ICLWv6.09: The Results

And so another ICLW has come to pass. THIS time I more or less - more, actually - kept up with my commenting duty. I only had to double up once, which, for me, is nothing short of a miracle. This post is a little late, but that's just because I've been all kinds of busy with other posts. Maybe next month I'll get it totally perfect, but in the meantime, I'll settle for delightfully human.

Internet, go on over to these blogs and give them a howdy-do.

1. I Heart Internet
2. The Life of Liv
3. Inconceivable
4. My Preconcieved Notion
5. Me and Baby
6. Life with Endometriosis and PCOS
7. Dragon Dreamer's Lair
8. The Pitter Patter
9. Once Upon a Time
10. Babymaking 101
11. Seeking Serendipity
12. My Eggs, Your Nest
13. Unquestionable Love
14. Portraits in Sepia
15. Are We There Yet?
16. My So-Called Life
17. Infertility Instability
18. I Never Thought It Made Sense Anyway
19. Nonelusive BFP
20. Woman Anyone?
21. All Things Griffin
22. oh sanity, wherefore art thou?
23. Invivio
24. Baby Manatee
25. The Conceivable Future
26. Lifeslurper
27. Communique
28. Wheresmy2lines
29. Slice of Pie
30. Bump Fairy
31. No News Isn't Always Good News
32. Run Amok Amok
33. Meepit on Parade
34. Body Diaries by Lucy
35. My Journey with Endometriosis
36. Non-Elusive BFP
37. Jason & Amber Patterson
38. Letting It Out
39. Bella & Her Fella
40. Once Upon A Time
41. Two Peas Waiting For Our Pod
42. Life Induces Thoughts, Mostly Random

And the winners are....

The two lucky winners of $50 gift certificates to Auntie's Beads are...

:::dramatic pause:::


:::continuing with the dramatic pause:::


:::having too much fun with the dramatic pause:::


:::random number generator just crashed:::


:::no worries, got it back:::


:::still waiting for the random number generator to re-load:::


:::SERIOUSLY. How long could it ta-:::


OK! So. The winners are... Martha and Sylvia! Congrats to both of you, and thanks to everyone who entered my little giveaway. Martha and Sylvia, I'll be sending you each an email with your promo code. Enjoy!!! And make sure to let us all know what you make with your loverly beads. So that we can all seethe with jealousy. And wish we were you, what with your gorgeous FREE beads. Lucky!

And the next giveaway is coming up really fast. I'm working on an area rug giveaway with the fantastico people over at CSNRugs.com, and also a $100 gift certificate giveaway to Swimsuitsforall.com (and they really do have a WONDERFUL range of sizes, including for the short, long, and wide). So stay tuned! Looks like there will be TWO giveaways in July. WOOT!!!

Internet, say a big hello to your competition:

5footrunt
A_New_Life
Amy
ange
Anonymous
ap
Are You Kidding Me?
Betty Rubble
bridget3420
Catherine
crystal
Danielle L
Deanna
Donna
Elsie
Ginger
GoldenAngelsWorks
HODGEPODGESPV
JC
Julie
Katrien
Kim
Kristin
Laney
Lifestooshort
littlepurpleroom
Martha
Meari
Melody
Nancy
Neas Nuttiness
Patricia Cecilia
Pike
Shelly T.
spitfyr323
Sylvia
Tammy
taulya
unrulyangel
valerie2350

Chicago is tasty!

On Saturday, I babysat Her Royal Smooshiness during the day, then headed out - still smelling like baby and having almost, but not quite, gotten my fill of smooshies - to the Taste of Chicago.



I went with my friend Billy and his friend Alina. Here, Internet, let me introduce you to Billy:



How he could wear jeans on such a sun-beating-the-life-out-of-you day is just beyond me. Alina was dressed better for the weather. She was wearing shorts. Internet, meet Alina:



I met her for the first time on Saturday, and she is really, really nice. She likes chocolate dipped frozen bananas, and we all know that only awesome people dig those, am I right?!

I suppose you are expecting a picture of my feet now, too, right? Well, originally I took one, and then fell over in embarrassment when I saw just how desperately I need a pedicure. Yikes. And, um, YIKES. So, instead, here's a picture of me all soaking up the sun looking like a celebrity (its the sunglasses that do it):



That crooked smile? That's courtesy of my Gran, who thought "Grandma" was so not the right name for her hipster self, I'm not even kidding. And then my father gave me his squat legs and the gap between my front teeth to torture me. Thanks, Dad.

Anyway, back to the Taste. The Counting Crows played at the Petrillo Band Shell, and this is the best I could see of it:



I was in the free seats, along with half of all the college kids this side of the Mississippi River.



Get a load of that skyline. Ahhhh. Moment of Zen... and this is where I stop myself from bragging about how phenomenal, magical, wonderful and amazing Chicago is. Oops, I guess I just couldn't help myself. Sorry. I tried.

While I wasn't anywhere near the stage, there were a few video screens set up, and so I was able to watch Adam Duritz belt out Mr. Jones. Here, you can see it, too:



Not the best view, but honestly? I didn't care. The Counting Crows were just one part of the evening, and not even the most important part. The Taste has always been about celebrating summer, eating overpriced (but oh so yummy) corn on the cob and listening to great music outdoors in the sunshine. It's about enjoying the best of Chicago with a lot of happy people. I think Billy summed it up best:

Here we go again

Hey Internet, do you know what time it is? Do you? Well, do you?

It's time for this:



Yep, in my never-ending search for the latest and greatest drug, I'm now moving on to Lupron. This little baby will put me into a medically-induced menopausal state, which, as we all know, is essential to getting pregnant. It's no secret that there is noone more fertile than a menopausal woman. Except maybe a woman on birth control pills. And woo hoo! Now I'm on both.

I have had some pretty mixed feelings about this cycle. It wasn't so much the trying to concieve bit that had me wishying-and-washying. It's the medical fatigue. Internet, I have felt so good this past month. Normal. It's like I'm my old self again. I smile too much, laugh too loud, and generally annoy the grumpy people around me. And now I have to go back to headaches and hot flashes and mood swings.

And that's not all... There are dildo cams and AM doctor appointments and insurance hell and worrying that my work will get annoyed at how I'm late 3 to 5 days a week and blood draws (I actually have a railroad track on my hand) and worrying about numbers and getting discouraged over follicles and syringes and drugs scattered all over my condo and counting the hours until my next SELF-ADMINISTERED injection (and I've given myself so many that I am totally used to it now) and trying to not cry when I get bad news and hiding all this from my friends and not telling them the truth when they ask, "How are you?" and then. THEN, because this time I'm REALLY lucky, I get anesthesia for the first time in my life. I'm terrified of the egg retrieval. It isn't for several weeks, and I'm already hyperventilating.

And what if, after all this, it doesn't work?

I have been reluctant, at best. I guess that I was so excited, back in January, to start injectable IUIs, that I used up all my enthusiasm and blind faith waiting for that first dose of Follistim to be sent my way. I just don't have any more of the WOOT! left in me.

This time, I had hassles with the insurance, to the point that on Friday my IVF cycle still hadn't been approved. I was told not to worry, that if I didn't get the drugs by today, I could always start the Lupron tomorrow or Tuesday. Well, I got the delivery yesterday evening. And cried.

Internet, I nearly lied to The GES and waited until Tuesday for my first date with the Lupron. It was seriously tempting. Just to have 2 more days without hormonal meltdowns, hot flashes and headaches... Two more days to revel in delicious sanity.

But then last night I had another one of Those Dreams. I haven't had them in months. In the dream, my father, who died when I was 27, handed me my infant son. As I held my child, and felt love like I'd never felt before, my father watched us with a look of satisfied peacefulness on his face. And then he smiled, and walked away.

