You should see my phone bill....

Well, some times it just sucks to be right.


Today was one of those days. Remember how I said yesterday that the cyst would still be there, hanging out, eating my food, calling Nepal? Just got the phone bill and man, is it a doozie.


Yep, the cyst is still there. Loud and proud and not ready to make nice. So needless to say, it wasn't much of a surprise to me to hear the doc report it to her sidekick. I just sighed, as best I could with the ole legs up in the stirrups, and told myself that sometimes it does indeed suck to be right.


I knew great things weren't in store this morning as soon as I arrived at the clinic. They had my name on the list - but someone crossed it off. Never a good thing in the medical world. If you're crossed off, someone did it for a reason. If you're crossed off, there's no requisition for your blood work, and no one's waiting for you over at ultrasound. If you're crossed off, worst of all - you're always someone else's problem.


They finally figured out what had happened (since the clinic is in my building, I just came in on Monday morning to book today's appointment, the one they'd told me to make if aunt flo didn't show up within four weeks. I was supposed to call, not come in. Apparently I totally botched their entire system. Grrrrrr...) and allowed me my morning poke. Goodie.


To make what could easily be a very long story short, there is light at the end of this lumpy tunnel. When I heard back about my blood work, I was told that it's okay to go ahead and start taking the Provera to bring on a new cycle because my cyst is no longer producing estrogen. Lazy, no good cyst. Not even working for a living. Maybe I should name it Sludge....hehehe.


Oh how funny I am. What a clever segue that was!! But in fact, I can't even make that joke anymore. She actually has a job. That's right my dear readers - Sludge herself is once again attempting to pass for a productive member of society. Sorry, I should have warned you before I typed that. I hope it didn't hurt too much as you fell off your chair just then.


Crazy, isn't it? Watch out PharmaPlus customers....double count your change.


Ooooo, that was mean, no? Meh, I'm over it.


In other news, I officially created my Tuesday Night Distraction Club on Facebook. I will do anything and everything I can to ensure that I never spend another minute confronted with grown men pretending to be elves...unless of course it's Christmas and we elect to engage in some weird dress up sex fantasy where I get to play a very bossy Mrs. Claus.


I suspect that's more than you wanted to know. Sorry about that.


Anywhoo, I'm rather excited to have my very own group, and look forward to a plethora of exciting Tuesday night activities in the city, especially now that summer's here and the patios are singing their siren song. Who am I to resist? Thank goodness I'll have company...a good diva should never drink alone.


One last note before I leave you this evening (I'm at my sister's place watching the hockey game - and her son, yeah, watching her son too - while she and her husband go to a movie). Hard to believe, but this is my 100th post. Amazing how time flies! So much we have shared, my lovely readers. Thanks for sticking by me through thick (endometrial linings) and thin (or trying to get there, at least).


It really does make a difference knowing that you're out there and reading the in's and out's of my rather mundane life. Makes it feel just that wee bit less mundane, ya know?


Looking forward to exploring a second century's worth of life and laughs with you. And if you see that cyst, kick its ass for me, will ya? I'd really rather keep on truckin' without it.


And that's your 100th daily dash. How's your diva doin'?

Back on the horse

Well, the time has come. It's time to step out of the shadows and blink dazedly into the light that is this whole baby making business.

That's right - it's been four weeks since that vile cyst invaded my ovary and threw me into a tizzy, and it's time to go back and see what's become of the little bastard.

With any luck it's long gone, cast out by hormones or destroyed by forces I can't even begin to want to understand. With MY luck, it's probably still there - hanging out, eating all my food and making long distance calls to Nepal on my phone line. 'Cause I sure haven't had much luck along the way.

It's funny - last time I went in I was so hopeful, so excited at the prospect of having a real shot. The idea of a cyst never even crossed into the realm of possibility in my mind - ah, how ignorance can truly be bliss - so I was, as you may recall, ill prepared for the news I was to receive that day.

This time, well, fuck it.

The great cosmic joke player in the sky has proven to me that it is indeed possible for things to get worse, so I've decided to subscribe to the Lowered Expectations (cue music here) school of thought for this and future medical appointments.

I figure hell, if I don't expect anything, I can't be disappointed when I get absolutely nothing. You see, that was my problem before...I was so hopeful (and since you all know my stance on hope I won't bore you by repeating it) that the news, when it came, was devastating.

This time I will expect the unexpected. I am in the process of brainwashing myself (a surprisingly difficult task) that the cyst will still be there and will therefore push us even further off course. That I might not even get my sacred Provera prescription to bring on another cycle - that nature needs more time to take its course and we'll be pushed back into August before we have another shot at conception.

This way, anything else hedging towards positive news is cause for all out celebration. What would have been normal in the past will (if it actually happens - gotta keep working on that brainwashing) now become such incredible progress!!! Look how happy we are! Forward momentum!

Ah, attitude really is everything, eh? Nobody said it had to be a positive one.

So as with many things, only time will tell what the immediate future has in store for us. Cross your fingers that it's a future free from cysts and that there are drugs there too, will ya?

Ah, the things we wish for as we get older. From puppies to Barbies to dates with boys to left hand bling to disease-free reproductive organs. God, what's next - my nipples to stay above my belly button? Oh wait...too bloody late.

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

To cheer or not to cheer?

So all my fellow Canuks out there know tonight is Ottawa's first game in the Stanley Cup playoffs. It's fantastic to see a Canadian team actually in serious contention for the hardware in what many acknowledge to be Canada's game.

Too bad they're not the Leafs.

I'm a diehard Leafs fan. Yes, despite the gross grammatical error that is their name, I bleed Leafs blue. Despite the many, many, many disappointments over the years - I still beleaf.

Which is why I'm so torn at this very moment.

If you know hockey, if you give a damn at all, then you bloody well know Ottawa and Toronto are rivals. Bitter. We kinda hate them. But that's okay - they hate us right back.

And this works for us. We like, nay love, the Battles of Ontario and it is just so sad to know that you'll never see Ottawa versus Toronto in any Stanley Cup finals since we're in the same danged conference. Ugh.

Traditionally the Leafs have bounced the Sens right out of the playoffs but this year...uh, kinda hard to do when *gulp* Toronto didn't even make it.

Again. Sigh...

So what's a Leafs fan to do? Respect the rivalry and cheer for whoever the hell has the ability to take down our archenemies? Or suck it up and cheer for the Canadian team 'cause hey - national pride is thicker than blue water?

Dunno, folks. Dunno.

