Privacy, please

The other day, I was perusing items in my Google Reader, when, suddenly, items would no longer load.  So, I went to Gmail to see if there was a problem with Google.  Instead of being able to log in, I was directed to another page.  On that page, they notified me that my account had been locked due to suspicious activity.  They noted that, usually, suspicious activity consisted of some sort of Terms of Service violation.  I'm not sure how I violated Terms of Service by clicking on a blog link to like something on Facebook, but that's another story.  Then they requested my phone number so they could give me a call or send me a text to unlock my account.  Now, I don't know if you've noticed, but Google frequently requests your phone number in order to be able to contact you if you've forgotten your password or if there's a problem with your account.  I always refuse.  I'm sure they are aware that I access my Gmail and Google Reader and Google Maps on my phone, so I'm sure that they already have my phone number.  But I haven't given them permission to use it for anything, so they can't do anything with that information.  Because I am suspicious by nature, and I enjoy making up completely ridiculous yet believable conspiracy theories, I assume that the account lockdown was just a ploy to get me to give up my phone number.

I prefer to communicate by email, so I sent one complaint and 2 requests to unlock my account.  It took Google approximately 43 hours to complete the task. [Mel actually noticed that there was a problem - that surprises me.  I am so anti-social sometimes that I used to think I could disappear for more than a week before anyone noticed. (Now I have an almost 6 year old little cling-on, so that wouldn't happen).]  Apparently, had I been willing to give up my phone number, I would have received faster service.  But, as I told Google, if I had to give up my Reader and Gmail...well, I'd have a lot more time on my hands for other things like reading and knitting. 

I don't know why I find it so irritating that everyone asks for my phone number.  Maybe it's because I hate talking on the phone.  Maybe it's because I have a constant stream of voice mail messages from the school district now that my girl has started kindergarten.  Maybe it's because I find the phone so intrusive.  Maybe it's because when I answer my work phone, it generally turns out to be bad news.  Maybe it's because I don't have a landline, so every incoming call has an associated cost.  (I am pretty cheap, after all.)

More likely, though, it's because I know that every company is trying to accumulate data on me in order to market to me more effectively.  I was stunned last night when, after watching Bill Clinton's speech at the Democratic National Convention and commenting about it on Facebook, Clinton and Obama ads immediately popped up in my sidebar.  It is beginning to make me slightly uncomfortable to watch that tracking happen.  So, Google, no thank you.  I will not give you my phone number.  It's one of the few pieces of information over which I have a bit of control, and I'm keeping that control. 

(I will, however, be exporting my address book, so that if I do get kicked off Google again, I will be able to send out a message to let people know that I haven't disappeared into thin air.)

Siblings

St. Elsewhere and I were emailing about siblings and when my response got long and involved, it occurred to me that maybe I had a blogging topic for a change!

My daughter LOVES to ask for a brother or sister.  She used to do it daily, but has slowed down to once or twice a week lately.  Today she was playing with her cousin, and there was much yelling.  I told her that now she knew what it would be like to have a brother.  My mother suggested that I adopt an older brother for her...

My mother is the queen of family planning.  Her philosophy was that each child should have a companion, and so she has two sets of children.  My two oldest sisters are a year apart.  My next oldest sister and I are a year apart.  There are 6 years between the sets.  My grandfather referred to all of us as Pete and Repeat (or Re-Pete, if you will).

It's nice that my mother was able to have a plan and execute it.  Even for her, though, it didn't exactly work out as she intended.  I think she actually wanted to maybe stop at 2...but then 2nd oldest sister started asking for a little sister.  She didn't want to be the baby any more.  Then 3rd oldest sister came along...and 2nd decided that life had been pretty good before 3rd turned up and she would like to go back to that.  44 years later, I believe that's still her philosophy.

The other downsides to my mother's plan are mostly relevant to me.  First, 3rd and I are sometimes still referred to as "the babies."   That's a little annoying when you get to be 20-something and downright absurd when you're in your 40s.  Second, my name was chosen by 1st sister.  2nd and 3rd share the same first initial, and she felt left out.  So, while my mother was in the hospital having me, 1st, 2nd, and 3rd were at my aunt's house.  1st sent my parents a letter with a list of name selections all starting with A, so things would be even.  I'm not a huge fan of my name - I don't really feel like it fits me well.  Everyone else I meet who shares my name is pretty perky and bubbly.  I tend more towards awkward and sarcastic. But I have a story behind my name.  I suppose that's something.

Finally, and most importantly, my companion and I do not get along.  Things were fine until 3rd went to school.  In my opinion, she abandoned me in her quest to fit in with the other kids - her younger sister who had been her best friend suddenly became a major annoyance.  Unfortunately, due to her personality and probably some mental illness, she never quite fit in...and, after multiple betrayals (that stick with me even though they happened when I was 8 years old!), I was not willing to take her into my circle of friends.  We had some knock-down, drag-out physical fights...up until we were well into our 20s.  Now that she lives 1000 miles away and we see each other every other year or so, we get along just fine.  But as companions, it did not work at all. 

In some ways, I feel badly that my daughter will be an only child.  Having a sister has its moments.  But here are the things I know that make me comfortable with what is:

1)  My daughter does like children younger than her...until they can talk back.  Then, not so much.
2)  I'm too old and tired to keep trying, and the added stress would be detrimental to the rest of my life.
3)  When I die, there will be no one to fight with over my stuff...and she will be able to save it or throw it away without having to consult with anyone else.
4)  You never really know what you're going to get.
5)  I'm lucky to be where I am.

First Captcha, now Wordpress

It would appear that there is a giant conspiracy on the internet these days.  First, it was the infamous Captcha, which annoys commenters everywhere.  Speaking of which, why do those letters have to be all squished and stretched, anyway?  Is there some sort of spambot reading machine that can read the letters if you don't skew them?  NOBODY can read them and we can't all be robots...

And now wordpress tells me that there is a wordpress account associated with my email address.  Yes, I know.  But, wordpress, you never let me log in to that account.  You tell me the username is bad.  You tell me the password is incorrect.  And never before has it prevented me from leaving a comment.

I'm seeing a trend...the internet does not want anyone leaving comments anymore!

Everything evens out eventually...

After that nonsense from last week, a fellow alumnus from my high school helped my mood with this:

I feel better now.

Suddenly I see

Normally, I don't get too excited about what happens on the internet.  But today, either I am extremely irritable (most likely) or the internet is losing its luster.  I saw two posts on Facebook today that almost spurred me to making some really obnoxious comments.  First, there was this from a random relative of my husband's:

"Today someone got a life changing phone call that they have a terminal illness. Today a hero's famliy was notified that their soldier made the ultimate sacrifice. Today a lot of people will hear horrible news, so lets be reminded, we DO NOT have the right to complain about our life or our crummy day. Things are far worse for many. So stop complaining, we have it good. These "bad" days for us, others would die to have."

Um, yeah.  Right now, I'm not terribly pleased with my in-laws anyway.  This little blurb almost made me want to respond that I hope she never has a bad thing happen to her, because my response will be "well, you don't have a terminal illness" or if she does, it will be "well, you didn't make the ultimate sacrifice" followed by "quit your bitchin'."  Really?  Yes, perspective is good.  But we all have the right to complain, because venting is a useful stress reliever.  If you don't want to listen, then get some friends who don't whine about every little twinge or slight misfortune.

