Whine tasting

Warning - whining ahead. And if you keep reading, you're most certainly going to get a taste of it.

I love Christmas. I love the shopping, the decorating, the wrapping, the tree-ing, the whole festive lot. BUT...

There is much crappiness afoot during the holidays as well. Even something as simple as a stick of deodourant is almost impossible to pick up five days before Christmas. Stock up on your toiletries in November, otherwise you'll fritter your December away waiting in line to buy the damned Degree.

Not that I totally mind waiting in line. Yes, there are lots of people doing a substantially increased amount of shopping in a condensed period of time. I get that. I'm okay with that. I expect that. But I hate how it turns so many normally decent people into raging thunderwhores.

Rudeness abounds today and every day, but at this time of year when we're all supposed to be in good holiday spirits, why are people so god damned ornery? Seriously, what does it take to say thank you when I hold the door for you? Not bloody much, I suspect. I can do it, and do do it, on a regular basis. Get with the program, kids! Thank you won't kill you! Sheesh.

I got off on quite a good rant there, and that wasn't even the point of my whole post today. I have very specific things I'd like to whine about. Let's get to it, shall we?

My big pet peeve right now is customer service. I won't go off on another in store rant - we've all now been there and done that.

No, my whining today is thanks to the good people at calendars.com that just can't seem to get their freaking act together. And even though I have done everything right - I still lose in the long run.

The backstory - my mom has a french bulldog. She loves this dog. Last year I found, in some fluke planets-aligning type way, a french bulldog calendar for her, which she loved. When it was mentioned in passing a few weeks ago, she said she really hoped that someone had found it for her again this year because she was counting on it and hadn't purchased a 2008 calendar yet as a result.

Coming from one of the universe's most challenging people to buy for, I grabbed the hint and made it my mission to find this calendar for her yet again. I stumbled upon it last year - how hard can it be?

Silly diva.

It's danged near impossible to find a fucking french bulldog calendar in my neck of the woods. Believe me - I looked. Everywhere. And nothing. Now I know that as you're reading this post you may be thinking, "but diva! I saw one of those calendars at x store in x mall just last week!"

Yeah, if that's true, don't tell me, okay? Sometimes ignorance is bliss. This is one of those times.

So. I know that my mom really wants this and I can't find it anywhere. So I go online, look it up and can't find the one I want on calendars.ca. The gods have not favoured me so highly to actually grant me what I'm looking for north of the 49th parallel.

So I surf over to calendars.com and lo and behold, there's what I want. I hmmmed and hawed but finally resolved myself to purchasing it from our southern neighbours because mom wants it that badly. I order on December 11, and because my last day in the office (where I have everything shipped) is December 21, I elect to spend a small fortune, $32.96 to be exact, for expedited shipping.

That's supposed to get it here in two to three business days. I expect it will take a day or two longer at minimum thanks to customs, but I figure that will still be plenty o time to get that flipping calendar into my hot little hands.

Everything starts out okay. Order goes through and is actually shipped on the same day. Fantastic. I look online for a tracking number and can't find one, so I call their customer service.

And thus begins the whining. Why can't customer service people be competent human beings?

Now I realize that is a very sweeping generalization and that there are some fantastic customer service reps out there but come on. This was unreal.

First, the guy can't get me a tracking number. I ask why not? All packages have tracking numbers - that's kinda the point. Nope, we don't assign tracking numbers to packages going to Canada.

Sigh....diva says whut? Why not?

I don't know mam, we just don't.

I feel so much better now.

They can't give me any information at all on the whereabouts of my package. I'm told that it's only been four business days since my package shipped, so wait a bit and call back if it still hasn't arrived. Grrrr.....but okay. I still have time.

Tuesday rolls around. It's been a week and no package. I call back. I can't track my package, but I'm concerned. This is a Christmas present, and guess what - Christmas is coming and I ain't got no stinkin calendar! That, and I paid an extra $32.96 to have shipped here fast.

So he says he'll send me a new one. But there's no way it'll make it to my office by Friday, so we agree to ship it to my house on the off chance that it will get here on Monday, aka Christmas eve, aka just in time for mommy to unwrap it the next day. And this time, they even manage to get me a tracking number after I freaking well beg for one.

I'm waiting for my email confirmation of the items having been shipped and nothing. Nothing all day yesterday. So I go online to get the customer service number - which should be committed to memory by now - to find out what's going on. I look for an order number and hazzah! The items were shipped not long after I had the conversation with the customer service guy. And best of all - there was a tracking number! Woot woot!

So I fly over to the UPS website (don't even get me started on UPS - had I known they did the shipping I would have scrapped the whole thing before I began) as fast as my fingers can get me there. I enter the tracking number, and through the miracles of modern technology I can see the progress my package has made!

Too bad it was shipped to Suburbia, NY and not where I live, Suburbia, ON.

I kid you not. Order number two was a great mystery to UPS, 'cause when I called THEM and asked what happened, they told me there was no Suburbia, NY. No shit. And to make matters even worse, they couldn't figure out why delivery was being attempted in Dallas. And then Louisville, Kentucky. WTF?

I asked Mr. UPS if they could re-route the package to the correct address. He said he could if I was in the US, but because it had to come through customs the package was simply going to be returned to the sender.

In the immortal words of Nancy Kerrigan, 'why me?' I just want the stupid calendar.

Since UPS couldn't help me, I had to call calendars.com back. Again. If only I had frequent caller miles with these guys. I mean really.

I get a lovely lady on the phone who's new to her job (lucky me!) and tells me that it's such a challenge with the border now. Can you believe you need a passport to get into Canada, she says. Here, we can just walk across the border to Mexico. That's where my family goes to get the gold. For their teeth.

I seriously couldn't make this shit up if I tried.

Anyway, I explain my situation. She apologizes, and says that the guy that placed my order didn't change the country to Canada so it defaulted to NY or something like that. Lucky me. So they decide to send it out to me for a third time - and she promises that the address is correct.

I beg her to work hard to get me a tracking number again for this order. I want to be on top of where the package is so I know if I need to stick around the house all day on Christmas eve. I tell her that it's apparently not their policy to give tracking numbers with Canadian packages but to please, please do what she can to get one for me. Please!

Well you'll never guess what....

I've been watching my online account like a hawk and the order finally showed up as shipped...with no tracking number.

I swear, I give up! I've done everything right. I paid a premium for shipping to get it here in time. I've stayed on top of the orders and where they are, when I can. And I've been nice to all the people on the phone 'cause with the exception of the idiot who placed order number two, it's not their fault that their company can't get their stupid act together.

So now I have the joy of calling them for a fifth time tomorrow morning to see if I can get any additional information from them. I get to explain my situation to yet another poor shmo who would rather be doing their Christmas shopping than dealing with my french bulldog calendar.

Which begs the question, who wants to be me!?

I keep hoping upon hope that the first package, the one that has disappeared into the abyss, will magically appear tomorrow before the office closes at 1pm. I'm not holding my breath, but it is Christmas. Maybe this will be my Christmas miracle.

Yeah, right. But a girl can still dream.

Okay, end whine. Hope it didn't leave too bad a taste in your mouth!

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

What a weekend

Methinks in hindsight my doormat is a bit too prophetic.

I picked up this super cute coir mat for the front door at Winners way back in November. It sat in the corner until the appropriate day arrived for its joyful and triumphant installation. That day, December 1 finally came, and now a few short weeks later, I'm reaping what I've sowed.

My cute little doormat? Says Let It Snow in huge letters on it.

Yeah, no shit Sherlock.

That sure was some dumping we got in our part of the world. Funny, we were expecting it so much earlier, but all Saturday night we kept looking out the window and saying, that's it? That's the huge storm?

Yeah, shoulda kept my mouth shut until I dragged my carcass out of bed on Sunday morning. Like the sound of snow and ice pellets whipping at my window pane didn't give things away, one first early morning glance did it for me.

Fortunately we'd gotten our outside-of-the-house weekend activities accomplished on Saturday in anticipation of said storm's arrival. We went to the SprawlMart and picked up a few necessities, went to Hallmark to finally get our Christmas cards, and we even ventured down for lunch and a movie before the weather overtook us.

We had DeeDee with us this weekend which granted us instant street cred to hit the theatre and see Enchanted. I'd been wanting to see this one since I'd first heard about it. As a huge Disney fan, putting this on my must see list was a no brainer for me.

I went in with some rather hefty expectations and am delighted to report that it actually exceeded them in all areas. Great writing, good acting, a bit of animation, catchy songs (How Do You Knooooooooooow? Can't get it out of my flippin head), and some seriously humourous bits made for a very enjoyable watch. I'm very much looking forward to the day this one comes out on DVD and makes its way into my collection. Yippee!

Yes, I get excited about Disney movies. Anyone know when Beauty and the Beast is coming out on DVD? That's another must purchase the very day it hits the shelf...but I digress.

So after a very productive day we returned home and set to work on many a crafty project. Since I can't call to the animals to assist me in such tasks like Giselle can (oh to lean out a window, sing a tune and watch the woodland creatures flock to your aid) I was forced to suck it up and toil on my own.