I injected the Lupron as soon as I woke up.

Six silly things

The faboo Kristin tagged me in the Six Silly Things meme, and hey, you know I can't resist a meme. [And I was also tagged in another, but I can't remember where. If you tagged me, please let me know in an email or a comment.]

So, here's the rules:

* Mention and link to the person who tagged you
* List Six Silly Things That Make You Happy
* Tag six of your favorite bloggers to play along

Ok, here's my six:

1. Getting caught in a thunderstorm. And I mean those sudden downpours that come out of nowhere.

2. Mudfights. See #1, above.

3. Hitting a golf ball, and having it go where I wanted it to. I mean, that may not sound silly, but think about it. Don't you think, upon reflection, that it's strange to spend so much energy playing with balls? HA! I said balls.

4. Fart jokes

5. Icanhascheezburger.com

6. Geocaching

And now for the 6 people:

1. Clare
2. Meari
3. Echloe
4. Peta-maree
5. Bionic Baby Mama
6. Martha

Bible-based marriage: Now with kitchen condiments!

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Internet, I am baffled by this whole gay marriage debate. I mean, I just don't get why Jesus is so opposed to the idea, and I certainly don't understand why God would want to smite people for simply being in love and wanting to create a family. And since I'm on the subject, I'd like to point out that there are a lot better reasons for smiting people. But then, that could be because I'm a non-believer, one of the Tribe, which means I'm a heathen bound for the fiery depths, oh my yes I am.

But I digress.

So I was thinking that if Wikipedia has an entry for wedgies [Tasha!], then surely YouTube could explain the Bible to me. And may His Carby Goodness bestow Sauce upon the Intertubes, for I was not denied.



And from this moment forward, I will never look upon salt the same way again.

Some more comparisons

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Since I'm on the subject of comparisons, I thought I'd share two photos of the view from my condo. I took this one in March of this year:



Blech. Bleak much? So if you go through the archives and notice I was a bit... negative... this past March, you'll know why.

The picture is of the Lake and Berger Park. Can you believe those ice floes?! This past winter was an absolute nightmare. It was awful; one of the worst winters EVAH. Just looking at that makes me never want to use air conditioning again. And do you see the bus stand in front of the mansion? Notice how empty it looks, with no bus there? It's because the CTA sucks. Especially when it's 754 degrees below zero.

BTW, I wasn't going to say which park it was, just in case you are in the mood to stalk me or something. But then I figured that if you really want to know what park this is, you'll be able to figure it out with a few well-strategized Google searches anyway. And honestly, who am I to thwart your stalking plans? I try really hard to help people; of course I don't want to have the reputation of an obstructionist. So you are welcome. I just saved you 5 minutes of Googling and several hours of navigating government-owned websites.

Anyways, onwards and forwards.

I took this next picture a couple of days ago. The difference is stunning, don't you think?



See those two park benches facing the Lake? That's where I like to drink my morning coffee and watch the sun rise. The two mansions are part of the VERY BEST PARK DISTRICT IN THE WORLD, also known as Chicago Park District, which means that they belong to all of the citizens of my great city. In addition to fantastic arts and crafts programs on offer to the masses, the buildings and grounds are rented for weddings and parties. And the rental fees are reasonable - cheap, even. Also, in the park area, there are free movies and concerts in the summertime. It is LOOOOVERLY, and I'll be blogging about those later.

After looking at these two photos, I decided that I'll be taking a picture from my balcony at the peak of each season. Next up? Perhaps I'll be home during the next really good thunderstorm over the Lake. Maybe I'll even be able to catch a waterspout - those are SOOOOO COOL. I'll keep you all posted.

Comparisons

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Yesterday I told you all about hurricanes and rising river levels. I showed you this picture of the Chicago River:



And then I promised that I'd upload a comparison once the river level had subsided. And Internet, I've made a promise to myself that I'll try to keep my promises. So here's another picture, from today. It's still a little high here, but you can see how much lower the river is:



I wish I had something in the photos to give you an idea of scale. Trust me on this one - it's about a 2 foot difference. And check out the difference in water color. The rising river really stirred up the muck.

I'm really loving my camera. God bless you, Nikon. I'll never own another Olympus again; there just isn't enough booze in the world to cope with the shutter delay.

Hurricanes in Chicago

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Who would have thought that a hurricane would come to Chicago? Me, I always thought that hurricanes preferred palm trees and therefore would never roll into my great city. But then I remembered that someone in the Streets and Sanitation Department had the fabulous idea of planting palm trees at one of the beaches (North Ave., I think), and so then Friday made a lot more sense.

On Friday, I brought my camera with me to work with the idea of a downtown picture taking tour during lunch. Instead, I snapped these pics when I should have been working, so now I can call myself a paid photographer. That makes me a professional.

Far off in the distance, underneath those dark blue clouds, there's a high rise. And in that high rise, there is a condo that I lovingly refer to as my home in the sky. That condo has it's windows open, although you can't see that in the picture. These things happen because I don't watch the morning news.



Here's another picture of the storm, one that taught me to be very careful how I aim the camera. Other pictures had leaning buildings, despite Chicago being nowhere near Italy.



That black building on the right? The one with antennae? It's not a robot, it's the John Hancock Center. Here's another:



Unfortunately, I forgot to bring my camera outside during lunch (and if you remember, that was the whole reason why I brought my camera to work on Friday). Had I brought my camera to lunch, I could have shown you all a picture of a tour boat getting stuck on the Chicago River between bridges. The boat made it all the way from the Lake through the LaSalle St. bridge, but then the river rose so fast that it couldn't get through the Wells St. Bridge (the famous double decker bridge), and had to turn back. Here's a picture of the water level about 20 minutes after that event. Once monsoon season is over, I'll post a picture of normal water levels for reference:



I played around with the exposure in taking these pictures, but alas we have this fancy pants automatic lighting system at work. I couldn't turn off the lights, so the glare wreaked havoc on my poor little point-and-shoot. The sad little camera couldn't cope with artifical light all around it, while metering at a dark, dark subject.

In fact, it was so dark outside that my friend described it as spooky, which resulted in a texting debate over whether or not the anti-christ had been born. This, in turn, lead to two of my coworkers and me scanning Upper Wacker Drive for the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man. We wanted smores. Sadly, he was nowhere to be found.

Icky ICSI: Tell me what to do, Intertubes

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OK, this is not something to laugh at [PREPOSITION!]. This is something that has kept me up at night. I don't know whether or not I want to shell out $2000 for ICSI and I could use some new perspectives from y'all. The icky ICSI is where they take one sperm and inject it into the egg. It is done to make sure that AJ can penetrate (I hate that word) my eggs. Even in a petri dish, some sperm need a little extra help.



I was going to have this done because hey! why not stick it to the insurance company a little more, right? And since I thought it would be covered, and I didn't want to make a fuss, I just thought I'd go along with it and hope my kids would get lucky with their genome. What's more, it decreases my chances of having to do yet another round of IVF (and you know how much I LOOOOVE the needles). But I have to admit that I'm totally uncomfortable with the idea of ICSI. I mean, you just know poor Darwin is rolling over in his grave with all this IUI and IVF stuff. It makes me nervous.

And did you know how they choose a sperm for ICSI? They don't use the strongest, fastest sperm. Or the one that has the best genetic material. Nope. They don't even test for genetic material. They use the one that they can catch. The slacker in the spooge, if you will. As long as it looks fine, they nab it. And if it gets away before they can chop off the tail? Well, then they go after another of the 10 million swimming around. I swear I'm not shitting you. This is how they choose. It has nothing to do with finding the best sperm; rather, it's the sperm that is just sortof available. Screw survival of the fittest.