Further complicating matters for me is the fact that CJ, my BFF, is a HUGE Sens fan. I've forgiven her this 15 year error in judgment and we've simply agreed to disagree but man oh man. Her team hits the finals and mine hits the golf course. I can (sadly) only imagine how excited she must be to have her team slugging it out in the final round.

But never has there been such a disparity in results, and I'm kinda at a loss for how to handle the whole thing.

You see, it USED to be me taking the moral high road after my Leafs had throughly trounced her Sens in round one, maybe two. I'd cheer for my team, gently rib her and her team, but would gracefully enjoy the Leafs victory. That I could do. I was good at it.

This? This is completely foreign territory to me, and like a hillbilly having high tea with the queen, I just might not know how to behave properly in this, an unfamiliar state. Not that I'm equating myself with a hillbilly or, heaven forbid, the Sens with flippin royalty, but I thought it illustrated my point well.

So I sit here, watching the game, loving that the Sens are actually winning but hating myself for cheering for them. I feel like I'm betraying myself - my, what fascinating internal conflict I create for myself! Sheesh.

I guess it's okay for me to cheer for these bastards. I mean it IS the closest any Canadian team has come in years, so that in and of itself should suffice for this patriotic diva.

But why then do I feel so dirty? Must be the thought of that slimebucket Alfredsson in his stinky playoff socks. Shudder...

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

Sweet, blessed Friday...

For a short week, it sure has been a long one.

It was super late when I got home last night from our big event, hence the no blog entry. A million apologies, but it simply wasn't in me to sit, iBook on lap, and type an entry of any coherence at 1:30 in the morning. Especially since the night before I was awake well past pumpkin hour as well. I was one sleepy diva yesterday, and today, the eyelids threatened to come tumbling down time after time.

I took a late train, but no matter - I still fell asleep on it. First time ever (I'm always afraid I'll snore in public - mortifying). Yeesh.

Work was a long short day - felt long, but was in fact rather short. I left early on the verge of collapsing, came home, and felt the stress of the past few days disappear only to be replaced with new stress for this weekend.

You see, we're having our housewarming party tomorrow. And our house is a bloody disaster.

There are clothes (post-Cuba laundry, etc) EVERYWHERE. The place hasn't been dusted since, uh, I know there was this one time way back when...yeah, like forever, all the bathrooms need scrubbing, the carpets need a good once over with the nasty orange vacuum, and the backyard needs much in the way of attention.

Did I mention this little shindig starts at 4 tomorrow? And we still have to grocery shop?

Stress...

We did manage to do a bit of general tidying so it's only the real scrubbing that remains for tomorrow. And we hit the liquor store so the booze is covered. Knowing my clan, that's what's key - food be damned. But just in case, we'll get the grub in the a.m. via the good people at Costco and our friendly neighbourhood Superstore.

But first, we sleep. Glorious, luxurious sleep. Especially now that our air conditioning is fixed and Costco doesn't open until 9:30. Bless Mario the repairman and those wholesaling bastards.

Have a great weekend, everyone!! Ta!

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

Can't blog...too tired.

Insane. My days right now are insane. Tomorrow is a huge event that we do with Hugo Boss and man oh man is there a lot to do. I was there all day long today, then back to the office to do other work.

I had lunch at 3:45. Not cool.

Then went for a haircut - definite good thing that happened today. By the time I got home it was 7:30, then Hubs and I scarfed down some Thai food and watched yesterday's American Idol in preparation for tonight's finale.

Once dinner was over we started watching said finale, taping away happily on our PVR.

Apparently the danged show went over, 'cause it ended on our PVR long before it ended for real - we didn't even find out who won! Of course, Hubs hopped online and got the answer, but it's just not the same. It's bad enough that the Bachelor finale results were ruined for me a mere few minutes before I saw the big event (mistakenly titled post on WB - ggrrrrrr) - now this.

The tv gods obviously hate me.

Spent a good portion of the evening trying to put an outfit together for tomorrow's event. Yeah, that's good fun. Try being diva sized in a room full of model twigs. You do the best you can and don't fret too much. So I dug out a shirt and ironed it, brushed off my great dressy pants, selected the appropriate accessories, and I'm ready to go.

Then it was back to the computer to do more work in preparation for the event. Damned seating plans are going to be the death of me, I swear to you.

I hate the pre-event stress and busyness - it means I have to neglect so many other aspects of my life. JBJ called me today and I haven't had a spare moment until now to call her back. Something tells me she wouldn't appreciate a catch up phone call at midnight. Will do my best to squeeze one in tomorrow during the day.

CJ just had a big weekend - went out east to meet her boyfriend's family. Have I had a chance to talk to her? Nope...she sent me an email that I was able to reply to, saying I'd call her when I got back to the office. And by the time I got back, I only had time to do the most important of tasks, then off to see David and get my hair cut. Sigh. I need my life back!

Fortunately this is a really great event - and it's over tomorrow night. Which is very, very good.

'Cause we're having our housewarming party on Saturday night and this big house ain't gonna clean itself. Methinks we're running out of evenings! Dag, yo.

So now I will send the seating chart to my work email, then drag my sleepy self to bed. My eyes are puffy, I'm sooooo tired, but hey...I'm still kinda tanned and my hair looks awesome.

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

The diva dabbles in domestic

What a weekend it's been. We get back from Cuba and bang - real life begins anew!

Saturday night was Hubs' family birthday party, so that day saw lots of running around procuring cakes and balloons and mint chocolate ice cream and all that fun stuff. Fortunately Hubs himself had done the grocery shopping and thus saved me from that hell which was mucho appreciated, I'll tell you what. I got a good sleep in Saturday and a Tim Horton's brought to my beside as I awoke. And it was his birthday. Hmmm. I really am the luckiest girl alive.

Amidst the running around we also made a trek to Canadian Tire to buy a lawnmower. All the things you must buy when you move into a new house! Sheesh. We ended up with an electric cordless mower...and can I just say how environmentally righteous I feel having made this choice? No bad combustibles for the ozone layer from this kid. Huzzah. I am an environmental warrior, a green machine! Amazing how good something so seemingly small can make you feel. Huh. Who knew.

Anyway, a few hours later Hubs' sisters and parents came over and we had a great time, as always. Lots of laughter and good bbq food - can't go wrong. Once everyone left we were both ready to collapse, and so we did. I love my bed.

