakouts. And that's saying a lot. Mix a pea-sized amount with a little water and exfoliate. Rinse with clean water. HAIR Solid Shampoo - these bars are amazing. 3 swipes on wet hair will be more than enough to clean your hair and give you loadsabubbles. My favorites are Irrisistable Bliss, Seanik, Karma Komba (mmm, Karma.../Homer), but my absolute favorite is Reincarnate, which smells absolutely gorgeous as well as adding just a hint of red henna to my particular shade of brown. I've got red highlights naturally, but the henna in the bar makes them stand out, yet without looking brassy. Trust me, get this bar. Conditioner Solid Conditioner - Jungle's okay, but I really love Fuel. You do have to work it into your hair, though! Treatments - Got dandruff? Then you need Recon. And a solid shampoo bar to get it back out again. Another fabu treat is Arabian Bright, which has red henna. You can leave it on for 20 minutes or an hour, and your hair will be shiny and new and Life Changing, but probably not in a Dr Phil kind of way. SOAP Karma - It's got all of the exotics you could want, what you imagine Zanzibar might smell like. Patchouli, cinnamon, oranges, citrus...I put a bar in my underwear drawer. I've got the soap, the powder, the shampoo, the perfume...yeah. I'm a junkie. Milky Bar - It does not make you smell like chocolate as the description suggests, but it does make you smell a bit like how honey tastes - sweet, yet not cloyingly so. Neither myself nor Mr Oro can get enough of this soap. It's a good date soap, or in my case, what I like to use if I'm planning a night in, nudge nudge. Ginger - A lovely spicy floral scent, another that I barely get to use since Mr Oro hogs the damned bar. Luckily I have the perfume and the powder too, hee hee. Other soaps: Figs and Leaves is great for the skin, smells great too. Alkmaar - a lovely, very very soft floral that will give just a hint of scent. Like Milky Bar, this is good if you want a gentle odor that can be worn as a base with most perfumes. Middle Earth Turns To Rock - not available in the US, a scrubby, patchouli scented soap that would also make a good gardener's soap. BATH: Bombs - split in half or in quarters and plop into a run bath. I love Tisty Tosty, scented with rose. Bubble Bar Slices - Ah...halve and crumble under hot running water. Don't forget the candles, book, cd, and bottle of wine, because you're not going to want to get out of the water for quite a while. There's Bathos, scented with Parma Violets, more roses with Amandopondo, and beautiful soft citrus patchouli with Blue Skies. Bath Melts - I love Cerridwen's Cauldron, which softens the skin and scents it at the same time. Fantastic. Shower Gel - Tramp. They almost called it by the meaning of my name, y'know, and quite frankly, that would have been so much better. Melissa adds a sweet topnote to a base of patchouli, and I swear there is something in this gel that makes the skin incredibly soft. It's not an overpowering scent by any means, but will add a base note to whatever perfume one is wearing. Also great for the hair. POWDERS - They're all fabulous. Silky Underwear smells mildy sweet, not like baby powder smells sweet, but it has that same kind of gentle air to it. And it has glitter. Feels more like a talc, although there's no talc in it. MASSAGE BARS - Okay, I admit it. I'm a glitter junkie. So, while I recommend the Amazonian and Fever (rose, sandlewood, jasmine), I adore Shimmy Shimmy and the iridescent Glitter Bug. I love Shimmy Shimmy because the glitter is invisible against the skin, and the glitter is very tiny, so you don't look like a freak when you show up to work the next day with your neck and cleavage glittering. Glitter Bug, the iridescent version, also has invisible glitter, but it's mostly blue, which isn't exactly unnoticeable. And they both smell incredible. There's also Buffy The Backside Slayer, a scrubby massage bar that you use in the bath or shower. Be careful, though, as it tends to leave the bath slippery afterwards. The way your skin feels after makes it worth it, though... Don't know what to get?? Try a gift box or Return of the Bubble Bath. Too bad they don't have the Wall of Soap listed, which is a great little set of 9 soaps. Bummer. Anyway, I hope you get some things for yourselves or your sweeties! I won't tell you how much I spend, but, well, it's a lot.

Easy Ways To Feel Really Stupid

1. Tell everyone you know that today is Thanksgiving. 2. Feel exceedingly stupid several hours later when you realize that Thankgsgiving isn't until next week. 3. Be glad that at least you remembered it this year. 4. But still want to sink into a pit when faced with the humiliation of telling everyone you're a dumbass tomorrow afternoon. Tell them the snow went to your head, and hope they believe it.

A Miscarriage Question

One of my work colleagues had a miscarriage last August. She has not been able to get pregnant since then, despite, uh, 'great effort' on her part, nudge nudge, wink wink. Her periods have become extremely painful since then - despite pain meds she spends the first 2-3 days of her period at home. Is this normal after a miscarriage? Her flow has also lightened considerably since then, again, is that normal? She's seen her GP, who instead of forwarding her to the clinic, has told her that "she'll be pregnant by this time next year". Yeah, riiight. I've told her that if she goes private she should try IUI first. She's having a day 21 next month, and is scheduled for another test, although she can't remember the specific one. I told her that she might have an hsg or a lap, and that she'll most likely have a dildocam adventure before antyhing else is done. Apparently her GP also said she had a cyst, but that it was small. Even though she made the 'oooo' sound. Bitch. And S is 33, has only been pregnant the one time. Her partner is getting a Semen Analysis done. Anyway, any advice would be greatly appreciated!

Only In Scotland

...does 'salad' mean a few lettuce leaves, a slice of tomato, and a slice of cucumber. In the nearly 9 years I've lived here, I've managed to finish 2 full plates of food. ...does deep fried haggis from The Ashvale taste incredibly good. Here's the original restaurant in Aberdeen. That's the smoking section, btw... ...are the neds completely incomprehensible. Feel free to take Chewin' the Fat's handy test, or if you feel you're already a member of this crew, why not purchase some of the necessaries? If you need to brush up on your ned accent (albeit from Glasgie), just scroll down on this page here. To work on your ned look, check out this rather large gallery. Remember, the earlier you start, the more natural you'll be on the mean streets of, say, Ullapool. Should you ever venture to Glasgie, I highly recommend you take a wee glance at this site, which while hilarious, does hold some truth to it. Check here for more ned-speak. Don't forget that the English have neds of their own, called chavs. I highly recommend the gallery.

Need A Snack?

Virgin Mary Grilled Cheese But if that doesn't appeal, how about this instead? Sure does come with more options...and how about that financing?

It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time...

Some of the girls at work buy the celebrity goss rags every week, y'know the ones, Closer, Reveal, Heat, sort of like US Weekly if it were written at New York Post level. Anyway, there was a story in one of them, the title of which escapes me, but it was something along the lines of My Surrogate Daughter Walked Me Down The Aisle The picture showed a bride, a groom, and a 3 year old flowergirl. Intrigued, I read on. Turns out the bride and groom, The Fertiles, had done some close friends of theirs 'a favor'. Mrs Fertile had already had a couple of kids, and having seen her best friend struggle through several miscarriages and I think 2 stillbirths - plus having her husband joke that she should have a baby for her friend - she gave it some thought and decided to do make the offer. Of course the other couple were stunned, and the four of them decided to go for it. Mrs Fertile became, of course, pregnant on the first try. They became overly close, but then My Marriage Fell Apart After I Got Pregnant With My Best Friend's Baby Mr Fertile was feeling threatened and left out, so he and his wife decided that the best thing they could do in order to save their marriage was have a termination. I Almost Aborted My Best Friend's Baby! The Infertiles were devastated, but decided that it was the Fertiles decision to make. However, the Fertiles thought it over some more and decided to spend some alone time together, and Mr Fertile became happier. Slave Fired From Job For Going 5 Minutes Over Her Alotted 15 Minute Break: salesperson reading gossip mag looks at clock and has complete freak out, ripping pantyhose in the process:coworkers wonder how the hell she managed that Apparently the baby was born, and was the flowergirl for her birth parents wedding. But, damn. Now, maybe it's just me or maybe it's just because I didn't get to finish the article, but I would have liked to have read more about the Fertiles decision to terminate. Don't get me wrong, I don't imagine for a minute that it was an easy choice to make (is it ever??), yet I have to wonder how they decided that that was the best choice. What about counselling? What about conversation? What about, perhaps, not going through with it in the first place? Nonetheless, kudos to them for not only making the offer, but ultimately going through with it.

A Recipeee. Or Two.

Because I just like the look of the extra e's, that's why. The following recipe is great for those times when you just want to stick something on the stove and have a hot meal an hour later. There's very little prep, and ages well. Like Lasagna or Bolognese, it always tastes better the next day. Mince: ground beef carrot onion pepper stock water Brown beef in pan Add chopped raw carrots and onions, plus lots of pepper Add water or stock to cover to about 1/2 inch or 1.5cm Stir, cover, and allow to simmer for about 45 minutes. Add water if necessary, but it shouldn't be soup-like. You want a fairly thick mix, more like chili than soup, if you know what I mean. Don't add salt, there's plenty in the stock. This is traditionally served with boiled and mashed rutabaga/swede with plenty of butter, salt, and pepper. Stovies: cubed stewing beef (chuck steak?) potatoes onion stock pepper water sweat chopped onion in a pan, then brown the beef. If the meat is a tough cut (or as I prefer to call it, the cheapest meat I can buy!), after browning cover with water and simmer for an hour or two. I use something called 'shoulder steak', which requires 2-4 hours of cooking beforehand. I guess you could always buy a brisket, and cut it into bite sized pieces as well. Slow cooking tenderized the meat best. chop potatoes and add to pan along with onions, a stock cube, and loads of pepper. Cook over a slow stove until potatoes are done and the stovies have a good consistency. There are other methods of making this dish, but this was the one I learned. Next time, scones and chocolate logs.

