The crap de la crap

Yep, that's what yesterday was. Certainly no creme in sight.

So all the things I was afraid of yesterday actually came to fruition. If only I could see the winning lottery numbers with such clarity and foresight, life would be a little rosier...

Looks like this cycle is going to be a bust. Before we even have a shot to do an insemination. It appears that the dominant follicle they were seeing a few days ago is likely a cyst that has now collapsed. According to my estrogen levels, there is not another follicle large enough or producing enough estrogen to take over the dominant follicle position. And with no dominant follicle, there's no ovulation. No ovulation, no insemination. No insemination, no chance at conception. And no chance at conception means, you've got it, no hope for a baby this cycle.

Have I mentioned how much this all sucks? Yeah, not really news to you, is it?

If I've said it once I've said it a thousand times - it's just so fucking hard. This whole process, the emotional roller coaster, the hormones, the crying at work (oh yeah, I totally let loose a bunch of times yesterday - awesome), watching Hubs worry about me, keeping one eye on the calendar as we creep ever closer to my sister's due date and I'm not pregnant...

What in the world did I do to deserve this?

Yep, last night I got angry. And I can feel myself starting to get bitter. I'm not usually a 'why me' kinda person. Seriously. I believe that there are certain things we have control over, and when things are out of our realm of influence, we still have control over how we react or respond to those circumstances. So this is obviously one area where I have no control...I can't spontaneously generate extra estrogen levels or make my follicles grow.

I'd be the newest character on season two of Heroes if I could do something like that. Imagine having to explain THAT power to Dr. Suresh. Well you see, doctor - I can force my estrogen levels to rise! Let me fight alongside you as you try to defeat Sylar...I'll develop killer eggs that can track him down and take him out...

Have I mentioned I'm not getting a lot of sleep these days?

So even though I have no power or control over how my body chooses to respond to the drugs that are doing funky things in my pituitary gland, I can control how I react to all the bad news I'm getting. I'm just not doing a very good job of it.

Hubs is getting increasingly concerned. Usually it's just bad news once a month - when it's testing time and I get the negative. At least that's been the pattern for the past few months. But now this - not even two weeks after the last negative, here I am again, crying my eyes out, feeling rather hopeless and helpless, and there's absolutely nothing he can do to fix it.

He makes it better, of course, just by being there, but that's not enough for him. He just wants me to be okay again, and I keep telling him that I will be, but I need to go through all this stuff to get to the other side. The side where 'okay' lives. I just don't know how long it will take me to get there if things keep getting messed up cycle after cycle.

'Cause no matter what anyone says, this isn't getting better with time. The optimism that I had when we started medical intervention is gone. 'Cause let's face it - intervention ain't doing jack. Yes, it's gotten me to ovulate, but big fat hairy deal if nothing ever comes of it. I'm trying to look ahead, be hopeful that the next round of medications, the ones I'll have to take via needle in ass, will do the trick. But at the same time I'm still scared to death that nothing will work and it'll just be more of the same for all the months ahead of us.

Hubs wants his wife to get his smile back, he says. And boy oh boy does that break your heart. Poor guy keeps telling me he has no idea if telling me how he feels through all this helps me or makes it worse. Well, that was kinda hard to hear, because it made me realize how much he's suffering through this too. Not that I didn't think he was suffering at all, but it's different now.

I know how hard it is on me when he's not okay or having a bad day dealing with things. I want nothing more than for him to be better and I feel powerless because all I can do is be there for him. And here I am putting him through the same damned thing. And I'm the one who tells the world you may not be able to control what happens to you, but you can control how you react to it. What a hypocrite I am.

But I just can't do it. I can't be all sunshine and light because at the core of my being, that's not how I feel right now. This is not to say that I'm Debbie Downer all the time either...this isn't a constant thing, honest! I do have good days too, in fact more okay/good days than bad. It's just that the bad ones are so intense, my emotions that much more raw, that they stick in the brain much more than the okay ones.

I hate saying that only someone who's been through this can really understand what I'm going through, but the longer this goes on and the harder it gets, the more true it becomes. Until you've swam a mile in my empty uterus, you can't know what's going on in my head. Or precisely why it hurts. Or how, despite how desperately you want to, there's nothing you can do to make it better.

So the past few days truly have been the crap de la crap of bad days. Especially since it all just hit me out of left field - I totally wasn't expecting this to happen! This was the easy part, the part that works, the rare moment of calm waters for smooth sailing. Which only seems to heighten the disappointment and throw me completely off my emotional course even more when it all goes horribly wrong.

Thank god it's Friday. It's just us this weekend, Hubs and I, and we're going to do some work around the house. New paint on the front door and garage door, new door lock, work on the lawn...very hands-on chores to take my mind off all this stuff.

After my 8am appointment, the final nail in this cycle's coffin, that is.

Hope you all have a great weekend. And be sure to enjoy some of that Saturday morning sleep in for me, will ya?

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

I hate being a crier.