The second one came from a friend's stepbrother, and is political.  Now, I belong to a political discussion group on Facebook, and sometimes people say some really outrageously biased stuff.  I don't really know the people in the discussion group - except for a couple people from my high school - so I don't take it personally.  But I grew up with my friend, her sister, and her stepbrother.  We came from a middle class neighborhood in a city full of liberals.  So, I find it incredibly confusing that for some reason they all became raging conservatives.  I feel that middle class Americans who espouse the so-called conservative point of view are acting in direct contrast to their own best interests.  But, whatever.  Everyone's entitled to their beliefs, and I agree that smaller government is good.  I don't want to restrict gun ownership either.  The bad guys always find guns if they want them - the rest of us might as well have the same access.  However, when you share information that is patently untrue, it irks me.

Hate to tell you, Mr. Conservative Obama Hater, but Obama really has no control over the gas prices.  It's the market that controls the gas prices.  Pick on the speculators, instead of the legislators.  Also, maybe I should hook you up with the aforementioned relative - you oughta stop whining about gas prices, as prices in Europe have been in excess of $5/gallon for over 15 years. 

Yep, I'm probably just irritable.  Or maybe it's time to take a break and become a Luddite for a while.  Maybe I should reinstate the baked goods and candy that I gave up for Lent and turn off the computer instead.

Free Advice Day

Mel suggested that the best way to protest the SOPA/PIPA bills would be to show Congress what they might be missing if they passed those bills.

Here's my free advice, worth more than you're paying for it:

Bad things happen frequently on Thursdays. Prepare yourself.

When you say what you mean, in a clear and direct manner, you are less likely to make people angry.

When you agree to something to avoid confrontation, and then get other people to protest what you agreed to, you're going to get confrontation anyway. (Related: Don't promise something if you're not already planning it out in your head. Disappointment and unrealized expectations are the quickest route to anger.)

General contractors are generally untrustworthy.

Censorship is a bad idea. There are better ways to protect your original content.

But really...is there anything original anymore? Do you have the right to an idea that you essentially ripped right out of Shakespeare? Sorry, not advice...just a question.

Since all of that is more of an indication of my frame of mind, rather than advice, I will share the following. It's fantastic, and actual good, beneficial, useful information.



And finally, for your entertainment, some of the web's best protest content can be found here (Oops - just noticed there's a pregnancy reference in there. Fair warning.)

Oh, one more thing. If you're having trouble accessing Blogger blogs...try a different browser. Several sites won't respond in Internet Explorer - but they're fine in Google Chrome. Coincidence? I think not.

All right, enough of this depressing shit...

Look at me! 3 posts in a month! Apparently, all I require for more posting is...oh, never mind.

For your viewing pleasure: the singed trees that my husband created with his unusual spring clean up methods

2/3 of a tree - it used to look like the ones on the left



I grew these two trees from little sticks



What? You don't see a second tree? Look by the blue bird.

Here's what's left



Trees are very resilient...

2012 is NOT starting off well...

Maybe it can only improve from here. My FIL died last month. So far this month, my husband's grandmother (his father's mother) died, and yesterday, my aunt died. For all of them, I would considered it a blessing, but still...

I hope I've completed my death trifecta and we're done for the year (or longer!).

In other news, my husband has returned to work (out of state, of course) and I am quite displeased with his family.

I'm taking the week off of work. Maybe that will help.

Failed...

Only one post last month...I guess I was lacking inspiration However, today, when following links from Stephanie, I came across the story of a staff Christmas party gone awry. This inspired me to recount some of my favorite fire stories. Sorry I can't illustrate them...

Once upon a time, I went to college in Colorado. A group of us loaded up into three cars one night to take a ride up into the mountains. We made it to the foothills, where we went off the road a bit and lit a fire. It was a beautiful night, we were having a great time drinking our 3.2 beer (it was legal for 18 year olds to drink 3.2 beer and wine coolers! So we did!) around the fire. After a while, we noticed some flashing lights coming up the mountain road. They kept getting closer, so, like any rational 18 year olds (HA!), we poured our beer on the fire and took off into the trees. We stayed out there for a period of time, until the firemen got on the loudspeaker and asked for the owners of the cars to please come up to the road. We determined that they were not going to leave, so we sheepishly made our way back up to the road. Since we were mostly a bunch of urban kids from the much more humid East and Midwest, we were idiots who knew nothing about fires and forest fires and dryness ratings. The firemen lectured us for about 20 minutes regarding fires and forest fires and dryness ratings and how would we like to pay the $5000 it cost for them to come up from the bottom of the mountain to deal with our idiocy? We would not like it. They ended up giving a $50 ticket to each of the cars, and we pooled our money to pay for it. All the people on my floor at school were big fans of the
Grateful Dead, but Fire on the Mountain has special meaning for a few of us...



Shortly thereafter, it was the fall break, where we got a 3 day weekend. That was as good an excuse as any for a road trip, so we decided to drive the 1000 miles from Denver to Chicago. My roommate, our next door neighbor, our RA, and I drove to my house and surprised my mother. It was a surprise all around because they hadn't told me that my father was in the hospital again. (He had heart disease and Rheumatoid Arthritis - he was in and out of the hospital quite a bit through my teenage years). Here's a tip - do not try to spare the feelings and worry of your out-of-state family member by not telling them about someone's illness. It will just make them angry. Anyway, while we were there, my RA took us to a Greek restaurant in Lincoln Park. Because my RA was Greek, she knew the owners, and we were therefore treated to some shots of flaming Ouzo. In case you're unfamiliar, Ouzo is a licorice-flavored, gut-burning liquor that produces a lovely blue flame when lit. The typical response to a shotglass of flaming Ouzo is to clink your glass, blow out your flame, and down that baby. Instead, the next door neighbor knocked her shotglass over and set the tablecloth on fire. It was a beautiful sight - pristine white tablecloth with perfect blue flames...

However, my favorite fire story was several years later. I think I was in my late 20s. My second oldest sister was home for Christmas, and we accompanied my mother to Christmas Eve Mass. The church had extra decorations in place and it was pretty full. As we sat there watching the people line up in the aisle to go up for Communion, my sister and I were doing our most dramatic renditions of the Christmas carols that were playing. Now, as it is, I'm not very well-behaved in church. It's probably pretty amusing to sit next to me, but you might not get a whole lot of spirituality. So, I do a lot of people watching in order to fuel my conversational topics. As I was watching the lines of people going up to communion, I noticed a woman in one of those parkas with the faux fur lined hood standing in front of us. She moved up a little and was standing next to a large candle. Since this was the first of the Christmas masses, the candle was much higher than the glass protector that would make it safer for the next several masses. They should have cut the candle, or burned it down a little, because as the woman moved back a little to let someone out of the pew, her faux fur lined hood went directly into the candle flame and lit up (like a Christmas tree - haha). Fortunately, there are many good and helpful people to be found in church, and the guy behind her started patting the flames out immediately. She hardly even knew what had happened.

Now I'm married to a part-time arsonist who likes to deal with yard waste by setting it afire. Last spring he had the brilliant idea (from his mom's crazy neighbor) to get rid of (i.e. cut back) the ornamental grasses by lighting them on fire. Unfortunately, he forgot that all of our ornamental grasses are quite closely placed near our pine trees. He got through a couple clumps of grass before he figured out that he needed to water down the trees before he lit anything on fire. So, one of our pine trees was scalded and seared along one side. The tree was probably 8 feet tall and beautiful - it was our nicest tree. Now, it's been cut down to about 4 feet and is totally bald on one side...but it perseveres.

Now, my toes are kind of cold, so I think I'll turn on the fireplace...

Awww! How sweet! AdSense thinks my blog is popular

Mina suggested that I owe two posts, since I had nothing to say in November. AdSense thinks I'm popular. I don't know how these two things are related, but I'm sure they must be.

This is what happens when I have nothing to say - I ramble on about nothing. It's been an eventful week around here, but not a pleasant one. Fortunately, I had Mel's cricket to distract me for some time.