Yo, Ameyesq!

I still want to talk about voting for Dubya, but I don't have your email addy. Mine in my About Me thingie should come through fine, just put an easily recognizable title in the, well, the title.

All The Cool Kids Are Doing It...

...like Cricket and Soper, so I thought I'd add my $.02 and share with the class How Oro Became A Pagan. Actually, I've always been a pagan, I just didn't know what it was called until I was 11. I grew up in the boonies of New England, although Mom and I did live in Boston for awhile, but my formative years were spent 2 miles up a mountain, 4 miles from the nearest town. We lived in a one room, tar paper shack. We had a dog, a couple of cats, lots of books. We had no running water or electricity, and for a long time, we didn't have a car. We were on welfare. We was po'. And yet, I wouldn't change my childhood for all the tea in China, all the chocolate in the entire world. I got to do the things that I probably won't allow my own future children to do. I got to wander all over a mountain with my dog, by myself. We had neighbors, the nearest ones a mile up a side road, the only ones with kids two miles at the bottom of the hill. I got to see nature in all her glory, all year round. I fished for minnow and trout, played with the frogs, scared an owl off of our runt-of-the-litter kitten, harvested what the deer and raccoons missed from the wild blackberry and raspberry bushes, set free the wood mice my Mom occassionally trapped. For entertainment, we had a battery operated radio, some toys, crayons, blank pads, and coloring books for me, and two bookcases crammed with books. The ones I remember learning to read with were How Babies Are Made (but I actually prefer Michelle's version, just scroll down to the Hormonal Lows post), a child's book on Greek Mythology, and of course, AA Milne's When We Were Young, Now We Are Six and Winnie the Pooh (although I don't much like Pooh). Oh, and Cricket magazine, where I first read Jane Yolen in her lovely work, The Girl Who Cried Flowers. I still hate Higlights For Children. When reading fairy tales and Brothers Grimm, I would always question why the witches were ugly and evil. Anyway, I think learning to read when I was 4 pretty much doomed me to be an independent thinker. And honestly, immaculate conception doesn't make much sense when you already know how babies are made. My mom's Roman Catholic, too! But she's a feminist, and a lapsed Catholic (she says it was ruined when they started saying Mass in English), and, horror of horrors, she had a backstreet abortion before she had me. She almost died from it, so her views of uh, authoritarianism in any form pretty much negated me going to church apart from the odd Easter service or midnight mass. I also had a babysitter who took me to church (I think she was an Episcopalian) and Sunday School. Sunday school wasn't bad, I remember making mobiles out of straws. In any case, I was never attracted to Christianity in any form. Being an American kid in the 70's, though, pretty much meant that you were exposed to Christianity at the holidays. I can do a mean Yul Brynner when he says "Moses and the Pharisees" in the Ten Commandments. And I do love hymns and the classic Christmas songs. In fact, it kind of surprises me how much I do know, because I just take it for granted that everyone knows about it, regardless of whether or not they're a believer, y'know? Coming to Britain was a shock, because I'd assumed that people over here would be the same, but it's so different. I won't say that Christianity is a dying religion here, yet...I dunno...it's weird. It's not a question of people going to church, it's that people really don't even know the basics of the Bible, not even the old testament. Very weird. So we moved to a large town when I was 8, and after a year or so I started reading about witches and stuff in the library. I also started reading science fiction. But I was a regular in the kids library, reading anything and everything, from Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys to Tintin and Marguerite Henry. When I was 10 I discovered the bookstore I would eventually become the manager of, and started reading their books on spirituality. (It's a pretty lefty kind of store, with The Best Multicultural Childrens Books section ever. They have kids book catalog and book - email me if you're interested in the title or catalog.) But I didn't come out of the broom closet until my mid-20's. I'm not Wiccan, I'm not a witch, I'm not a Gardnerian or an Alexandrian or a Dianic or a fluffy bunny (aka the love 'n' lighters "The dolphins are our brothers and sisters, and all the world needs is love to heal itself!). I'm not a Reconstructionist or into the SCA, nor am I a Heathen or a Norsie or a Druid or a Strega. I do not belong to a coven, nor do I know many who do. Mostly because I don't play well with others, but also because I'm not Wiccan. I do my own thing. I don't cast circles, I don't use the Wheel of the Year, I don't do magic or cast spells. I won't go into detail over whom I'm dedicant to, but it took me years to own up to who it was, and to acknowledge my fear of taking the plunge. So, um, that's me. I'm not sure I actually spoke all that much about how I became a pagan, because in truth, that's what I've always been. Here are a couple of links that might be of interest: FAQ - from Witchvox Cult Danger Evaluation - Isaac Bonewits - you should read this regardless of what faith you choose to believe in Neo-Pagan Basics

What's Your Opinion?

Is this a good thing or a bad thing? Does it give false hope? Or is it the new reality - for a very, very, very few people? Do statistics matter in this regard (since various websites and blogs I come across keep quoting this 'majority of IVFer's have children' without any actual figures, I suspect they rather do)? Anyway you look at it, I foresee the teenage years being beyond a complete bitch...

How do I say...

This is my response to Julianna's latest post: I don't understand why people voted for Bush. I don't understand how they can see things so completely and utterly differently from me. For me, this goes far beyond politics, it goes to the very heart and soul of the United States. I hate the smugness of the people I know who've voted for Bush. I hate the way they look down upon people who are different from them,, the poor, the non-white, the uneducated. Julianna wrote: It must be amazing to truly be that arrogant that your way is the only way. It must be wonderful. Yes. That's exactly how I feel about the people I know who voted for Bush. The hubris takes my breath away. In my opinion, George W Bush has done more to ruin my country, my America, than Osama bin Laden ever could. For that, I will never forgive him, and I will not apologize for that.

Awww.

Saw this over at Spit's site. Sorry Everybody Heartbreaking.

Martian Death Flu

That's what I have. Martian Death Flu. Yuck.

In Other News

The five pages I wrote yesterday? Threw'em all out. What's really depressing (besides the election, of course) is that I know people on NaNoWriMo who have, as of today, over 16k words in their novel. I've yet to break 600. My writing sucks and I don't know why I bother. Not looking forward to Mr Oro coming home and ranting more, either. There's just no effective way to tell your spouse to SHUT THE FUCK UP, is there?

Crap.

Mr Oro: "I hope America gets all the terrorism it can handle."

Kicks, Giggles, etc.

Thinking about Jen P's post, while I was in Ottokars (a national book chain) today, I thought I'd go look up all the adoption books. I went over to the Parenting section, studiously ignoring the two shelves of pregnancy books, searched and searched and searched, but found nada. So I asked a salesperson, who asked another salesperson, who became very irritated at me for having the audacity to request something of her. She brought me back over to the Parenting section and drew out the adoption book. That was on the Pregnancy shelf. Because, of course, that's the first place a person who couldn't have kids would think of looking. I like how there was just the one book, too, a slim little volume that was obviously either someone's best effort, or some woman who decided to counsel others about giving up their babies. I don't know, because quite frankly I was so disgusted I wasn't able to actually look at the fucking thing. Meh. At least I got drunk and wrote a few crappy pages that I still have to type up.

A Plea

Don't vote for Ralph Nader. Don't split the vote. Don't make this election even more of a trial than it already is.

I Knew That.

Remember when I said that I realized that my Mom didn't get my angsting over my infertility? Well, it all came to ahead toight when she mentioned that she had some bleeding when she was pregnant with me, and that if she'd had a miscarriage, she would have gotten over it and moved on. Now this was after she said she worried that I took all y'all's (and I'm not even from the South) word as gospel when it came to miscarriages, and the fear, and waiting for the other shoe to drop, and the fear, and the tears, etc. And this was after I'd sent Emily's letter to her. So I said, You'd have been just as happy not having children. And she said, Yeah, I'd probably have gotten a little dog or something. No, I'm not at all offended or upset. She loves me to death. She'd do anything in her power not to have me hurt, or be in pain. She'd kick some serious ass if someone tried to do something, anything, to me. She's my mom, but that doesn't make her any less of a person in her own right, which sounds incredibly stupid, but I don't know how else to put it. Let's say, her lack of...understanding my pain from her own heart, does not make her anything other than the person who loved me and brought me up. It just means she can't relate to my wanting a baby, because she never particularly wanted one herself. She's told me before, that when she got pregnant with me, that she said to herself, Well, am I going to do this or not? And how she didn't bond with me for a few weeks/months after I was born. She never felt that heart -hunger, and I think that's why she has such difficulty understanding why I do. And Mom, if you're reading this, I love you, and I know you love me too.