I put together a photo collage for my mom from my sisters and I, I painted a decorative box to give to my new niece, DeeDee decorated the gingerbread house as assembled by Hubs, Chief Engineer, and then we wrote out and addressed 40 Christmas cards.

By the time midnight came around, I'd put in one hell of a productive day, so I stumbled upstairs for much needed rest.

Sunday we slept in a bit (can I just say how much I love not waking up to an alarm clock? That is seriously good shit) and then I channeled my domestic diva and baked up a storm indoors while Mother Nature did the same all around us. We put the Sirius holiday station on yet again much to Hubs' chagrin (the poor boy can only take so much holiday music until the repetition grates on him), DeeDee sat at the table and did a craft project of her own, and I forged ahead and made four different recipes of Christmas goodies.

Some worked out beautifully, some...not so much. Yeah, macaroons are much better when they're chewy throughout, and not just in the middle. Something tells me they're not supposed to crumble and crack like mine do. Alas, lesson learned. It's been a long time since I've allowed the kitchen diva in me to surface.

Now I'm remembering why.

Not all was lost, though. I made a most fantastic batch of chocolate mint (Hubs' favourite flavour combo) cookies that, in my most humble of opinions, are simply to die for. This will be a repeat performance later this week as we await the arrival of the fam for the holidays.

Yes, this weekend was all about being a test kitchen. Trying out new recipes, seeing what worked, learning to avoid what didn't, and deciding which items to attempt once again and which ones should migrate to the very very back of my recipe cupboard.

I do have one. A recipe cupboard. Hard to believe, but it's true.

Baking pretty much dominated my entire Sunday. Before I knew it it was 5pm and time to think about dinner. Of course after six hours of baking the last thing I wanted to do was more cooking, but I managed. Woe is me. Poor domestic goddess. Slaving away at the stove of injustice.

Yeah, that'll be the day. I think this was the first time in eons that I was actually responsible for crafting an entire meal. I therefore have no room whatsoever to complain. But my feet did hurt after standing all that time. They did!

Last night there was nothing worth watching on television, so we ordered Blizzard on TMN on demand. Riveting. Damned writers strike. I NEED to know what happened after the tornado on Desperate Housewives. And where was my Amazing Race? It's already been flipping filmed - no need for any piddly writers strike to affect my viewing pleasure, yet there I was, Sunday night, cruising aimlessly through my on screen guide, nary a reference to the Race to be seen.

Grrrr....

Which brings us to today. Every second Monday Hubs drives DeeDee back across the universe to school. Which means I have to take the bus to catch my tin can chariot of germs. A diva shudders.

So I bundled up and left my house early, knowing it would take me extra time to reach the bus stopped in our unplowed state of disarray. Missing the bus simply won't do, and despite all the snow I made it with plenty of time to spare. And plenty of time to stand outside and get nice and cold. Goodie for me.

Then the train was 10 minutes late. I finally got inside and it was no warmer in the tin can than it had been outside!!! Well maybe it was a bit warmer, but you know how much I thrive on hyperbole. Regardless, I spent the entire looooong train ride into the downtown core freezing in my nice warm peacoat and super fuzzy boots. Not cool, not cool.

At long last I made it to my office, two hours and 15 minutes after I'd departed my nice warm home. I took off my coat and boots, and sat down in my chair in my freezing cold office.

Today, I'm doomed to be cold.

But today has become tonight, and in an effort to warm up, I will sign off and head upstairs to cuddle with my furnace of a husband. And finally, FINALLY, after a long chilly day, I'll be nice and snuggly warm in the arms of my Hubs.

Now, if only I could stop him from snoring I could be warm AND rested...

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

A taste of my own medicine...

So. I like technology. I enjoy the internet and all it has to offer. I shop online, I planned my wedding online, I have a MySpace and Facebook page, and I live on message boards. Two, actually.

I've been on WB for almost two years now. It's become a sizable part of my life. I've met some great people there - both just virtually due to geography and in person where our locations permit. I talk to these people on a daily basis. I see some of them on a weekly basis. I commiserate with them, get cheered up by them, and get great ideas from them. It's incredible to me just how important me being a part of the WB community has become in these two years.

As such, I spend a considerable amount of time on my cute little iBook. I sit on the couch, turn on the tv, and multitask. I'm a champion of the multitask.

Over time, Hubs has become increasingly disenchanted with my online presence. He was concerned that I was spending more time chatting with other people than actually interacting with him during our time together. I explained to him why my virtual world was important to me - that especially where the infertility issues were concerned, it's a bona fide lifeline. Keeps me sane.

And sane is good.

He understood a bit better...but it didn't really change his great dislike of all things WB related. I told him that I would pull back a bit while at home and would make a more concerted effort to spend quality 'us' time together. Compromise is key, yes?

So. I pulled back a bit. Things were better. And two days later, he was sucked into the void that is World of Warcraft (WoW).

Sigh.

I've lost my husband to his PC.

At least when I was surfing the net, I could do it from the same room as Hubs. We were watching tv, sitting on the same couch, able to have conversations and interact with one another.

His new addiction has him in a completely separate room for hours on end, usually at the other side of his sassy new headset so he can chat with his WoW buddies and play alongside them. It's now 9:40 and he's been on that computer since just after 7pm. I just had to remind him to call DeeDee.

Well, if nothing else I can type this blog entry in peace.

We'll see how long this level of commitment to the game continues. I'm hoping it's one of those things where the novelty will wear off a little bit. That the shine will eventually come off the rose. And that my husband will rejoin me on the couch to watch tv while I hold up my end of the bargain and compress my online time.

Guess you'll be able to tell how that all works out by the length and frequency of my blog posts and WB entries. Wanna take bets?

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Yes, I'm alive.

But dead tired. The past few days have been insanely busy and I'm not sleeping all that well. Boo-urns for me.

I wanted to drop in quickly to say hello, check in, let you know I still have a pulse, and promise to write more on my latest escapades tomorrow. For now, I must try to get some sleep. After a back rub from Hubs if he's up for it... :)

Oh yeah...if you've sent me a PM recently on WB regarding Dirty Dancing, I tried to answer you but you're set up to not accept private messages. I just wanted you to know that I'm not ignoring you!! Feel free to email me at the address on the right panel of the blog and I'll send you the info you're looking for!!

Okay, that's all the steam I have. Hope everyone is well and preparing for the holidays in true diva style. Me, I just keep buying presents for OTHER people. Very strange. Outside my comfort zone.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Third time, she ain't no charm

Howdy y'all.

I'm tired today. My eyes are puffy since I did me a good deal o' cryin'. With all we've been through, I figure I'm about due a sad country song all my own. Guess that's where the twang comes from. The title of my song? Third time, she ain't no charm. It's got number 1 written all over it, ain't it?

Yep, IUI #3 failed. Officially. Nail in the coffin of my last chance to have a baby before I'm 35.

How much fun is it to be around me today?

Sigh...

Actually, I knew it was coming, so it wasn't as bad as it's been in the past when my little friend hope was actually in the picture. I had almost none of it this time which meant I didn't have as far to fall.

Then I got on the phone with my fertility clinic, and thus began what will go down in the annals of history as the shitstorm of December 10.

So. I knew I was taking a break this cycle. I would normally go for the IUI on day 15. Today is day 1. Today is December 10. So add 15 days to December 10 and it's not rocket surgery to determine there will be no IUI on December 25th. Okay, fine.

BUT...I now officially hate my clinic. I'm leaving. I've had enough.

So yes. Taking a break this cycle. My choice. Good. I still wanted to do day 3 monitoring so I could check on my cyst. When the nurse called with my beta result (negative, of course) and to book the appointment she said okay, and we booked.

Then she called back and said she's canceled my appointment because I won't be doing a cycle and since it's not full cycle monitoring, they can't bill OHIP for the bloodwork and ultrasound. I'm supposed to call back on day 1 of my next cycle in January and they'll check for the cyst then, aspirate then if they have to.



The whole point of this being a rest cycle (in my mind anyway) was to get rid of the cyst and let my body rest, cyst free. So my hormones could take a breather, and all should be better so we can move on in January.

Nope. They won't do it.

Then get this. She told me I should relax for the holidays and give my body a rest from all the hormones. That being relaxed will help me get pregnant. That I'm still young and have lots of time. And have I tried anything else? Like acupuncture? That a rest is good and I should investigate and learn about every option available to me.



Condescending much? Now I realize that this may sound like sage advice to those of you reading right now who are not facing/have not faced fertility challenges. But let me assure you - the things she said to me pretty much round out the top five most annoying things you can say to a person experiencing infertility. Take notes. Remember these words. And NEVER utter them to a friend or family member who's having trouble conceiving. You have no idea how much it will be appreciated.

Yes, I lost it. I told her that if they have actually convinced themselves that they're thinking about what's in the patient's best interests, they're sadly mistaken. And you know what she said? Since you've been so unhappy here, maybe you need to look for a new clinic. I know this is convenient because you work in the building, but maybe you need to go somewhere else.



Trouble is - she's so right. It just took me this long to see it.