My husband's father passed away this week. He had cancer a few years ago, and it appeared that he had beaten it. Unfortunately, it came back. It must have come back in stealth mode, because the doctors did not detect it until it had spread everywhere. My father-in-law opted to forego treatment, and was able to fulfill his desire to die at home, surrounded by his family.

Now I just have to get through the wake and funeral without saying anything awkward. It's really hard to suppress my natural talent that way. If there's one thing at which I excel, it's saying awkward things, and I really let my light shine at wakes. Someone sew my mouth shut, please.

File Under: A Little Competition is a Good Thing?

Overheard in my household today:

Scene: The bedroom, where my husband is preparing to shower by doing his pre-shower mini-exercise routine. My daughter is "exercising" too.

Daughter: Exercise is good for you, right, Daddy?

Husband: Yes it is!

Daughter: It helps you live a long time!

Husband: Yes!

Daughter: You and I are going to live a lot longer than Mommy, right, Daddy?

Husband: ...

(For the record, I get up a half hour earlier than necessary so I can work out before I go to work. My daughter is well aware of this.)

Now that some time has passed, I can calmly tell the saga of my computer. It's a long one.

Last November, after complaining about the speed and heat levels coming from my old, reliable Acer notebook computer, my husband finally told me that I should go out and get a new laptop. I went to that store that uses a big old price tag for its logo, and looked at what was available. I had a price range and some features in mind. I had read the reviews on cnet. I picked a Toshiba Satellite with an i3 processor and 4 GB of RAM. The price was reasonable, and I was comfortable with my purchase.

The computer worked great for 3 months. Then, one day, the speakers started emitting a high-pitched whine. I tried the usual solutions - rebooting, turning the speakers off and on, removing all the power sources - and then I called* for service. The service guy had me reinstall Windows (which involved saving all my photos and music and such), which did not help. The next solution was to send the computer in for repair. It was at this point where I realized that I should have bought the extended warranty, because I could then have had a replacement computer immediately. Instead, I sent the computer in for repair.

During this time, my husband was deployed in Iraq and Afghanistan. Our communication was mainly through email, with the occasional Skype chat. I needed a computer. I still had the Acer, which still works, but it was practically setting my lap on fire, and I had internet road rage from the slow responses.

After about three weeks, my computer came back...as did my husband. I turned the computer on, turned on the speakers, and the high-pitched whine was gone! Hurray! Unfortunately, it had been replaced with a low-pitched hiss that sounded every time I started a program or clicked on a link. Also, there were some other new issues that came along with the repair. So the computer ended up worse than when I sent it in. When my husband went back to work, the computer went back to Toshiba's repair center.

This time, the computer was in the repair center for less than one day, according to the delivery tracking on both ends. It was returned to me with no change. I called* the service line again. I explained the problem to the girl who finally answered, who then asked if I could hold for 5 minutes or less while she researched my case. My response was "Well, I've already been on hold for 45 minutes, so what's another 5?" I think she may have gotten the idea that I was a little upset.

Toshiba then asked me to return the computer for repair again - they don't give refunds, in case you were wondering. Having no choice, I sent the piece of junk back "to the engineers" at Tri-Star Computer for more repair. It arrived on May 27th. I think it was about June 3, when I received a notification that my computer was on its way back to me. I followed the tracking, and it should have arrived on the following Monday. When I checked on Tuesday, the shipping notification indicated that it had made it to my area, but was returned to sender. I was confused, but I let it go for a few days. On June 10, I called* the service center, where they told me that there had been a mixup and they had sent me the wrong computer and my computer was on its way back to them. They would ship it out ASAP.

On June 17, I called the repair center again. They gave me the same story. At this point, I was...irate. To put it mildly. Not only had Toshiba sold me a defective computer, the repair centers had not fixed it. And then they sent it off into oblivion - never to be seen again. I'm fairly glad that after the initial reinstallation of Windows, I really hadn't accessed any personal data on that computer. Someone could have had easy access to all of my banking and credit card and other personal information.

It was around this point that I decided to step up the complaint process. I did a little internet research and found the main Toshiba website, which had a feedback section. I described the situation in detail. Then next Wednesday, the top customer service representative in the US (allegedly) called* me to see how we could solve my problem. Apparently, appealing to Japan directly gets results. He offered me a credit to Toshiba Direct or a different computer with a slightly faster (i5) chip, but otherwise identical. I opted for the slightly faster replacement.

The computer came in a few days, but I couldn't get it. Fedex refused to deliver it when I was not at work. They wouldn't change the delivery address. They wouldn't let me pick it up that day, or the next, and if they failed to deliver 3 times, it would go back to the sender. Fortunately, I was able to pick it up on a Saturday morning. I finally got it home a few hours later, and when I turned it on, the screen was broken. No picture at all - just a bunch of lines.

I emailed the customer service guy, and asked for my money back again. No luck - I could get the credit or I could return the computer for repair. When I did a quick check of the website, it appeared that I could barely get an equivalent laptop for the price of the credit. I sent the replacement in for repair. I got it back again. It seemed fine...until I went to plug in my mouse.

I'm not a fan of the touch pad - that was the downside to the Acer. The touch pad was so oversensitive that it was basically unusable. Therefore, I use a mouse, unless it's totally inconvenient to do so. Anyway, I plugged in my mouse to the USB port, and it didn't work. I have just enough computer knowledge to be dangerous, so I knew I could delete the USB drives and then reinstall them. That did not help. I did a little research and found that if your USB ports don't work, and they don't work after reinstalling, you probably have a motherboard that's about to go bad.

At this point, I demanded my money back again. Toshiba refused. I thought about going back through Japan, but didn't have the energy to fight anymore. I took the credit they offered. I picked the new computer and ordered it. The sales associate said they would expedite the order, and I refused, since I was about to leave for vacation. She said the computer would then be shipped on the day we were scheduled to return from vacation. I said that was great. Of course, when checking my email on vacation, I found that the computer was shipped 5 days later. Then I found that the computer was delivered to my house and left on my porch - no signature required.

It's been 2 months since I got the new computer. The keyboard is less than reliable; if I'm leaving typos in your comment section, blame Toshiba. I'm stuck with this thing for several more years. But at some point, I will buy myself a Tablet PC which might make my computing life fun again.

*All calls were made with a Blackberry Curve on the Sprint network. The Sprint network, in conjunction with the Blackberry Curve, does not work at my house and averages one dropped call in every two calls I make. This is especially pleasant and useful when trying to make service calls or when you're in the queue to speak to an agent. It is also my only phone, since we do not have a landline. The Blackberry Curve is also slightly aerodynamic, and sails nicely across my front lawn. But that's a story for another day. Apparently, technology is not my friend. And you get what you pay for.

Added note: You can thank St. Elsewhere for this, as she suggested it was time for me to post something. ;)

Where I make you look at my vacation photos...now with more accurate text!

(Wow. Two posts in two days. Probably won't have anything else to say for the rest of the year...)

For our first real vacation in 8 years (since our honeymoon), my husband and I decided to visit Santa Barbara, California. I thought he'd want to lounge on the beach and watch the days go by, but he made several suggestions on things to see. That fits in with my preference for vacations (seeing everything I can possibly pack in), and so I set to planning.

We arrived in Santa Barbara in the evening, and ate dinner on Stearn's Wharf.


During the day, Santa Barbara was beautiful...and wonderfully cool compared to the 90+ temperatures in the midwest.


We explored a bit, and ate at Joe's Cafe. Apparently, it's the oldest restaurant in Santa Barbara. We were only eating because we needed something to do before we could go to our first wine tasting. We visited Jaffur's. The wine was delicious, and they gave us some pointers for additional wineries to visit. So we made our way up to the Brander vineyard, through some beautiful countryside.