A Posting Frenzy

I'm back to work tomorrow, have a fanfic story to write by Sunday, and of course have the novel to start tomorrow, so I might not be blogging all that much for the next few weeks. I'll try to keep up with my regular blogs, but if I don't comment, be assured that I may not be able to read! I already feel like I'm going through withdrawal...

Judgemental? Moi?

There was a woman on the bus yesterday, with 4 children under the age of 5. The eldest must have been almost 5, then there was a 4 year old, then a 2.5 year old, then a 1.5 year old. Mom was unkempt, fat, dressed in sweats, no bra. Everybody on the bus was staring at her. She didn't look up or around, instead concentrating on keeping her kids under control. And y'know what? I felt both envy and pity for her. Well, pity's too strong a word, because that suggests she was suffering. Or maybe she was suffering - suffering the opinions of everyone else on the bus. It was quite obious to me that trying to keep four antsy, on-the-verge-of-screaming children was on the top of her list, and it was easy to see that feeding them candy was waaaaaaaaaaaaaay not the answer. No doubt she was doing her best given the situation. What was interesting was her reaction to everyone staring at her. She wasn't giving any attitude as I would have done, which I have seen other parents do on the bus, but was rather concentrating too hard on keeping the kids busy, if you know what I mean? Brits are extremely fashion conscious, to the point of dressing in power suits to go window shopping on a Sunday. Really, I'm not kidding about this. In fact for the first year I lived here I didn't dare leave the house without makeup. Now of course I could give a fuck, but at the time I was desperate to fit in as much as possible (which isn't much when you're a fat, mixed-race American living in Northeastern Scotland). Anyhow, all I wanted to do was rage at my fellow bus-mates for judging her on her appearance (I was sitting in the middle of the bus and it was apparent where everyone was looking and who they were discussing). I mean, good grief, 4 kids! Under 5! Hello! She probably barely has time to sit on the pot never mind get all gussied up for a damned bus trip. Geez. I mean, hell yeah I'm judgemental, I make comments about people all the time, but they're only surface judgements, y'know? Just because I think you've got the taste of a dead armadillo, that doesn't mean you're a bad person. Just dumb. heh.

Wanted: Wife

I'm such a crappy wife. I can't really be bothered to clean on a regular basis. On the days that I work I'm on my feet 6 hours straight, with a 15 minute snack break, so when I get home, be that at 5:30 or 8:30, the idea of cleaning something, anything, is not a top priority. Besides, I've got dinner to cook and laundry to do. I won't tell you what my bathroom looks like, but believe me, it ain't pretty. Did I mention it's carpeted? With purple carpet? To match the purple wallpaper with silver swirls? And the gray suite? That in turn matches the blue-y-gray tiles with pink, purple, and silver highlights? Anyway, ignoring that horror, I could rattle on about the dark green carpets (why, people, why???) in the spare bedroom, the hallway, and the stairs, or the stripey green wallpaper under the dado rail in the hallway that's topped with pebbly green-and-white wallpaper, or the blood red carpet in Mr Oro's office that, when combined with the bright orange wallpaper with embossed gold lettering, makes one feel like you're living inside of a blood orange, or indeed, the heather beige oatmeal wallpaper in the living room that has thin silver stripes running down it in some sort of pattern (actually, this doesn't look half as bad as it sounds)...but I'm bored with talking about it already. Anyway, we went to B&Q yesterday, the UK's version of Home Depot, and picked out a few paint samples. I'm desperate to change to the color scheme in the house, despite not getting new carpeting until the end of next year at the earliest. Here's what I've picked: Corinth Blue - Mr Oro's choice for his office. It's fairly bright to my eyes, but a beautiful shade of blue, more suited to a kitchen or bathroom imo. I figure it'll look fantastic with white baseboards and dado rail. Besides, one wall is nothing but white built-in wardrobes, the middle door of which is a floor to ceiling mirror. Morning Fleece - a beautiful, warm pale yellow that's going in the hallway. I'm not all that fond of yellow, but since I have a north-facing foyer, I have to have a light paint. None of the blues I've found have been suitable, alas. Still haven't decided what I want for the north-facing spare bedroom, or our south-facing bedroom, or the south-facing kitchin. Blargh!

Note: Three Sisters

I'd planned on putting up a new bit every week, but since my last post I've decided to put the story in a new world. Won't make any difference to what I've written, or indeed to the story itself, but this does mean that I have to build a new world and decide what is and what isn't going to fit, how society works, economics, day to day living, all that. I hope to have another installment finished soon. Anyway, I've decided to do the NaNoWriMo thing - because I need a challenge to write fiction on a daily basis again - so I've started a new blog for Three Sisters. Can I write 50,000 words in one month? If I can, how the hell do I stretch it to 80k plus for submission to an agent or publisher? I barely managed it the last time, but at least I did, which gives me hope...still, though, it's damned scary. Ye gods, I'm an idiot. But an idiot with a goal! Sox rule.

And On Another Note

Buying bags of candy the week before Halloween was an incredibly bad idea.

You're So Bitter

That's what my Mom said to me a few weeks ago when I was passing on Grrl's worst news. And I was like, and? So I'm reading one of my regular blogs, which was linked to another blog, which I think might have led me to yet another blog, hosted by a woman who was infertile, but went on to have 3 birth children (natural children? naturally born children? roasted children with buttered peas? As you can see, 'children' the word is starting to sound funny in my head). Anyway, she mentioned, while speaking about how little she thought of her own infertility - and just for the sake of asking, but after giving birth to three children, are you really allowed to call yourself infertile? - and how selfish a person became when they were infertile. And I was like, what? I don't know how else I'm supposed to be? I mean, should I be walking around, ecstatically happy that every other woman I know outside of blogland is able to conceive and give birth without a second's thought? "Even though I'll never have children of my own or pass on my heritage, or give my mom grandkids, I'm so darned glad you were able to have 6 kids!" Now, my Mom not understanding, I get. Another infertile not understanding...that I don't get. Must be the Birth Fairy, y'know, the one that magically makes women forget all about their labor pains, who also erases the pain of infertility, because I seem to be running across more and more 'formerly' infertile women who just seem to be all 'Oh, now that I have my baby you all can go fuck yourselves.' Of course, I speak out of bitterness and selfishness. And probably I'm doing the original poster a disservice, as it's not like I read any more of her blog, I can't say I 'know' where she's coming from, after all, I don't have one kid, never mind three. See, that bitterness just keeps a-croppin' up. As does the word 'just', which quite frankly is really beginning to annoy me. But, seriously, what else am I supposed to do? How else am I supposed to be, except focussed on myself and my family? One would never suggest a woman with children is too selfish, so why is someone desperate to have a child selfish? What's so wrong about that?

Only One Thing To Say

GO SOX!!!!!!!!!

That Ain't Jelly, That's Jam!

Emily tittered (because that's just how I hear her saying this): No one wants to see me belly dancing because it's become like its own separate entity, know what I mean? Heh, indeed I do. In fact, that's why I have so much diffuculty with the twist shimmy, I wibble just a little too much and get confused over the normal (for me) up-and-down shimmy. Here's a weird thing. Apparently in the Middle East it's more common for women to do the twist shimmy, but in the US it's more common to do the up-and-down shimmy. Go figure, eh? Soper said: Can't imagine belly dancing for weight loss! Although I understand it was invented to strengthen womens pelvises and to help with cramps, so maybe it _is_ worth a shot. Some people say they've lost tons of weight from dancing. I wish I were one of them, but alas, I am not. Having said that, however, bellydancing will do wonders for your abs, which in turn will do wonders for your posture. It certainly relieves my lower back pain, and if done properly, you will get an aerobic workout. For example, if you're doing a shimmy, plus belly rolls, walking, and playing zills or sagats (finger cymbals) all at the same time, you're using a lot of muscle. I have a huge belly, but you can sure as hell tell I've got strong abs when I'm doing belly rolls. When I first started, I was in pain for about the first month. Because of the way you stand, your thighs get a workout. Add in hip lifts and you're targeting your obliques. Do belly rolls and chest arch-and-contracts, you're working abs, diaphragm, and erector muscles, which strengthen your back and tend to be underworked unless you specifically target them. If you can do the arm stuff you'll be working your rotator cuffs (the big caps of muscle on the top of your arms) and your shoulders. Shimmy and you're targeting hips, abs, obliques, and your pelvic floor. And those are just some of the basic moves. Bellydancing is all about isolation and extention, just like dressage is the natural extension of a horse's gaits. There are fast moves and slow moves, and both can be equally exciting, depending on the performer and what they're doing. Oh hey, I found a website filled with video clips. Some are .mov, some are ram, others are quicktime. For American Tribal style, check out this webpage. Aziza Sa'id - Egyptian style Delilah - earlier work that's not in her videos, she has her own style that's a bit influenced by Hula Rania - ha, found her video clips page, oo, and looky here, the second half of this clip has a bit of her sword dance on it! Ansuya - clips of American Cabaret style at the bottom of this page. She does a lot of hair flipping in these clips, but she really is an incredible dancer, particularly doing her slow work. Anyhoo, I do hope these have whetted your interest!