Yep. I'm that girl. I get angry - I cry. I get upset at the slightest thing - I cry. I see someone get hurt and I'm nervous - I laugh.

Okay, that last one's a bit off the crier theme but still...

It drives me nuts. I hate it. HATE IT! I wish I had better control over my tear ducts when things happen and an emotional reaction is triggered. But no matter what I do, I just can't stop them from flowing when I get even the smallest tidbit of bad news.

Lord knows I should be used to bad news by now. The whole infertility roller coaster prepares you for that. But it's the unexpected twists and turns in that roller coaster's track that really catch you off guard. Especially when you're expecting a nice smooth ride.

Well, at least trouble free, I'd say. This is the point in the whole conception timeline that things usually go okay. The drugs have done what they're supposed to do, and we're just supposed to be days away from the happy insemination.

Guess I should know better than to just expect everything to be okay. 'Cause today, it wasn't. And when I got the phone call, it took every fiber of my being to not break down in tears before I'd even hung up the phone.

I won't go into all the sordid and technical details, but suffice it to say that the progress that's supposed to have been made thus far has not, so we're waiting a bit more to see if the situation changes. Which throws me into a tailspin, while the clinic doesn't seem too concerned about the whole thing.

I suppose there should be some reassurance in that, and yet...here I am. Eyes slightly puffy, 'cause as soon as I got in the car with Hubs at the GO station, the damn finally broke. It's why I knew I couldn't call him when I got the news. I had a hard enough time keeping it together all by myself....just hearing his voice and having to tell him would have shattered the very peace I'd worked so hard to achieve.

Fortunately I managed to keep my dialing fingers occupied until the magic hour of 4:30 arrived and I could flee the office. I've cried there all too often and figured it would be nice to try to go two whole weeks without a meltdown witnessed by all and sundry who have the misfortune of working where I do.

Sigh. How I hate the public meltdowns. Everyone looks at you with the concerned eyes, that 'is everything okay' look. How I despise that look. I appreciate the sentiment, don't get me wrong - it's great to know that people actually care - but at the same time each person that asks rips the scab off the wound anew. And that can leave one hell of a scar, ya know?

So here's hoping that tomorrow I get some good news, things get back on track, and I don't run the risk of spoiling my two week no crying streak. I'll take my little victories where I can find them.

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

Tis the season...

...for season premieres!! Wooo hoooo!!

Yes, I'm a television junkie. My ever expanding ass is a testament to that fact.

I love this time of year. Yes the leaves are pretty, yes the humidity is down, but perhaps most importantly - the good tv comes back.

Across this great nation, people are bunking down on their couches, settling in to watch new episodes of Prison Break. They're getting to know the new Bachelor. And they're tuning in to the first episode of Heroes to see what the hell happened to Peter Petrelli.

And I'm right there with them! At least I would be, if it weren't for Sludge. Yes, Hubs is on the phone with her. Again. Having a rather vigorous and lengthy conversation about DeeDee and what's in her best interests. I won't bore you with the details 'cause I'll just get all riled up again (grrrrrr) but suffice it to say, Belleck is frozen on the tv screen until Hubs gets off the phone and we can catch up to what all of you have likely already seen.

So I'll just sit here and natter away on my blog until he's done. And can I just say it kinda needs to be soon? I've got two hours worth of shows to watch and I'd really like to get to bed before midnight. Stupid hormone drugs made it difficult for me to sleep well at night.

Apparently they also make me lose focus and have rambling thoughts....wasn't I talking about season premiere week?

Okay then.

So, who else is excited about Grey's starting back up this week? And the spinoff show, Private Practice. Like or lump? I'm a fan....I'll be interested to see how it all plays out, what becomes of Addison as she heads south. Can't say that I'm looking forward to her lamenting the demise of her ovaries some more though - too much art imitating life, if you catch my drift. But a healthy dosage of Ty Diggs might just bring me back around. Daym that man is fine. I wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crackers, even if Crackers was his dog.

Have I ever discussed the impact some of these drugs can have on the ole libido? Yeesh!

What else...okay. Other new shows. Lemme get my spreadsheet here...

Stop laughing. Yes, I have a spreadsheet that outlines the shows I want to watch, the time slot they're on, the network that shows them, and their start dates. A diva must be prepared at all times, and never misses her stories if she doesn't have to. And thanks to my trusty PVR and some clever programming by yours truly, I never will!

Hubs is still on the phone...what else can I ramble on about.

Oh yeah! How can I forget my cross border shopping excursion on Sunday! Woo hoo to the dollar at parity! Not only that, but there's only 4.75% sales tax in NY state, so you save an additional 10%!

I shopped like a maniac. Managed to finally find the elusive Coach bag of my dreams at a decent price. She's beautiful. Light purple suede with eggplant leather trim. Prrrrr......divine. I also managed to grab some of my fave hand soaps from Bath and Body Works (new flavour - fresh pineapple. Hello tropics!!) and some cute outfits for my niece to be. Now, that was a bit painful but I managed okay. And as I've said before, it's more shopping done now that I won't have to do when she's born and I might be ready to go off the proverbial deep end.