Why would I stay there when they treat me like crap? And I pay for the fun of it all? I think location be damned...it's time to try somewhere new. I told her I was astounded that she'd actually suggest that, that her supervisors probably wouldn't be too happy to hear her saying such things. I also explained that there are some serious patient satisfaction issues there, and that I'm not the only one who is dissatisfied and considering leaving. I told her that they have a long way to go in improving things, and I wasn't going to be their guinea pig any longer. I've emailed a colleague and asked her for another suggestion. I'm ready to get the hell outta there.

Sigh.

As if having Aunt Flo show up (early) on my doorstep wasn't bad enough. Now I have to deal with another month of uncertainty and no progress.

And have I mentioned this was my last chance to have a baby before I turn 35? One more milestone crossed. Lucky me.

So that was my shit-astic day in a nutshell. The good news is that it's over and done with, and I'm starting to feel a sense of calm about a new beginning. It'll suck to lose the convenience, but it will rock to get some of my emotional stability back.

Hell yeah.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

No one puts Baby in a corner.

Such a classic line from a classic cinematic gem of the 80's.

Yes, Dirty Dancing will always hold a special place in my heart. It, along with La Bamba, was the first movie we ever rented to be played on our sassy new Betamax VCR. Not a rental - we owned that puppy. In fact, my parents still have it somewhere in their house. Must be worth something these days for the nostalgia buffs...but I digress.

It was the film that made everyone fall in love with Patrick Swaze and long to go on summer vacations to resorts with their parents. You felt the anguish of Jerry Orbach's disappointment when Baby let him down. You felt the flash point chemistry between Patrick and pre-nose-job Jennifer Grey. You learned all the words to Hungry Eyes and She's Like the Wind and tried to dance like the Kellerman's staffers in your parent's basement during sleepovers.

Well okay, maybe that last part was just us, but you get the point.

So why am I talking about this decades (yep, 20 years!!) after the movie was released? Because I went to see the stage production last night (hence no blog post - got home after midnight) and I had the time of my life. Pretty much.

CJ had bought tickets for us to go for my birthday which was a fantastic gift. We picked the date in August and she booked the tickets not knowing that three days after the show, she'd be packing up and moving 200kms away. Excellent timing on her part as it gave us a chance to hang out one last time before she's gone.

Now, I think we can all agree that the show is inherently cheesy. Part of its charm, really. At least it's the good cheese, and not the festering, smells like dirty socks cheese. We can all take comfort in that. So despite everything, I was actually okay with the cheese quotient in last night's performance.

The problem? It's not Patrick Swaze or Jennifer Grey up there. I've seen the movie so many times that it's impossible not to project the screen actors onto their stage counterparts - and only be disappointed when they simply can't measure up. So you really have to let yourself go with this one, enjoy it for what it is, and sit back, relax, and relish a nicely cut boy in tight pants with or without his shirt on. Yum.

The acting was...okay. A bit too much enunciation for my liking, especially for a casual offering. But that's the musical theatre snob in me. The dancing was fantastic, how could it not be, and the singing was actually quite good as well. Canadian Idol Melissa O'Neill had a featured singing role and I was very pleased that my original (positive) impression of her was affirmed when seeing her in person. That girl has some serious pipes! Good on ya!

From a vocal perspective, the real star of the show was the male vocal lead, who also played Johnny's cousin (you know, the guy that she took a watermelon from?). Dag, can that boy sing. Sweet holy shit he's talented. And that's some high praise coming from me 'cause I really rake them over the coals when I go to the theeeaatahhhh.

Best part of the entire show was the ending. And I don't say that in a tongue in cheek kinda way, I sincerely mean it. That dance number at the end, the one that begins right after that famous line in this post's title is uttered, was incredibly well done. The air was electric - seriously! Everyone was chair dancing and trying not to sing along, but failing. Very cool, very cool indeed.

Cue applause, everyone bows, and the music keeps playing. I throw on my coat, clap myself out of the theatre, say a quick but somehow meaningful goodbye and good luck to CJ, then I make a run for the subway so as to ensure I catch my GO train home. Which I did - fret not.

And to complete the streak of good things, I had a wonderful lunch with one of our people today, had not one but TWO Starbucks lattes (yee haw!) and got to finally catch up on Heroes and Private Practice since my flippin week had been so busy. Now I'm shuffling off to bed 'cause I'm tired but wait - I don't have to get up early tomorrow morning!

That's right, I took the day off. I plan on sleeping late, wrapping Christmas presents, watching trashy tv, and hanging out in my pj's until about 6pm. I'm desperate to just get some rest and hopefully get this freakin cold out of my system once and for all.

Sorry to those of you that have to trudge off to work tomorrow - I'm not trying to rub it in or anything. I'll think of you all as you're heading to the office...if I happen to be awake around that time.

Enjoy!!!

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

You'll never believe it...

I'm getting sick again.

Yes, you read that right. I can't freaking believe it. I finally got over the last one, and here I am again, riding the express train to Snotsville. Sucks.

I can't make it a long entry tonight 'cause, well, I have nothing left in the tank. Except snot, that is.

So, to recap the past few days. As you well know, Hubs' Christmas party was this weekend and since I'm sure you were all concerned, I am pleased to tell you that I did manage to solve my wardrobe crisis at 10:30 am on Saturday morning. We left at noon. Phew!

I found a very festive holiday top that hides almost all of my figure flaws (no small feat), paired it with an existing slimming black skirt and some fab black pumps and I was the belle of the ball. Well, not really, but I felt pretty darned good and that's a big thing for me! So yay me.

The two and a half hour drive home turned into four hours thanks to the wrath of Mother Nature. We picked DeeDee up at her Nana's place, then came home to find that my stepbrother and sister in law were in town and stranded temporarily as the windshield wiper motor on their car went. Can't get home in this weather without wipers!

So we put them up chez nous as there was no room in the sisterly inn. It was nice to have them here - they're good folk and I always like showing off the house.

Got up this morning and our town was transformed into a skating rink.

I don't skate.

Hubs was supposed to take DeeDee back to her mom's in time for school, but that was put on hold until the salters and sanders had their wicked way with the icy roads. We tried to leave, but one step out there and I knew I was going to have a tough time making traction. Into the house we returned, made breakfast, and waited it out.

I finally made it to work just before noon and proceeded to get a bunch of stuff done. Managed to stay in touch while I was on the train as always, thanks to my sassy new BlackBerry. I had one before, but it was neither sassy nor new, hence why this one bears mention. She's so pretty. I just love looking at her... Hey, cut me some slack. If I can't have a baby I at least deserve to make ga ga noises about my beloved Crackie.

Got home from work and knew that another bout of this season's finest virus was taking up residence yet again. No rest for the wicked however - I had a project I needed to complete and it took hours. From the time I got home at 6 to 10pm. I am very pleased with the end result, and am downright elated that it's done.

Which brings me to right now. I'm sniffly, I'm sore all over, and I'm just downright exhausted. So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to haul my post-nasal-dripping carcass up our stairs and straight into those luscious chocolate brown sheets. Nighty nite all!

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Is it Friday yet?

Is it just me, or has this week seemed really super slow? I actually find it very hard to comprehend that it's only Wednesday. It just plain sucks to think hey, it's already Thursday and then booooo...nope, still Wednesday!

Not sure why this week is so bad. I mean, it's been crazy busy at work which makes the time go by quickly in a normal, regular, week. I didn't get home from a work event last night until after 11, hence the lack of blog post. Apologies, but I just didn't have it in me, ya know?

Today was also a busy day. Had a swank lunch with some great people who are involved with us. The lunch went really well, and I had a delicious piece of beef with blue cheese and roasted garlic. Yummmy! It's haunting me now though...stupid garlic. I just don't process the stuff very well. Good thing Hubs has no sense of smell!

That's enough on that subject.

So tomorrow's Thursday. I like Thursdays. They're paydays - at least every second one is, and thank all the stars in heaven tomorrow happens to be one of them. It's time to buy next month's GO passes as my November one ends, obviously, after Friday's trip home. The joy of December is that I get to buy ten ride passes as opposed to a monthly pass - 'cause I'm taking two weeks off for Christmas holidays, and I can't freakin wait! Don't need a pass to stay home!

And to even sweeten the deal, the lovely Camilla has offered me her TTC pass for December after her last week with us is done. And she won't take a penny for it, bless her London-bound heart. Here's for saving some much needed cash for the increasingly expensive holiday season!

Friday morning I'm going to see the fabulously talented David to get my coiffe updated. It's a shambles these days, so it's well overdue. I'm actually going to get it coloured too for the first time in a long time. I'm sick of seeing the gray hair every time I check myself out in the mirror. I will therefore take matters into my own hands and throw myself on the mercy of my hair dresser. He shall deliver, and I shall emerge with a fantastic new do.

It couldn't come at a better time either as Hubs' company Christmas party is this weekend. In London. Ontario, that is. But still...we now have to hoof down the highway for this fete that Hubs has yet to give me any salient details on! All I know is London. I don't know dress code, time it starts, where it is, what hotel we're staying at, nothing.

Uh, hello? How is any self respecting diva supposed to prepare to meet her husband's entire company for the first time without a stitch of information to go on? Sometimes I'm convinced men and women really are from different planets. In my world, we get details. We made decisions based on these details. For example, I have no idea whether I need a new party top to go with some elegant black pants (who needs an excuse to shop?) or if I should pull one of my holiday-esque dresses out of isolation and put them back into circulation? These things don't just happen overnight. Sheesh.