I was loving my smartphone - not only for its GPS capabilities, but because if I became a Facebook friend of Brander, they gave us a bonus tasting of a $50 bottle of Cabernet. That alllllmost enticed me to buy a $50 bottle of wine. My husband, however, varied from his usual preferences and bought a bottle of white wine.*



The next day, we drove up the coast to San Simeon. We took the most scenic route, so we could visit the wine ghetto in Lompoc. Several wineries have tasting rooms in the middle of an industrial area behind a Home Depot - thus, wine ghetto. We enjoyed some really good Mexican food and samples of wine. There, I learned how important it is to let wine breathe (very!) and my husband bought a bottle of red.* Then we continued up the coast and stopped at the beach at Morro Bay.


The next day, we visited the Heart Castle. It was a most amazing place. The tour guides were great, and the house and gardens were incredible. Of course, I felt compelled to read up on Hearst after visiting, and he was certainly an interesting character. I don't think I would have liked him very well, but I suppose he must have been charming in a way that can't be conveyed in a biography.



Before starting off on our next adventure, we took a short detour up the coast to check out the elephant seal rookery. There are two things to know about elephant seals, as far as I am concerned. They are very loud and they are very stinky. We didn't stay long.


We drove across California to Visalia, where we enjoyed the many points my husband's travels have earned him with a free hotel stay. Visalia is about 40 miles from the Sequoia National Forest, which is where we intended to visit. We passed the many orange and lemon groves, fields full of cherry trees and olive trees and strawberries...we wanted to stop and eat everything! Along the way to the National Forest, we passed Lake Kaweah.


We stopped in Three Rivers because they were advertising a Hot Dog Festival that would begin at 10:00. We got there around 9:50. Here in the midwest, when something begins at 10:00, that's when we expect the food to be ready. Apparently in Three Rivers, that's when they fire up the grill. Fortunately, they had a tiny museum with plenty of things from early settlers to inspect while we waited 30 minutes for a hot dog.

The National Forest was indescribable. Imposing mountains,


Beautiful rivers with rushing rapids


and waterfalls,


giant trees with fascinating history,


and incredible rock formations. This one was called Beetle Rock.


I don't have Photoshop on my home computer, so I can't show you good pictures of the cave we visited. I can tell you, though, that if the national park service tells you that it's a fairly strenuous hike, you should believe them. I can also tell you that stalactites stalagmites** (which apparently take hundreds of years to grow up) look very much like stone dildoes.


My husband was surprised to learn that he wanted to return for the second day. We saw a very small sample of the park, and if we didn't have so many more places to see on this earth, I'd go right back.



After that, we returned to Santa Barbara for one last night. We found a beautiful beach, and spent some time there.


And for those of you who remember what I was doing last summer, I saw this on State Street when we were out and about buying t-shirts. I don't know what it was, exactly, but I assume it's a drinking establishment. It was too early to tell...


It was a wonderful vacation. There were many things that struck me, though. First, gas prices in California were not as expensive as I expected them to be (at least around Santa Barbara). Second, vacations are very expensive. I had no idea. I'd better vacation more often so I can keep up with the prices! Next, I should probably retire and drink wine all the time. It seems to be my life's calling. Finally, I love avocados!

Next week, I'm off to Wyoming for a class. Expect more pictures of mountains.

*My husband bought the wine. I drank a good portion of the wine. Just so we're clear.

**Thanks to Valery for correcting me and giving me a way to remember the difference between stalactites and stalagmites. It was so obvious - tits hang down!

A Day in the Life...

Here is a sampling of 24 hours of my life:


3:30 pm Doctor's office
Doctor: Hey! How are you! Great to see you! So, what's going on? Last time I saw you, you were talking about...

Me: Yeah. We did a round of IVF last November. It didn't work out, obviously.

Doctor: Oh, I'm so sorry...


6:30 pm My kitchen

Daughter: (*takes knife, slides it in*) Mommy, I thought you were going to grow me a baby in your belly.

Me: I tried, honey. It just didn't work out.

Daughter: (*gives knife experimental twist*) You were supposed to grow me 2 brothers and 3 sisters.

Me: I would have really liked to do so, but we don't always get what we want.

Daughter: (*fully rotates knife a few hundred times per second) But I'll be lonely when you die.

Me: Oh, no. By that time, you'll have a family of your own.

11:30 am My Office

Coworker/mother of my daughter's "boyfriend": I just got back from the doctor's and "boyfriend" is going to have a little brother or sister next spring!

Me: Congratulations! That's great!


Clearly the universe is having issues with me this week... Sigh. Hope that's over with.

If it bothers you that much..

For me, the internet is a playground - a source of entertainment. I can connect with people who live far away. I can find amusing videos. I can read blogs. I can read the news. I can check the weather and find addresses and directions. You know that lost piece of information? The one about that one actor who was in the movie with the other guy? I can find that too. I have 4 email accounts. I have a Facebook account. I have a blog. I have Google Reader packed with stuff to read all day long. I love the internet and I don't know what I would do without it.

Lately, it seems that many people are finding the internet more of a burden than a pleasure. I've seen countless posts complaining about Facebook. I've seen lots of remarks about the pros and cons of Twitter. I've seen people agonizing over the "direction" of their blogs, and complaints about the "branding" that others are doing. And here's what it comes down to - people seem to have a certain level of expectations from the activities in which they participate on the internet. When those expectations are not met, they get upset about it.

Let's take email to start. In Jennifer's Head recently wrote Oh Compulsive Email Forwarder . I love her take on this. I have an email forwarder (or several) in my life. For me, it's a good way to know people are still alive. (I used to be a fairly prolific correspondent, but for every letter I sent out, I got zero in return.) I think forwarding jokes and warnings and such was a kind of rite of passage when you got an email account in years past. But there are those who find the forwarded joke a huge imposition. A friend of mine used to share her email account with her partner. Her partner (who is generally irritable anyway) blocked my email address because she felt I was forwarding too many jokes. Rather than requesting that I not forward things to her, she blocked communication between my friend and me. It's just email - the deletion of an email requires a click or two of the mouse. To get offended by it seems like an extreme reaction, which I don't really understand. In Jennifer's Head's post seems like my sort of reaction - a slightly sarcastic, mild rant laced with affection. Perfect.

And then there's Facebook. I love Facebook - it's a useless timewaster containing all sorts of entertainment in one place. I rarely update - most of the things you see on my wall are game results or requests. I post some pictures sometimes. I comment on others' posts all the time. I don't know much about the origins of Facebook (and I didn't see the movie). Based on my memory of the thought processes I had while in college, I doubt Facebook was meant to be taken as seriously as people take it today. I suspect it was supposed to be a way to find the parties on campus. It has morphed into a giant entity with so many facets...and for each facet I've found someone who finds it irritating. Post a status update complaining about anything? Someone will complain about it. Post a photo? You're either bragging or gloating or stupidly posting something inappropriate. Don't talk about your faith or lack thereof - it's offensive. Don't talk about your political preferences - it's offensive. Don't do anything that anyone else might disagree with - you'll be reviled. I'm not talking about STFU Parents or Failbook because those are snark, and snark is appreciated. But I can't think of a blog I've read that mentions Facebook that doesn't mention how the author hates it (OK, maybe one). I understand that it's venting, but I really haven't seen one person post about how they love facebook. I've never seen anyone post about how they love to play Farmville. I've never seen anyone post about how they like to see what people they don't see in person are doing. So here's me saying I love Bejewelled Blitz - especially when I can beat my sisters. I love arguing politics with the guy from high school who used to ride the same bus. I hate that one of my best childhood friends holds such wacky political beliefs but am thankful that I can watch her son grow up from afar. And for the rest of you...it's facebook. Please. Take it for what it's worth. Better yet, take it for what you pay for it. Whatever you do, don't take it so personally. And let me know if you play Gardens of Time - I need more neighbors. :)

Twitter is something that I really can't get into. It sounds attractive to a certain extent. It would be something to do with all the "Is it really necessary to block me in traffic EVERY morning, Mr. Plumber truck?" irritation I have. But all the angst over follower numbers, and the idea of sorting out hundreds of tweets a day, and the prevalence of marketing and spam all conspires to turn me off. I appreciate the quotes that I've read, but it seems like there is very little meat to Twitter. Or maybe there is very little wheat but bucketloads of chaff. And then I see that some people may not respond to comments, but do respond to tweets. That's when I think that Twitter is probably better than anything for establishing friendships, because it's much more like having a conversation. But in contrast, there's the opposite of relationship building, and so I stay away.