Me? Not OK with that. I'm not OK with how the egg is pierced, whereas in nature the sperm dissolves the cell barrier. What if it damages the egg in some way? And I'm not OK that the sperm's tail is chopped off, because what if there is some good stuff in there that mah bebbehz need? Internet, there have been no studies to show whether or not ICSI causes more problems than it solves.

So now I have to decide: Do I shell out the $2K and have ICSI done, so that 30-40% more of my eggs get fertilized, or do I go with the party in a petri dish method, where at least the sperm have to show a little of their stuff? I really, really, really don't know. And I welcome your thoughts in the comments.

Right now, I'm leaning towards letting the universe decide: I signed "no ICSI" on the consent form, with the knowledge that 1) I'll be appealing the refusal with my insurance and 2) I have some time to mull it over, even if they reject my appeal, 3) I can change my mind up until the day after I have my eggs retrieved, 4) if I decide not to do ICSI this time, and I don't have good fertilization rates, my insurance will probably cover it for the next IVF cycle, and 5) even if my insurance doesn't cover it for the next cycle, I'll feel better about upping my odds with ICSI as then I'll know at least that AJ couldn't get the job done somewhat naturally. Really, it isn't so much a money thing as it is a giving-my-child-the-best-genes thing. I think if my first IVF goes poorly, I'll feel more inclined to get more invasive.

I am not entirely satisfied with this approach, though. I just hope I'm not wasting my time and efforts because of a wierd, geeky preoccupation with evolution.

ICLW: The June Edition

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Internet, this is not my first ICLW, oh no. And it won't be may last, either. But you know what? I promise - I PROMISE - that this time I won't be the slacker who gets 3 days in and then forgets to comment, and then goes on a marathon commenting session (or not) to catch up. THIS TIME I will do my daily duty, I swear it.

In fact, I started my duty a couple of weeks ago. Last month, I saw that others had done the ABCs of Me meme to introduce themselves. I was impressed! I mean, that's a lot of things, 26. It's a real commitment, one that involves the letter X! So, to show all you out there on the Intartubes just how motivated and dedicated I am, here's the ABCs of Me. I had to start it way early because it took a lot of thinking. Because I'm not very interesting, and 26 is a lot of things. And Internet, if you read all the way to Z, then you soooo earn a gold star. But, um, even though you would have earned a gold star, you wouldn't receive a gold star, because I don't have any to mail you. Sorry.

In your comments, be sure to link to your blog so that we can find you!!!

Asia. I am an Asia-phile. I think Asia is the bestest continent in the whole wide world. I have more respect and admiration for Asian cultures than I can express in words, and hope to live somewhere on that continent one day.

Baby. I want one. Or four.

Cats. I have 2 and I've been their slave since they were 4 weeks old. They are 6 1/2 years old now, and I was recently told that they'll need to go on the "Senior" cat food in 6 months. I find that hard to believe. And a little sad and alarming, and I'm panicking a little. How could they be old?

Drugs. In my ongoing attempt to get knocked up, I have injected, ingested, or inserted the following: Metformin, Clomid, Follistim, Repronex, Menopur, Ovidrel, HCG, Prometrium, some other kind of progesterone, prenatal vitamins, Vitamin B6, DHA, DHEA, folic acid, baby aspirin, birth control pills, the sperm of 2 strangers, and I'll soon begin Lupron for IVF. I've also purchased pig placenta, but I threw it out (too gross), and I'm currently doing acupuncture (for ovarian response), sensory deprivation floating and (occasionally) light and sound machines (to reduce stress). Sometimes it seems so strange to me that there are people out there - real people - who get pregnant by having orgasmic sex. Seriously, it's true - I've even met some of them. As crazy as it sounds, people really do get pregnant after sex, and not just in wierd closed-off cultish communities, either. And you know what else? There are women who, when they find out they are pregnant, say things like, "OH MY GOD! HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?"

Eight. The next cycle will be attempt #8.

Floating. I do sensory deprivation / isolation floating once a week. I HIGHLY recommend it. It quiets the voices in my head.

Grrr. Sometimes I growl. But only when the situation warrants it.

Hooghly and Howrah. Those are my feline overlords. I named them after a river and a bridge in India.

IVF. For attempt #8, I'll be going for the big guns. Screw those IUIs! I spit on them!

Juju. I'm pretty superstitious, and I'm ok with that. It's odd; on the one hand I'm all about evidence and the scientific method and believing what is rational and logical. On the other hand, I carry a nazar and use the words "auspicious" and "inauspicious" a little too frequently.

Kerplunk. What a fun word, kerplunk. I'm considering buying the domain, and moving my blog to Kerplunk.com. The only down side is that the domain is on sale... for $30K.

Lake Michigan. I love the Lake, and spend lots of time there. In fact, I live across the street, and one of my favorite things to do is drink my morning coffee on the benches facing the water. It's food for the soul, I'm not even kidding. (The Lake, not the coffee.)

Musings. I am currently trying to move Musings to it's own domain, AKA That Damn Site.

Nifty. I used to say "nifty!" a lot, but now I prefer "neat-o!"

Ovulation. I have lazy ovaries. So I torture them with all kinds of drugs, and sometimes they respond.

Pottery. I have studied wheel-throwing off and on (more off than on) since high school. I started again recently because I needed a happy place, a place where I could walk through a door and no longer be an infertile single woman trying to concieve. TTC is so very one-dimensional; I needed a place where it couldn't consume me. I needed a break, if only for a few hours every week. Pottery has saved my sanity in the last few months, I'm not even kidding.

Quirky. I like to think that I'm quirky, but it could just be insanity. I'm ok with that.

RE. I switched REs because, while Dr. Hottie Pants was dreamy, he was not The Great Embryo Stuffer. The GES creeps me out, but hey! I'll take creepy RE syndrome if it means I have better odds.

SMC. I am trying to become an SMC, or Single Mother by Choice. When I started this process, I thought all I needed was sperm and a turkey baster. Well, 7 cycles later, I've learned that it takes a heck of a lot more than kitchen utensils.

Thor. My left ovary is named Thor. I thought a strong name like Thor would inspire it to, you know, do something. Apparently, I was wrong.

Ubiquitous. I like that word. You'd be surprised at how often it can be used in everyday conversation.

Vagina. (You knew this was coming.) It seems everyone has seen, discussed, analyzed and written notes about my lady business (including me). I really miss the days when a trip to the gyno was enough to put me in a bad mood. Now at my annual appointment I'm all, What? No dildo cam?

Winter. I'm beginning to think that summer will never come to Chicago.

Xu. Xu is a type of currency. I know this because I'm a proud Scrabble geek, and often use "xu" and other odd two letter words to MERCILESSLY BEAT MY OPPONENTS INTO THE GROUND. Xis is also a good X word, in case you need one.

Year. I've been TTC for about a year. I started the whole get-referrals-to-doctors thing in Aprilish of last year, first cylce was in October/November. It's been a long, long year.

Zygote. I'd like one or two of these, please. Thanks.

Forgot to mention

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Yes, I got my IVF cycle calendar thing on Tuesday, and I plum forgot to tell ya'll about it! I blame it on how disappointed I was that the clinic isn't guaranteeing me a gold-plated infant in 10ish months, even though my insurance is paying for one. Or three.

So here's the deets:

6/09: On the Pill, like a good little sexually liberated woman of the new millenium.

6/25: Pre-lupron ultrasound. Hello, dildo cam, my old friend!

6/27: Lupron-o-rama

7/9: Begin the wanding marathon. Thanks, PCOS!

7/11: Follistim is my friend. As in, the type of friend that makes me a cranky bitch. World: Consider yourself warned.

7/14: The big ovary check, maybe switching meds and/or dosages.