I also scored big time at Lane Bryant. Yes, I'm not only diva-esque in personality but also in stature, so I never miss an opportunity to shop at my fave US clothing chain whenever I cross the border. Get this...I managed to get $396 worth of clothes for $227.

No, that is not a typo. It's true! It was like Christmas!! Without the calories or sugar crashing, but still just as warm and fuzzy. I had a coupon that saved me $75 when I spent $225, and they were also having some weird sale that I still don't understand, to be truthful. Something like buy one get another something for $10. Or $10 off. Or who knows...all that matters is that I saved a buttload of cash, and that ain't wrong. It's oh so right. Ah.

Coming back across the border I was a bit concerned that we'd get pulled over to pay duty since we all actually said we'd bought stuff. But Mr. Laid Back Customs Man was too busy smoking his ciggy to even reach out and take our documents. Never looked at them! Asked us our citizenship, what city we lived in, how much we had to declare ($180, $250, $75, said the adults), and said okay. We stayed there, stunned until he looked at us and said, I kid you not, 'buh bye'. Unreal. And they want to give these guys guns? They're too busy smoking to actually draw them! Insane.

Oh well. Guess I shouldn't complain, since the opposite of his reaction would have really sucked. Wasn't in the mood to have the Kia ripped apart. It's doing that all by itself. Stupid car.

Okay, I think it's time to stop now. I'm all over the place, can't stay on one topic for more than a blink of time, and my eyeballs are starting to burn. It's 10pm so time to force Hubs to give up the fight for tonight and resume it again tomorrow. 'Cause god knows Sludge has no shortage of bullshit to spurt on a daily basis. And hey, if the bullshit fails, there's always the number of piles of dog shit that are lying around in her apartment. Yes, you read that right. Their lovely new puppy shits everywhere and she doesn't clean it up for hours. Awesome.

No wonder I love the nonsensical escapism that is television....real life is chock full of shit these days!! Hehehe.

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

You know you love me.

Nah, I'm not looking for all sorts of adoration. I'm referring instead to the catchphrase from my latest addiction - Gossip Girl.

I finally managed to watch the premier of this fine, fine piece of television this evening and uh oh - I'm hooked.

What's not to like? Filthy rich teenagers drinking underage, sleeping with each other and each other's boyfriends, fancy parties with feather hairstyles, parental pressures, the not so rich kids trying to make it good with the popular kids...and they all take the city bus to high school.

Yeah, right.

Other than the bus thing (I mean, come on!!), all the elements of a fan-freakin-tastic show are there. And will be waiting for me every week.

I do find that the S character looks much older than she's supposed to play on the show. Back from boarding school, you say? Looks to me like she's back from her third year at college. The other gals look the part but S - too old if you ask me.

I love a good series premier. The promise of so many evil deeds of the past still to be unearthed. And then there's the revenge that's soon to follow.

Awesome.

I think the one of the reasons that I like this show, among many others, is the fact that it's such a complete departure from my everyday life that I can totally immerse myself in it without being reminded of the fun elements that plague my daily existence. And right now, that's just what the doctor ordered!

And can I say I love how much this is based around a blog by an anonymous girl? You had to know that would appeal to me.

Hubs hates the show, of course. Didn't even want to be in the same room with me while I watched. Guess I'll have to watch it after I come home from my Tuesday nights out while Hubs is playing with the boys. Don't want to add even more stress to his Sludge-ridden existence. I know - I'm such a thoughtful wife, no?

Anyhoodle, if you've not yet caught this show and you have a soft spot for rich teen angst, I highly recommend tuning in to this gem of a program next week. Check your local listings!

XO! You know you love me.

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

PS Kris, I answered your question from the last post in that post's comment section. :)

Fun for the whole family

Family.

Interesting topic. Six letters, one very powerful word. So much capacity for wonderful things - and for drama, drama, drama.

There's that old saying about how you can't pick your family. If we're going to be entirely literal then yes - we get who we get at birth and that's that. But I also believe that we can bend the definition of family to include a whole host of people in our lives with whom we share not blood, but a commonality of spirit. A similar purpose, a shared history; however you want to describe it, if you're lucky, there are those non-blood related folk in your life who round out and enlarge your family circle.

And can I just say, thank *insert your personal deity of choice here* for those folk. 'Cause my own family, those blood people who've been right there as a fixture in my life since that first spank on the ass, just don't know what to say to me these days.

I know I've mentioned here before about the challenges I'm having with my mom and my sister through all this infertility stuff. The quick and dirty version of the story is that they simply can't relate, can't even begin to understand where it is I'm coming from in this incredibly hard period of my life. And it's not their fault, truly. They've never been there. Never had trouble conceiving. So they can't know. And I can't be upset with them for that. I won't.

But...