We have DeeDee with us this weekend, so Hubs will pick her up on Friday and we'll put our tree up while she's here. Then we'll take her to spend some quality time with her nana while we're on our trek to London for this mystery party, and pick her up Sunday morning. Gotta love Hubs' mom. For so many reasons, but she's so good with DeeDee. They have a great time together, and there's never a moment's hesitation if we ask her to help us out. They'll watch old movies, do some knitting, and just enjoy that intergenerational bonding.

So that's what's coming up in my world. Maybe that's why the week has seemed so long - not only has there been lots going on so far, but there's still so much more to come before the relaxin' can start. Sigh. 'Tis the season, I suppose.

Ho, ho, holy shit I'm tired already.

And that's our daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Just another crampy Monday

Better than manic, I suppose, but what can you do?

Yes, I had another attempt at the whole babymaking thing on Sunday. Goodie for me. Only cost us $400 and a $60 parking ticket 'cause the idiots changed the parking rules on the street. I'm super pissed off - you have no flipping idea. I'm going to court over this one, that's for sure!

Anyway, rest of the weekend was good. Taco (Hubs' friend) was here for the weekend, so while they geeked out I did everything in my power to make myself scarce. Hung out with my mom and sister (and the new baby) on Friday night, went to lunch with the gals on Saturday, did some Christmas shopping, then met the boys at the movie theatre to catch No Country for Old Men.

Okay. I hadn't heard anything about this movie and, uh, I think that was good. I went along 'cause I'll almost never say no to a flick. Evidently it's time to rethink that rule.

The movie was...interesting. Very slow in parts, glacial actually, but the cinematography was incredible and what they didn't show you on screen was at times more compelling than what they did. The villain was terrifying, altogether too good at what he did, and damned near indestructible. Sinister, through and through. Tommy Lee Jones' character was very well written, but still...there were times when I was glancing furtively around looking for an object just sharp enough to begin the wrist slitting. Crazy how one film could waffle so much.

What was enjoyable was the fact that this is definitely a film that appeals (at least at 4:45 on a Saturday afternoon) to an older crowd. No 16 year old long haired emo kids out on the town with their junior punk posse, no. This was an adult flick with nothing remotely of interest to the under 18 crew. Which meant that there were no snickers, no giggling girls, no cell phones, no bright blue lights from same said cell phones as txt msgs came in, no barking out random words to make your vapid friends titter with laughter. The absence of all the above made just being there that much more enjoyable.

Sunday morning came too early. Up at six, at the clinic by 7:30, out for breakfast, back to the clinic for 10:30, home by after 12:30. Then it was straight to lunch at my sister's with my mom and two aunts, which I was able to enjoy for a relatively short time before the aforementioned cramping took hold full force. And hey - there are only so many cute baby presents being unwrapped by someone other than me these days that I can physically stomach.

Not that I begrudge her, but still. Not six hours before, I had a sperm filled catheter unceremoniously threaded through the tiny hole in my well hidden cervix in an attempt to get what she has. So you can imagine that I'd be a bit sensitive about all things baby at that particular moment. Or at least I hope you can. Otherwise I'm just a maladjusted, self-indulgent bitch who thinks about no one but herself. And I really don't want to be that girl.

Rest of the day the crampiness continued and by 8:30 I'd had enough. So I went to bed. I think I was anxious to get there not only because I felt like crap, but because I knew I had a freshly laundered, first time on the bed set of 450 thread count chocolate brown sheets to slip into, courtesy of that wonderful sister in law of mine.

I must say - chocolate brown sheets are super sexy. Not sure if that's just 'cause there's an automatic association in most female brains between sex and chocolate, but either way, they're luscious. I highly recommend you go out and get yourselves some. You can thank me later.

More cramps today, but nothing too earth shattering. Hope they pass.

And so to further that effort, 'tis time to bid you a fond farewell so I can slip upstairs and into those sexy sheets beside my probably-already-sleeping sexy husband. Not that he'll be feeling the power of the sheets.

Why not, you ask?

Two words: progesterone suppositories.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Let's talk tv, shall we?

So yeah, I love my telly. No big surprise there. But wowie zowie has there been some great stuff on the small screen this week!

First - the Bachelor. Jeebus. Who ever expected him to not pick either one of them? WTF? Sorry if I've spoiled it for anyone, but hey - if you were really jonesed about it, you'd have found a way to watch it by now, so there. I laugh now, 'cause everyone is calling him this huge player that only wanted publicity for his bars. Wow, how quickly the tide of public opinion can turn!

I actually thought he was a pretty decent guy. He never really looked comfortable in his role as hot man stud dating 25 women but then again, who should? But to just dump both of them? After having such an apparently strong connection? That's right rough, yo. I mean, he totally could have dated either one of them. No need to dish out the bling, just go for ice cream or something. Sure did look to me like he had some kinda feelings for these girls...maybe that's just the magic of television.

Then last night was Private Practice. Anyone else really starting to love this show? The characters are so well written, the story lines are really starting to get juicy, and the Taye Diggs without a shirt sightings sure do keep me coming back for more! Yowza! He's some yummy.

I also find it interesting that they talk about infertility stuff. Not that I necessarily want my own challenges flashed back in my face, but still...there's something surprisingly reassuring about seeing it actually brought to the 'mainstream' on an increasingly popular prime time television show. Hubs thinks I'm crazy to continually subject myself to all the babies on the show but meh. Yeah, it sucks. But so does life sometimes. At least it's fake, and I know that. Life is all too real for me most days.

Then Grey's Anatomy tonight. Won't go into too much detail in case you haven't seen it, but generally speaking, watching that wife and her reaction to her hubby...I was in tears. So sad. Never used to react to things like that. Guess that's what happens when you actually love someone and can put yourself into that position all of the sudden.

And the ending! Again, won't ruin it, but man. That's the kinda of writing I've come to expect and has been sorely lacking over the past number of episodes. Can't wait for the next one...and to me, that's the sign of a danged good show.

Okay, so this hasn't been a very exciting post, but it's all I've got right now. I'm tired, I can't wait to get to bed, and I have to be up super early for another clinic appointment that, quite frankly, I'm terrified about, 'cause if things don't go well it might be the end of this cycle and $1,000 worth of fertility meds down the proverbial drain. I don't know about you, but I ain't got that kinda cash to flush. More on all that tomorrow.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

A diva sniffles...

Apologies again for my absence. Has been quite the few days. I've spent most of them behind a kleenex, attempting to de-snotify mineself. Good times, good times.

Yes, just after conquering the great labrynthitis outbreak of 2007, I have again succumbed to some type of bug and have now reached official status as mucous factory.

Sniff.

It all started Saturday night after I got home from a day of wedding dress shopping with the sisters in law. Not for me obviously, my time has come and gone, but Hubs' sister is recently engaged and she found an incredible dress that looks fantastic on her. My other sister in law (my Wonder Twin of all things wedding planning) and I did an excellent job in convincing her that the Maggie Sottero she fell in love with was indeed worth the cash.

She put her deposit down yesterday.

I was feeling fine all day, but as I said by evening, my throat was sore. I looked at Hubs and said, "I'm getting sick." He told me I had just finished being sick, and to go take some echinacea or something to try to ward it off.

Excellent suggestion, one which I normally would heed without a moment's thought. Except....I'm right in the middle of all these fertility drugs. And I still have the stupid cysts. AND I just finished a course of antibiotics. So I decided it was not worth pushing the envelope, and have, as such, suffered the full snotty wrath of this particular plague.

I blame the GO train. Damned tin can full of other sick people, all of us breathing in each other's sick people germs. I'm gonna start wearing a mask soon in an effort for one healthy day. I haven't even been able to get my flu shot yet - I haven't been un-sick enough to qualify!

Monday after work I came home and passed out. Tuesday night CJ and I went to a Leafs game, thanks to the generosity of one of the docs I work with who knows I love my boys in blue. He couldn't go, so thought of me. How awesome is he?

We were up in the greens and the boys lost to the Bruins, but it was still fun to take it all in and just be there in person. And with CJ moving two hours away from me in a few short weeks, I'll take any opportunity to catch up and hang out that I can get!

Today I stumbled into work late. I almost took the day as a sick day (and would have been well within my rights to do so, given how I felt) but seeing as I had an afternoon meeting and a retirement party to attend tonight, I compromised and spent the morning in bed, then headed off to work.

Hubs had a meeting at work that went late tonight so he was able to pick me up at Yorkdale so we could make our way home together. Well, his meeting ran late, so I was forced to spend some time shopping. Poor me. Got a few more things for Christmas, Hubs had some Unlucky Fried Kitten (also known as KFC around the food court) and we slowly made our trek home in the dreary rain.

Now it's just after 10:30 and we're both sooooo ready to hit the proverbial hay it's not even funny. I think it's a good idea to head to bed sooner rather than later, not only 'cause we're both exhausted, but because of all that snow we're supposed to get tonight and into tomorrow. We won't just be able to walk out the door and go - oh no. There will be shoveling and boot putting-on...all very time consuming activities. So if I want to function tomorrow and fight my way valliantly through the snow, I needs me sleep!