Sunday was another day of errands - DOT patio centre to look for a patio set (it's really stupid expensive and not all that nice - who knew?), PetSmart so Hubs could get stuff to put in the snake tank (yippee), Tommy Hilfiger to cash in on Hubs' birthday gift card (he looks so awesome in Tommy stuff, I love shopping with him there) and of course purchase very cute things for my nephew, then it was off to the Bay to look there for patio furniture.

Can I just say, who knew how hard it would be to find a patio set I actually like, one without a glass top table that comes complete for about $500? Yeesh, you'd think I was embarking on my kitchen table hunt all over again!

We'd been all over the place and nothing had struck our fancy. My sister mentioned the Bay as a place to check out, so since we were in that neck of the woods, we popped in.

And stumbled upon this:


Now, I realize the photo doesn't really do it justice, but you get the idea. The cushions are actually an icy mint green colour which is quite lovely, and the table is all steel, kinda slatted along the top which is just what we want.

It was stupid expensive, well out of our price range, but thanks to the fact that we had our wedding registry at the Bay and they have their completion program that allows you to get discounts on their stuff for up to a year after your wedding, we saved 25% off the price. That made it worth consideration, all of the sudden! Yippee - me loves a good bargain. Me especially loves getting expensive stuff for more discount prices. The best natural high going. Cue trippy music. Awesome.

After that successful trip we headed to our local Blockbuster, rented four movies and purchased seven. Previously viewed, of course. Not paying full price for flicks unless I really, really must have it once it first comes out.

We finally got our KFC (as you may have read from yesterday's post), watched a flick and got clocked in the melon by DeeDee's Wii backswing. That put a damper on the evening. Hubs went up to bed while I spent an eternity uploading our vacation pics to Shutterfly. It was two in the flipping morning before I hit the hay. Yes, I'm quite sleepy today, thanks for asking. Hopefully I'll have no trouble making my trip to dreamland tonight.

We did get out of bed in relatively decent time this morning - painful, but true. We headed down to Denny's for breakfast, then to our local AMC so as to take in Shrek the Third. Cute. Had a few good laughs. Fab.

And since nothing but movie theatres and garden centres are open on Victoria Day, and since we'd already hit the movie theatre, we went to the garden centre.

Yes, those of you that know me must be laughing your asses off or reeling in horror. I have two thumbs, neither of them green. But I still bought bags of dirt and flowers and grass seed and hanging baskets and planters and potting soil and all that gardening type stuff, and now, believe it or not, I have two baskets of flowers hanging on the pillars on my front porch, and two baskets of pink and white flowers suspended from my porch railing.

Yes, that streak you see in the sky IS a pig flying. I have gardened. Kinda. I never really touched the dirt though thanks to a lovely pink pair of gardening gloves bought with the best of intentions by my loving sister in law. Bet you never thought they'd get used so quickly, but they're all de-virgined and broken in now!!! So much to go still, but hey, baby steps are still steps, right? Phew!!

The rest of our long weekend was whiled away by watching Dream Girls and catching up on all the pvr'd shows that we missed while away (covering Grey's right now...man, do I love being right).

And now, I have to wrap my head around the fact that I have to go back to work tomorrow. That my life isn't just one big vacation away from work, and that I must, once again, toil for my daily bread. Sigh....

Well, at least the first day back everyone wants to talk about your trip and see the photos (of course they're developed and in the album, ready for viewing) and it takes hours to sift through the hundreds of emails you get. Yeah, that's gonna be my Tuesday. I guess I can find a way to handle that.

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

We're baaaaccckkkkk.....

Oh, how you've missed me, I know! But fret not my pretties - I am home, I'm back on the blog, and I am tanned.

I'm still not pregnant and I'm bearing eight pounds of salt retention water weight, but I am tanned. Okay, okay - it's not really eight pounds and it's not all due to the insanely high salt content of the Cuban food. It might also have something to do with the Cuban ice cream and Cuban cocktails. But hey, like I said, I am tanned.

Where to begin? I don't want to make this a marathon post as I'm still recovering from what has been a busy weekend since our return, but how can I not take this opportunity to regale you with all of the various ins and outs of our week in the sun?

Hmmm....I guess the beginning is a very good place to start. So. Friday we head to the airport. We're stupid early so of course, everything runs like clockwork and we sail through everything quickly and effortlessly. Had we been in a rush it would have been a nightmare but no - we make it to the airport FOUR HOURS before our flight is scheduled to leave. And I'm not talking about the parking lot - no no, dear divas, I'm talking about landing right smack in the middle of Terminal 3 four flipping hours before we're due to take off. Sigh. Off to the bar we go.

Yadda yadda yadda, time flies (it's like I need a work song or a montage scene a la Team America to get us from the bar to the resort - show the passage of time in one three minute series of clips...) and before you know it, it's almost one in the morning and we pull up to Sol Cayo Coco.

It's one in the morning, and it's hot. Sticky hot. Steamy hot. Ahhhhhh steamy hot. Hubs is not amused.

Now, I am nothing if not my mother's daughter, so I make sure that once we leave the airport we get the first row of seats on the bus so we can be the first off therefore the first to the check in counter, then first to our rooms and, of course, first to the bar after we've dropped off our stuff in said room.

While at the counter, I mention that we're on our honeymoon (well, our southern honeymoon since we already had our European honeymoon - I just left out the word southern when talking to the nice lady) and she kinda grunted as she handed us our room key. Okay then, no worries, we were quite content to have the room we booked and paid for, but I would have to turn in my diva membership card if I didn't at least give it the old college try.

Off we shuffle to find our room and all is rosy until we hit the staircase and realize that I have to haul my 40lbs suitcase to the third floor. Ugh. I immediately dispatch Hubs to the desk to see if we can get a ground floor room - this diva does not enjoy stairs, suitcase or no! He returns with a message that we can change in the morning, but they can't do anything for us now. Okay, fine. Whatever.

Clunk, clunk, clunk. Yes, that's the sound of me hauling my load to the top floor.

We enter our surprisingly spacious room, turn on the lights and are pleasantly surprised to see a king sized bed. We had paid for a standard room - so 'garden view' with two double beds. So far, so good. We drop the bags and look around, and as I open the curtains I let out a wee whoop of glee - an ocean view! On two walls - a double ocean view!! And then it dawns on me - we did get an upgrade! How nice of these lovely people! I guess I can handle the stairs for a king bed and a room with a view!! Here's how things looked from our balcony:

The green thing you see on the railing is a grasshopper made from a palm leaf. Crafty devils, those Cuban gardeners. We were going to use him as our version of the Travelocity gnome and plop him into all of our pictures but uh, we kinda forgot. So this was his great moment of glory. Poor palmy grasshopper.