I don't need them to know what it's like for me. Fortunately, I have other members of my extended 'family', many of you included, who know exactly what it's like to be me right now. Still others of you have flat out told me you don't have a clue, but you're rooting for me and are sending me all the positive vibes and truckloads of support along the way.

A great portion of you who fall into the latter category don't even know me in person. Some of you don't even know my real name...and yet, you still seem to know the right thing to say, the sentiments I most need to hear.

This boggles my mind. I don't know - I guess my family is so close to the situation that they can't pull themselves out and be objective. Instead, they either pull away completely, thinking that I don't want to be around them at all (sister) or tell me it's time to go and get some counseling because depression runs in the family you know (mother), and I'm just so sad. That's not like me.

No mom, you're right. It's not like me. But I'm also going through one of the most emotionally challenging experiences of my entire life, and even better, it's cyclical, so I get to live it over and over again, month after month. With no promise of a resolution, no guarantees whatsoever. So yeah, it's hard.

But the solution does not lie exclusively in counseling for me. In my head anyway, I'd be much further ahead if I could find some way to show them, make them see how their actions and reactions don't do all that much to help me along, despite their very best intentions. Crib bedding shopping expedition: exhibit A your honour.

But I can't do that. So instead, I finally tonight had a bit more of a heart to heart chat with my mom. I tell her I'm starting to feel quite marginalized from the family. That I don't rate as much as I once did. She of course reassures me that that's not what she's trying to do and again, I believe her. As I've said earlier, I honestly don't believe there's any malice or ill will behind any of their actions.

But they still don't get it. My mom, for example, backs up my sister's position. Tells me that she feels like she's lost her best friend because she can't talk to me about this pregnancy, that I don't even want to be around her when she's pregnant. Mom says that even thought it's hard for me to see, shouldn't I be happy for her, my sister, someone I love?

And there's the rub. OF COURSE I'm happy for my sister. She's my sister, for pete's sake. I didn't turn into some heartless bitch overnight that ditches her family because she can't take it. No, I do my best to be supportive and ask questions when I'm emotionally strong enough to do so. Which I'll admit isn't every day, but it does happen. It just gets hard when there is nothing but reminders in what she says and where we go.

Of course I'm happy for her. She's carrying my niece. My niece - the little baby girl that is soon to be the recipient of some very cute pink onesies from Tommy Hilfiger, and a keepsake Villeroy and Boch bowl and spoon set. That's the baby that I want to celebrate and shop for, spoil rotten, all those good things. That's the side of me that struggles with the alter ego, the flip side of this terrible infertility coin - self-preservation.

It's so not personal, and that's the thing. She thinks it is. She thinks it's her, but she can't see that in reality, the difficulty I have with so much of this takes her as my sister completely out of the equation. It's not just her - truly, it's all pregnant women right now. Yes, I have a hard time seeing those beautiful bellies, not knowing if I'll ever look that way. And I don't give a rip who the belly belongs to - seeing one causes me actual visceral pain. And that sucks.

Now imagine that you see this belly, experience this pain, and it's at every family gathering, right there, all the time. It has nothing to do with her per se - it's just the reality of the situation. And it's so hard to make her see that.

It doesn't help when she offered to have me over for dinner when Hubs was away and I got my bad news. I was quite honest with her that I simply couldn't be around a pregnant person at that moment. Full on truth. Ugly, but real. And now, she thinks that's how I feel all the time, that I don't want to see her or have to look at her because she's the visual personification of everything that I want, but thus far, can't manage to have.

So I'm in constant battle with myself - do I risk hurting my sister, or do I protect my already fragile emotional state? What a terrible tightrope to walk in life.

So much about this infertility ride sucks huge ass. The drugs, the cost, the ups and downs, the tears, the crazy mood swings, the headaches, the hot flashes. All of it - crap. But worth it a thousand times over if we do manage to achieve our desired outcome of a healthy baby boy or girl.

It's the collateral damage that I'm worried about in the long run. How do I mend fences here, and is it truly my sole responsibility to do so? What if we never get pregnant - how hard is it going to be for me when that child is actually born? Will my relationship with my sister and mother ever be the same?

So many casualties in this war against my body. My hope is that at the end of this, however that end may be arrived at, all of my family members return home safely, in one piece. Still talking to each other.

In the interim, I hope for the best and think I've finally made some headway with my mom. She said that we need to work on things, the three of us, so we can get back to 'us three' the way we used to be. I'd love nothing more, really. And I sincerely hope we can make it work.

Until then, allow me this opportunity to once again thank you, the other members of my extended family, for sticking by me with words of support and encouragement. It helps more than you will ever know, and right now, I'll take all the (non-counseling) help I can get.

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

The week that was....

Hello my lovelies! Imagine my surprise to get a comment asking where I've been and to come back! How very kind.

Well. It's been a week since I last came to brief you on my existence, and its been a trying week at that.

Let's see...well, after The Weekend to End Breast Cancer I was exhausted, mentally and physically. I felt like I was coming down with something so I stayed home from work on Tuesday and just attempted to sleep, take it easy, and not get sick. The latter I did thankfully avoid.