Now I know 10-15 cms isn't really a huge deal in the grand scheme of things, but it's the first real snow and people turn into stupid idiots the second some of the white stuff starts accumulating on the roads. Yippee.

So we've dug out our shovel, the boots, the mitts, the scarf and yes, should it be cold enough, my fuchsia pea coat is ready to make its triumphant return to my outerwear rotation.

Winter's here. Ugh. God help us all!

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

One less stress...

So. In addition to working and trying to get pregnant and trying to lose weight and just living life, I also sit on the board of my professional association. 'Cause hey, who needs free time?

I actually really enjoy it - don't get me wrong - but I'm looking forward to next year where hopefully I'll get the coveted position of 'Member at Large'. Which means I still get to be involved, but don't have responsibility for a specific portfolio.

This year's portfolio came to and end for me today. I was the Chair of our association's annual awards luncheon, and thankfully everything went off with nary a hitch.

It was a somewhat strange volunteer experience, I will say that. The manager of our chapter is the one who really does all the nitty gritty to set up everything that goes into putting together a luncheon for over 1,100 people. I just got to be involved in the higher level creative work like coming up with a theme and choosing the creative. Writing the script and interacting with the local media celebrity that emceed the event. Approving the centrepieces. All that fun stuff.

It just felt weird to manage a committee that never really got much of anything to do! Now, I realize I'm a control freak and that yes, it is important to know what's going on, so I surprised even myself this time around with how much I just took for granted and assumed would get done. I understand now that this is called letting go...interesting concept. Fortunately I had great faith in the manager's ability to get things done and leave few stones unturned, but still...this is all new to me! And to my committee for that matter.

It was great to hear so many people congratulate me for a job well done. Lots of my colleagues were there and it was great to hear their whoops when my name was called. My ego loved all that stroking but man, I felt like the tiniest bit of a fraud. I really didn't do that much - why the hell should I get all the credit?

Anyway, I made sure to tell anyone who'd listen that it was C, the manager, who actually did the lion's share of the work. Sharing the accolades made me feel a bit better about the whole thing, so by the end of it I actually was quite proud with what we'd accomplished.

And so today I breathe a sigh of relief that November 15th has come and gone, and everything went smashingly well. I'm really proud of my team and how they functioned so well in a very strange situation. And as much as I enjoyed all the pats on the back, I can't even begin to tell you how much I'm looking forward to finally achieving that coveted status - Member at Large.

To my committee members if you're reading this - thanks again for everything. You made us all look so good today. And to Camilla who sees me and reads this everyday, thanks for coming along to support me. Looking forward our lunch at Swiss Chalet tomorrow.

Yeah, that's right. We've now got a Dirty Bird in our building. Jealous? Hell yeah. You should be. :)

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

My love affair with polish

I'm going to stray from my usual rantings and ravings today. No talk (other than this mention, that is) of fertility issues, cysts, medication, clinic visits...none of it. Instead, I'd like to return to my diva roots, and discuss one of my greatest girlie pleasures - the manicure.

It all began almost six years ago. December 21, 2001 to be exact. JBJ and I decided that we needed to see each other more often AND we needed our nails done. Thus began a six year love affair of friendship and beautifully done nails that's still going strong. Hard to believe we're this close to celebrating yet another maniversary. Sniff...how the time does fly...

I remember the day like it was yesterday. I chose a lovely rich brown by Essie called Martini Cocoa, and thought it would look fab with the outfit I'd chosen to wear to my boss' Christmas party that evening. I was right. It looked smashing, and I got unfortunately smashed on martinis (the polish name foreshadowing what was to come? you bet) and ended up leaving the party a deux as opposed to by myself. Yes, I admit it. I went on a little bit of a trampage that night, thus ending a very very very long drought. And thus the pulling power of the manicure was born.

Let me just say at this point that yes, I had a surprisingly wild few years in my late 20's. I'm not talking sniffing coke in a club bathroom or hooking up with random strangers every weekend wild life, but this diva was no priss and enjoyed her Sex and the City lifestyle for a good period of time. I blame the mani's.

JBJ and I continued our every three to four week ritual with delight. We found a home in Spa Baby, a tiny but swish hole in the wall on Yonge Street, and we loved it there until the owner decided to close. We were sad. Very sad. We'd been cast adrift, and to this day have yet to replace them with a new mani home. Like I said, sad.

So the tides turned a bit. I became more of a spa whore, having one mani stands with a variety of spas throughout the city as I sought the perfect place, and became less of a real whore as I'd met my soon to be husband. 'Nuff said, I suppose.

My taste in polish shifted as well. Once an Essie snob because of my years of indoctrination at Spa Baby (they only used Essie), I soon discovered the world of OPI, and my colour options exploded.

Snaps to whatever brilliant marketing guru devised the entire concept of the OPI collections. How to make me covet not just my usual shades, but ones I'd never think of twice until they were stacked beside their collection counterparts. Genius, I say.

I wore A Rose by Dawn, Broke by Noon (seen at right for your viewing pleasure) for my wedding. Seems weird, I know - but I just couldn't see myself with the traditional french manicure. Just sooo not me, ya know? I'm such a pink girl and that often extends well into my nail polish wardrobe, so why should my wedding day be an exception? Exactly. And of course, JBJ was right there with my for my pre-wedding mani. Just wouldn't have had it any other way.


Now, I'm all about the Russian collection, and am eagerly awaiting my first purchase/gift (I know my familial secret santa is reading - take notes!!) from the new Holiday in Hollywood Collection. Those familiar with these darker colours and the surprising lack of pink contained therein may be shocked to see me publicly declare my love for these lines. But hey - times change, winter's coming, and dark colours are oh so in this season. Who am I to argue?


Take for example the beauty to my left, Siberian Nights from, you guessed it, the Russian Collection. Gorgeous. Love it. Am wearing it right now after re-doing my nails at home this evening. Had a mani a week and a half ago with JBJ (she braved the 'burbs and we recaptured the magic) and I brought this baby with me just in case they didn't have it in. But of course they had it, so it sat safely in my bag for the duration of the day. Unfortunately there are only so many touch ups you can do over time to chipped polish before you start baring a striking resemblance to a crack whore, so tonight it was clear that it was time to strip off the old and reapply the new.


The other colour from the Russian Collection that I love is An Affair in Red Square. Deep, lush reds are so hot right now, and make me feel surprisingly racy for something as seemingly simple as a nail polish. Oh how the fabulous have fallen....

I generally tend to stay away from any polish with a gold shimmer (all polishes I use must have the shimmer factor - flat polish makes my tiny nail beds look ridiculous) but I took a chance with this one and have never looked back.

Having regaled you for an insanely long time on something as truly inconsequential in the grand scheme of things as nail polish, let me leave you with my personal pics/faves from the new Holiday in Hollywood collection. Feel free to pay a visit to one of the happier sites on the web (in my somewhat warped world, that is) www.opi.com. Test out different polishes on their Studio page, and get a glimpse into the collections I've discussed and so much more.

So without further ado, here are my faves from the HiH 2007 collection:

Pretty at the Premiere

My Big Break

Who Are You Wearing

Call My M-agent-a

Gorgeous, no? All of them. I want them all. How sad is that? It's not enough that a I have a huge basket FULL of different nail polishes, now I need to add a minimum of four new ones to my own personal stash.

I wonder if there's a Nail Polish Anonymous meeting going on in a church basement somwhere nearby...

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Another amusement park of a day.

Let me first reassure you that the day ended much better than it began.

Cause it started off really freakin bad.

Really bad.

Remember me asking for cyst be gone vibes from you all? How I was hoping beyond hope for the stupid bugger(s) to be gone so we could just get on with things?

Yeah. Thanks, but I suppose the power of positive thinking, while appreciated by yours truly, doesn't actually remove cysts on this particular plane of reality.

So I still have my cyst. It's shrunk a bit, but it's still most certainly there. And I don't know if it got bored or lonely or what, but it recruited a friend to set up shop on the other side of the street, and I now have a new cyst in my left ovary. Funny - I was all off balance last week; guess my reproductive system was trying to settle the score on my behalf. Very nice. Downright kind.

I had a doctor that I'm not altogether fond of this morning and my opinion of him certainly didn't change. When I mentioned that if the cysts were there the plan was to aspirate, he looked stumped, and said no way, there were too many procedures already booked. Then, trying to cover his tracks, he said since it had shrunk, we'd check the blood work and go from there.

Riiiiiiiight. How conveeeeeeenient.

Sigh.

So from there, the 'plan', the one thread that was holding my sanity together, unraveled. Everything was once again up in the air and I had no idea what the hell was going to happen next. Awesome.

If my estrogen levels were high, they'd try to aspirate tomorrow. If they had space. Then they might be able to salvage the cycle, but no guarantees. If the estrogen was okay, then they might decide to not aspirate, but instead start me on the new medication.

Goodie. Gotta love uncertainty.

After getting changed I had to check in with the nurse to get my 'pen' for the new druggies. We went through the motions, figured it all out, then I asked some questions. The answers of course drove me to tears in an instant, and yet again I was a blubbering mess in the rundown exam room of my clinic.

As I said, fortunately the day ended better than it began.