And now the whole intertubes knows what I know.

Armchair sightseeing

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Internet, are you having a boring Friday at work? Well, then, I say GO ON STRIKE. And do it the Google way: Go sightseeing, via Google Earth. I found this through Postsecret's Twitter feed, and linked through to Google Sightseeing. That is one very cool blog, and if you haven't spent hours going through the pictures, then head right on over there and start your strike.



The picture is from googlesightseeing.com.

Sticker shock

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On Tuesday, I had a wooonderful day, filled with two - TWO! - RE appointments. The first was at 10AM, and I had my uterus filled with saline, because apparently that tells all and asundry that my uterus is beautiful. And then the RE's office charged my insurance $1,790 and me $30. With a smile.

The second appointment was my ART consult. Now, while I am quite the pottery afficionado, if you are thinking that my ART consult was where I presented my portfolio to be professionally critiqued, you'd be wrong. I don't have a portfolio. Rather, this was where I was given a yellow piece of paper that outlined the costs of IVF, and was allowed to choke and gasp and wheeze and pass out for a few minutes before the nurse came in with my treatment schedule. Internet, I'm sitting here staring at that yellow piece of carbon copy that states - are you ready for this? - my IVF cycle - ONE cycle - is going to cost $17,145. And drugs are an additional $6,500 (approximately). Oh, and that doesn't include a few other things, like anesthesia and catheters and quality time in the recovery room and all those lovely ultrasounds and other what nots. I'm lucky: My insurance covers most of the exorbitance that is my future family, although I will be scrambling to cover a few things (and sending in appeals letters to my HMO) over the next few weeks.

Just for laughs, though, I'd like to walk you through a few of the more bizarre charges.

IVF Lab Prep: $195

I asked for an explanation of this charge, and was told that the clinic uses the most advanced procedures, and these require preparation. I thought about this for a moment, and asked that since my insurance doesn't cover the most advanced procedures, could I please use the second-most advanced procedures. The accounting chick just stared at me. I mean, seriously. IVF is done in a lab, right? So if I'm not doing some sort of black market, back-alley IVF cycle, then shouldn't the lab prep be included in the rest of the charges? I still don't quite understand.

Anonymous Sperm Third-Party Reproductive Management Fee: $100

I explained that I already own the sperm, and that it has been washed (they were dirty boys) and will be shipped to the clinic. I also pointed out that la insurance is already paying $650 for sperm preparation. Accountant gave me an indulgent smile, the kind that you give a child who asks a silly question, and slowly explained that the $650 is for preparing the sperm. This charge is for managing the sperm. See how different those two verbs are? One begins with "P" and one begins with "M." I asked her if managing the sperm involved goal setting and metrics and performance evaluations, and if the sperm perform above expectations, would they get a raise? And what if they prove unruly, or - gasp - unmanageable? Ok, I didn't ask that, because I didn't want to be all insubordinate. But still. What the hell are they doing with the sperm that costs $100?

HLAG: $650

I'm not having this done, and I have no idea what it is, exactly. I'm throwing it in here because it seems like the sort of insult that the swamp monster would hurl at an unattractive prostitute. And it would cost way more than my condo assessments, too.

Possibilities and milestones

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Right now, I have a 31.9% chance of a live birth.

If I have eggs retrieved, then I have a 37.2% chance of a live birth.

If I have embryos transferred, I have a 33.3% chance that they will implant. If I get to this point, I'm going to ask, plead, and beg for 3 to be transferred. If.

If I have at least 2.3 embryos transferred, I have a 51.8% chance of a live birth. If I make it to transfer with more than one embryo, I'll have a 24.1% chance of twins, and a 3.4% chance of triplets or more.

These are the statistics for the <35 age range, and I'm relieved that the 35-37 range are almost identical. I look at those numbers Every. Single. Day. I can't help it, I'm obsessed. Each day, I open up the site and click on my clinic and look at the numbers that I have already memorized. I say a little prayer that my ovaries produce mature eggs. Then I pray that my eggs and AJv2 will have themselves a rockin good time. After that, I pray that my embryos grow and can be transferred. And then I pray that they will implant like good little embryos (I've even considered bribing them with candy) and after that? After that, I just sortof shut down because I am afraid of the Evil Eye. I hold tightly to my nazar.

And at each part of my prayer, I think about the statistics, and I hope - I really do hope - that I am on the winning end of those numbers. In talking about this with friends, everyone just seems to assume that IVF is The Answer. It's like people think a BFP is the only option, because everyone gets pregnant through IVF. I've been around the IFosphere far too long to believe that, although I feel a certain confidence that comes from moving on from IUI (which, when combined with injectables, has a 15% success rate) to IVF (which begins with a 31.9% success rate). Rather, I keep thinking that if I can make it past each milestone, I'll have upped my odds. And if my embryos and I can make it to transfer? Well, if I can get all the way there, then I'll exhale. And I'll probably buy a bigger nazar.

July is going to sucks eggs

Don't forget to enter the giveaway!
You could win one of two $50 gift certificates to Auntie's Beads!!!

Remember when I was all bummed because I thought I'd have to take a month or so off before I could start an IVF cycle? How I thought I'd start the cycle in August-ish? And how I was wrong?

And then how I thought I'd be doing the cycle - like the big grand finale that involves the singular joy of a needle piercing my vagina - in August? Late August, to be exact, because The GES does retrieval batching. Retrieval batching, for the blissfully ignorant, is where you enter the RE's office, take a number, and then they call you to take your eggs and sell you bakery items. Sorta. I couldn't get in on the July batch because apparently all the numbers had been given out and I just wasn't quick enough on the draw, so to speak.

So really, I was originally scheduled to do my egg retrieval in August and I was resigned to it. I didn't like having to skip July, but the upside was that at least I didn't have to start the cycle in August. Also, I'd be on birth control pills for a monthish, so I could go get my groove on at a bar somewhere and not have any explaining to do a few months down the road. That was my plan: Frequent bars where men like big gals, and drink - A LOT - and maybe even go scuba diving as well. It was the silver lining.

But then I got to thinking about how if I've gone this long without any action, well, then, I suppose I could go a little while longer. And honestly, it's really expensive to go diving and I'd have to schlep all that gear out onto the middle of the Lake, and that is one hell of a lot of work on a hot July day. And those birth control pills are already giving me a queasy stomach and unprotected anything these days is never a good idea. (Just typing that makes me need Purell.) I decided that I didn't want to take a month off. I decided that I wouldn't be taking a month off.

So I called the practice manager at The GES's office. She was friendly and cheerful and downright chipper... and impressive in her upbeat maintenance of the schedule's status quo. Dammit. But hey! That only fueled my determination because this universe has let me down one too many times and it is about time that the Holy Carbohydrate threw me a little WIN for a change, you know what I mean? I'm just saying. Plus, um, well, there's that little thing called La Economy. I totally feel layoffs coming (again) and I needs me that insurance.

So at my baseline ultrasound last Tuesday, I totally played the pity-me-infertile card, complete with puppy dog eyes and a reminder of how long I've been trying and how much heartbreak I've had (spoken in a voice barely above a whisper, of course) and a downward, teary-eyed gaze at the floor, and then a mention of how my insurance may be running out, OMG.

And what do you know?

Night and day, baby. It was like night and frickin day. I may never know what, exactly, turned the tide. Was it the sob story? Was it how I batted my eyelashes just so? Or, was it the panicked look in everyones' eyes as I described how this cash cow might be heading off to pasture? Internet, we might be speculating on that for the rest of our lives.

But it doesn't really matter, does it? While I didn't get an Emmy for my performance (I was totally robbed), the end result is all that matters: They just somehow happened to find room for one more person - ME! - in the July schedule. So now my vagina will be punctured with a needle and my eggs will be sucked from my ovaries sometime in the last two weeks of July. !!!YAY!!!