But I also kinda called in sad. Yes, I was feeling terrible physically, but I was so emotional and all over the map on Tuesday that staying home seemed like the only option. You see, Tuesday was 13 days after our latest insemination attempt. Which meant my blood test was the next day. And since all tests I'd done up to that point were coming back negative, I knew, I just knew in my gut, that the blood test would come back negative as well.

I really got my hopes up this time. Everything felt different. My 'symptoms' were different, things progressed as they were supposed to, I had two good follicles produced, Hubs' numbers were great, and more than anything, something told me this could be our time.

The higher you allow your hopes to get, the further you have to fall. And I fell. Hard.

By Tuesday afternoon I was a mess. Hubs was home, getting ready to go out of town until Friday. We cuddled in bed for a bit after he finished packing, and I burst into tears. I was so afraid of the result I knew was coming, and the hormones coursing through my body wouldn't allow me to keep the tears at bay any longer. I sobbed in his arms, and he tried to cancel his trip.

I wouldn't let him.

I told him I'd be okay - eventually - and off he went as he had to. As I closed the door behind him, I started sobbing and it took a good long time to stop.

Again, I blame the hormones. In my head, I knew my reaction was totally beyond how I was actually feeling and/or what was 'normal' for the situation, but I couldn't stop myself. I simply could not stop crying, I was just too sad. Sad for what wasn't to be, and, as I'm increasingly lead to believe, what simply will not be. Ever. But we solider on.

So I sat at home all alone, made myself some KD for dinner (a rare indulgence - Hubs hates the stuff and it's terrible for me, but who's gonna stop me at a time like that?), and counted the hours until it was reasonable to return to bed.

Then my mom called.

Great. As soon as I hear her voice, another crying spell begins. The effect mom's voice has on me. This is not good, not good at all. My mother already thinks I'm losing the plot (if I hear her say she's concerned about me because depression runs in our family one more time, I think I WILL actually become depressed :) ) so hearing my heave sobbing certainly didn't add a check in the 'sane' column. Sigh.

To make matters worse, she wasn't even calling to check on me and see how I was doing. She was calling to say how great it was that the Weekend to End Breast Cancer got great coverage. Makes sense - it just happened and was all over the news. But at that point all I really needed was support.

Not that they know how to be a support for me anyway. Don't get me wrong, I know there's nothing malicious AT ALL about what either my mother or my sister say or do, but man. They just don't get it yet. They can't. Especially my sister. We're chatting a few weekends ago and I say I'm headed down to Linens N Things and she says she has to go to Homesense next door, so why don't we go together? Okay, sounds good.

I tell myself, I can handle this. I'm okay these days. I have positive thoughts about what is to come. I can handle being alone with my 30 week pregnant sister. So off we go.

All is well until about half way there, she tells me what she's in search of. Chat chat chat, crib bedding I saw at another store but didn't pick up.

Whu? You're making me go with you while you try to find crib bedding? Are you out of your fucking mind? Do you really not get it? Do you not see how sensitive I am to all things baby? Do you seriously not have any idea how much it pains me to even have to even look at you sideways, but I do it because you're my sister and it's not your fault that I'm broken like this?

I keep thinking that someday, she'll realize. That day, obviously, has not yet come.

So I suck it up in the baby section, gasping at times for air as she pokes through the multitudes of happy baby things. Of course the set she's looking for isn't there (a pink and green one, she says...if you know me in real life, you know how much that rips my heart out) so I put myself through that all for naught. Awesome.

But it doesn't end there. She proceeds to tell me all about her search, that she came to the shop right near our house and there was nothing there. The shop I can't bring myself to go into, but am taunted by every time I drive in or out of my street. Yeah, that shop. So sorry they let you down. And that she should have just let mom buy it for her when they saw it in the first place.

Gee, I wish mom would buy something, anything, baby-related for me. But no, by all means...help sis out with that 3D ultrasound and crib bedding since we have no kids to spoil. Yeah.

Wow, do I ever sound bitter. Maybe that's why I haven't posted in a bit....'cause I was worried it would all come out in one vitriolic streak.

Guess I was right.

Anyway....back to Tuesday night. I get off the phone with my mom who actually says the perfect thing - ' I can't relate, but I wish there was something I could do. I hate hearing you so sad.' Amazing how those few words can be all I need to hear. Not that I think she fully gets it just yet, but it's progress, and I'll take it.

I finally finish my last crying spurt of the day, and I feel my way upstairs to bed. And I mean feel, since I can't see a damned thing through the puffy slits I called eyes a few hours ago. I am spent...well and truly spent. And I slept like the dead.

Wednesday arrives and it's blood test time. And because I realize that it's not over until the results are in, there's a tiny part of me that holds out a wee speck of hope that there's still a chance. Speck gets crushed to dust later that afternoon when I see the blinking light on my answering machine, check messages, and my fears are confirmed. IUI number two is a bust.