Anywho, needless to say, we never changed rooms, we were quite content to stay where we were, stairs and all.

The week that followed was full of sun, rain, sand, drinks, laughs, naps, bad commercials for Colgate in Spanish, pulled meat, sunscreen, trying to find a breeze for Hubs, drinks...and trying to get money for us to live on.

Sigh....yes, you're about to hear the one really shitty aspect of our trip. Blech. Brace yourselves.

So, before we leave, Hubs asks me how much cash I'm going to be bringing. I tell him we won't need much, just enough to get out of the country and have a bit extra, but I'm bringing my Visa and we'll put our excursions on it, buy our souvenirs, etc with it. No big whoop. I don't like traveling with a lot of cash and I had checked to make sure that Visa was accepted where I needed it to be, and it was.

Except in Cuba, anytime you use a credit card as a tourist, you have to show your passport. This is a federal law in the country. Okay, I have a passport, but it's still in my maiden name - one of those things that I haven't changed yet because I can still travel with it, and it comes due next year so I was just going to do it then.

Bad idea jeans. Especially because my credit cards are all in my married name, which of course doesn't match my passport. So no one would let me use my card. Ever. No matter what. I had our marriage certificate with me - didn't matter. The bank wouldn't do it. The stores wouldn't let me use it. The hotel wouldn't take it. The only guy that did was our tour rep - he used it to book our excursion 'cause I think he felt sorry for us. We were trapped - totally stuck. We needed 50 convertible pesos to get out of the country, and the Canadian dollar is worth about .75 pesos. I brought $160 in cash, and Hubs had $100 or something like that. Between us, we got 170 pesos, leaving us with 120 to spend while we were there.

Of course, we didn't realize this until the second day, after we had spent about 30 pesos on pop for the room, snacks, internet access, tips for the grasshopper making man and other staff throughout the resort. And our phone bill - Hubs was set to call DeeDee every other day, and when it's 2 pesos a minute, even super quick conversations add up quickly.

The biggest kick in the ass was the phone call to Visa, hoping they'd be able to help me, transfer some funds down, etc after I explained the situation. Yes, they accept collect calls, but it would still cost me the 2 pesos per minute to make the call. Weird logic, but it's not my country. So I bite the bullet, get on the phone, and call Montreal.

41 pesos later I'm finally off the phone and am in tears. Visa can't help me, even though by this point I've asked them for emergency funds as we really have no way to get funds while we're there, but they tell me they can't help me because they wire funds through a US company, 'and because of the political situation between Cuba and the US, Cuba won't accept the transfer'.

Awesome. That's $60 Canadian I've just flushed down the Cuban john and I have nothing to show for it. Boo-urns. So now we're down to very very little cash, and that sucks.

Now, yes, we did have enough to get out of the country and yes, it was an all inclusive so technically we didn't have to worry about food or drinks. But we also hadn't bought any souvenirs and we were going on a day trip that would be a hell of a lot better if we had some cash on hand.

Enter our guardian angels. I'm always constantly surprised at the kindness of strangers, and Nicky and Patricia came through for us in a big way.

As soon as they heard what had happened, without a question in their mind they offered to get us cash and we could pay them back once we landed. Not a moment's hesitation in making the offer or in trusting us to get it back to them. I was soooo relieved, you have no freakin idea. I had decided that I would not let the situation ruin our vacation no matter what, and having these girls come through for us was really icing on the cake. Thank flippin goodness.

Phew! After all that writing I had to take a break. Am back now from dinner (KFC - Hubs was craving it after seeing all the commercials for it while we were away...blech. Now I can go another 365 days without eating it again) and watching a movie (Catch and Release - hmmmm...Jennifer Garner is totally my celebrity girl crush hence why I wanted to see it, but aside from a few good lines, not sure how I feel about it...). Will try to revert back to where I was in my diatribe.

So yes, kindness of strangers. What great people they were - we hung out a lot. Every night at 8:30 we'd all (us, the two gals, a young couple from England and a 16 year old gay hair dresser in training, also from England) congregate in the lobby at a group of comfy chairs with the best possibility for breeze, so as to appease my quick-to-sweat husband. Then we'd take turns heading up to the bar and asking for 10 strawberry slushies with rum.

Needless to say, the bartenders hated us. Which kinda sucked, 'cause it saved them 10 separate drink orders, and we were all ordering the same thing. Bastards should have been grateful! But noooo.....hehehe. If only they'd get bigger glasses, we wouldn't have been back so often! Poor planning, I'd say. Allow this photo to serve as evidence. Yes, there are two other drinks there - they were the 'punishment' drinks for when some unsuspecting fool would break a rule in our nightly drinking games. And yes, that's Hubs' birthday cake, kindly provided to us by the resort along with a bottle of champagne. Snaps, Sol Melia hotels and resorts.

A few other noteworthy tidbits - Hubs' birthday was good fun. By the pool in addition to their lounge chairs, they also have one small section with four shaded areas - three have two lounge chairs, and one has a double bed mattress, raised on a wooden platform. Choice digs, man. And for the first four days we were there, some snippy young Brit kids with a stinking Sponge Bob beach towel had managed to snag said prime spot. Always up for a challenge, I was determined to snag this wee piece of heaven for Hubs and I on his birthday. So I got us a wake up call for 7am, threw on my shorts, and headed down to put our towels on the bed and therefore, via the universal vacation signal for 'this is mine - hands off', secured the spot. Victory was mine. We enjoyed it all day long. Success is sweet. The funniest part? The kids snagged the spot right next to us - guess they wanted to sit and stare at the folks who stole their place. Hehehehe. Stare on, child. Stare on.

Break number two...DeeDee just hit me in the back of the head with the Wii remote as she was playing a vigorous game of tennis. Ouch. Poor kid is upstairs crying her eyes out. Me, I'm okay...just realize that if I stutter or don't make much sense, it's because of my recent head injury. Get it? Guud.

The only real craptastic element to Hubs' birthday came just before dinner. We'd finally figured out how to best call home so he could talk to DeeDee and they chatted for a bit, he chatted with Sludge...then they hung up. Neither of them wishing him a happy birthday. The poor guy was devastated, but tried so hard to hide it from me because he didn't want me to feel bad when I was trying so hard to make sure he had a good day. Sigh. He'd gone so long without talking to her, then he finally hears her voice, waits to hear her say 'happy birthday, daddy!'...and it never comes.