Wiggle It Again

Oh, so you wanted the instructional bellydance dvd's, did you? Okay, here it is: Atea Seriously, I still think it's the best instructional for beginners available. Delilah also has a beginner's instructional(Absolute Beginner's). Again, I'm not convinced hers is the best for true beginners, but she has a lot of good ideas on costuming, and a fantastic performance of Leilet Hob with Uncle Mafufo. There are also the bellydance twins, Neena and Veena, but I don't care for their method of teaching. Others swear by them, so...ymmv. For those with some experience, check out: Temple of Jehan: Ultimate Bellydance Workout - excellent workout, not for the beginner, however. Jehan herself does not appear, but lots of other gorgeous women do... Goddess Workout by Dolphina - A 4 disc box set, of which the second one, Goddess, is the best, imo. There's a beginner's instructional as well, but I don't care for it as the production isn't that great. Definitely check eBay before ordering from Amazon, however, as it often goes for quite a bit cheaper there. Bellydance for Weight loss (obviously didn't work for me) - simple routines that, to be honest, don't get me sweating very much, but if you're looking for something different, this might fit the bill. Check ebay before Amazon. Now, there are lots of different styles of bellydance, and you'll want to watch a few performance dvd's before you decide which ones you like. Egyptian style is very smooth, and has been referred to as being the ballet of bellydance. Turkish is very...earthy, shall we say. American Cabaret is a mix of the two. For the clearest demonstration of the three, I suggest getting Bellydance Divas. Actually, I'd recommend it just for Rania's 'sex on a stick' sword dance...American Tribal Style, on the other leaf, is a 'modern' form of the dance, using tribal-style clothing, and danced by a group of women. Lessee...I think that pretty much covers the four largest groups, but of course there are many many many other styles as well, most of which are not represented on dvd or video. However, Louchia frequently performs the folkloric styles in solo performances, and there are various other groups who do the same, the names of which completely escape me at the moment. Oh, and men can bellydance too! Now, I've only seen two in performance, Ali somethingorother (sorry!) dancing the Debke, and a dancer in some vcd that I've lost since I last moved. There's some info here , here, here and here. There are a few books I'd like to recommend as well, namely: The Serpent And The Nile, Beauty and the East - Wendy Buonaventura. The former is fantastic, with a great history of the dance (although a bit of it is dodgy, particularly where Little Egypt is concerned), and the latter is just neat, with good recipes for home-made cleansing products. The Belly Dance Book - okay, people rave about this, but I didn't think it was all that and a bag of chips. Snake Hips - I'm still in the midst of this, but I do like it, it's quite funny. Grandmother's Secrets - interesting memoirs. I think a longer book would have been more interesting. Sacred Woman, Sacred Dance - okay, I have to admit it, I still haven't attempted any of the exercises in this book, but I plan to! I do use dancing in my own worship, you might find it appropriate, too. Say, has anyone listened to or taken a workship with Gabrielle Roth? Um...guess that's it for now...especially since I've forgotten what the hell else I was going to say. Oh yeah, had my FSH test today...results in two weeks. Yikes.

Wiggle It, Just A Little Bit

I've been thinking about this for weeks, now, that I've gotten back to dancing on a regular basis. I am not a professional, merely someone who loves the dance (and really, shiny jingly costumes kick ass) and is sorta-okay at it. Of course I speak as someone who's learned from tapes and dvd's, as the only two teachers in Aberdeen have classes the nights I work late, so I'm going on my own judgement. There are lots of things I haven't learned, and I'm sure my form is crap, and due to shoulder injuries I can't do snake arms, and I'm fatter than hell, but wtf, it's not like anyone's watching me, right? Sooo...you're curious about bellydancing, aka Raqs Sharki, Middle Eastern Dance, Dans du Ventre, the hoochie-coochie, but don't know where to start. You've probably seen skinny chicks in spangly, revealing outfits, looking like Vegas showgirls and shaking lots of T&A. Or, maybe you've seen pictures of Mata Hari, or seen dancers like Samia Gamal in Hollywood flicks from the 40's and 50's, or Indian style bellydance in Bollywood movies, or even Classical Indian dance. Maybe you've been lucky enough to see the gypsy 'documentary' Latcho Drom, which has to be one of the most stunning glimpses of a hidden world you'll ever see. Maybe you've just seen paintings of Oriental art, of harems and dancing slaves. Maybe you're just really curious. First of all, let me tell you how I started. Like most other Westerners with no experience of the Middle East beyond eating hummus and falafel, pita bread and tabouli, or seeing the odd Orientalist painting in books about the Romantics and the Pre-Raphaelites. When I was thirteen, I went to a celebration at the World Learning Institute (aka the School for International Training) in my hometown. There was a belly dancer there, and she made the binty bells around her hips ring out while she held two glasses filled with water on her palms. She did not move, yet the bells rang. I was hooked. Fast forward seventeen years, and it occurs to me that I could maybe do a search for how to learn bellydance on the Internet. Lo and behold, I found a wealth of resources. Luckily, I found Atea. Although her videos are ancient, the moves are broken down into easily understood isolations, and two fabulous dancers are shown - Dahlia and Fahtiem. So I bought Atea's trio of videos and started to dance. I ventured into American Tribal style with Fat Chance Belly Dance, although I find it extremely difficult to learn, even though the moves are exactly the same. See, they're done differently...you'd be amazed how different it is, actually. Okay, enough about me, I'm sure you really want to know where to go. I can't think of how to break this up, so I'm just going to throw out some links and hope they'll be of use to you. Actually, I've changed my mind, here are some of my favorite performance and instructional dvds first: PERFORMANCE - the following showcase folkloric, Egyptian, Turkish, American Tribal Style, and Cabaret style dance Belly Dance! - this all region dvd can be found on eBay or IAMED. The 6th Awards of Belly Dance - ditto Bellydance Divas - with Rania, Sohaila, Louchia, and Marina RESOURCES Shira.net - a great place to find out about dancing, and particularly teachers in your area (worldwide listings). Wiggle - UK resource Plus size resources - give this woman some chocolate COSTUMING Folkwear - clothing patterns Dawn Devine Brown - patterns, general advice Dahlal International - oo, shiny! eBay - search under hip scarves, belly dance/bellydance Well...that's it for now. If you have any questions or comments, please don't hesitate to ask!

Too Much Time On Their Hands?

Flash required. Turn the sound up to 11. When I'm bored, I do things like read, or clean, or dance. Obviously, these people had other things on their mind.

Heroes On the Half-Shell - Turtlepower!

I speak not as a big fan of the fab foursome, but rather of Koopa and his/her art! I had a turtle once, Lydia...she was the very last pet I had, and she died from the heavy bacteria content in my hometown's water one dry summer. I still miss her. She rocked. Speaking of animals, today I went and fed the birds in my backyard. As I was going back in to the kitchen to refill the milk jug with seed, I noticed a crow on the fence, giving me the hairy eyeball. So I grabbed some peanut suet and flung a few spoonfuls out onto the lawn. Then I went and started my breakfast. I peeked out the window and saw another couple of crows flying off, their beaks stuffed with suet, then continued making my breakfast. I was almost done when I heard some tapping. I figured it was the back gate rattling against the fence, as there were gale-force winds in Aberdeen today. Didn't hear anything more, so I turned back to the stove. Of course the tapping began again, and when I walked over to the window, what did I see? A crow. A crow sitting on the brown garden bin. It looked at me once, twice, three times, then leaned forward and tapped at the window again. The cheek! It wanted more suet, but I wasn't about to give them more on a compartively mild day. I mean, geez, what did it want, a napkin too?

I Did Not Know That.

The gynecologist my friend E saw about her 'sex is so painful it makes me cry' visit told her that the optimum time for getting pregnant was 5 days before and 5 days after her period. Oh course, she also told E that E was lucky her boyfriend hadn't left her, after so many months without sex. I'm guessing she got her medical degree from a bag of chips.

Take My Co-Parent, Please!

Yeah, because this is just such a good idea.

FIC: Three Sisters (R1)

From my fingers to this page. Needless to say it's rough. Very rough. As for commentary... ...be brutal. You know you want to. Three Sisters (working title) by Orodemniades c. 2004 At dawn, it was like this: Along with everyone else, her mother stood back, hands clasped at her waist, a solemn expression on her face, no tears on her cheeks or in her eyes. There was no telltale sign of fear, or anger, or hatred, not even sorrow. Rahel looked back until her view was cut by both the bright green leaves of the trees and the shoulder of the man keeping her in the saddle. There had been no bargaining. The men had appeared the previous evening, metal-clad giants on their horses, their leader removing his war helmet and scanning the gathered clan until her mother had stepped forward, holding Rahel's wrist in an unbreakable hold. He had nodded, and it was done. She wasn't ignorant, Rahel. She knew why the men had come. So in the dark of the tent, the faint light from the charcoal brazier highlighting their faces, her mother had held Rahel's hand and stroked her palm, finally kissing her forehead before turning away to make their supper. And in the morning, far before the first birds called to one another, Rahel stood naked and allowed her mother to wash her one last time, the slow sweep of the damp cloth the last loving embrace she would get before her life changed forever. Afterwards, she rubbed sweet oil into her skin, brushed her hair until it shone, anointed herself with perfume, and dressed in clean stockings, underskirts, and tunic. She was ready.