Hubs is calling me multiple times a day trying to see how I'm doing. I alternate between full on mewling basket case, and barely coherent blubbering idiot. He's not doing well being so far away, and he feels completely helpless. My sister tells me that because Hubs isn't around, I can come to their place for dinner. Uh, no. I need to be at home, but thanks.

Then I get an email from my sister in law who's supposed to be coming over to do some garden work. She asks if I want company since she knows Hubs isn't home. I find the timing surprising (five minutes after I get off the phone with Hubs) but I know the gardening plans were made in advance, so I chalk it up to coincidence. I tell her that I have just received more crap news, and I'm not sure if I'm up for any company at all, that I can't make a decision in that moment. She says she'll call later, and we'll go from there.

My boss tells me to just go home. To take it easy, grieve, and leave. Have I mentioned how much I love her? She totally rocks, and she just gets it, ya know? She gets me. And that's huge.

So I leave. I take the train, I read my book, I go to the grocery store and pick up something quick for dinner, some chocolate to make me feel better, and some fruit to make me feel better about the chocolate. And wouldn't you know it....I actually am starting to feel better.

I get home, have my dinner, watch some tv, and when my sister in law calls, I say yes, please come over. She asks if it's okay if her mom comes and I say sure. At that point I'm making my way back up towards good, and it would be nice to see them. I ask SIL to call Hubs to tell him that we've spoken and I'm doing okay, getting better. He won't believe it from me anyway, and at this point I'm more concerned about him worrying about me from so far away than I am about myself. SIL jokes that we're both love retards, worrying about the other more than ourselves. And that's when I know he called her the second he got off the phone with me to make sure that I wouldn't be alone. Gotta love him.

A wee while later, they show up with a beautiful bouquet of flowers and we make coffee, eat carrot cake, and laugh. And it felt better. I slept like the dead.

Thursday came all too early and I went back to work with a clear head and some renewed energy. That night I joined 11 other gals for Ladies Night at the Blue Jays game, and we had a fantastic time. Just what the doctor ordered. Beer (dear god it tasted good), popcorn, great companions, people who really care about me and complete strangers alike...and men in tight pants. That'll cure what ails ya. And thank heavens for that.

So I mentioned earlier that Hubs was away. Well, the plan was for him to be gone to Niagara Falls from Tuesday to Friday, then on Sunday he was going to have to leave again for New Jersey, not returning until Tuesday night. And that super sucked, 'cause we were supposed to go to my aunt and uncle's incredible home near Collingwood for the weekend.

I'd emailed her to change weekends, but never heard back. So you can imagine my sheer delight when Hubs' second trip got cancelled. Finally it looked like the universe was doing us some mad props, yo. And we fuckin well deserved it, if I do say so myself.

So Friday morning I'm running around packing stuff up (food, DVD's, my clothes, all that stuff) 'cause I was out late on Thursday. I go take the rental back (our car was in the shop - again) and have the rental people take me up to Kia to get our car. Which doesn't start when I try it.

Which was, of course, the entire reason it was there yet again. They'd just replaced the damned onboard computer - and it still doesn't work?!

So Enterprise comes back up to Kia in the same car I just left them with, and off I finally go to work. It's almost 10am before I get to the office, and, oh yeah...did I mention I was only working a half day so we could leave early to get up north in good time? Oh yea.

Fortunately all worked out and we were still able to leave around 12:45. Hubs' colleague dropped him off right at my workplace, and I was so freakin excited to see him I almost tongued him down in front of my colleague, who was sitting in one of my guest chairs at the time. Oops! Narrowly missed that one!

The rest of the weekend was fantastic. Their house is truly a dream home, custom built with a saltwater pool and hot tub, windows everywhere, and no one can see you. Ever. No homes on any side. Nothing but trees. Which means - no blinds on any of the windows. Yee haw for streakin'! What a crazy feeling....being completely alone. And man oh man does it get dark there at night. The stars are incredible when there is no light pollution. I can't even begin to describe how many there actually are in the sky...and they look that much more incredible from the comfort of the hot tub.

The weekend did us a world of good. We had time to ourselves, just us, no one else. No computers (no offence!), no video games, no decent cell phone reception, no agenda...just us. We chatted, we cooked, we listened to music, we slept in, we cuddled, we...well. Some things I don't have to describe, ya know? :)

We went into Blue Mountain and did some shopping. Hubs bought me a cute black and pink reusable bag that says dirty girl. Does he know me or what? We also got some things for the house for Christmas, believe it or not. And then I ran into someone I went to high school with. What a small world.

It was chilly and windy, but we had a nice time walking around, drinking our Starbucks and just enjoying the Saturday. Later we had steak on the bbq, watched a bunch of episodes of Heroes, and capped off the evening with a freshly bought strawberry rhubarb pie. After the hot tub, that is.