On to blogs. I'm not much of a blogger. I don't have that much to say, because I am unable to put my emotions on display. I would probably be better on Twitter, where my commentary would be limited. But for those days like today, when I want to go on and on, I love my blog. I love reading blogs. There's fascinating information, funny stories, giveaways, insights into other people and their lives - it's a gold mine...with veins of crap, sure, but there is so much good stuff out there. I feel honored that anyone reads anything I write, and my days would be completely boring if I didn't have so much stuff to read. (I suppose I could work harder, but what fun would that be?) Here's the thing about blogs, though - there seems to be a huge internal conflict among American bloggers. They want to be taken seriously. They want readership. They would really like to make some money from writing. But they don't want to be seen as commercial. I've seen articles from 3 Ways to Drive Blog Traffic From Major News Events (subject matter obvious) to Five Hundred and One (where the author is getting traffic but still feels unnoticed). I see laments about the sidetracking of blogging in favor of other social media. I think the thing that bothers me most, though, is what I perceive as jealousy of the bloggers who have "made it." I see people commenting about how those bloggers are all about their brand and promoting themselves. I'm sorry, but aside from a very few instances, every blog I've seen has been promoting the writer in some form. Fortunately, there are a few people out there, like this one and this one (had to link to that particular post because it's great), and even this one (her other blogs are not as selfless, thus the "even") who are trying to promote more than themselves. They try to promote community and education and connections between people. People like this show their support in tangible ways. So to the jealous ones, or the ones worried about their brand, I say take a look at what these people do. Brand is not as important as making your blog something admirable. Most of the people I read have that quality - I hope they can eventually take over the internet. And if they strike it rich in the meantime, more power to them.

To anyone who finds social media so oppressive, please be realistic in your expectations. You'll be much less irritated, and then maybe you can behold the internet in wide-eyed wonder again.

And if you'll excuse me, I have to go search for the best way to transfer 8mm film to video - eHow can tell me how, and eBay can probably provide me with discounted tools.

Come to think of it, there are no problems when Katy Perry's Extra-Terrestrial is on...

You know how you have those little things that you should get fixed, but don't? Just something small and annoying, but you can deal with it, so you just let it slide? I have a couple things around the house like that, including the caulking around our sliding glass door that I think is letting ants in, and the weed whacker missing a bolt which makes it impossible for me to start. But the main thing that doesn't work right? My car radio.

More specifically, it's my husband's car radio. I drive the car most often, because it gets better gas mileage. However, it's his car and his radio. You see, I may have mentioned before that he is...frugal. So when he decided he was going to buy a car to replace the pickup truck that he sold, he put on his negotiating face and went to the dealership with the newspaper. There was a stripped down version of the car he wanted, for the cheapest price advertised, and that was what he wanted. The only problem? The car didn't come with a radio. So he harassed the salesman to put a radio in the car. Now, I didn't expect to get some sort of stellar sound system, but I didn't expect what I got.

At first, it was just the odd anomaly. Once in a while, the radio would turn itself up. Self-adjusting volume was...interesting. I usually have the volume between 5 and 7, and it would turn itself up to about 17 or 19. My daughter was not fond of this. The clock would lose a minute or two a week, making me cut it a little close on getting to work. But these were just intermittent annoyances.

Next, the display started acting up. It wasn't that some of the LEDs stopped working. It was like aliens were taking over the radio - strange symbols would appear and then the screen would go blank. I tried to take pictures of it, but a) it would mostly only happen when I was driving, and I'm not very steady at taking pictures while the car is moving, and b) if I could take a steady picture, the alien symbols would disappear when I pulled out the phone's camera.

The latest problem, which makes me think the aliens have actually taken control of the radio, is that the preset buttons rarely take the radio to the station I select. I leave for work between 6:15 and 6:20, and right around that time, every radio station in my area seems to go to commercial. So I try to find some music, and start hitting buttons. Preset 2 will give me preset 3. Preset 4 or 5 sometimes adjust the volume all the way down. Preset 5 will let me adjust the equalizer. Preset 6 will give me preset 6, but then all the other presets will only lead to preset 6. Apparently, the aliens really like pop music. But only the totally pop music station, because the crossover type pop station will almost never show up. And commercials. They like commercials too.

(We just took a trip to Chicago, and I got 5 days of the blessed relief of picking one station [93 - WXRT] and sticking with it. They play the best music, so there's no need to change the station)

As an added bonus, it plays CDs just fine when my husband drives, but every CD I've put in just generates an error message. Theoretically, you could hook up an MP3 player to it, but I am afraid of what would happen if I tried it.

I could have had this fixed or replaced, if I had followed up on it when it first started happening. Unfortunately, I didn't manage to get that done. So now, we have a very strange radio. And since it mostly behaves when my husband drives, he thinks it's hilarious that the aliens only want to talk to me!

I should have bought a Power Ball ticket too...

I've been pretty lucky lately. Well, in general, I feel like I'm pretty lucky - I have a wonderful husband (when he's not being annoying) and a delightful, hilarious daughter, in addition to a very entertaining extended family. But I've been the beneficiary of some extra luck lately.

Lori Lavender Luz was hosting a giveaway at her All Thumbs review page recently. I won a great set of glass storage containers, some recipe cards, and a flexible measuring cup. I would have taken a picture, but everything went immediately into the dishwasher (except the recipe cards, of course!) so I could use them right away!

My other big win is a trip. One day, at work, I received an email from one of the managers regarding a travel/training opportunity. The training and lodging is funded through a particular program, but if you were one of the first 100 to register, your travel expenses would also be paid. Since I work for state government, and since the state coffers are empty, training opportunities have been few and far between...unless I'd like to pay for them myself. I'd rather spend my travel money for leisure than work, so I haven't been able to go to any professional meetings in quite a few years. I was able to get my registration in, and now I get to spend a week in August in Jackson Hole, Wyoming! There are worse places to attend training, I think. I'm hoping I'll get a chance to snag a rental car and take a quick trip to Yellowstone National Park to see Old Faithful.

We've already had our first vacation this year - my daughter and I spent the weekend in Chicago attending my niece's graduation. I'm planning a couple more trips too. This should be the most exciting summer I've had in a long time!

Juno's Daughters - A Book Review

Calliope asked for volunteers to review a work of fiction, and since I am always interested in reading new books, I signed up. For the last year or so, I've been reading light fiction, because it requires little thought. I'm generally an escapist reader. When I read the first chapter of Juno's Daughters online, I thought it would be a good read. I've been to Whidbey Island, so I have a bordering acquaintance with the area. I have a daughter. I like Shakespeare and Led Zepplin.