I could have killed Sludge for not making sure she remembered and said something. For her birthday, he knew her family wouldn't do anything (even though they all live under the same roof) so he made sure DeeDee had a card, present AND cake for her on her birthday, even though he really couldn't have cared less - hell, he really didn't WANT to do anything for her, but he knew it was the right thing to do.

And she, who wants nothing more than to be his best friend in the world, forgot it was his birthday. After complaining that he was going to be away for it in the first place, she totally forgets on the actual day. Ugh.

So poor Hubs drags his carcass through dinner, puts on a happy face, then we go meet the gang at our regular spot, have the aforementioned cake and champagne, and we continue to drink our faces off. And then the young Brit couple, who've known Hubs for a grand total of four days, pull out a birthday present that they bought for him at the gift shop. I think it really hit him hard then - total strangers being kind enough to actually buy him a present, and his ex couldn't even get DeeDee to wish him a simple happy birthday. Wow.

So yeah, that really sucked. He held it together though, quite well, and managed to make the best of a hard situation. The beach helped.

Speaking of beach, check this out. Absolutely gorgeous. How can that not cure what ails you?

So, there's a basic rundown of how the week went down. Despite the bumps in the road it was a great ride, one that we'll remember for a good long time and will get us through the next few months of baby making fun times. Not that the attempts at baby making won't be good times, it's just all the waiting for results etc that suck. Same old, same old.

When all else fails, I'll just stare lovingly at the following two photographs, some of my faves of the entire trip. And so I share them with you, my dear diva readers, as a snack of thanks for staying with me if you've read through all my ranting and raving.

It's good to be back.



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

Surprise!

Hey there! Bet you never thought you'd hear from me so soon! Hubs is upstairs in the room - the only place with real air conditioning - and he's allowing me to cavort with my new friends from London. Tramps, both of them, but a ball to hang out with. Since one of them has had waaaay to much to drink and had to be taken on a walk, I decided it was time to check and see if the computer was free. Danged thing's been busy all day!

So things are good here! Hot. Damned hot. Hubs has a problem with heat - he sweats like crazy in humidity - and today's been particularly foul. Poor boy...I sent him home from the disco so he could cool his jets. Sigh.

Weather's been nice and hot with showers at night, which is totally fine by me. Crazy thunderstorms, lightening like nothing I've ever seen before in my life, but it all just makes the daylight and sun that much more worth it.

We're just hanging out right now, but on Tuesday we go on a boat tour of a mangrove, then into the city of Moron (no, that's not a typo and no, the residents are not called Morons - I asked) for a horse and buggy ride, lunch with the locals, then we visit a crocodile farm. Quite the mixed bag, but something for everyone, no?

Then Wednesday is Hubs' birthday, so we're going to hang around here, have cake and dinner at the a la carte overlooking the ocean, and I'll do my best to spoil him like crazy. Thursday we go to Pilar beach at Half Moon Bay, the 'second best coral reef in the world' and the whitest beaches in this part of the world. Quite a marketing job there! We'll try snorkeling and if that doesn't work, hang on the beautiful beaches. I can deal.

So there's my mini update! And yes, Hubs knows I'm on the internet and is okay with it. As okay as he can be, but he understands my addiction. And hey, if it keeps me away from the really cute pasta bar man who winks at me every time I walk into the dining room (his name is Ariel - wow) then it can't be all bad.

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

At this time tomorrow...

...I'll be on a plane to Cuba! Woot woot! So flippin exciting. I can barely stomach it...in fact, I have serious rumblies in my tumbly. Could be the Blue Menu Mac and Cheese I had for lunch or maybe it's the excited stress.

It could also be anger. Yes, anger. Anger that is now fleeting, but was red hot at the time that I began this post. One word - Sludge. She's up to her fun antics again...never a dull moment.

In a nutshell, she's decided that she wants to become a Jehovah's Witness, and she's going to take DeeDee along with her. Hubs freaked out. He has no issue with Sludge choosing her own religious path, but is vehemently against introducing his daughter to a religion of indoctrination and fear. He's researched more than his fair share of religions in his own search for spiritual meaning, and so he's quite aware of the fundamental tenets of their beliefs. And that is not something he wants for his 9 year old daughter.

And again, they had a big blow out. Sigh...so much for our breakthrough convo. My powers to heal the troubled minds of others just ain't what I thought it was.

But as always, she backpedaled and the discussion came to a satisfactory end for Hubs. And now it's 9:40 on the day before we leave. Good thing we packed yesterday!!

Oh yeah, before I forget, I have a funny story for you. I almost blogged this out this morning, but work (blasted work) got in the way. Funny that. Ready? Okay.

So. When we packed to move, I put all my summer clothes in one big box. I have had to rummage through that box as of late seeing as we've finally been living in summer-esque weather, and I had to double dip to find my bathing suit so as to pack it for the trip.

I rummage, find suit, pack it away, and on we go.

It's only this morning as I'm making my way into the shower that I remember one key thing - my bathing suit, which is black and has one of those skirt like things at the bottom in a somewhat useless attempt to disguise thunder thighs, is a two piece - there's a panty-like bottom (similar to what you'd find in a bikini but the top piece covers it all anyway) that I didn't find, and therefore hadn't packed.

EEK!! I coulda showed up in Cuba sans bathing suit panties!! What the hell would I have done, swam around with my cooch hangin' out for all the world to see? I think not!! Yeesh.

Thankfully Hubs managed to dig them up from the aforementioned box and we were good to go. Wow. How freakin close was that?

So there you go. So sorry that the idea of me without any bathing suit bottoms is the last image that I have to leave you with for almost a week.

That's right - it looks like I won't be able to blog whilest away. Not even sure if there's a computer at the resort, but even if there is, Hubs seems to think that I need a break from all facets of my world, and that includes email, WB and, sniff, the blog. And, apparently, Grey's Anatomy. I, too, am being stalked by talk of pregnancy - isn't that the whole reason we're going away in the first place? Just in time, I say.

I've tried to convince him that the blog would be an excellent way for me for document our trip for posterity's sake, etc, but yeah, he's not really buying it. Only time will tell if I win this battle, or if it's one I determine isn't worth the scuttle.

So just in case I bow out gracefully, I wish you all a wonderful week, and I look forward to regaling you with wonderful tales of our trip upon our return. Or as close to said return as possible, 'cause we get in kinda late at night.

Hasta la vista, divas!!

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

A quick snapshot of my evening...