Many hours later, I got the phone call I'd been waiting for and was told that the estrogen levels had dropped, so I was to go ahead with the meds and return to the clinic on Sunday for follow up. Ah, relief.

Relief mixed with apprehension - how the hell is there gonna be any room for follicles to grow if the 'hood is already populated with punk ass cysts? Ah well - bring on the ovarian gentrification. As soon as a Starbucks opens up in my womb I'll know all is moving in the right direction.

My eyeballs hurt from crying. I'm tired, tired, tired, 'cause I haven't slept well in days. And it's only Tuesday night - the weekend is sooo far away. Booo.

At least the evening was great. While the boys geeked out on my dining room table, I feasted on ribs and a baked potato with two of my similarly fertility challenged WB gals and had a delightful dinner. We topped it all off with a venti decaf non fat no whip no nutmeg eggnog latte...and the world was seriously looking up.

From there we descended upon Nat's place to watch last night's episode of The Bachelor. Kicked her poor hubby up to bed and we switched from gastronomical feasting to Brad Womack - a feast for the eyes. Yummy. Who needs dessert? I'll have a helping of Brad with a Brad coulis, served a la Brad mode. Delish!

I return home to see the boys have made their retreats, and Hubs is on speakerphone with Sludge. While he plays World of Warcraft (a new addition to the geek-dom). Phone right beside the computer speaker. Volume not turned down all that much. And she doesn't even react. Ugh.

Now it's 11:30 and my eyes are burning from the earlier crying as well as need for sleep. I will therefore listen to the calling of my eyes and make my way upstairs to my warm, comfy, inviting bed for what I hope will be a restful night's sleep. After the emotional ups and downs of this day, I kinda think I've earned it.

Lights out. This amusement park is closed for the day.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Inching towards equilibrium

Finally starting to feel better - yippee! I can walk now, might even be able to drive! I even worked a full day and then some. That Fleming guy was a genius - penicillin is some seriously good shit, eh? My ears sure do think so!

And thank goodness. I must say, being off balance all the time really does take it's toll. Amazing the things we take for granted. Like standing upright. Humph. Who knew?

We had a pretty quiet weekend all things considered. Took it easy, hung out at home, did a bit of shopping. I was sad to miss my friend Jo's birthday party, but I just couldn't do it, didn't think it was a good idea to go gallivanting against doctor's orders (yes, I was expressly told not to gallivant). I was feeling relatively okay Saturday morning, but after even a few minutes out shopping, it came back with a vengeance. Blech.

Thankfully it's continually improved since then and I was able to put that full day in today. Too bad I didn't sleep well last night, but I guess you can't have everything!

Tomorrow morning it's back to the clinic for the next kick at the baby making can. I need all the cysts-be-gone vibes I can get, 'cause if they're still there, the little buggers will have to be aspirated. Now I don't know about you, but having a large probing needle unceremoniously poked through the oh-so-fragile wall of my vijayjay does not sound like a fun way to spend part of my Tuesday. Especially if they have to give me the good loopy juice as sedation, 'cause then I have go go straight home after it's done. All for a pesky little cyst or two. Sounds kinda crazy, no? Stupid ovaries.

So cross your fingers for me, will ya? I'd rather stay at work all day long and avoid the whole 'twilight sedation' - now there's a euphemism for ya - thing if I possibly can. I'd really like to get this show back on the road, especially since we've been sidetracked for so freaking long. Not too much to ask for, I'd say.

I'm actually surprisingly optimistic about this go 'round. Maybe it's because we'll be using new drugs that are designed to make me produce more than one egg. Maybe because it's been so freakin long I'll take just about anything. Maybe it's because my sister has had her baby and while it's still painful, who's kidding who, the whole pregnancy thing is over and it's not a constant reminder of what I can't do. Hell - maybe it's because I'm finally able to walk a straight line and my expectations of the universe have decreased accordingly.

Whatever it is, I'll take it. And hopefully this time, whatever it is we do will take and I'll be expecting an August baby. 'Cause according to those silly due date calculator things, if we do get pregnant this cycle, our wee one would be due six days before my birthday. And I can't imagine a better pre-35th birthday present than that!

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Still dizzy after all these years...

Amazing how just about anything can call to mind a Simon and Garfunkel tune...

Thankfully it hasn't been years that I've been dizzy, but it sure as shit does feel like it. Sigh.

Stayed home from work today and ventured back to the walk in clinic for further medical investigation. Since they told me on Sunday that the meds they'd given me should make me feel right as rain in two to three days, once that time period was up and I was still feeling as shitty as snow I wasted no time in returning.

Sure enough, it's gotten worse. Much worse, actually. Balance is even crappier and now I have pain and a constant whooshing sound in my ears. Goodie!

Apparently the technical term for what I'm dealing with is labyrinthitis. And here's your dose of medical information for the day:

Labyrinthitis Overview http://www.emedicinehealth.com/labyrinthitis/article_em.htm

Labyrinthitis means an inflammation of the inner ear structure called the labyrinth. Sometimes the term labyrinthitis refers to other causes of inner ear problems that have no inflammation because those problems produce similar symptoms.

• You have a labyrinth in each of your inner ears, encased in thick bone near the base of your skull. As the name implies, the labyrinth is a maze of interconnected fluid-filled channels and canals. Half of the labyrinth, the cochlea, is shaped like a snail’s shell. It sends information about sounds to the brain. The other half looks something like a gyroscope with 3 semicircular canals connected to an open cavern or vestibule. The vestibule portion of the labyrinth sends information to the brain regarding the position and movement of your head. Any disturbance of the vestibule can lead to faulty information going to your brain.
  
  
• Your eyes also send positioning information to your brain. When information from the labyrinth and the eyes don’t match, the brain has trouble interpreting what is happening. This misinterpreting often leads to a sensation that you are spinning (vertigo) or a feeling that you are moving when in fact you are remaining still. Feelings of motion sickness (nausea and vomiting) often follow. Sometimes you will experience hearing loss or abnormal sounds such as a high- or low-pitched ringing (tinnitus).

Thanks to a comment on my previous post regarding the potential of my issue being vertigo. I clicked on the link and found more info based on what the doctor today told me I had.

So yep, the above pretty much sums up the past six days of my life. Who wants to be me? Come on, I know you do!!!!

After the lovely trip to the doctor's office and the procuring of penicillin that will hopefully knock the snot out of this infection, I came home and watched Sicko. Apropos, I thought. Have you seen it? Wow, all I have to say is wow.

Now, I take everything Michael Moore has to say with a grain of salt. I love what he does, but I'm educated enough to realize that clever editing and juxtaposition of timelines can make great film and tell pretty much whatever tale you want told.

But wow - was I ever grateful to be Canadian after watching that film. Not that I wasn't before it graced my television screen but still...as someone who had only a few hours before seen a doctor and left without paying a cent, I can most certainly appreciate what we have. Yes, there can be long lines and yes, it's not perfect, but I'll take our system over an HMO each and every day.

Well, that's pretty much all that's gone on in my day. I went to the doctor, watched the movie, had a nap, watched Gossip Girl, had another nap, had dinner, watched Heroes and Toy Soliders (great flick), blogged and soon I'm off to bed. Back to work tomorrow despite my mother's protestations to the contrary. She wants me to take the rest of the week off, but that's just not reasonable, ya know? I wouldn't mind it either but there's stuff to do, people to see, all that jazz.

And on that note, I bid you adieu. Hopefully the next time I write the drugs will have kicked in and my world will be a bit more stable. And I'll find something way more interesting to write about than my inner ear!!!

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

One dizzy diva

That's me! One dizzy diva. I tell ya - if it's not one thing these days, it's another.

I have some sort of ear thing going on and it's knocked me totally off kilter. And I'm not exaggerating...I often kinda fall down and have to use the walls for guidance thanks to the fiesta in my ears these days.

Getting to work today was fun. On an ordinary day, it's really not that big a deal. Hubs drops me off at the station, I take the stairs down into the tunnel, then the escalator up to the platform. I ride the train. I take three flights of stairs down from the train, am herded along like common cattle with my fellow commuters into the TTC station, I put in my fare, walk down a flight of stairs, and board the subway.

Four stops later it's another escalator ride, some more stairs, another escalator, some stairs down into Tim Hortons, wait for coffee, walk outside to get back into building, take elevator up to my floor.

That is my route from car to desk. Not too challenging, really.

Now, imagine doing those ups and downs with no depth perception, and very little in the way of balance. You're holding on to railings for dear life, cautiously optimistic that this flight of stairs will not be your undoing, that you won't be sent ass over teakettle in front of thousands of people so blinded by their own destination that they'd only hesitate to step around you as opposed to helping you get up.

Imagine negotiating escalators...moving slabs of metal with death claws just waiting to latch on to the hem of your pant leg and drag you down, down, down with one false move.

Good times, eh? That was my morning.

The rest of the day held further buckets of fun. My colleagues looking at me funny as I held on to the wall as I walked down the hall or suddenly began to careen sideways whilst attempting to walk a straight line. Sucks the cool right out of ya, I tell you what.

This all started on Friday, and at the time I chalked it up to an elongated period of adjustment to my new glasses. I ignored the whooshing in my ears and the fact that I walked a very jagged line to actually arrive at my ensuite bath that morning.