I received a (free*) copy of the book and began reading it right away. By about the third chapter, I suspected that I would not be able to identify with any of the characters. By the fourteenth chapter, I had decided that I didn't really like the book. But I had agreed to write a review of it, so some further reflection was required.

The story involves a single mother of two daughters who lives on San Juan Island. During the summer, the island puts on summer Shakespeare theater, importing actors from the mainland. Jenny, the mother, and her older daughter, Lilly develop an interest in the same actor. Meanwhile, Frankie, the younger daughter, is experiencing a series of desertions in her life.

Some of the main issues that bothered me were parenting decisions. Essentially, promiscuity and drug use were laughed off. This is where I had to ask myself if I were being a prude. I know I'm fairly repressed/prim/uptight regarding myself, but my best friend is a try-everything-once/let-it-all-hang-out/free-thinker. I swear like a sailor (sometimes), and I enjoy a rude joke and double entendre (with the proper audience). Jenny seems to shrug her shoulders at Lilly's sampling of all the teenage boys in the area and what seems to be a fairly chronic use of marijuana. That is not how I would react. And competing with my daughter for a man? That just seems icky. (And as a cynic, I suspect the man will almost always take the 18 year old over the 42 year old.)

*SPOILER ALERT*

But then there was a segment of the plot that involved a "naked rehearsal." Frankie, a thirteen year old girl, is expected by everyone on the island to participate in the naked rehearsal, where all of the actors are required to do their parts without clothing. The only one (aside from her mother's half-hearted "You don't have to do it if you don't want to") who seems to understand that it might be a bit much for a young girl (um, the ONLY young girl) to undress in the presence of a bunch of adults, including unfamiliar men, is a young, African-American, gay man.

Upon reflection, I think my main problem with the story is the incongruity. Frankie is supposed to have grown up on an isolated island, without TV. So the advanced sexualization of young girls would be muted there. And no one knows for sure what the "naked rehearsal" is until they participate, so it doesn't seem like the people on the island habitually wander around naked. It doesn't make much sense for a mother to make so little of this. Jenny, the mother, is a survivor of an abusive marriage. On the one hand, she is strong enough to determine the length and terms of her subsequent relationships with men on the island. On the other hand, she's completely passive when it comes to her daughters' behavior. She sees herself as a teenager in Lilly, but does nothing to try and advise Lilly on how to choose a direction in life...in fact, she actively resists any attempts to help Lilly become an independent adult. Jenny finds piles of love letters in Lilly's room, and rather than worrying about Lilly's emotional health, Jenny worries that no one will ever write her a love letter again. It just doesn't ring true, for me.

Finally, there were some plot devices that were vaguely annoying. The actors visiting the island were referred to by the names of the characters they were to play in The Tempest. That seems...demeaning. The homeless teenager scene in Seattle provides a stereotypical minor side villain. I don't know if it was plausible or not...I suspect a naive 13 year old would likely have met a more violent fate (however, this may be due to the fact that I work in the crime lab, and I expect people to be evil instead of merely mean). Also, the Led Zepplin reference? It was minor and seemed like an afterthought. The cover review proclaims it "part Led Zepplin anthem." I would disagree.

All in all, a mixed review - I didn't really like the book, but it did make me think about my values. It wasn't a good escape from everyday life, but it certainly provoked a reaction. Read it yourself. See what you think.

*Is that what I have to do for those FCC folks?

Patterns

I'm a pattern person. I notice the repetition in things. That's probably why I am doing the job I do - because I can recognize patterns where most people will not. My life seems to go in patterns too - I note patterns in the types of evidence I receive. I note patterns in the things my daughter does. This week's pattern (which I hope does not continue) was randomly occurring discussions of miscarriage in the least expected places.

Today, for instance, we were having a garage sale, and trying to sell all the clothing my daughter has outgrown. Some women came up, and noted that all the clothes were girls' clothes. They said "all we have are boys." And as they walked away, one continued "that's probably why she lost her first one - it was probably a girl and girls are not allowed."

Yesterday, while at work, somehow the topic also came up. This one was a little more difficult for me. One coworker was discussing someone she knew who lost a baby at 14 weeks. The woman's mother told her to scoop the miscarried baby out of the toilet and take it in to the hospital. The woman could tell that her child was a boy. Another coworker was wondering why that would be necessary, so I told her that the doctors would be able to tell if the mother had an infection of some sort or if there were a chromosomal defect in the baby if they could test the "products of conception." The second coworker also said that she thought that miscarriages were just bleeding - she didn't realize that you'd be able to see the baby. So I told her that there used to be a display of the the gestational stages of a fetuses at the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago (it was really an amazing exhibit, but a. lost on the kids on field trips and b. no longer displayed due to decomposition and, I think, social pressure), and that after maybe 6-7-8 weeks, there would be something big enough and developed enough to be recognizable as a baby. I didn't share my miscarriage experiences - or I would have burst into tears. The first coworker also brought up a former coworker who had an almost full term stillborn baby. It was kind of a rough half hour there. On our way out later, the first coworker apologized for bringing the subject up - she had forgotten about my miscarriage (um doubtful - she's kind of passive-aggressive that way). I said that I would prefer to have miscarriage discussed - it's far more common than people believe and it's better to talk about it so people who need it can find more support and understanding.

I'm hoping that's all the discussions of miscarriage I'll accidentally fall into for a while. I hope this is the end of this particular pattern.

The dollars and $ense of MY family’s creation

So, I'm a little late to this party, but that's typical. This post, inspired by the blog hop at Write Mind, Open Heart, addresses the costs of building my family.

We are in the enviable position of having insurance coverage, having issues that could be discovered and addressed, and being extremely frugal. So, while we hate to spend any money on anything, the costs of building our family seemed very much worth it to us...until they didn't tell us anything or didn't work.

I don't have any idea of what our family building efforts cost, but most of it was testing and medication copays. Some of the testing was not covered by insurance, and it amounted to a few hundred dollars. All of the medication had copays, so I would estimate those costs at around $500. The unfortunate/fortunate thing was that all the testing I had to pay for revealed nothing. The testing covered by my insurance gave my full story...but that couldn't be taken for granted.

If my child were to ask me how much she cost, I'd tell her I didn't know...but whatever it was wouldn't match her value. No matter how many times a day her father threatens to sell her on eBay. And then I might tell her that I wish I'd been able to pay whatever emotional cost it took to provide her with a sibling. I do have a file of most of that information, but I've never actually reviewed all of the data.

In some ways, our finances did determine the extent of our family building efforts. Because we are older parents and savers, we had enough resources to say that our secondary infertility was something we could throw money at to see if we could solve it. We did not succeed, and while we could try again, the emotional cost far outweighs the monetary cost.

Going outside the country would not solve the problem that I'm old and my eggs are...past their sell-by date. Spending more money wouldn't help that either.

All in all, we have been extremely lucky to not have money be our main consideration in our family planning efforts. We were more focused on finding the problem and finding a solution.

Language differences

I was reading some work-related articles the other day and came across one from This Is Hampshire.net

The story is interesting enough, but what really caught my eye was the phrase at the end:

"He denies rape, attempted buggery and aggravated burglary."

I'm still wondering what attempted buggery is...

Let's talk about happier things

Once upon a time, a project was begun. My husband decided he was fed up with the tile in our bathroom, and he started to change it. I'm pleased to say that last month, the project was finally completed!





(Pictures from the old bathroom, which can be seen by clicking the above link, are on a hard drive somewhere, and I'm too lazy to go find them. Please excuse the slantiness of the pictures - apparently I'm unbalanced.)