Sunday we slept in yet again, got the place cleaned up, and slowly made our way home. We stopped at one of our fave gift shops in Collingwood and got some great fall serving pieces which will come in exceptionally handy since we're hosting Thanksgiving dinner with my family here. Then we made a stop at the Cookstown outlet mall and I picked up two pairs of shoes at Naturalizer (no excuse to not go walking now that I have the right shoes) as well as a few more serving pieces at the Villeroy and Boch store. Are you sensing a shopping trend here?

We finally made it home and the fabulous aforementioned sister in law was here getting the planting started. So exciting to see a garden actually taking shape! Then we busied ourselves with the mundane tasks involved in returning home...putting away the clothes, taking out the garbage, all that good stuff.

And now, here we are at Monday night, an entire week having passed since my last post. Hubs and I are watching the season premier of Prison Break. As much as fall saddens me, at least there's good tv to be enjoyed!

So that's my week. That's what I've been up to. That's why I was a bit absentee. The majority of it kinda sucked, but at least it ended on a high note. I'm feeling better still, and am happy that we're able to being another cycle. In fact, I start the coo coo pills tonight. Let's hope this time the emotional roller coaster has a happy ending. And that it doesn't take me another week to come back here and post again!

Which shouldn't be a problem considering Sludge is up to her old crap again....but that's a whole other post.

Thanks for waiting for me!

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

A quickie...

Hey there!

It's been a while. I know, I know. I'm doing this more and more lately, making you wait for juicy snackies from my little life. Letting days go by without nary a peep from me. Giving you more of a bi weekly dash than a daily one. Oh, how I let you down.

My bad. A thousand apologies.

But life's been pretty nutso, really. Last week was spent gearing up for the Weekend to End Breast Cancer. Hubs and I volunteered at the event, and spent a few nights shopping, etc, getting ready to decorate our vans (we were part of the sweep crew) and then the big weekend was upon us all of the sudden.

We had to gather at 6am on Saturday, which meant we had to be up at 4:15 to make it there on time. Unfreakin real. Who in their right mind is up at that time of the day? Not even the flippin sun deems it reasonable to make an appearance in those wee hours.

So we worked our 13 hours, then made a beeline for the 'comfort' of our lovely smoking room at the Comfort Inn. We were asleep by 9:30. Out. Like a light. Dead to the world. But my eyeballs were still burning when 5am came.

Hubs had supercharged the air conditioning so I woke up a gazillion times, teeth chattering, full on shivers, nattering to myself about how insane it is that not only can he sleep comfortably at this temperature, but that he's also found a way to kick the covers off both of us. Grrr....

But that wake up call did come at 5am, so I hopped into the shower to warm up at last, then it was out into the rainy Sunday morning to greet the 5,521 walkers on day two. 27 kms and 14 hours later, we were finally home sweet home. We celebrated a great weekend, the fact that $17.3 million was raised, and most of all - that it was over!!

We were in bed again at 9:30 and I'll tell ya, slipping into those sheets was my idea of heaven at that very moment. Pure bliss. Fell asleep as my head hit the pillow, and before I knew it, it was morning all over again.

Despite all those delicious hours of slumber, I'm still tired dead stupid today. Fell asleep on the GO train in both directions, and almost flipped the last Harry Potter in some unsuspecting Soduku playing Dockers wearing fellow commuter. My cat like reflexes allowed me a just in the nick of time catch and all humiliation was spared. Did well to wake me up, though!

So I'm off to bed yet again. Tres sleepy. And I have to get some good cuddle time in with Hubs as he's leaving me tomorrow to go out of town until Friday. And that sucks. Three nights in a row in the house all by myself.

Anyone wanna come for a sleepover? :)

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

Need to upgrade my memory...

And I'm not talking about my computer.

It would appear that, less than two weeks after my 34th birthday, I'm seriously starting to lose my memory marbles. WTF is goin' on?

Four times today, yes four, my short term memory failed me dismally. I had a thought, and a moment later, it was gone. Vanished. Poof. See ya - wish I could remember ya so I wouldn't wanna be ya! The worst part is that there might actually be more than four episodes - but I just don't remember!!

Yeesh. Wondering if I should be concerned. But then I tell myself that I'm tired, and my brain is sleepy, and it was a really crappy day outside today, so maybe my wee synapses weren't firing on all cylinders. Like they haven't quite awakened from the long weekend.

And I was going to write something, and now - honestly - I forget what the hell it was....

Oh yeah! Phew. At least this one came back in a reasonable time frame. The first one took 7 hours to resurface...but I digress.

I'm wondering if it's all the Harry Potter I'm reading/watching that's wreaking havoc with my neurons. I started with the first book 16 days ago, and am 200 pages into book six of seven. I've read them back to back, and have since also watched the first three movies, with the fourth sitting by my DVD player, waiting to go.

Maybe since the books are so danged long, they're pushing all of the important cognitive functioning out of the way. God knows I walk around now expecting to see men with impossibly long gray beards, ridiculously pointed hats, and lightening bolt scars on their foreheads. I see a dog and wonder if it's an Animagus. I arrive at my office and, instead of getting out my keys, for a split second I've convinced myself that uttering the word alohomora will open that baby right up for me.