Yes, this is another one of those attempts at a short blog entry. I'm tired, I'm seriously jonesin to get to bed, and I just got off the phone after an hour and a half conversation with Sludge.

No, those are not sirens you hear in the distance - no one is coming to take me to jail. I didn't beat the bitch down. Alas.

She called me.

Woah...I know. Trippy, eh? Yep, she called to talk to me. Kinda.

When the phone rang and I saw it was her, I picked up. Deliberately. Call me nasty, but I relish the idea of her getting a little jolt when she hears my voice and not Hubs on the other end.

So I answer, she asks for Hubs, they speak for a bit, he says good night to DeeDee, then she asks if she can talk to me.

He looks veeeryyy nervous, especially when I take the phone from his outstretched hand with unbridled glee.

She wanted to apologize.

Whut? Yes, you read that right. To apologize. But here's the kicker - she wanted to apologize for not engaging me in conversation when I pick up the phone. To her, that's rude. Just asking for Hubs is kinda mean, because she doesn't ask me how I am or how my day went.

Well bowl me over with a feather. Of all the things in the known universe she could possibly apologize for, there's the one thing that never quite made my top 1000 list. Sheesh. What a letdown.

Of course, it doesn't end there. We have to rehash the fun of the concert, I try to convince her that I'm not some egomaniac-esque fiend who puts herself first and has to get her way all the time (yes, this is seriously what she's said about me - she's just used smaller words) and we must talk about money again and how she's so sad because she doesn't have any and we do so we can do fun things with DeeDee that she can't afford to (which I can understand, btw - but at the end of the day, if you can't provide her with something, shouldn't you be glad that her father can?). Never a dull moment.

And ya know what? It felt goooooood.

I was restrained and kind - kill 'em with kindness, I always say - and I think, maybe, I got a nanosmidge of my point across. Of course, she'll forget it all tomorrow when she's mad at the very idea of me as she rises in the cold morning and wraps her warm, snuggly victim blanket around her, but for now, apparently - we're good.

If only it were that simple. If only one telephone call could really make her see that we could all have such easier roads ahead if she'd open her eyes to some simple realities. That this doesn't have to be as hard as she makes this out to be. Blah blah blah...

Good times. What a flippin treat.

Oh well. I got to say some of what was on my mind without all the vitriol I was ready to shoot her way Monday night. Yeesh! I even told her that it took all of my internal fortitude to not pick up the phone and call her after that conversation to rip a strip off her for what she said and how she made Hubs (and me) feel, but that I knew it wasn't the best thing to do. Ah, so liberating to have these wee convos.

Who knows if it will change anything at all or if the cycle of destruction will start anew with the next friction filled volley. All I know is that I've got at least a few hours of sleep ahead of me before I find out!

And with that, I take my leave. Happy sleep to you all, and I'll be back tomorrow for (potentially) my last post for almost a week. Still gotta figure out if the resort has internet access - and if my marriage can survive a clandestine trip to the hotel computer so I can blog!!!

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

Somethings I'd be better off never seeing....

My parents having sex. The receipt from Hubs' Christmas present to me. Myself in a bikini. And tonight...

...Hubs and six of his new friends playing Dungeons and Dragons on our maple dining set underneath that glorious shell chandelier from Pier 1.

Yeah.

Now you know. You've read my dirty little secret - Hubs plays D&D. You have no idea how much it pains me to even type that out. Inhale, exhale.

His enjoyment of this activity is not news to me. In fact, he was wise enough to put all his cards, especially those of the geek variety, on the table during our first date. He told me he played video games (fine, no problem, as long as you don't devote every spare minute to them) and that he and his friends have been getting together to play this D&D for almost 20 years (nice to meet you, I wish you the best, have a great life).

I choked on those words, kept them down, and decided to move past it. He has so many other redeeming qualities, surely I couldn't discount him completely because of this little proclivity...

Love truly is blind.

For the two and a half years that we have been in each others' lives, D&D has played a very, very minor role (thankfully!!) in our day to day existence. He has the books, the dice, the miniatures, but by and large they're on the shelf more often than not.

When we lived downtown and his BFF had a kick ass office space for them to play in, I'd drop Hubs off a Saturday morning once every few months and he'd geek out while I'd enjoy a day with the car. Novel. Then BFF left said job and there was a bit of a lull. Instead, Hubs would head to BFF's house, but that didn't last long.

Then we relocated to the burbs and I thought these times would be few and far between. Which is not necessarily a good thing - Hubs loves these get togethers, and I'm all for him having boy time with friends. I really don't need to spend EVERY waking moment with him, and god knows I adore my girl time, so I'm happy he's got an outlet/playgroup of his own.

Well you'll never guess what.

One of the guys Hubs works with plays. With a bunch of guys. In the next town over. Every week.

And now, Hubs is one of them.

They play every Tuesday night, from 7:15 to 10:30 pm. I kid you not - 7:15. Geeks!! Insanely precise geeks!!!

For the past few weeks, they've been gathering at some other geekhouse. But sooner or later it had to happen...

Tonight, our house is geekhouse.

I came in after hanging out with Leanne and they they were. Sitting at said table, die everywhere, little plastic monsters traversing the landscape Hubs had crafted with care (I'm not kidding - he printed out maps from the computer, then burned them with the bbq lighter to make them look old a la grade school), talking about casting spells and wizards and...ugh, I have to stop, it hurts too much.

I walked in, said hello, went upstairs to change and came back down to eat my Wendy's taco salad. I poured myself some diet sprite in the kitchen and actually bit a hole into my cheek to keep from laughing.

This world is just soooooooo not me. But Hubs loves it like nobody's business. And who am I to deny him something that brings him so much *gulp* pleasure? So I sit in the living room, eat the rest of my salad, and turn to my blog to block out the sounds emanating from the general vicinity of the dining area.

Suddenly there's a mad rush and I'm being swarmed by geeks on their way home. There's a flurry of socked feet being stuffed into sandals and then - they're gone. The house is returned to some semblance of normalcy. I breathe a sigh of relief.

Until Hubs tells me that he'll be hosting them every Tuesday night for the next six months. Whut? Uh, yeah. Apparently this is his 'campaign' so they don't switch locations until a new one begins.

That, and we're one of the few of the gang that has a big enough table. Mostly because a bunch of them still live at home in their parents' basements.

Shocked? Yeah, neither was I.

So, apparently my Tuesday nights are free for the next few months - anyone wanna play? ANYONE!?!?!?

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

Is there a full moon tonight or something?