The main tile is a rose marble - I thought it would be overwhelmingly pink. But with some small slate tiles for contrast, cream colored travertine to soften some edges, bright white trim, and the silvery paint, I think it turned out really well. We had some long discussions about the shower door (my husband prefers translucent to transparent), but I think the clear glass showcases all his hard work. And the glass block both lights up the shower and adds interest to what was once a blank wall.

In other news, my luck turned around and I was very fortunate to receive on of Mel's Purim baskets!



Oh, the deliciousness contained in one Priority Mail box! Melissa said that everyone should have a weekend of gorging on sugar every once in a while. All I can say is I wish she lived next door, so I could invite myself over every day.

One of my internet timewasters is signing up for and taking various surveys. Survey organizations reward you in a variety of ways; magazines, movie rentals, cash, etc. Using some of my rewards, I was able to purchase Mel's book (Life from Scratch), the complete AbFab collection, and a variety of other things. But as I was the recipient of Mel's mishloach manot, I felt that it was incumbent upon me to pass it on. The remainder of my survey funds were donated to the Red Cross to support their efforts in Japan. The earthquake and tsunami and their aftermath were a stark reminder to me that any society is one natural disaster away from chaos. But, we are talking about happier things...

My daughter and I enjoyed some lovely spring weather this weekend. Multiple trips to the park and some shopping made us both happy. The warm weather will continue for a few more days. And, happily, as I am watching the news today, all of the crime is happening on the other side of the river (i.e. state line), so it won't be terribly busy at work!

And you thought you were having a bad week...(Updated)

On Thursday, I got rear-ended on my way home from work. Spent Friday being irritated by the insurance company. If they don't straighten up and stop annoying me, they will be the subject of another post. I suspect my car may also be totalled. And I have whiplash, which is not healing like it did when I was 19.

On Saturday, my 3 month old computer broke. I have to send it in for repairs. This is going to be very annoying because I have to use my old computer for a couple weeks. My old computer gets hot when I use it and is really slow. I also get internet road rage.

On Tuesday, my husband goes back to work. In Iraq. And then possibly Afghanistan.

On the plus side, well, I can't think of a plus side right now. I was going to say things couldn't get much worse, but that's like inviting trouble.

Perhaps there will be sunshine and roses next week...

Anyone want to buy a 2005 Nissan Maxima in silver? Low miles! New paint! ETA: Now with hail damage! (I assume)

To top it all off, last night we had severe weather which ripped several shingles off of our roof. Not sure if the universe is targeting me or my insurance company...

It's been a while...

I guess that means I have a very uneventful life...just the way I like it.

Some things I've noticed lately:

-Improved technology for weather prediction has turned meteorologists into fear-mongering drama queens. I was very entertained by the city's news conference today. The main message was "Huh. Isn't as bad as we thought it would be. But we'll stay on top of it anyway."

-Messing with your hormones has some longer term effects than I expected. Hurray to smaller pores and the temporary banishment of breakouts! Boo to f'ed up cycles.

-I am getting older and it's becoming apparent. I move slower. My reaction times are slower. I am becoming more likely to say f'ed up than fucked up. I don't retain information as well as I used to. We had training at work last week, and things that I know I would have absorbed readily 5 years ago, I'm having trouble remembering. I'm actually going to have to go back through my notes (at least I took some!) and organize the information for when I'll need it again.

-I've read some really entertaining books lately. First, Melissa Ford's Life from Scratch, then Carrie Vaughn's Discord's Apple, and finally, Ann Mah's Kitchen Chinese. I have not been in the mood for anything dark or heavy...and these suited my mood. And no one has given me anything to say that I liked them either.

Off to check on the state of the weather...I took a snow/ice day today, and I might take another one tomorrow...

Merry Christmas, sort of

I'd say this sums things up pretty well for me...



(For Aunt Becky, who's trying to have a Merry Christmas)

So, that was...interesting

I am not much for talking about important issues. I can discuss logistics, but if you hit a hot spot, I'm likely to break down in tears or start yelling. The more stress I have, the faster this happens. My poor husband knows this about me, and yet every time it happens, he seems surprised. He had the great misfortune to hit my trigger last Friday. Since I know he reads my blog, maybe I can address all the issues here.

(Yes, I know I'm trying to avoid speaking with him about the issue. It's what I do.)

We spent part of October, all of November, and enough of December engaged in our first IVF cycle. It started off easily enough - I don't have issues with birth control pills. Lupron gave me some headaches, but so did the caffeine withdrawl (and that was actually worse). Steroids made me hungry, but no more hungry than usual. Although, I did notice that the combination of the steroid and the 30 Day Shred gave me some unfortunate trapezius development. Follistim was fine - whatever. Menopur apparently gave me mental blocks because the first time I was supposed to take that, I completely forgot for over an hour and then followed up the rest of the week with more forgetfulness.

My first scan went OK. The second scan...the important one where they figure out how the stims are working?...that was disappointing. Based on my stellar ovaries being above average during my initial Day 3 inspection, my doctor decreased the Follistim a little bit. Clearly, he did not realize that I am contrary. So, on the day of the second scan, I had maybe 2 potential eggs. I was given the option to forge on or to quit and go again another time.

Given that I am unable to predict the future, and I never quite know where my husband will be (he travels for work), I decided that it was now or never. So, we maxed out the Follistim for the rest of the week. Enter cramps and bloating...but at least I was fairly certain that something was happening. The next scan indicated 4 or 5 eggs, so I was on for retrieval. If there hadn't been any improvement, I was planning on going all low-tech old school and converting to plain old sex for fertilization. (OK, well, we probably would have gone for very enjoyable and loving sex.)

Now, already, the schedule was off. Retrieval was supposed to be on Dec 3 or 4, so my husband was scheduled to return to work on Dec 5. Because of the lagging development, we got pushed back to the 5th. And so I was trying to figure out how I was going to get a ride to the doctor's office and home, drop my husband at the airport, get someone to watch my daughter, all without talking about this. Fortunately, my husband was able to get his flight rescheduled...but not before telling a couple of his family members. Sigh.

December 5 was probably a lovely day - I don't really know, as I have no memory between 9 am and 2 pm. I got a nice nap in, though. I had no idea how many (if any) eggs were retrieved. Monday, I finally got the call. They had retrieved 9 eggs. Go ovaries! 7 were mature. Hurray! 1 fertilized. Um, excuse me? How did that happen? We never have a problem with fertilization? Everything after that causes problems. WTF? Either those were some seriously crappy eggs, or the embryologist was not very good at picking the good sperm. Who knows? But at least we had one! One is all it takes! Riiiight.

Wednesday was the Day 3 report. The embryo was a bit behind, but it could catch up. It was a grade 3, 4 cell embryo. At this point, I knew where things were headed, but I tried to maintain some hope. However, I was fairly certain that we had a Zombryo. A zombryo is, of course, an embryo that is neither alive nor dead but spends its time eating away at your brain. (Thanks, May, for the proper terminology - I'm not sure if that's the correct definition, but I think it should be.) So, on Friday, at the day 5 report, there was no change. And on Saturday, the last possible day that they would consider housing these poor little 4 cells (how much room do they occupy anyway? Surely you could just let them sit and see what happens, couldn't you?), there was still no change. So, that was that.

Last spring, after my last chemical pregnancy (see? Fertilized! WTF?), I had determined that I was done. We had a garage sale and sold many of my daughter's clothes. We sold lots of the equipment. Game over. And then, my daughter said, "Can I get a baby with the garage sale money?" And I said "Sure. I'm sure we could buy you a baby doll." And she said, "No, a REAL baby." And I told my husband this story, which tugged at his heart. So he and I decided to throw some money at the problem. I have insurance coverage, so the cost breakdown was not bad:

Anesthesia (should be reimbursed): $580
Sperm Analysis (might be reimbursed): $150
Drugs: ~$400
Copays: $80
Speeding ticket (because I was paying no attention to how fast I was going since my mind was occupied with the state of the zombryo): $120

(I'm fairly certain that last part was the universe giving me a giant "Fuck You.")