Gosh, Let Me Think

"My window size is 300cm by 153cm, do you have any curtains that size?" "Yes...did you have a pattern or color in mind?" "Um...I like light colors." ... The time to ask whether or not a price sticker has been removed from an item is not after you have watched someone wrap it in paper and put it into a bag. Dumb crack.

Attention, Customers

The number one place not to play tag, hide and seek, or any other game involving children under 5 is a store. Isn't this covered in like, Parenting 101? Okay, Common Sense 101? How about the intro class to You Break It, You Buy It (a policy foreign to these shores, it would appear)? I could bitch about the US$25 I lost in commision today, but just writing it is depressing, so I won't. That's just shy of two thirds of a days wages for me, dammit. That's worth a sick day! Oh, got my ballot today, filled it out and had it in the mail 3 hours later. Last election I got it on the actual day, rendering it completely useless. Bastards. Oo, tomorrow I shall have another tale of grossness involving bugs for you, from the latest book I'm reading, Taking Life To Extremes. I can now rest assured that I shall never be going to any jungle. Ever. Why? One word for you: bugs. Lots of bugs. Considering I had yet another spider dream, I'm just not fond of bugs at the moment. I shudder to think what's going to come crawling out pf the woodwork as winter continues. I also finished Nekropolis, and what an absolutely gorgeous book. Lots of truth about parenting, which I wasn't expecting, but I just love authors who put honesty, the truest truths, into their work. I have to admit it's one of the things that I also try to put into my work, and sometimes I even succeed in getting the point across!

Conversation

My MIL, Peg (not her real name) called the other day to find out how our appointment had gone (Mr Oro had called her upon getting the news) and said something very sweet to me. She mentioned that my BIL's girlfriend's daughter had just had a baby - and for the record, the name Amy, no matter how you spell it, is still too popular, imo. I mean, good grief, I knew about 5 Amy's at one point, and ended up living with two at the same time! I can't tell you how annoying it is to answer the phone and have someone ask 'Is Amy there?' But I digress. As I've mentioned before, my in-laws haven't really shown my interest in our infertility struggles, and I've just chalked it up to them not caring much. Now it appears that my Mom may have been right all along...maybe they (or Peg, at least) were simply afraid of asking. In any case, Mr Oro has two brothers, one younger and one older. In between himself and his older brother Peg had a miscarriage. So we're talking about me getting my first bag o' meds, and how nervously excited I was about doing the injections, and she wished me luck. I said I hoped it would work the first time, then immediately took it back and said I hoped I hadn't jinxed myself. She commiserated and said she had the same thoughts when she was pregnant with Mr Oro. She said, 'All I could think about was what might happen, I was panicing and stressed all the time'. And then she said, 'Of course it's good news about L's new granddaughter, but I'm waiting for your baby.' Ah, makes me tear up just to write that.

What Are The Odds?

Neato. Happy Thanksgiving, Canadians! :)

To Our Valued Customers

Dear Sir/Madam- The holiday season is fast approaching. There are a few tips that staff, your trusted sales assistants, would like to share with you in order to make your shopping experience easy and pleasant. First of all, please know that store staff are people too, with lives outside of the retail environment. Many staff have families, pets to walk, bills to pay, and food to cook, just like you. Therefore, when staff say that the store is closing, this does not mean that everyone else has to pay for their things and leave except you! No, this means that you too must leave, preferably as soon as possible, so the cashing up can be done, and staff can leave for the day. Secondly, repeatedly asking the same question over and over again does not mean that you will get a different answer. Not even if you ask it of a different staff member. For example, upon being told that the store is closed immediately after you have walked in, the proper action to take is to either apologize or say 'okay', and leave. What is most rude is to say any of the following: 'You're closed?' 'Can't I just look around for a few minutes?' 'Isn't it [5pm] too early to close on a Sunday?' Do not be upset or irritated if, when you ask what other stores might be open and until when, the sales staff do not know. You should expect comments such as 'We don't know, because we don't work there'. Thirdly, you can be assured that if your child, no matter their age, is running around the store, jumping over furniture, a member of staff will loudly ask them to stop, or to say things along the line of 'Excuse me, this is not a playground, this is a store!' and have the support of the other staff and customers waiting in line to be served. Fourthly, deciding that you need 'just one more thing' in the middle of a transaction, when there are many people waiting in line behind you, may be likely to get you jumped in the parking lot, especially the nearer it gets to Christmas. Fifth, being rude to staff is an absolute guarantee that you will not get good service in return. A smile and patience can work wonders on harried staff. Finally, the atmosphere of the store is greatly enhanced if you have control over your little darlings. For example, children playing hide and seek in and around beds or in the curtain department, hurling themselves onto dressed beds, or otherwise running around the shop floor is not conducive to staff giving customers their fullest attention. This includes you, the parents. It is not the job of staff to watch your children, and you should not be at all offended by the less than sympathetic attitudes of staff if your children are injured if they should, say, fall into glass cubes holding bedding, breaking the glass and cutting their heads open, or if you start to cry because you cannot find your child, who has been wandering all over the store, including the display windows, behind the front desk, or into the bathrooms, and who has already been described as 'demonspawn'. Also, controlling your toddler cannot be overemphasised. Watching them them kick vases, pick up bed slats or otherwise 'play' with furniture in the process of being built does not mean you are controlling them. Holding their hands and keeping them by your side allows everyone to breathe a sigh of relief. As you can see, there is actually far more involvement in shopping besides merely entering a store and looking at items. Taking responsibility for one's children is paramount, as is being calm and collected, rather than screaming at staff for things they cannot possibly provide you, such as calling head office on a weekend to find out where your furniture is, or calling a curtain manufacturer to price the out of the ordinary size of your made to measure curtains. Please remember that staff have no control over the prices of non-sale items, nor do they know offhand 'what's on sale in the store'. Staff cannot read your mind and tell you whether or not such-and-such curtain will look good in your room. Ditto for bedding. Staff have no control over whether or not other customers open up packages and remove curtains, 'just to see if they'll go', despite the pictures of the curtains on said packages. You will not receive a discount because the package has been opened. If there is not a sale sticker on a package, it is not on sale. Staff do not know what is coming in the delivery, nor is there an ordering system. So, with all of this in mind, your friendly store staff hope you have a wonderful and enjoyable holiday season, and hope to see you again. Thank you The Staff

What's My Age Again?

Our First In Vitro Consultation, by Orodemniades Does the fact that your doctor fails to introduce himself to you mean bad things are going to happen? I'd call him Dr Who, except I like that show, so I'll have to think of another moniker. I'll call him Dr H, because he had extremely hairy upper arms. Even the knuckles, which is odd, because I didn't think Middle Eastern/Indian men were all that hairy? Hell, even Mr Oro was a little weirded out. Anyway, Dr H was asking us questions, skimming through my UK medical history and trying to write down the answers all at the same time. Yeah, I know, this does not bode well. He was nice, and seemed very genuine, but after Grrl's dealings with Dr Love, I'm pretty wary about the nice folks. He brought up the weight issue - without being aggressive or making me feel guilty. Anyway, I've been cleared by the director of the clinic, so I guess I'm fat, but not so fat that they need break the windows and get a forklift. Still, I was all like, dude, I know I'm fat, that's pretty clear to me every time I get up in the morning and catch sight of myself in the mirror. So we go through the procedure, sign the consent forms, I get a blood pressure test (I hate those things), which was probably sky high as I was so anxious. How Anxious was I? Well, I was fine when I walked up to the bus stop. I had a bit of a headache when I got on the bus, and by the time I got to the hospital, a mere 6 minutes later, I had a full-fledged migraine. And on an aside, what bright spark decided that putting the ART unit in the Maternity Ward was a good idea? I'd like to have a wee chat with that motherfucker. Eventually Dr H runs out of things to say and we wait for the nurse. I'm just going to go ahead and call her Nurse Awesome, because not only is she incredibly friendly and approachable, she's also quite realistic. She gave me my bag o' meds - diabetic needles, a sharps bin, alcotip swabs, and a couple of boxes of Suprefact, aka Buserelin, a cancer drug. I love this note on that info page: Fertility- Buserelin causes sterility which may be permanent. If you intend to have children, discuss this with your doctor before receiving this medicine. How's that for ironic, Alanis? Sooo...the plan (love is the plan, the plan is death) is for me to call in December, than start suppression in January. I still have my FSH to do, though, and I'm trying not to angst about that, but, well, y'all know what that's like. And I have an appointment with Prof. B in November about my weight. Apparently he's the head honcho dealing with weight in Aberdeen, so it's just as well. I asked Nurse Awesome if I would be put on Metformin, and she said that only Prof. B could tell me. So, another 7 weeks to go. In the meantime, I shall continue to work out, and try even harder to lower my carbs, because I've been crap at that all year. Now that we're coming up on Christmas, however, I'm just not sure how able I'll be. I started day 1 of another 7 day work week, and it was shite. I fully expect to have colleage troubles tomorrow and Monday...meh...but that's a story for another post. Nonetheless, even with the bad news that the clinic is now doing cycles every 9 months - and they said that with straight faces, too,so it looks like I'll only be getting 2 free cycles - we're excited to get a toe-hold on the process. That's excited/eager at this point. I may have a change of heart when I get to the Progesterone pessaries. But hey, at least I won't be doing intra-muscular injections!