I swear to god, all the crazies are out tonight. There must be a full moon, 'cause Sludge is surely howling at it tonight.

I KNOW hate is a very strong word, and I KNOW you're really not supposed to use it for people but instead reserve it for broccoli (oops - if Oprah taught me anything, it's not to piss off the broccoli people - or was Oprah beef and Bush was broccoli? too much rage...) or other such easily disdainable items. Oh great, now I'm making up words. Disdainable? Gimme a break! Grrr....

I have to say it though - in this very moment, I yet again hate Sludge. I really do. I'm soooo sick and tired of her playing the victim in all of this it just kills me. I try to stay in the background when these things flare up because it's not in DeeDee's best interest to add yet another player into the 'let's fake a happy broken family' showcase. She's got enough to deal with these days.

The problem is - I'm sick and tired of getting beaten down over and over again, just by virtue of the role I've been cast in this ridiculous drama - the new wife. That's right, don't call her the stepmother folks - she's daddy's wife. Maybe stepparent would be okay, but I'm apparently not worthy of any title that has a river of consonants and vowels that, when spilled together, happen to spit out the word 'mother'. According to her. Because I am not DeeDee's mother, not her blood, I have no say in anything, no role to play whatsoever.

What she just doesn't get is - I don't want to be DeeDee's mother.

I really don't.

She already has one. As fucked up as she may be, she has a mother. And that mother is not me. Yes, contrary to popular opinion, I am not trying to usurp her in this area. At all.

What on earth would it take to make her see this? Why is she so goddamned threatened by me?

The highlight of the evening had to have been when I clearly heard this gem - 'she's no better than me'.

It took everything I had not to flip out.

Ummmm sorry - but yeah, I kinda am.

I know how awful that sounds, I do. And I thought really long and hard about it, let it roll around on my tongue a bit before I said the words aloud (to Hubs alone, of course). I hate the thought of me even thinking that I'm better than someone, because that's so subjective and elitist and holier-than-thou and truly, that's not me.

But I work. Hard. I pay my bills. She doesn't lift a finger for a single cent she earns.

I help others, and don't expect others to do everything for me. Yes, I've had more opportunities, but I've done everything I can to make the best of them when they were presented. I didn't sit back and watch those opportunities go by, thumbing my nose at them and expecting the universe to just take care of me. I don't have her warped sense of entitlement to social assistance without putting a thing into the system that supports her.

And I don't know - there's a super selfish part of me that thinks yeah, all that kinda makes me a better person.

Wow.

It was surprising to say the words, and it's even more so writing them down. It's taking everything I have to not hit the backspace key and delete my entire position on this issue, but I'm going to stand my own ground and not censor myself. I may regret this or come back to edit it later, but it's all so raw right now, so open and almost festering....I don't even know where to go from here.

How do you fight a demon that hates you not for who you are as a person (so she says) but for every single thing you represent? For the coveted position you hold as wife? For all you have in your life?

There's no winning here. And what's worse, I don't even really get to do battle, because were we really to go at it (as satisfying as it might be), the only real casualty would be DeeDee. And I refuse to heap extra challenges on that child.

Which is why, I suppose, this drives me so crazy, eats away at me and makes me want to breathe fire. I vent here and to Hubs and on WB so that I don't turn that anger and the resulting vitriol to the one person in my life who, let's face it, actually deserves to bear the brunt of it.

Huh....funny how she doesn't have any qualms about slamming me up against each and every brick wall she could possibly find. I can't even tell you how hard it is to not just lash out right back and make myself feel better.

Maybe in the end, that's what really sets me apart from her and makes me a better person. I actually can step back and do what's best for everyone in the situation and not just me, even if it's eating me up inside.

For the time being, until this latest flash of anger oozes its way out of my pores, I guess I can survive on that. I have no choice - otherwise it'll be off the deep end for me.

And funnily enough, I'm saving all my deep end action for Cuba. :)

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

Back to that daily grind...

...but hey, only five days until Cuba!

Suddenly everything else seems to pale in comparison. Chilly breeze today? No worries, I'll be in Cuba in five days - it'll be warm there. Back to work tomorrow? Oh well, at least NEXT Monday will be spent on a beach with Hubs and a pina colada. Have to get up at 6:30 for work? Bah - in five days a clock won't matter, and the only time we'll have to get up early is to go and see the sunrise, the one thing Hubs has specifically requested. Awwww.....gotta love him.

Hope everyone had a great weekend and managed to get outdoors! This weather has been incredible, and we tried our best to get out and enjoy it. Yesterday was a lot of running around - we bottled some wine, bought a bunch of stuff to take to Cuba with us to leave for the resort staff and their kids, bought Mother's Day stuff for Hubs' mom, had a get together with his family on the anniversary of a sad day, went to the library and got some reading material for the pool, then went to see Spiderman 3.

Since I'm sure you're all dying for my review of this first of the summer mega releases, I'll sum it up for you in one word - meh.

I've never really been a big superhero movie buff, but went along because Hubs and DeeDee really wanted to see it - and as soon as humanly possible. So I sat there, ate my popcorn, sipped my Diet Coke, and laughed at the parts I probably wasn't supposed to laugh at. You know, those serious moments that most people let sink in - I giggled. Too much for me, too much.

Oh well, they've seen it and that's that!!

The benefit of doing so much running around on Saturday meant that we could enjoy at a much more leisurely pace our Sunday. We slept in (incredible!! a sign of things to come, I'm sure), Hubs made breakie for me, then it was a short shuffle to Tim's for a coffee, then off to a day at the zoo!

Yep, it was time to step out into the sun and see the animals in their not so natural habitats. We get to the zoo, pay our parking fee, get in line for the membership desk...and we freeze our asses off.

Yeah, I didn't get the memo that it was super windy today and that wind was of the arctic variety. And I was in a tshirt and skorts. Brrrrr....not cool. Well...actually quite cool, but you know what I mean.

We oooohed and awwwed at the gorillas, said hi to my sister, brother in law and nephew (also at said zoo - as visitors, not on exhibit...thought I should point that out), wandered down to see the orangutans and kinda hung out there for a while. They have some cute little babies that I totally feel in love with - amazing how expressive those darned things can be! And did I mention it was warm in there? Heaven!