(And my vote is on the potential loss of insurance coverage, but that's just me being cynical.)

(And, um... why does moving up my IVF cycle make me feel a desperate, overpowering urge to clean my condo?)

GIVEAWAY: 2 $50 Gift Certificates to Auntie's Beads.com

Bali beads. Swarovski crystal. Freshwater pearls. These are just a few of my favorite things! Ok, ok, I'll be a little more honest: These are just a few of the things that make my eyes glaze over and my backbone dissolve and leave me writhing on the floor in a pool of my own desperate longing. Because I'm broke. And because…. there are several readers out there who would shout, "UNFAIR" if I won a giveaway on my own blog.

Yep, you read that right: This month's giveaway is….. Your choice of loverliness from Auntie's Beads. And a whole lotta loverliness, too! The good, kind, generous people over at Auntie's Beads are giving Musings readers two $50 gift certificates to fill their hearts' content of beady num-nums. And Internet, have you seen that shop? They have Weekly Specials and - dear Noodly Goodness STOP ME - Clearance Sales. And Czech glass. And sterling silver. And gemstones.

Excuse me while I go burn my debit card. In the meantime, all you crafters out there: HAVE AT IT. The giveaway will be ongoing until precisely (because Iz likes ta be exact round these paaaahts) 11:59PM on June 28. That gives you two whole weeks to keep hitting the "LIKE" button on StumbleUpon, m'kay?

One entry:

Leave a comment on this post.

Two entries:

Two entries will be given for each of the options below.

* Follow or add Musings to your reader and leave a comment on this post saying that you have done so. If you are already a follower or have added Musings to your reader, leave a comment to let me know.

* Visit Auntie's Beads and browse. Pick out your favorite item and comment on it in the comments section of this blog.

Three entries:

Three entries will be given for each of the options below.

* Add this giveaway to Digg, StumbleUpon, Delicious or Facebook or the social networking site of your choice, then leave a comment saying you have done so. A tip: SocialMarker.com will let you add this to several different social media sites at once. 3 entries will be given for each add.

* Blog about this contest with a link back to this post, and leave a comment saying that you have done so.

Stay tuned boys and girls! I'll be tallying up all the entries and posting TWO winners here on June 29.

Facebook freakout

I suppose I was long overdue, you know? Pretty much everyone has had a Facebook freakout, and I was one of the last holdouts. It had never gotten to me. Of course, I looked for the guy I nearly married after college (how could I not?), and of course I have been contacted by a person or two whom I'd rather not get back in touch with. It hasn't been a big deal, not really. At worst, it's just been a little wierd to know too much about people who are now complete strangers. And I'm not a FB-addict, either; I could take it or leave it.

But it's like a six degrees of separation thing. For a while, things went along swimmingly in a who cares? kindof way, and then all of a sudden WHAM! I hit that special point of critical mass last week and subsequently learned that my ex-boyfriend, my very first love who broke my heart into a thousand pieces, is FB friends with a woman who once told me she expected me to become a crack whore after high school. Now I find myself wondering how long I can ignore the friend requests and I feel more than a little ashamed at my jealous outrage that those two should be friends. At least on Facebook.

And now I'm sitting here, even more ashamed that I even care. I don't, really, now that I have had three minutes to process it all. It was TWENTY YEARS AGO that he broke my heart and what? eighteen years ago that the crack whore comment was made? I mean, since that time my acne has cleared up, I've traveled a bit and I'VE HAD STRANGER SPERM INJECTED INTO MY UTERUS. In short, a lot - a very big lot - of stuff has happened. I'm happy with my life. And yet, out of the blue it's like I'm 15 again and I forget that I don't have to sneak out if I want to see a late-night movie.

It's times like these that I seriously consider deleting my FB account. It is just way too backward-looking.

My poor Howrah-Muffin

Internet, do us all a favor and shed a tear for my little Howrah-Muffin. She used to be the feral one of the two, ready to tear apart any rodent that dared cross her path. She could jump and balance and stalk to put the best of them to shame. Now... well, let's just say that her 6.5 years are catching up with her. Sadly, evidence is mounting that my little black one has used up all her ninja juice.

On Wednesday morning, I woke up to no Howrah. Internet, this was most definitely not normal. My Howrah-cat is my alarm clock. See, I set my phone to go off at 5AM, and if I don't wake up seconds before it goes off, Howrah will jump on me and nudge my chin. Then she gets all desperate for love, but really it's because she thinks if she doesn't butter up to me then I won't cap off the food bowl. God help me if that bowl should ever go empty, or so much as look like anything other than a mountain of sustainance. Howrah, as self-appointed Official Food Bowl Guardian, would lose her mind at the sight of an empty food bowl. And I would never hear the end of it.

Anyway, I thought maybe she was just hiding somewhere warm. You know, protesting that our weather says March when the calendar says June. I spent the rest of my morning calling to her. When she didn't meow back, I tried to convince myself that she was ignoring me (she does that sometimes); maybe I'd offended her somehow? I searched high and low, checked the balcony, and then left early to look around the neighborhood.

Internet, do you know that I live on the 8th and 9th floors? And that when I was searching in my condo for her, I felt sick - absolutely sick - when I noticed that I'd opened my window a little too wide last night? And that it's bird migration season?

But you know what else? I knew, I just knew that she was ok.

As I was leaving, I spoke to the doorman and let him know I was looking for my little black furball. On my way to work, I called the Humane Society, because she has one of those chip-things in her ear. Then I spent the rest of the day feeling sick and wishing I were home and trying desperately to concentrate on something other than my missing cat. I prayed that when I got home, she'd greet me at the door and demand kibble.

But when I got home, she was nowhere to be found. I went out on my balcony and started calling out Howrah-Howrah!, which by now my neighbors probably think is some sort of mating call for fatties. I heard a loud caterwalling meow, the kind that says HOLY SPAGHETTI HELP ME!, coming somewhere to my far left. It sent me into an absolute panic: She had climbed over to my neighbor's ledge, and was too afraid and freaked out to come back.

I dashed over to my neighbors house, and tried to explain what was going on to a man who clearly thought I'd lost what little sanity I'd begun my day with. P is a very very very patient neighbor; he even moved furniture so that I could dangle myself out a 9th story window to grab her. No dice, though - she was too far away.

Before I begged P to let me in (by the hair of my chinny chin chin - sorry, I couldn't stop myself), I'd placed my fan so that it blew out what was now my wide open window. I had hoped this would make Howrah remember where home was, and it worked. As I was leaning out of P's window, trying to nab my wiley fluffy muffin, she stopped and sniffed the air towards my window. And then Howrah calmly walked over to my window ledge and sat down. I ran back home, grabbed her, and squeezed the living daylights out of my Cuddly Schnookums. And that's when I let the tears come, because how could I ever live without my Howrah?

And you know what else? 15 minutes later, it was like the whole thing never happened. Howrah was sitting next to her food bowl, looking apalled at the lack of overflow.

Cats.

Fingers on Flickr

You might have noticed a few subtle changes around here, yes? No? Well, then I'm not going to tell you what they are, because clearly you haven't been paying attention to begin with. I will tell you, though, that said changes 1) do not involve searching for Waldo and 2) have to do with me getting this blog ready to export over to That Damn Site. We aren't there yet, but we are getting there.

One of the categories of posts that I've been trying to do over here, and that I totally am sortof committed to doing over there, is a funny Friday post. I think everyone can use a laugh at the end of the week, don't you agree? It doesn't even have to be laughing funny, just fun in the broad sense. Something to give us all a smile at the end of another 5 day slog. So Internet, if you have any suggestions of YouTube videos, websites, blogs, etc. that are especially good, send me an email at shansterbaby at gmail. I will, of course, give you credit and link back to your site. And in the meantime, I give you a picture from the Flickr group Finger People.