The less tangible costs - additional crankiness (and let me tell you, my normal irritability is hard to top!), overcoming the fear of giving myself the PIO shot (especially since a. no one told me how to do it - thanks Stirrup Queens sidebar and YouTube! and b. I already suspected it would not be necessary), and that rash that sprung up when I stopped taking the steroid. I think I'm allergic to subcutaneous injections. (This has been a problem in the past. What? You're not completely familiar with my archives? Refresher: Last time, it took about 6 weeks for the rash to form and it was only at my heparin injection sites. So I switched to Lovenox, and the rash continued. This time I went with the upper thighs instead of the stomach, on the theory that the skin might be less sensitive. Nope. Plus, pants are more irritating than shirts, in case you ever needed to know that.)

So here we are at the end of the line again...or maybe not. Maybe we'll skip the big production and go low-tech old school next month, since my husband will be home. Maybe we'll do another cycle in April, when he might be home again. I don't know where I'm going from here, because I'm conflicted. On one hand, when I talk to God, I feel like He is denying my requests for another child. But on the other hand, there was the dream...

Around the time when my husband and I were getting married, I had a dream - a brief flash of me in my sunny yellow kitchen, with my infant in his high chair and my daughter was helping me feed him. My husband breezed through and all was right with the world. It felt like that was what I was supposed to have. Now, my kitchen is definitely not yellow, and it definitely was not my actual husband in the dream (wrong hair and clothing). Yet, I still hold on to the idea that there should be one more of us in our family.

I'm not completely ready to give up, but I don't want to put my life on hold any more. Oh well, rock and hard place - I'm very familiar with your landscape. Eventually, I will wear a comfortable niche in both of you.

Tagged

Yoyo Mama from Mama Said Knock You Out tagged me to answer the following interview questions. Sure, I'll play.

1.If you were gifted $5,000 tax-free and you had to spend it (not save it), what would you spend it on?

A space/time transporter, so I could instantaneously go on vacation anywhere in the universe and not spend 2 days travelling. And my husband would go with me without complaining.

2.How many times have you moved in your lifetime?

I've only moved 6 times...which is about 2 times more than I would like to have moved. I hate moving.

3.Have you ever been so angry, you hit someone or at least felt like hitting someone (or something)?

Today? No. This month? Probably. This year? Several times. This decade? Too many times to count.

4.What’s your favorite article of clothing or pair of shoes and why?

I don't wear it because I wore it out, but I have my dad's old black cashmere coat. I stole it when I was in high school (I stole a lot of my dad's clothes then), and I have intentions of someday remaking it into a suit. But first, I must learn how to sew.

5.Are you hanging lights this holiday and if so, when is the turn-on and turn-off dates?

I will be putting up the Christmas tree and maybe Frosty the Snowman will go outside, but the dates depend on when my husband drags the tree up from the basement and gets Frosty down off the shelf. No sooner than after Thanksgiving, though, and not much later than January 6 (Epiphany).

If you're reading this, and need a post idea...you are now tagged! Use the above questions, along with this one.

What was been the best part of the last decade for you?

A Stalker Story

Elizabeth from Flourish in Progress recently inquired about my blog domain name/email address. As I told her, the short version is that the string of letters and numbers is a former license plate number. Here's the long version.

Once upon a time, I was a foolish 22 year old. My father had recently died. My boyfriend of a year or so broke up with me because I was unwilling to support his lazy ass while he played dilettante, and he had found someone who would. I had just started my first professional job. Life, to put it mildly, was in a bit of upheaval. One day, I went out to meet my friend at a bar. While I was there, my car died. One of the guys helped me get it started so I could go on to the next bar. At the next bar, I met up with a guy I knew from college - he was with 2 friends. We all hung out for a while, and when I was leaving, I asked if someone could come out and help me if my car wouldn't start. One of the friends...lets call him The Idiot (although the title is really more appropriate for me)...came out to help. He asked me out, and I agreed to go. (Later, I would find out that the other friend and The Idiot were debating over which one was going to ask me out. This is a very unusual situation, as when I was 22, I was generally overlooked by anyone in the bar who was not over 40 and a raging alcoholic. I have a very forbidding air about me.)

So, I went out with The Idiot. Thus began an 8 year saga... The Idiot was a nice enough guy, except for the fact that he would basically be considered a loser. He was a spendthrift. He was directionless. He was generally unemployed and perpetually in college. He drank a lot. But, he "loved" me, and was nice to my niece and nephews as they came along. My mom hated him, but he was very helpful to her, so she eventually got used to him. I knew we had no future, and I told him, but he never believed me. I also knew, though, that since he didn't believe me, I was going to have a hard time getting rid of him, which is why it dragged on for so long.

Eventually, I turned 30. I was re-evaluating my life, and knew that I couldn't continue with him any longer, but I couldn't figure out a good way to make it end without restraining orders. We "took a break" to think about things. And then we went to a baseball game with a large group of friends, some of whom had recently gotten engaged. This made The Idiot start asking me when we were going to get married, and I told him that we weren't. That I was done with the relationship. He wanted to remain friends, so I said that I didn't think that would work. But I didn't want trouble, so I would talk to him when he called. I agreed to go see a movie with him.

Meanwhile, since I had broken up with him, I took up with someone else. My future husband and I started dating casually (well, for him, anyway. I'm more the monogamous sort). We would email each other back and forth most evenings, even though we shared an office at work.

One day, I got an angry visit from The Idiot. He claimed that someone had forwarded him one of the emails between Future Husband and myself, in which the movie appointment was discussed. I was less than enthusiastic about it and The Idiot used that email to get angry. He came over, pushed me, threatened to smash up my car with a crow bar, and generally made an ass of himself. It was at that point that I was smart enough to get my house keys back, at least.

The following Monday, when I went to work, I asked Future Husband if he knew anything about the email - he didn't. So I started digging. I found that little setting that lets you forward email to another account. The Idiot was monitoring my email. And therefore, I had to change all of my email addresses and passwords. I changed my phone number. The Idiot called and threatened Future Husband on his voice mail at work. He called my mom. He called my sister. He called my friends. He called my supervisor (with whom we had socialized in the past) and asked him to talk to me. Eventually, since I work for a police agency, the phone threat to Future Husband ensured a little discussion between agents and The Idiot. We managed to come to an end without restraining orders...at least at that point.

Things had pretty much settled down, except for one thing. I was foolish enough (and hadn't watched enough Judge Judy at that point in my life) to cosign on a car for The Idiot. Actually, I cosigned on one car, which he had had repossessed and later redeemed. Then I was stupid enough to finance another car with him as the cosignor, because he couldn't get financing as the primary on the loan. And then, I started getting parking ticket notifications in the mail. That was annoying, but fine. Then I found out that his insurance had been dropped. So, I repossessed the car myself. This led to more home visits from him (although he couldn't get in), more threats, and finally the restraining order.

Once that was filed, and The Idiot figured out that I was quite serious about cutting all ties, he managed to restrain himself. However, he sent a message on Classmates.com. He tried to friend me on F*c*bo**k. He forced me to end a friendship with the guy from college, by pumping him for information. He continued to call my friends to ask them about me. While he is a mild stalker, he is still a stalker.

So there it is - how I got my email address. In the need for an immediate and anonymous email address, I used something that I already knew but that no one else would ever associate with me. I was an early victim of cyberstalking. It's also one of the many reasons why I stay very anonymous on the internet.