When it hadn't gone away on Saturday, I started wondering what was up. I had some driving to do during the day (JBJ came out to see me and we had a great day - Starbucks, manicures, lunch...very diva-esque) and while I was okay for the majority of the day, once I got home and sat down I realized that uh, yeah. No more driving for me until this all gets worked out!

Sunday it was increasingly worse, so I sucked it up and headed to the walk in clinic. An hour and twenty minutes later I finally had three minutes and 47 seconds with a doctor who looked at my ears and gave me the Gravol equivalent for dizziness. Told me to come back in two to three days if they didn't work, and then we'd talk antibiotics.

Well guess what? The dizzy Gravol's don't do shit.

I've taken them for well over 36 hours now and no improvement. In fact, I think it's just getting worse. Sigh... As much as I really loathe to take antibiotics unless I truly need them ('cause I have an underlying condition that, should it flare up again, can only be cured by the strong stuff, therefore I have a vested interest in not developing that resistance) it looks like this time, I might truly need them.

Everything is hard to do when you can't quite focus and have this omnipresent white noise in your ears! I'm not sick in any other way - no sniffles, no headaches, no congestion, no coughing - so I feel somewhat guilty for leaving work early because I can't do it any more. I left around 2 today and did some work from home once I got here, but man...amazing the stupid stunts your freaking ears can pull on you.

Let that be a lesson to you all then. Love your ears. Be kind to your ears. Never take your ears for granted. 'Cause when the little bastards decide it's time to wreak havoc with your body, you're gonna stumble, fall, and look drunk and stuff.

No fair. I'm all limbs akimbo without a drop of booze. That just ain't right!

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Sister = 2, Me = 0

That's right - my sister now has two kids and I still have none.

Little Maddy was born today and thankfully, it didn't hurt as much as I thought it might. Thank goodness for small miracles.

In fact, I had more of a breakdown after Halloween yesterday than I did after seeing my new baby niece. I was fine all through the trick or treating...scores of cute little buggers came to my house, I gave them candy, oooohed and ahhhhed, and survived...but then I brought the pumpkin in, sat it on the counter, and said to Hubs, 'I hope we have a cute little one to dress up by next Halloween'.

Cue tears. That was it for me.

So you can imagine my surprise at not having shed a single salt laden droplet at today's arrival. Even I am taken aback at my ability to cope. Who knew.

A number of people have told me that seeing pregnant women, especially those close to you, is often harder than dealing with the babies themselves. I'd hoped that was true, 'cause for me it sure as shit sucked seeing my sister pregnant when I wasn't. Wasn't even close to being knocked up!

But now that she's born, I think things have changed, at least I hope they have if today's any indication.

Apparently she has my nose. Not sure how I feel about that. In many respects, I think I'd be a little happier if the kid looked nothing like me. But now that I know she has my nose, I could totally get away with snatching her and raising her as my own. Nah...November 1 already had one Amber Alert...I'd hate to be responsible for two in one day, so I'll leave her where she is.

My darling husband went all ESP on me and somehow knew that I'd need comfort food today. He threw a bunch of stuff into the crock pot this morning and voila! When we got home from the hospital, there was a fantastic pot roast just waiting for us! Yet again, I'm upstaged in the domestic arena by my husband. I think I could get used to this. Oh wait - I already am.

Great dinner cooked for me, clean house to come home to (oh yeah - we're done with Molly Maid. We gave them a second chance, but they vacuumed up our dining room curtains and pulled the curtain rod clear out of the wall. Strike three - you're out!!!), then I met up with Nat and we hit the DQ. As freezing as it was outside, we decided to brave the elements in search of frosty treats to act as a soothing balm for our challenging days. How wonderful to have both her and the DQ so close by.

So a pretty big day in divaland. Welcome little Maddy - hope to make you a cousin or two in the next few months.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Holy busy week, batman!

What the hell is going on? Why is time rushing past me in a blur? How did it get to be Tuesday already? When do I get a night home on the couch doing nothing? Looks like next Thursday might work, but no guarantees.

Fall is a super busy time for everyone it seems, so I know it's not just me who's run off their proverbial feet. But man - the last week of October is pure killer!

Saturday was my nephew's third birthday party. His birthday is actually today, but the party was Saturday morning so as to maximize the number of kids (and their adult companions) in attendance. So we shuffled over to my sister's place for 11:30, ate appy things and some crazy chocolate dinosaur cake, then dashed home to prepare for the evening.

We hosted four couples plus us for dinner on Saturday night - a dinner party! How grown up am I! You know you're all growed up when there are enough plates of the same pattern for everyone at the table. I have arrived!!

It was a great night, I love entertaining. Three couples were WB gals and it was great to finally meet hubbies and put faces to stories. The fourth couple was comprised of Taco and his new wife. It's always great to see them, and we were delighted to show off our finished product house as they were part of our painting crew and haven't been back since we fully moved in. They were happy to see how the fruits of their labours (aka our master bedroom) all came together, and I, the consumate diva, was happy to show off my decorating skills.

Good wine, good food (if I do say so myself), and good Wii was had by all.

Sunday we were quite happy to have a day to just veg out and do nothing. Well, nothing much, that is. Since we didn't have time on Saturday, the plan was to go the gym on Sunday and get a workout in. All well and good until I went and kicked the leg of our couch.

A few choices utterances of profanity later, I surveyed the damage to my baby toe. I couldn't move it, it started to swell and turn colour, and therefore was not going to be crammed into a running shoe of any description.

So we decided to burn some calories at the Jeanne Lottie sample sale instead.

I hobbled along in my Crocs and sweats, a picture of style. Fortunately they all know me there and know better than to judge. I left with 8 bags for $103. Bought a great bag for CJ for her birthday, two other Christmas presents, a diaper bag for my sister (pink - it hurt, but it was the right/nice thing to do) and three other bags just for me. My consolation prizes for not being able to buy my very own diaper bag. Sigh...

We then traipsed over to Hakim in search of new glasses. The time had come - my already shoddy vision continues to deteriorate, so it was my turn to once again embark on that most challenging of chores - trying on glasses when you can't see how good (or shitty) you look. 'Cause you're not wearing your glasses.

I took Hubs with me and put him through the paces of helping me choose. Poor guy - I must have tried on about 80 pairs and hmmmmed and hawed through all but 78. Then I had to make a decision - practical and nice, or funky and not-so-functional? Much to my chagrin, practical and nice emerged victorious, and I placed my order.

Picked them up tonight and man - everything is crystal clear! I feel a bit drunk though. Free buzz. I always hate the transition period from the old pair to the new. It's like I move my head but my brain is too slow to stay caught up to my eyeballs. Not a pleasant sensation. You won't catch me behind the wheel of a car for the next few days! I'm a bigger menace than an 87 year old lady propped up on phone books squinting through her cataracts! My sense of civic duty is simply too strong to attempt to drive. So fret not, the streets are safe.

Had a great time with CJ last night. It was her birthday so she came out to my hood, we went for a really nice dinner, then she came over and we watched a movie and the Bachelor (he's just hot, isn't he? That's a whole other post but hubba hubba. If he was a fireman....yeesh), ate some birthday cake, and just had a nice night gabbing and catching up. I'm really glad I was able to celebrate on her birthday with her. Good times!!

Tonight we went to the sister's place right after work in order to celebrate the true birthday of my nephew. My sister got more mileage out of the number 3 shaped candle than I ever would have thought possible! My parents are down so it was nice to celebrate together, and to give my sister her card as well (her birthday was yesterday too. See what I mean about it being busy!!!??).

Tomorrow is Halloween of course, so that's another busy night. Then Thursday I have my fitness assessment at the gym. I'm looking forward to that like I would a root canal. Just what I need to really round out my week - some spandex clad muscle gal that I will never in a million years resemble coming at me to measure my body fat. NO THANK YOU! I've decided I'm skipping the body fat part. Some numbers were meant to stay a secret of the universe. This is my universe, and this is my secret number.

Friday begins another weekend of ours with DeeDee, Monday it's back to the gym, Tuesday is dinner with the gals downtown, Wednesday is the gym again, and this therefore brings us back to next Thursday - the first day I might possibly be able to sit down on my couch and veg all night.

Seems so far away, doesn't it? Bugger.

Oh well. I'm going to try to look at the glass half full side of this. Molly Maid is coming tomorrow in an effort to boost our opinion of them while cleaning our house. At least I won't have to spend any of that precious home time scrubbing toilets! Providing they do a good job this time, that is!!

Hope everyone has a good Halloween tomorrow! We've got lots of candy and it better all be given away. Last thing I need is more temptation in the house. Kinda counteracts all that gym stuff and pushes the magical mystery body fat number in the completely wrong direction.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

The clouds have finally parted...

Guess what? Today was a good day!

I know! Hard to believe, but there it is!

First off and perhaps most importantly, Maxx made his way home. I was so relieved it's not even funny!

My sister is off on mat leave getting ready for her daughter to be born and volunteered to come by the house a few times today just in case he came home. Sure enough, the first time she popped over, she opened the back door and there was this gray furry lump under the patio table, screaming at her.