Does Everything A Spider Can

Thank you so much for your, erm, comments about the spider dream. Particularly from you, Soper. shudder Y'see, my old boss, Katy, had 'a friend' who woke up one morning to find a red mark on her forehead. She didn't think anything of it, and as the days passed, just assumed that it was a zit. But no. The spot, it burned, it itched, it hatched. Oh yes, that's right, hatched. Spider babies. Crawling down her face. How much do I hate Katy for telling me that story? A lot. She also talked about how she used to eat sticks of butter like they were lollipops when she was kid. And she'd dip raw vegetables in mayonnaise and eat them right in front of me. My Mom did that when I was a kid, and it grossed me out then, it grosses me out now - yech! Here's a tale*, a true tale, a tale even more gross than the previous one. Back in the 1800's, from Texas to Illinois, mammals were infested by flies. There was one particular species, the name of which I completely forget, which had its life cycle from egg to larva to pupa to adult in cattle, horses, deer, probably buffalo as well, basically your larger herd species. It hovered around the open places on the body, the eyes, the tear ducts, the anus, the genitalia, any open sore. It would land, lay a few eggs, and those eggs, findign the perfect environment, would migrate to the nearest internal organs - intestinal tract, uterus, nasal passages, brain - and continue to grow. Infestation is too small a term. Thousands of cattle and horses were dying, even more maggots growing in their bodies as the flies found hosts that wouldn't flick them away with the switch of a tail or a shaken head. As the flies multiplied in the summer heat, they found new hosts. Namely, us. Windows were left open at night, and of course mosquito netting was unheard of, so many, many, many people were infected. As they slept, a fly would land on their face. They would lay eggs in the mouth, the ears, the eyes. Days later, a person might find themselves with the most excrutiating headache. Or earache. Or a persistent cough. If they weren't driven mad by this point, or try to commit suicide, the maggots would leave them. Eventually. Often dropping out of their nose, one at a time. Or coughed up. Or crawling out of their ear canals. Something Had To Be Done, and through the magic of Science, the eventually eradicated. Along with the fly, which is no more. Try dreaming about that! * As told in Corpse: Nature, Forensics, and the Struggle To Pinpoint Time Of Death - Jessica Snyder Sachs - a fabulous book, one which I highly recommend. Michael Baden Smith's Dead Reckoning is pretty good too. I do love me some criminalistics...if'n ya want more recommendations, just let me know!

Ew.

Let me tell you about the dream I had last night. I'm watching a man open his front door. He's eating a spider. A large spider. The body is in his mouth, but the legs are still kicking, tickling his upper lip, trying frantically to escape his mouth. I wake up. I gag. I hate spiders. Worst of all, I'm now wondering if I ate one last night in my sleep. Ew. Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew. shudder ew

Couples Guide, part three

Okay. While waiting for the halawa to cool, I finished the book and give it my recommendation...with reservations. In my opinion, the most important sections of the book are on funding, finding the right practice (which can be a joke, depending on where you live and how far you can afford to travel), and the chapter on specialized treatment. I was unbelievably pissed off to find out that my snarky line - I have the sneaking suspicion that all the 'for example' couples in this book will have been successful, and that any failures will be relegated to the next to last paragraph on the last page of the last chapter - turned out to be true after all. I'm extremely disappointed that the author provided such a one-sided view of IVF, passing off failure and a future of either childlessness, adoption, and surrogacy with little more than a 'they got over it'. It's almost enough to make me not recommend it. Alas, I would love to hurl this book into the fireplace, but it has too much information, particularly about funding, that IVFers need to know. Y'know what I wanted? I wanted a great overview of IVF. I wanted a book that tackled it all, the good and the bad, not just a virtual IVF is the cure! (for most of you). I wanted something non-partisan, something truthful, something from the head, not the heart. I guess I wanted reality in book form, and honestly, I should have known better. And I spent $16 on the paperback. Used. Meh. As you can tell I'm coughsomewhatcough of a cynic, and am currently reading The Positive Power of Negative Thinking, which I bought because it describes me to the proverbial 't'. Lo and behold my surprise at finding an actual, bona fide techinical term for the way I think, 'defensive pessimism'. How much do I love that? A lot. Anyway, if you've ever been accused of being 'so negative' and having 'low self esteem', along with other monikers, you might want to give it a try. A lot of the reviews don't appear to like the way in which it was written, but at this early stage the repetition isn't bothering me. Of course, I'm also less interested in finding a way to harness my anxiety (defensive pessimism is my strategy) and perform at my peak, because I pretty much feel the fear and do it anyway. At this point I'm more curious in why I think the way I do, rather than finding a way to overcome it, if that makes any sense. Anyway, it's time for the Bank of Mum and Dad, which makes me feel so much better about my own spending habits!

Kitchen Chemistry

Damn, do I suck at math. Oh, wait, does that have anything to do with chemistry? No? Hooray! Wait, whaddaya mean you were just kidding?! Because I have a Clinic appointment on Thursday, and expect to get examined and maybe dildocamed if I'm lucky, this afternoon I spent the better part of an hour in the kitchen trying to cook up a mass of halawa (don't read the bottom letter. It'll piss you off). The great thing about halawa is that not only is it a cheap method of hair removal, but you can eat it, too! Although, not after you've sugared, ha ha. I've made it before, but today it was just a bitch. I suspect it was because I was using a different sugar, a light, fine grained, unrefined sugar, as opposed to the medium brown I used before, but I went through a bag - ONE BAG - of lemons and one pound of sugar before getting almost the right consistency. You're think it would be easy - 2 lemons, 1C sugar, pinch o' salt, boil until ready, cool, apply, scream - yet I still go the mix wrong. It was sticky enough to do underarms and pubes, but not good enough for the legs. I'd left it a little late, however, and the pubes were more grown out than I'd like. Which left me sounding like a puppy whose paw had been stepped on. I applied halawa to my scrap o' cloth, applied to my pubes, pulled, and I was all ai ai ai! and not in a good way, either. By the bye, should you decide to try halawa, use a non-stick pan, and gloves if you've never cooked with hot sugar before. All joking aside, sugar burns are way freakin' uncool, and I don't want anyone going to the emergency room if they get splattered. As the mix approaches the 'is it done yet?' stage, it'll start to smell just like hot jam, for those who make their own jam, sweet, a bit lemony, and bit burned sugar-y. When it's done I put it in a lightly oiled baking cup, allow to cool and cover, then stick it in a cupboard until I need to use it again. To reheat, put some boiling water in a bowl, uncover the halawa and put the cup inside the bowl, without letting the water get into it. Once it's warm enough, use at will. I'm still a novice at making it, so I've never been able to use it barehanded, I just spread a little on a face cloth or scrap and apply. And now my legs are patchy. Dammit.

Damn You, Blogger!

Apologies for the multiple posts...I blame Blogger. Also, got the wrong damned date for my FSH, and will now have to do it at the end of the month...and War of Honor, the last Honor Harrington book, totally sucked. After about page 230 I started skimming, occasionally skipping whole chapters. Worst of all, there was about 5 pages of action, and Weber skips the big battle where Honor Saves The Day. Again. Meh.

Couple's Guide, part two, sorta

Actually, I haven't gotten any further in reading the book, although I might leave it lying around for Mr Oro, who while so far has shown no interest in the procedures, wouldn't necessarily be averse to learning more. Amanda is absolutely right, though, when she said '"I do, however, love your title 'If You're Reading This, You're Fucked.' Nothing could be further from the truth."' I have to say it was my cynycysm (wow, that looks cool, like the name of some po-mo prog rock electro band - My Cynycysm) speaking. I think my cynicism (now it's looking funny) often speaks for me, which isn't a good thing all the time. Hmm. Or maybe it's not cynicism so much as it is fear. Fear of injecting myself, fear of losing my cool, fear of turning into a sobbing mess at the drop of a hat. This was brought home to me last week, when Mr Oro and I were talking about the alternatives. We'd already decided to adopt if the IVF didn't work, but last week he brought up...egg donation and surrogacy. I immediately ruled out egg donation, mostly because unless we were to find a black donor, that child would look nothing like me, but also because of the cost. Ditto for surrogacy. We didn't have a fight about it, but there was no question that I was far more vehement about the surrogacy than I should have been, due to my own selfishness. See, the thing is, I don't want him to have a baby with anyone else but me. And I don't want to have anyone else's child save his. After awhile I went upstairs and told him that I'd been too abrupt, that I hadn't been thinking that he could have a genetic child of his own. He said it didn't bother him, but how could it not? If you all could hear the way his father goes on and on about his brothers kids...I dunno. It's funny, how no one besides the infertile ever talks about the implications of infertility affect more than just the couple or people involved, but affect the entire family as well. What is it that they think? Is it pity, despair, anger, indifference, joy? Here's something that's really weird, or at least I think it's weird - my work colleagues ask me more about my IVF than my in-laws. I've known these people all of 10 months, and they'll just go and ask me anything they way, but my in-laws haven't said peep in 3 years. My mom thinks it's because they're afraid to ask. I just can't imagine that. If one of my friends or family, if I knew any of them, were going through something like this I'd sure as hell ask how they were doing, if not necessarily getting into the particulars of the thing. They don't even ask Mr Oro, their own son. I just don't get it. I guess I'll have to chalk it up to a fundamental difference in culture and family. Still hurts, though. And Amanda, the fact that you could write that sentence today, given your news, not only makes me teary, but thankful that even in the midst of such pain you can find such joy. You give me hope for myself.