Thanks for the picture, Lost Star!

Acupuncture Barbie

If it weren't for the SMC-wannabe writing about her unfortunate incident, I would never have associated acupuncture with pig placenta. I would probably have gone to my appointment all excited, and not even a little nervous. Or scared. Or worried that at any moment I'd be presented with post-natal animal waste. Alas, life in my world doesn't always go that smoothly.

In fact, I spent my time in the waiting room trying to hide the nervous tic I'd developed under my right eye. I jumped half a mile when the door squeeked, sure that the noise was coming from some animal in the throes of labor. Thankfully, I was wrong. At least to the best of my knowledge. And, although I had to refuse suspicious-looking pinkish-red tea from the receptionist, once I met the acupuncturist, I was feeling a whole heck of a lot more relaxed. Until she stuck a needle IN MY EAR. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I wish I could confirm a social stereotype or two, but somehow that never seems to happen around Chez Fat Chick. Sorry. My acupuncturist was a darling woman named Mary, who had perfect skin (oh, how I wish I had perfect skin) and perfect hair and was lovely and not even a little bit Asian that I could tell. We talked about IVF, and past cycles, and all sorts of very descriptive lady business, then she felt my pulse and looked at my tongue and proclaimed that I had issues with blood stasis and damp. ??? And, um, I'm getting annoyed because Dr. Google just ain't helping me out. What does that mean?

Now, here is where I tell you the truth. This is where I tell you that other people had told me I wouldn't feel the needles go in. This is where I tell you that other people had told me I wouldn't feel the needles stay in or go out. This is where I tell you that other people had told me I'd sleep like a rock afterwards. And, Internet? This is where I tell you that OTHER PEOPLE ARE FULL OF SHIT.

I felt those needles go in, stay in, and go out. Not all of them, mind you. The one in my head and a few in my legs weren't really noticable. But the first few went in my ear - IN MY EAR - and oh boy it was like getting my ears pierced all over again. Except I've never had my ear canal pierced, so I guess it was nothing like getting my ears pierced. Rather, it was like HAVING A NEEDLE STUCK INTO MY OUTER EAR CANAL. You'd be proud of me, though: I didn't cry and I fought the overwhelming urge to rip that nasty from my head and run screaming from the room. I think I was able to deal because one of the spots on my ear, I have since learned, is for calming. Um, yeah. I needed that.

The ones in my hands, arms and legs were wierd. When they went in, and if I moved even a tiny bit, I had icky crampy feelings. It was manageable, though, and more of a surprise than real pain. But still. Internet, if you go in for acupuncture and you feel crampy wierdness, well then, you just remember that I was honest with you. Unlike other people, whom we now know to be full of shit.

And the neatest part: I felt swirly feelings under and over my skin. I can't describe it any other way than to say I felt all swirly. And then, when I was lying there with really wonderful essential oils rubbed on my nose and a masky-thing over my eyes, I felt my whole body throbbing. I told Mary about it and she simply shrugged, so I took that to mean I wasn't going to die or explode or spontaneously combust or alter cell phone reception.

The whole appointment took about an hour and a half and $125, and then I made my way home. Internet, I was so relaxed and happy and giddy (ear trauma notwithstanding), I was weaving down the street. I went for a couple of long walks to get some of the energy and giggles out, and then spent half the night barely sleeping, I don't know why. I just couldn't sleep well on Monday or Tuesday night, and woke up a million gazillion times. Does anyone have any suggestions for what I should do? Suggestions that don't involve pig placentas or questionable pink tea? Mary told me to tell her about any sleep pattern changes, so maybe this is something that can be fixed? I hope so. My next appointment is on Wednesday.

Oh, and one more thing: The next giveaway will be two $50 gift certificates to Auntie's Beads. I'm so wishing I could win that giveaway.

And thanks for the picture, Migraine Chick! And yes, I was thinking of PrincessOfTides when I chose that picture. :-)

Oink oink

Did I ever tell you about the time I bought pig placenta? No? I wonder why. I certainly didn't mean to leave this little tid bit out. I swear I wasn't hiding it. It was just that somewhere in between Dr. Hottie Pants injecting dye into my uterus and The GES squinting at me all pervy-like, it just didn't seem all that important. Strange how I could forget such a thing.

But then, about a month ago, another SMC-wannabe was freaking out about an acupuncture appointment gone horribly, horribly wrong. It involved pig placenta, and when I read about it, an absurd lightbulb went off in my head and I was all, "Hey! I bought pig placenta, too!!!" I did, I really did buy pig placenta in the hopes that it would make me a bebbeh.

Ok, stop right there, Internet: If you are laughing or shaking your head in disbelief, it's because you haven't had fertility problems, and I say SUCK IT. However, if you are laughing or shaking your head because you still have a slight rash from the yam cream or because you thought, "Hmmm, pig placenta. I wonder what Dr. Google would say about that..." then, please, continue on with your merriment at my expense. Because you Get It.

Anyways, onwards we go in my little pig placenta story:

Like any modern day woman going through fertility treatments, I visted a Chinese herbalist (of course I did, sheesh!) and was told that pig placenta would work wonders. When I asked the obvious question, like, how was I supposed to, you know, ingest it, the dude behind the counter went to the fridge, got out this red piece of squishy, took a knife and fork, and made himself a little snack. I about barfed. But I still bought it, because I didn't want to be offensive or rude or admit that my stomach was, for the rest of the day, floating up somewhere by my left ear.

And for those keeping score at home, I have now purchased the following bodily excretions:

1. Stranger sperm
2. The urine of post-menopausal women
3. Pig placenta

I'm still waiting for the RE to tell me I have to buy snot. And you know what, Internet? I probably would, too. Oh hell, who am I kidding? I'd go all over the Intertubes, shopping for the best deals and wondering if a) there was a coupon code out there and b) pissed off that my insurance didn't cover medicinal nasal mucus and c) wondering if one of my friends would be willing to share during cold and flu season. (And don't even get me started on how a stranger - an acquaintance of a friend - gave me my HCG shot one month. I was too afraid to give myself an intra-muscular injection, although I had no problem with racing - sans panties - at 10PM to a perfect stranger's house and dropping my drawers in her kitchen.)

But I digress.

I'm writing this gobbeldy-gook (spelling?) as a preface to telling you all about my very first acupuncture appointment, which was on Monday. The two are intertwined (rhymes with swine) in my head because of the SMC on the message board whose acupuncture experience was decidedly not kosher. But this post is already way long, and I have 17,000 dishes to wash. So you'll just have to wait until tomorrow for that story. And I promise, it has nothing to do with swine. It doesn't even rhyme with swine.

I made a tart!!!

Like I said, I love thrift stores. In fact, pretty much all mah stuffs have been purchased second-hand. Especially my kitchen supplies. My theory is that unless you keep kosher, there really is no reason to buy pots and pans new.

Or tart pans, for that matter. Behold, my perfectly good, never used tart pan, that I purchased, oh, about 6 or so years ago.



I think it has felt dejected, you know? I bought it in pristine condition, so obviously it's previous owners had the same intention as me: Look! I'll buy a tart pan and impress all my guests with my mad European-esque tart-making skillz!!! RAH!!! And then they bought the tart pan, a gleaming white ceramic tart pan, no less, and left it sitting in their pantry forever. Poor tart pan.

But hold on to your horses, Internet!!! I had a potluck barbeque to attend on Sunday, and isn't that just the perfect opportunity to make a tart? So I did. I took that gleaming white ceramic tart pan on it's maiden voyage, oh yes I did.