The rational part of me thinks I should take a bit of a break from all the magical beasties and creatures, and just go back to good ole chick lit for a while. Never did have no memory problems when I read that stuff! But the other part of me is just wanting to plow ahead, finish them all off to be done with it once and for all. THEN I can move along to two wonderful books, just waiting for me once Harry is out of my life.

Funny that it's taken me so long to read them. I know they're a worldwide phenomenon, but for so long I've resisted any modicum of temptation that may have crossed my path and just never got around to it. I'm not usually one for the 'fantasy' novels - that's more the realm of my mom and sister - but as loathe as I am to admit it, I'm actually really enjoying reading their entire saga from beginning to end. Who knew?

So there's a smidge of insight into my day today. Something else way more exciting than this may have happened, but who knows - I may have already forgotten all about it.

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

When tempers flare...

...what the fuck to you do? Seriously, I'm looking for real advice here. How do you calm yourself down after your blood boils, you're ready to 'spit nails' as mom would say, and you can't do anything about it?

Argh....yes, Sludge has reared her ugly head yet again. I think I wrote a while back about her working on becoming a Jehovah's Witness. I'll reiterate here again that people's religious choices are their own and I'm not trying to put anyone or any group of people down here. Disclaimer made, on I go. Hubs had investigated the whole thing on numerous occasions and decided it wasn't for him. Fine. Now Sludge is back into it, and that's fine in and of itself - but she's dragging DeeDee along with her.

Normally that wouldn't be an issue, but the problem is that Hubs is dead set against his daughter being indoctrinated into any religion before she's old enough to make her own decisions. He's spoken to Sludge about this, made it quite clear to her that this is something he feels very strongly about.

Well, as with so many other things, she's doing it anyway. Even though she's now lied to Hubs about it, she's taken DeeDee to meetings and had her involved in home study programs. Hubs hit the flippin roof.

The other thing he was totally against was Sludge streaking DeeDee's hair again. She's got dark brown hair, and months ago she stuck in blond chunks. It looked ridiculous. It has finally grown out - with the next hair cut it would all be gone. Hubs was relieved. So of course, Sludge went out and did it again. Only this time it's even worse. Hubs freaked out again.

I think this time we're finally at the straw that broke the camel's back phase. He's agreed to call a lawyer and make an appointment to see where he stands legally where custody is concerned. And I, for one, couldn't be happier.

He needs to know what his options are, how strong his case is, and what he has to do from here on out to stop the madness. 'Cause I just can't take much more of this. Seriously.

Every time they're on the phone together, I want to scream in the background, grab the phone, tell her what a completely unreasonable idiot she's being. Hence the boiling blood, the unresolved anger, the increased heart rate, the fury that burns in the belly. And let me just say - considering what we're working so hard to get into my belly, there isn't any room for extra stress or fury, ya know what I mean? Stress definitely bad for the whole baby making enterprise.

I'm glad to see him finally take the bull by the horns to hopefully see some forward momentum. Anything has to be better than this.

Thankfully I've had a few hours to settle down since we got home from dropping off DeeDee today. And no, it wasn't our weekend, but since Sludge had promised to take DeeDee to the Ex and felt sick yesterday - with a toothache - when DeeDee called and asked if her dad would take her so she wouldn't miss out, he went and got her so they could go. Despite the fact that he and I had just been to the same said Ex on Saturday. I sat in the car and waited for Hubs to finish arguing with Sludge outside their front door. How very trailer park that there's not a single place in that train wreck of a semi-detached home in which they can have a private conversation. Nope - they have to resort to a front-lawn argument.

I had accompanied Hubs on the trek (and I do mean trek - it's over 90kms and about an hour each way) to keep him company, so I got to sit there in the car while they bantered, alternating between their stimulating conversation and reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I honestly stuck to the book more because just sitting there listening got the ole blood right onto the front burner. And there was nothing I could say back, so I jumped to the conclusion that reading a book would be less mentally taxing than listening to her.

Because she seriously does say some of the craziest things...like, when Hubs mentioned something about religion and told her to read the bible she said, "I am reading the bible - I'm on Genesis!" You should have heard the pride in her voice!! Uh, well, goodie. There's kinda nothing before Genesis, smarty pants. Good on ya! You're my fuckin hero. Sigh.

Man, even though I've calmed down a bit, even thinking about it again makes me twitchy. So I bring us back to the first question posed in this post: what do you do to calm down when you just get so flipping

If only I could act like Marvin the Martian. He just blew things up. Cool. I've always envied that about him.

But of course, I need to act less like Marvin the Martian and more like Diva the Better Person in this equation. That doesn't mean it sucks any less, so all anti-rage advice and anger reduction strategies would be greatly appreciated!

All this manufactured rage does indeed take its toll, so I will bid you a fond goodnight, and eagerly await your responses in the morning. Happy back to school day! Like my backpack? :)

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