Fun With Voting

Heehee!

Needed: Medical Advice

Can you help Lia with insulin resistance and odd figures?

Initial Thoughts: The Couple's Guide To InVitro Fertilization

I've only started reading this book today, but it seems incredibly chipper and optimistic and goshgollygeewhiz! It's IVF for people who think they know everything about IVF from the 5 minute report on their local news. I can't help but wonder if this book would have been written had the author not had a son via IVF. For example the author mentions that the majority of couples who undergo IVF are successful. Hmm. 'However, for the thousands of couples who pursue it, the odds of having a healthy baby are extremely high, rivaling the success rates of women in their twenties.' pg 19. Hmmm. Funny, that bit seems to have escaped all the medical literature that I've read and been given. There's a chapter on whether or not one should consider IVF, and the definition of 'infertility'. Now, maybe it's just me, but buying or reading a book entitled The Couple's Guide To InVitro Fertilization pretty much means that one has already by-passed all the other stages, no? These questions* made me laugh, though, and not in a good way: 6.IVF can take several months of time and focus. Can you make that commitment at this point in your life? Weeellll...that's the funny thing about having kids. They're like, totally this lifelong commitment and stuff? 7. IVF can cost tens of thousands of dollars. Do you have a plan in place for paying for it? Yeeeaaaah...moving right along... 9. Do you feel emotionally prepared to handle IVF, including facing the medical procedures, shots, mood swings, and uncertain outcome? Yes, because we just love the dildocam! I have a bumper sticker that reads My Best Friends Are Wand Monkeys 14. If your cycle succeeds, you will become a parent. Are you ready to face that huge responsibility? Just as much as your average crack whore is! I have the sneaking suspicion that all the 'for example' couples in this book will have been successful, and that any failures will be relegated to the next to last paragraph on the last page of the last chapter. From the blurb about [sad, unsupported, couldn't-get-a-man-or-maybe-they're-a-lesbian] single women and IVF: 'Five Ways To Feel Better As You Await IVF take a trip keep a journal exercise do yoga join a support group or try therapy' p. 77 I'd add a 6th way: join a gun club and blast the shit out of all the dumb crack questions and assvice you're about to get! I saw a therapist a few months ago when I was having panic attacks. I mentioned that I was undergoing IVF, and of course started crying. She sat there for a minute or so and then asked me if I cried every day, and if not, why not. I was like, well, crying every day won't get me any where, so what's the point in doing it. Then she told me that I only saw babies everywhere because I was undergoing IVF, not because Aberdeen is overrun with babies and toddlers. No, really. To put things in perspective, in 2001 Aberdeen had a population of 212, 494. Of those, 49,747 had been born that year. I'm not great at math, but that's about 1/5th of the city. Now, tell me again that I'm seeing babies everywhere because I'm obsessed with having a child. Yeah. Exactly. So is it just me? Am I the only one reading this and having serious doubts about how it's written? I have no doubt that the author's heart is in the right place, but I do wonder if we're living on the same planet. Or perhaps it's simply that the book is very wrongly titled, should perhaps have been called 'The Couple's Guide To Infertility and IVF' or 'Is IVF Right For You?' or 'If You're Reading This, You're Fucked'. Having said all that, I'm sure (even if I can hardly believe it) that for some people, somewhere, the questions - never mind the medical info, which you might notice I have no quibbles with apart from those dodgy statistics about live births vs IVF attempts vs age - are important, things they've never consdrs Oh, sorry, had to dust off and put my eyes back, because I couldn't see when they rolled out of my head. ...where was I...things they've never considered. I dunno. I'll have to read further before I can recommend it, or not, to anyone. Watch this space! *Questions from pg. 55

Oo, Looky Here

Check out VolcanoCam, courtesy of the USGS and Mount St. Helens.

An Interesting Bit Of Tid

I got the latest Honor Harrington (female Horatio Hornblower in space) book yesterday, and was stunned to find the following dedication inside: To all adoptive parents who know the true heart-hunger God Bless Alas, the reviewers are right on this one...it's going to be a long 800 pages.

You Want Funny?

Then read this, it's hilarious! I am so glad I won't be going through that, though...

Turn It Up To 11

Because some days you just need to listen to loud, ridiculous music. Poison choice at the moment: Andrew W.K. I find him attractive, in that late 1970's kind of way, even though he's only 20-something...besides, who can resist such lyrics as: Let's get a party going let's get a party going When it's time to party we will always party hard (link is terrible, but best I could find) Here's a great review as well. You'll berate yourself for listening to such cheese while putting the pedal to the metal and banging your head a la Wayne and Garth listening to Bohemian Rhapsody. Nothing like good, old skool rock, with lots o' guitars, but no guitar wanking, to set the mood. Seriously! I think I need help.

It's A Miracle.

So I'm reading some good old-fashioned X Files smut, and The Miracle Occurs. You know the one I mean. You're reading along happily, not a care in the world, when suddenly, A Character previously known for her barren state is Miraculously Cured. Now, admittedly, I hadn't particularly cared for the writing in this story (and as someone who maintains a story archive, the quality of the writing is very important to me: I don't want to archive crap), y'know, angst filled, two points of view, both in 1st person, blah blah blah, but I'd heard fantastic things about this author and thought I'd give them a try. Meh. I don't mind such stories if I'm given a little big of warning, say, IN THE DAMNED RATINGS, but that wee bit of information wasn't mentioned. Oh, and Mulder cries at the thought of losing Scully to The Other Man. Sometimes I wonder if these people are even watching the same show as me. Like in Kushiel's Chosen, the book I read yesterday. One of the reviewers on Amazon mentioned that the main character, Phedre, is too perfect and can get rather annoying, which I completely agree with. Add the fact that she's a courtesan yet somehow never gets pregnant despite the lack of birth control, well, color me more annoyed. Oh, and she never gets her period, either. That must be it then! No period = no baby, right? Ha. Ha. I wonder what it's like to be perfect, to be society's ideal in every way. I don't doubt the perfect have their problems, but still...I'd be happy to live a day in their shoes, just to see what it was like. Wouldn't you?

Screw Stoicism

Pardon me while I suck down a couple more ibuprofen - there, that's better. It's going to be a very long night, but hopefully I'll sleep through the worst of the pain while my uterus cramps. And cramps. And cramps. Then cramps some more. On the plus side, I go in for my Day 3 test next Monday. It's actually going to be Day 5, but my GP is closed on weekends. I seem to recall the same thing happening for my Day 21 test, all those years ago. At least I don't have to deal with customers while I cramp, as I'm off for 2 more days, woohoo! I did nothing today, not even bothering to dress until it was time to put seed in the feeders for tomorrow. Instead, I got up, made tea, fixed a plate with scones and rice crackers with honey and butter, then carried it all upstairs to have a lazy morning with Mr Oro. He didn't actually wake up until the crack of noon, but he did spend a good 10 minutes with me before rising to reinstall games on the other PC. I ended up finishing book 3 of the Isavalta trilogy, and overall greatly enjoyed the series. I'm not quite sure why Zettel had the series published in the order it was, but it worked for me. I also read Kushiel's Chosen (why yes, I am a fast reader), and in my mind, Jaqueline Carey is a worthy successor to Tanith Lee, who is Author of Passion in my Writers Pantheon. Or should that be Writer's? Damn, I hate it when I get my apostrophes confused. Speaking of writing, after a long break of :coughacoupleofyearscough: I've decided that I need to start writing again. After finishing Jal Isphahan to my satisfaction, I've decided that it really needs to remain in that drawer, for despite the excellent reviews it got, I just cannot encapsulate it into an exciting synopsis. No, really. It even bores me, how can I expect an agent to want to sell it? So...I've got to work on something else. There's a story I have in mind, but as I am a Plotless Wonder and write from character and theme rather than plot, I don't know where it's going to go. That is to say, I know how it starts, I know how it ends, I just don't know how I'm getting there. Needless to say, I shall be posting experimental bits and pieces of...Three Sisters, I think, here on the blog. How's that for commitment? I guess the person my style most closely resembles is Maureen McHugh. I cannot recommend Mission Child highly enough. If you've ever wondered what it's like to be a tribal person and be displaced out of your culture, well, this is the book for you. Gorgeous, sad, stunning writing, utterly heartbreaking. I can't wait to start Nekropolis! I've ditched the diagonal lunge, and have decided to do reverse lunges with knee raise - that is, stepping back with one leg, and then, on the return, raising that leg to a standing knee raise. It's harsh, but I love it!

Ad Astra!

The Ansari XPrize Why? Why the hell not! Besides, no animal remains in its nest once it grows up...