I went out and bought raspberries, because I decided the Brown Butter Raspberry Tart recipe looked so impressive (I mean, the butter was brown for Heaven's sake). Don't the raspberries look so yummy???



And I made the crust and placed the raspberries just so, but only after I read all about how to bake tart crusts because the recipe assumed I knew what I was doing.



See those little dimples everywhere? Those are from the black-eyed peas I poured over the crust before I baked it. Otherwise the crust would have risen. Internet, make a mental note of that: Use some sort of weight to make sure the crust doesn't rise. But you may want to consider a different option than black-eyed peas. The roasting peas made my kitchen smell like pie crust and Southern all morning. It was an odd combination.

But in the end, it all worked out:



The crust was a teensy brown, but thankfully not burnt. Although I did use tin foil when baking the tart, I think that next time I'll cook the crust until it's almost done. One other tip: Internet, if you are going to brown butter, let me tell you something. WATCH THAT BUTTER. It will be yellow for like seven thousand years, and then you'll look down to tell your cat that no, she doesn't get to eat all the raspberries, and then when you look up, the butter will be black and smoking and scorching your pot and maybe ready to explode. And then you'll have to go on a hunt for unsalted butter that is nowhere within walking distance from your home and you'll be really annoyed at a certain raspberry-eating cat. So do yourself and your cat a favor: WATCH THAT BUTTER.

And then enjoy your tart.

A white girl gone shoppin

As a white girl, I like Farmer's Markets. Alot. I like buying my produce from local farmers, and always make sure the food I buy is organic. I also like debating the relative merits of different types of lettuce, perusing through categorized mushrooms, and listening to buskers do their thing. It's a fun Saturday.

Luckily, Chicago has dozens, if not hundreds, of Farmer's Markets scattered around the city. A few weeks ago, I visted the opening day of the Green City Market. Now, I know I should have posted about this sooner, but, well, go here to see why it took a while.

Because the opening day was very early in the growing season, eating with the seasons meant that I had a limited number of options. Fortunately, they were tasty options, including purple asparagus. I'd never seen purple asparagus before, but let me tell you, it had quite a few people transported to Foody Heaven:



Pretty, isn't it? I love that the farmer had color coordinated her veggies with her tablecloths. And speaking of pretty: Doesn't this lettuce look like it could be a centerpiece?



I loved how alive and cheerful it looked.



Have I ever told you that I LOOOOOORVE the banjo? I wish I could play. No Farmer's Market would be complete without some tunes played on a banjo and... um, does anyone know what that guy is playing?



Here's a closer shot, to help you:



And then there was the yarn...



OH THE YARNY GOODNESS!!!



I am still drooling. But alas, I'm on a yarn diet, so I didn't buy any. I really need to get through my stash before I buy any more. Let me tell you, it was a feat of self-control, one for the record books.

Then there was the milk, and boy oh boy was it tasty. Much... milkier, for lack of a better word, than what I've had from the grocery store. I bought cream, because I'd planned on making a sauce.



With these babies:



They were the special ones, hand picked by yours truly, chosen from all of these:



And there was a little tastee testing, although the guy grilling this cheese was a jerk. Let that be a lesson to you, Internet. If ever you are at a Farmer's Market and come across a guy grilling cheese, don't ask for a picture. He'll get all snarky on you.



There were a couple of things I didn't photograph. Like the grass-fed, free-range lamb I bought, and the duck egg that was given to me by the man selling lamb. The lamb became stew that was DEEEEELISH. The duck egg? Well, that was Sunday's breakfast, or at least started out as Sunday's breakfast. I've learned that while nothing can rival Peking Duck for the top spot on my list of Favorite Foods, duck eggs.... well, let's just say that duck eggs are at the bottom spot of another list. Not mah thang, nope.

So Internet, let's here it: What's over at your local Farmer's Market? And seriously, what is that guy playing?!

I'm a Nikon girl

You know, I'm not very much into gadgets. Or things. I've always been a thrift store maven, content to go hunting for mah stuffs than to spend exorbitant amounts of moolah on this, that and the other, especially when this will be out of fashion in two hours and that has a planned obsolescence of three days (at best). Having said that, I have learned, via the Hard Way, that anything that requires electricity and has a "bought new" value of over $100 should be purchased at a store. (And don't ask why: You really, really don't want to get me started on the TWO computers I purchased used, back in the days when I was earning $13 an hour and budgeting down to the penny, literally. That is a bit of self-righteous indignation that we could all live without.)

Anyhoo, I had a father who was an absolute nut with a camera. He fell in love with photography back when he was stuck in Vietnam and found a warehouse full of unused photography equipment. Me, I discovered photography at about the same age, also living in Asia (but by choice, not by draft). I purchased (used - in Japan, everything works whether it's new or used) a lovely Nikon FA that is still taking amazing pictures 27 years after it was introduced into the marketplace. Internet, if you want a fabulous film camera, and don't mind searching high and low - and paying through the teeth - for film, BUY A NIKON FA. It's a gorgeous camera.

But as time went on, and my budget grew to include things like, oh, I don't know, a mortgage, and my hobbies grew to include, you know, a blog, it became apparent that the time had finally come for me to make the leap into digital. It was not an easy transition: I still don't have a DSLR, and I'd never heard of this thing called "shutter delay" until a friend gave me a term for the frustration I'd been experiencing for months. I never saw myself as the type of person who would have "brand loyalty" - even the thought makes me feel like a sheeple and I have to hold myself back from an anti-materialism, anti-consumerism, hating-on-the-conspicuous-consumption-of-my-age-group rant. However, there is simply no denying it: I love my Nikon Coolpix, and when I FINALLY buy a DSLR, it will be a Nikon.

[And hey! Nikon!!! If you are reading this, and, oh, I don't know, want to give me one, seeing as how I just loved all over your product line, that's cool with me!!!]

So, Internet, I guess you must be wondering why you never get to see my pictures? I mean, I promise you that I take them, I swear I do. You probably think I'm hiding, right? That my photography is so amateur that I don't want to embarrass myself? Well, you'd be correct that I am mortified when I look through them - I mean really, I'm in marketing - but the reason I rarely post them? Well, that's because I purchased a gazillion gigabite memory card. Which means that by the time I upload them to my jump drive, seven years has gone by since I've taken them, and I totally don't remember what or who or where they were anymore. Oops.

But if you've seen that damn site recently, you'd have noticed that pics are required for posting. So I'm going to try to be better. I'm going to upload photos regularly, so that friends can have copies of their kid's 1st birthday (before said kid is in college), and so that mah bloggity blog looks all purdy. In fact, I am working on a couple of picture posts today. YIPPEE!!! In the meantime, I leave you with a pic of my beloved Hooghley, who hates having her picture taken (I like to torment her whenever possible):

Yet another failed cycle

Remember last month? Do you? Back when I was certain that I'd get pregnant? Well, when I peed on that dreadful stick a month ago, the results could have been called The Great Steamroller of Misery, flattening all that could possibly be good and happy and sunshiny in my little corner of the TTC world. I was brought down low. And I'm not exaggerating even a little bit. Believe me, I wish I were.

This month? Well, this month I started spotting on Wednesday, and you know what, Internet? My first thought was all, "Hmmmm... Finally, I can have that pina colada." And doesn't that just sound like the absolute bestest drink in the universe right about now? Go ahead, Internet, click that link, you know you want to. It'll take you to an excellent recipe (although I like to get all creative with my PCs - sometimes I add vanilla, sometimes I add rose water, and most of the time I prefer a mix of light and dark rum).