Once we'd had enough of zoo life, we headed home (following our obligatory stop at the gift shop for something of the stuffed variety for DeeDee) and prepared for a yummy-hot-dogs-on-the barbie-with-green-coleslaw-and-homemade-pasta-salad dinner. And nothing tops the evening off like a trip to the DQ for a Blizzard. Ah, blood sugar overload. Eeek...can't do that too often. It sure was good, but I have to say - I'm kinda glad there'll be no DQ in Cuba. Methinks those pina coladas will be dangerous enough in and of themselves.

So there's my weekend in a nutshell. Not too shabby, all things considered. Hope you had a great one as well and hey if not, just think - in five days I'm leaving for Cuba!!

Oh wait - uh, guess that only really works to make ME feel better, eh? Eesh, sorry about that.

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

Hola chickas!

Yes, that is my lame attempt at Spanish. The good news is I'll have an opportunity to practice it even more starting next weekend - 'cause the diva's heading to Cuba.

Yep, we did it. We're booked. Four star, all inclusive, beachfront, swim up bar. A diva's delight. Just what the doctor ordered to keep my mind off all this fertility stuff indeed.

It's amazing what a positive impact just knowing we're going has already had on my general state of mind. Something to look forward to is a powerful thing, I'm now discovering. I have genuine smiley moments - very cool, since those have been somewhat few and far between as of late. And they really help to get over all this pain I'm having in the general vicinity of my girlie bits....every time I get a sharp stabbing pain in the ovary, I close my eyes and think of mojitos.

I'm kinda surprised how much it's helping, actually. And I sure as hell am not going to look this proverbial gift horse in the mouth!

In other news, I had a busy day today at work. Lots going on, a fun event to go to at lunch, then only two hours to squish an entire day's worth of work into once I made it back to my desk. Yeesh!

It was nice to then come home in the sunshine with Hubs, play some Wii and research Cuba. All happy activities. All in an effort to make the time leading up to Grey's Anatomy go faster.

Okay, so is anyone watching this? First, I love this show.... I really do. And I must say I'm now even more excited to see what the spinoff show will bring. Holy cast, batman! Yummilicious Taye Diggs back on prime time? Sign me up! Rrrrr....

Of course just as I'm attempting to put the whole fertility thing out of my mind Addison heads to her friendly neighbourhood fertility doc/BFF. Figures. Some great joke played on me by the universe. But I refuse to let it get me down - I just close my eyes and think of white sand and blue waters....and a couple more mojitos.

Back to Grey's. Here's a prediction for you - Preston leaves Christina at the altar. You may say to yourself WHUT? - but I see it coming. We know he's leaving the show at some point...what a fantastic way to write him off into the sunset. Drama. Gotta love it. Especially when it's in someone else's life. Even better when they're completely fictional someones and not me or any member of my diva posse.

I'm stuck on pause right here - Hubs is on the phone attempting yet again to have a 'rational' conversation with Sludge. Oy. I love how she can interrupt a perfectly good evening with a tempter tantrum or bout of self esteem issues.

Mojitos, mojitos, mojitos.

I think I'm going to go put my pj's on, take my evening diabeasties prick, maybe throw in some Advil for good measure (damned cyst) and generally do everything necessary to be ready for bed so that when, nay if, he ever gets off the phone, we can watch the second half of the show and then head up to bed. Lovely bed. Bed that is calling my name...singing me a sweet song, beckoning me to come up, sit a while, just lie down for a bit, there there...

Danged Sludge better not deny me too much cuddle time in said sweet bed with Hubs tonight. I'm hormonal, in a fair bit of pain, and at this point, there ain't a judge alive that would convict me for bitch slapping her for all she's done as of late.

Take that.

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

Hmmm...how's July for you?

Yeah, July. It would appear that that's when our next chance to get pregnant will arrive.

Another bumpy day on our 'scenic route' to becoming parents. Sigh...are you getting bored of reading all this sad news, my dour reports of our journey? Believe me, I'm getting pretty darned fed up with having to write them all, I'll tell you what. But alas, here we are again.

To make a very long story short (yes, it is possible for me to do just that), I went in for a day three ultrasound and blood work today. Didn't have to do this last time, but whatever - I'm not the expert here. Yet. I'm sure it's just a matter of time...

Anydoodle, they decided I needed to come in and do this today and they'd give me the prescription for my increased dosage of clomid at the same time. Fine.

Hubs and I get up stupid early this morning, trudge through the traffic, he drops me off, and up I go for the morning poke I've missed so much in the past two plus weeks.

And that's when the bottom falls out. Again.

Apparently I have a cyst on my right ovary. That in itself is not a big deal - cysts come and go and are most often absorbed or flushed out by the body, so it's nothing to really be concerned about.

Unless you're trying to get pregnant, that is. You know, like us.

So, they tell me they're going to look at my blood work and if the cyst is producing hormones (huh?) they won't give me the clomid because it won't work. If that's the case, we'll have to cancel the cycle and wait for next time.

And wouldn't you know that would be exactly what's happening. The damned little bugger is producing too much estrogen, so I'm out. Again. Before we even got started. Again.

WTF? Just as I was starting to feel a bit more hopeful and generally positive about our little situation, something else comes along and smacks us upside the face.

So now, because the little beastie is generating estrogen, the clomid won't work. 'Cause the greedie thing would suck up all the good stuff and the rest of my wee follicles, just waiting for their taste, would get none. So nothing would happen. Hence why we're cancelling this entire cycle.

And now we wait. Again. I'm supposed to call them back in 4 weeks if I haven't had a period of my own. Which I won't, 'cause my body doesn't do that all by itself. So I'll go back in in four weeks and if things look okay, they'll give me more happy drugs to bring a cycle on - again - which will, as we now know all too well, take about two more weeks. Then we'll go back again on day three, this time hoping no more cysties are hanging out and cramping my style, and if the bastard is gone, we'll try the clomid.

And if IT works, we'll try, finally, our first IUI two weeks or so later.

Let's do the math, shall we? Four weeks before we go back, two weeks to start the next cycle, and two more weeks after that to head towards ovulation. 4+2+2 = 8. Eight weeks - or the beginning of July.

Which is why Hubs and I have spent the vast majority of our time at home this evening weighing the pros and cons of going south for a week to an all inclusive. Leaving next weekend. 'Cause I gotta tell ya - this diva's surely in need not only of a distraction, but of some time away from drugs and temping and charting and babies. Everywhere.

We'll see how the picture looks in the morning, but a week on the beach in Mexico sounds like just what the doctor ordered. And while my prescription for clomid rests futilely in my sassy white Jeanne Lottie messenger bag, this Mexico 'scrip is something I'd like to see filled much sooner rather than later. Fewer negative side effects.

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