She called me right away and when I saw the number on the call display - my own home number - I was sure it was Hubs, home for one reason or another, giving me a call. When I heard her voice and those magical words - 'he's home!' - I started crying right then and there.

For my cat. But he's so worth it.

I got this wonderful call a few minutes after I'd returned to my office following a review appointment with my reproductive endocrinologist (fancy terminology for my infertility doctor). And surprise of surprises, that appointment actually went really well! I was quite pleased.

The doctor actually took the time to sit down with me, walk through the progress (or lack thereof) to date, and we chatted about what's next. So we're moving on to injectables which was my hope before the appointment even started, so that in itself is progress. She also gave me a prescription to get the next cycle moving along, and told me that if the cyst is still there at the start of the next cycle, they'll go in and aspirate it so I don't lose more time.

Oh wait - did I say cyst? My bad, I should have pluralized that. Because apparently, there are not one but two of the buggers squatting in my ovaries. Sheesh. One or two, no matter. They'll both be drained if need be. Good times! Looking forward to that little procedure! Blech.

But at least I know there will be progress in a few weeks time. We have a plan, and options designed to deal with any of the three potential outcomes. And that makes me smile.

I also smiled like a crazy person when I got back to my office and there was this incredible floral arrangement from the one and only JBJ. She gets the whole cat thing and knows Maxx quite well as she and her husband catsitted for me many a time whilst I was living in Kingston. They've got two cats of their own, so she just gets it.

And she knows me! Knows that I love flowers, and made sure that they were all pink. Beautiful, glorious pink! They even put some funky feathers in the arrangement - I couldn't have done a better job if I'd picked out all the flowers myself. And that's saying something, since I can make me a mean bouquet.

Work was busy today which always makes the day fly but fortunately it was good busy, not psycho stressful busy. Left at the regular time, and was overjoyed to pick up Maxx and just squish the poor guy when I finally walked in the door. So good to see him.

Since we missed our gym visit last night and Maxx was now home safe and sound, there was really no excuse to not go tonight. Damn. So we went and it's amazing how fast it all comes back to you. I wouldn't say it was fun, but it wasn't terrible either and I felt great for having done it so that has to count for something.

And can I just say it's amazing how far you can 'go' when you're riding a stationary bike for a half hour. 10.7 miles to be exact. And boy do those miles just fly by when you have a tv built right into the machine! Got some good cardio in AND got to watch an episode of Flip That House. Hubs hates all the home decor shows (Sludge is/was a fan and had them on incessantly, apparently) while I enjoy them, so I must admit it was nice to get a dose of the good stuff in while I pedaled away.

So that's pretty much it. Now I'm tired and a bit stiff, ready to hit the hay and very grateful that tomorrow is Friday. I love it when the clouds part and a few rays of sunshine beam my way.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

When it rains, it pours...

So in addition to all my cyst-y woes and 'cause I'm not already fragile enough, this morning I get a phone call from Hubs with the following question: "When was the last time you saw Maxx?"

Never a good question to be asked.

Maxx, for those not in the know, is one of my cats. He's the mac daddy cat, really, the coolest cat that ever walked the face of the earth. 11 years ago he picked me while I was looking for a kitten at the Humane Society. I was getting ready to go to grad school and wanted a wee fuzzy companion to come along for the ride.

As it happens, Maxx came home with me three days before I was diagnosed with mono. I spent a lot of time in my room that summer, and Maxx was right there with me, the entire time. We did some serious bonding, that cat and I.

And it's just gotten more involved since then. He's been with me through the vast majority of my adult life. He's more dog than cat - comes when he's called, 'talks' back when you talk to him, loves to be rubbed and spoiled and is just a real character.

And we can't find him.

My cats (we have three) are indoor cats. They've never been outdoor cats, despite what they might want. Maxx is known as a dasher - makes a break for the door every time it opens - but because he's such a chunky kitty he doesn't really get all that far.

We see him, we grab him, we bring him back into the house.

But this time, we didn't see him. Didn't even notice he wasn't here last night when we got home. What a bad cat mom I am - how did I not even realize he didn't come to greet me when we came home? He always does - always! Especially if there's a chance he'll get some food out of the deal.

We're not sure if he got out in the morning when we left or later on that day when Hubs made a quick stop at home to change before his dinner thingie. Either way, he's gone. And we just can't find him.

We've called the Humane Society, Animal Control, and the vet across the street. We've got posters up in the neighbourhood. We've gone to all the subdivisions near our house over and over again, calling his name, looking between houses, and nothing. Not a sign of him.

There's a bowl of food sitting on our front porch - hopefully that will entice him to return.

Everywhere I turn in my house I expect to see him. Lying on the floor by the dining room table, soaking up the morning's rays. Sitting with me here on the couch. Upstairs napping on my bed. But he's nowhere to be found.

One of my other cats seems lost too, like he can't figure it out. He keeps looking up at the door and of course I jump up every time, just in case his kitty senses are that much better than my human ones. And still...no Maxx.

I cried like I haven't cried in a long, long time. I was full on sobbing, just thinking about never seeing him again. Even with all the fertility challenges we've faced, I don't think I've ever cried over that like I'm sobbing over my cat. Messed up or what?

Then again, since we don't have kids my cats are my babies. Not in that creepy dress them up in baby clothes kinda way, but they're members of my family all the same. And Maxx...he's the favourite. And I'm not willing to give him up just yet.

A few years ago he spent a week outside (not on purpose!) and he was fine. I had left to go up north for Christmas and the little bugger must have slipped outside while we were loading up the car. Eight days later I came back and I couldn't find him. I tore the house apart, freaking out that I'd locked him in a closet and he'd shriveled away to nothing (or pissed all over everything) in the time I was away. I went to the front door and called for him - nothing. I went to the back door and called for him - and heard this plaintive cry from the backyard.

Poor bugger had been outside the entire time and was hiding at the basement apartment's entry way. I was very happy to see him. He was very happy to see his food bowl. The other two cats hissed and spit 'cause he didn't smell right anymore. But in no time at all he was back to good and life went on.

So I know he can survive out there and still come home. I know he's outside somewhere 'cause there are paw prints in the front garden. I still expect to open the front door and see him. But I'm terrified that he's lying in a ditch somewhere, run over by a car that just didn't see him in time.

Now I'm crying again.

Hopefully all this stressing will be for nothing and he'll return safe and sound - hungry, dirty, but alive. Because right now, the alternatives are just too sad to contemplate. And I just don't know if I can take any more sad.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Attempting to get back to good..

It's been an interesting few days.

Friday was a number of things. It was the third anniversary of my first date with Hubs. Kinda cool. It was Friday, which in and of itself was inherently a good thing. And it was also day three of my latest cycle, so I headed off to the clinic for my blood work and ultrasound.

Funny that history has a habit of repeating itself. My very first cycle with the clinic, I didn't respond to the dosage of the drugs I was given. The next cycle I was ready for a fresh start, and was blindsided by that stupid cyst. So you'll never guess what...

Last cycle, as you well know, was canceled 'cause I didn't respond to the drugs. And wouldn't you know it - Friday I found out I have yet another cyst. And a nice, big, fat, juicy one too! Lucky me. So yeah, Friday sucked.

I burst into tears right there in the ultrasound room. As soon as I heard the technician say cyst, that was it. I knew it was over. Even though they told me to wait for the blood to come back, that it might not be producing estrogen, I knew it. History all too often repeats itself, and it sure as hell did this time.

So needless to say, despite the anniversary that we should have been celebrating, Hubs spent the night picking my pieces up and worrying about me. Poor guy - here we go again. I took this one super hard (as always) and I'm still attempting to recover from the news. I have lots of time to do so apparently, because thanks to this cyst, the earliest chance we have to conceive is the end of November. And that's IF the stupid cyst decides to fuck off at some point in the near future.

In the meantime and since we seem to have nothing pressing to do with our time, Hubs and I have decided to join a gym. So there, anonymous poster who told me I needed to lose weight to get pregnant! Are you happy now? :p

We're going to go three times a week and hopefully that will take my mind off all this infertility stuff and I can put my energies, as low as they may be at times, towards something more productive. I'm feeling quite righteous at this very moment - we'll see if that wears off once I actually get in there and actually start doing the real work!

At least this means I get to do some shopping. I think a virginal gym membership calls for a few new pairs of workout pants (I already have t shirts coming out the wazoo). Gotta keep an eye on the budget too!

Hope everyone is doing well and enjoyed the incredible weekend. We took it easy, had dinner with my father and stepmother (always a pleasure - that's sarcasm) on Saturday night, then went out to a Pumpkinfest with Hubs, DeeDee, Hubs' mom, my sister, brother in law and nephew. It was an incredible day outside - who could believe we'd be in shorts and a t shirt on the 21st of October?! Insane!

Snapped some great pictures, got our pumpkin, and we were home by 2. All in all, a great way to spend a Sunday. Only way it could have been better was if it had lasted all the way through Monday!

Hope you've all had a good weekend, and sorry again for not posting for a few days. I just knew, given my mood at the time, nothing good would come of it and all that would be left behind was a super negative post. And since I'm trying to stay more on the positive side, that just wouldn't do! Because my dear readers, you all deserve so much more!

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?