So, it's off to IVF for this Fat Chick. It seems so surreal, you know? To have been trying this long and now going for the big guns. I'm beginning to regret all those test tube baby jokes I thought were hysterical back in the 5th grade. Who knows, maybe I jinxed myself? Ah well. At least tonight - since there is now no question about when CD1 came around - I can enjoy a nice frooty cocktail. Or ten.

Fonzie's been cloned

This would make me laugh a lot harder if her 80s hair wasn't so disturbing. And I loved that I couldn't decide what to title this post - I had way too many options, including "mullet with headlights."



Ok, one more, because I couldn't resist. This one has spinning and ninja bartenders and trench coats:

!!!STOP THE PRESS!!!

Internet, drop what you are doing and go right over to Two Hot Mamas and congratulate them!!! They have been through sooo soooo sooooooo much trying CRAPOLA that they could write a book, OMG. So go wish them everything wonderful and healthy and smooshy.

Isn't it so nice to know that this can work?

ICLWv5.09: The Results

Well, once again I totally blew my ICLW responsibilities. And I have no excuse, other than the usual: I suck. Even my results post is late! Sheesh!!! Someone, quick, grab a wet noodle and beat me with it. And as for the rest of you, Internet, go on over to these blogs and say hello:

1. The Pitter Patter
2. Staying Above the Water
3. Sticky Feet
4. Infertility is a Bitch
5. Baby Manatee
6. Two Peas Waiting For Our Pod
7. May the Road Rise
8. Jen's Farmily
9. I Just Want to be a Mom
10. Lifeslurper
11. Happy High Heels
12. All Grown Up
13. The Maniacal Mommy
14. Run Amok Amok
15. But a Moment
16. A Little Hope
17. Baby to Be
18. The Unfair Struggle
19. Tales of the Phoenix
20. Life in the White House
21. XTomi

Meme-o-rama: Crazy 8s or 8x8

Kristin over at Dragondreamer's Lair tagged me, like, eleventy-two years ago, and what am I if not a meme aficionado? So the rules are that I have to tag the person who tagged me, complete a list or 8, and then tag 8 other people (and let them know I tagged them). So heeeeere goes:

8 Things I Am Looking Forward To:

1. SUMMER
2. Getting that elusive double pink line on a pee stick
3. Learning to can jams and jellies (let's here it for ginger mint jelly!)
4. The Old Town Art Fair
5. Pottery studio time
6. 5:00PM
7. The stock market recovery
8. Movies in the Park

8 Things I Did Yesterday:

1. Commiserated with a colleague over some serious unfairness.
2. Commiserated with another friend because she lost her job.
3. Blogged about The GES.
4. Followed The GES's orders.
5. Read about extreme mountain climbing. I have a bit of the armchair extreme sports enthusiast in me.
6. Went for a walk along the lakefront.
7. Spent some quality time admiring the Chicago River and the bridges. I love my work's new building.
8. Procrastinated some more.

8 Things I Wish I Could Do:

1. Fly
2. Get pregnant
3. Go diving again soon
4. Buy a bigger condo, or at least sell mine and rent
5. Irish crochet
6. Take a year off and travel around the world
7. Keep my home neat and tidy
8. Pay off my student loans

8 Shows I Watch:

(Note: I only watch the first 3 regularly, the rest when I'm bored.)

1. Ugly Betty
2. Grey's Anatomy
3. The Alaska Experiment
4. Jon & Kate Plus 8
5. The Deadliest Catch
6. Private Practice
7. Little People Big World
8. Mythbusters

8 Favorite Fruit:

1. Avocados
2. Tomatoes
3. Apples
4. Strawberries
5. Blueberries
6. Raspberries
7. Blackberries
8. Bananas

8 Places I'd Like to Travel:

(Note: Only 8?!?!?)

1. The Maldives
2. Bali
3. The Philippines
4. Nepal
5. Alaska
6. Kenya
7. Turkey
8. Czech Republic
9. (Sorry, I couldn't help it) Bhutan

8 Places I've Lived:

1. Portage, IN
2. LaPorte, IN
3. Chicago, IL
4. Urbana, IL
5. Oakland, CA
6. Canterbury, England, UK
7. Sendai, Japan
8. Aomori, Japan

8 People I've Tagged:

1. The Frizzy Hooker
2. Two Hot Mamas
3. A Sense of Humor is Essential
4. Rainy Day in May
5. Neas Nuttiness
6. The Pitter Patter
7. Single Mommy by Choice
8. My Pathway to Motherhood

On to new beginnings...

When I decided to switch REs, I was sure that it would take me at least a month to get an appointment. I mean, it takes about 3-4 weeks to get on Dr. Hottie Pants' schedule, and this new doctor does three times the number of IVF cycles as Dr. HP. And since Dr. HP made me wait 2 cycles before trying IUI, I just assumed that the new doc would tell me the earliest I could try IVF would be, oh, say August-ish. I thought preparing myself for an unwanted wait was the wise thing to do.

Boy oh boy was I wrong. !!!YAY!!! Sometimes being wrong is the bestest thing in the universe.

I called the new clinic last week on Tuesday or Wednesday, and was given an appointment for June 1! As in Monday. As in YESTERDAY. Turns out I was a lucky lucky ducky; someone had cancelled their appointment right before I called. And the other shocker? I'm not going to be skipping a cycle at all; I'll start on birth control pills just as soon as the current 2ww ends. I'm supposed to go in on Tuesday of next week to get a blood test, just to be sure, and then it's off We go! (That's the Royal We.)

The new doc couldn't be any more different from Dr. Hottie Pants. Where Dr. HP is gentle, and soft spoken, the new doc told me he thinks acupuncture is bullshit. He actually said bullshit to me! Where Dr. HP is conservative and cautious, the new doc nodded when I told him I'd switched doctors because, at this point, I wanted an aggressive treatment protocol at a clinic with high success rates. He then launched into what he would do to whip my ovaries into shape. And then there is the Swoon Factor... Where Dr. HP is like totally melt-my-knees off the chart, the new doc, truth be told, kinda gives me the creeps. As in, he makes me cross my legs. And I'm A-OK with that.

Now I have to figure out what to call the new doc. I mean, once the creepster has seen my vagina once, I don't think he should be called "new" anymore, you know? And "The Creepmeister" is just mean, and I'm only mean on this blog to ASSHATS. My RE is not an ASSHAT. Given one other big difference between Dr. HP and the new guy - Dr. HP transfers, on average, 1.9 embryos, while newbie transfers 2.4 - I keep getting this mental image in my head every time I imagine the embryo transfer:



So I've decided to call him The Great Embryo Stuffer, or The GES for short. It has a certain ring, don't you think? It reminds me of gas, and, um, somehow... that fits, I don't know why.

I'll know more of what I'm going to be doing for the summer after Tuesday, assuming that I'm not pregnant now. I'm trying pretty hard not to be hopeful that it will work or panicked that it won't or ashamed that my insurance covers 4 egg retrievals and unlimited transfers, while so many have to pay for everything out of pocket. And I'm trying to make some changes to up my odds: I'm doing acupuncture starting next week (who gives a shit what some rich, smuggy RE thinks?), and I'm following my doctor's orders to get more exercise and cut out carbs. And I requested new Fertility Socks; while I LOOOOOVE my old ones, I feel like all the misery and failure has tainted them, and after 10 months without a bath, they are beginning to smell (but I swear I have only worn them while in stirrups; they've never seen the inside of my shoes because I was afraid the poor things would disintegrate when threatened with my sneakers).

So, to recap: New stuff all around. And you know what else is new, Internet? I think maybe, just maybe this might work.


Note: That video is NOT from China. The people are speaking Japanese ("O'Hairi onegaishimas!" means "All aboard please!"), and those are Japan Rail officials pushing. I don't know why it bugs me so much that the caption on YouTube says the video was taken in China, but it does.