Another Medical Breakthrough

It's good news, really it is. So how come it's not so "easy" for us? Kind of reminds me of a high school friend who recently had her first baby. When my Mom told me the news, in that hesitant, 'I hope this doesn't ruin your day' tone of voice, I was of course glad. I felt sorry for myself, and there was only tiny whisper of 'why her and not me?'. Then again, she can't walk. She's been in a wheelchair since she was 18. So yeah, I'm genuinely happy for her, in a way I haven't been for the few other friends of mine who've had children since my diagnosis. In a weird way, I feel like she's paid her dues - and damn, that sounds really crappy and mean. Yet that doesn't take away from the knowledge that's she's suffered, and, if you will, 'earned' her child. Actually, that is a sick thing to write, and I don't want to include it, but I'm going to anyway. I think she'd understand.

The Sporting Life

If I still did team sports - well, any sport at all - I'd want to be in a cool one, like soccer, dressage, rowing, or fencing. Fencing is damned cool. Anyway, on Eurosport at the moment is Aerobics. The Competitive Sport. It's nothing at all like you see in the gym, in fact it's far closer to floor work in Gymnastics, only with a lot, a lot, a lot less tumbling. Actually, it's kind of like floor work plus cheerleading, but without the cheers. And tumbling. I may mock them, these super bouncy folk in their super-tight spandex, but that's only because I'm insanely jealous of their abilities. Having said that, the guys do look gay - and I mean that in the most Queenie of ways - and the rythmic parts oftens seem lost in the 140+ beat music. I like the team aerobics better, in all honesty. Ditto for the cheerleading nationals that they used to show on ESPN. Ya gotta be athletic to do that stuff. Speaking of doing sporty stuff, does anyone know how to do diagonal lunges properly? I keep hurting the hell out of my knees when I do them, and I think it's down to foot placement. The piccy in my book shows a step-out to either 10 or 2, both feet facing forward, with the lunge on the out leg, in leg straight. Should my out foot be angled in the same direction as my knee? And does anyone have a good variation on squats? For my current 2 week routine I'm doing 2 circuits of the following, 15 or more for each leg: narrow squats diagonal lunge (but only 10, as opposed to the normal 60) deadlift 2 min. of step wide/plie squats rotation lunge w/weights 2 min of step 1 legged squat bridge (floorwork) 2 min of step 1 legged squats Any ideas would be appreciated!

Danger! High Voltage!

That is to say, there was a fire one house away from ours. Only one fire truck came, thankfully, and someone was treated for something by parameditcs. Funnily enough, I was browning meat for a stew around 10AM and had to open the back door for fear I'd set off the fire alarm in the hallway (the fire alarm gets, shall we say, 'tested', on virtually a weekly basis). I saw a drifting cloud of smoke in my backyard, but simply assumed it was smoke from my kitchen via the extractor fan. Now I know different, and I wish I'd taken time to go take a walk and see if it was coming from my kitchen or someone elses. I'm terrified of fire. When I was 4, my mom and I lived in Jamaica Plain, in Boston. She'd bought into a housing coop with the money from her father's death, and we owned the ground floor apartment. I remember lying in my mom's bed, covers pulled up to my nose and soon, to be above my head. I saw the smoke drifting above my head, heard the crackle of the flames on the other side of the wall. The next thing I recall is being in a neighbor's living room across the street with all the other kids, wrapped in a blanket, watching the fire engines race down the street. Turns out that some enterprising youth had decided it would be fun to set fire to my mom's car, an old black Cadillac from 1960-something. This was parked directly outside my mom's bedroom. Don't know if they ever caught the fool, but we moved up to Vermont soon afterwards. The end result, though, is that I don't like fires. I've been in one other since, and I cannot express to you the fear that goes through me when I hear an unexpected fire alarm. When I was in college, living in off-campus housing, a fire started in the kitchen. I was in my room, starting a new story on my Plus when the alarm went off. I froze, then rocketed out of my chair, hitting the 'off' switch on my Plus. Ran down the hallway, looked towards the kitchen where my soon-to-be-ex roommates were dancing around the stove, trying to extinguish the flames racing up the wall, and promptly got the hell out of the building. Me, I hear the alarm and that inner voice just tells me to get out. Outoutoutoutoutoutoutout I don't get people who just mosey around when alarms go off, alarms of any kind. It's up to you to save yourself, dammit! Of course, I speak as a survival nut. That is to say, I believe in preperation. Not in the 'must have a fallout shelter and enough canned and freeze dried food to last 10 years!' preperation, but the 'if something can go wrong, it will' mentality. So, when I fly, I count the number of seats backwards and forwards to the nearest exit. I sit in the rear-facing seats on trains. I belt up. I turn the handles of pots and pans to the side when I cook. I had en emergency medical kit in my car, along with power bars, a couple of bottles of water, and a big old red blanket. I read survival stories and books like Deep Survival, the Survival Personality, Touching the Void - one of the most incredible stories of survival that I have ever read, ditto for Godforsaken Sea, about the Vendee Globe, several of Ray Mears' books (I don't recommend them to people outside the UK, however, as the plant lore is geared towards the British Isles, and the survival tips are treated a bit shallowly. Having said that, they are fun and informative for people who would never dream of leaving the city, and his TV shows are fascinating) and others, the names of which I have of course forgotten. I guess all of this stems from how I grew up, once we moved to Vermont. But that's a story for another post or three. In the meantime, do me a favor, and prepare to save yourself.

Internet Shopping Is My Friend

Or so I keep thinking, until I get my credit card bill. See, the thing is, once I realized that eBay was a great place to buy saris, you couldn't stop me. And yesterday I bought my first salwar kameez, although not from eBay. What else did I buy yesterday on my wee spree...oh yes, perfume! I love the oils from Madini/Talisman and Attar Bazaar, and you can buy 4-5 samples for US$10 from both venues. If you've never bought oils before, I recommend that you get one floral, such as rose or lilac or lavender, and one spice, such as patchouli, musk, amber, or sandalwood, as they're the standards and you can really go experiment from there. I highly recommend Aicha Aicha, Jedida, and Hanane from Madini, Medina Musk, Persian Amber, and Tunisian Patchouli from Attar. I think I ordered 11 samples and three perfumes yesterday - woohoo! I love me some perfume! Next on the agenda is a new computer desk from Office World, and a library chair that I'd otherwise find in an auction back home. Seeing as this is Britain, however, and that sort of thing tends to be more than I can afford. Oh, and a fireproof safe for all the important documents. Gosh, I'm so old.

Random (but hardly deep) Thoughts

The Truth Is Out There. I'm sure there are more odd things than watching a show parody the X Files. But when the show is Crusade, and 'Mulder' and 'Scully' are literally aliens, well, it's downright bizarre. And very funny, coming complete with Mark Snow-like music! Fab. Note to the woman crossing Union St: Was getting to Top Shop so damned important that you had to push your stroller out into the street regardless of the moving traffic? Because, believe you me, I was not the only one watching, shaking their head, and commenting. Internet banking is a good, good, thing. I'm not sure I needed book 2 of the Isavalta trilogy, but I bought it anyway. I like Sarah Zettel, and am willing to take the chance. Fool's War is good. Read it. Recipe one: leftover sausages (good ones, chipolatas, Italian, kielbasa, Linguica, chorizo, etc) savoy cabbage (the brainy looking one) firm apple butter or oil salt, pepper sour cream/creme fraiche chop cabbage and slice cooked sausages, add to pan when butter sizzles add some julienned apple (Granny Smith's are good) cover and cook until sausages are warm throughout, about 5 minutes add a good dollop of sour cream, season to taste but go light on the salt! Remove from pan and scarf. Cabbage should be firm and mostly cooked, like pak choi. Recipe 2: Boil a good chicken - free range, organic, or corn fed are best remove from stockpot and set aside skim liquid, add sliced carrots and sliced leeks (keep most of the green tops, they're good for you! I prefer leeks to onions in soups, as leeks aren't sweet when they cook, but still have that onion taste), a bay leaf, thyme, a couple of cloves of garlic, parsley, a couple of cloves, pepper, and a good stock cube, preferably organic. I also toss in whatever is, ahem, 'old' in the fridge, including kohlrabi, turnip (turnip can make one gassy, though, and has a strong flavor, and I don't recommend brussel sprouts or cabbage), tomatoes, corn, mushrooms, broccoli, cauliflower, etc. I don't eat potato (I can't stop spelling it like Dan Quayle) but you could include it if'n ya liked. Skin and bone chicken, chop flesh and return to pan. Taste and season more if necessary. Simmer for 20 minutes or so, adding water if needed. Remove from heat. Temper a couple of tablespoons of heavy or sour cream/creme fraiche with hot soup, then return to pot. Stir well and serve. Freeze extra portions (I find this recipe makes a lot of soup. A lot, a lot, a lot.) Enjoy!

Squee!

The Clinic called. We're on for February. In fact, we're so on, we've got a preliminary appointment in October! Woot!

Adding Insult To Injury...

...Mr Oro informed me that the Clinic only do cycles every 6 months. Yes, that's 2 cycles per year. Which means that as we've decided to wait until February, if we get delayed again I will reach 38 and only get 2 free cycles instead of three. Blah.