It's my birfday

And oh boy, have I been spoiled rotten!

An entire weekend of birthday festivities started Friday night when Hubs gave me some beaaautiful flowers. Pink gerberas, lilies, white and pink roses - just to die for.

Saturday morning we got up at a decent time, grabbed a Timmie's and headed to the theatre to see The Time Traveler's Wife. I'd read the book and was a bit meh about it, but wanted to see the movie either way - see whether the hype was worth it. It was okay. I cried at the end, of course, but that's pretty much par for the course for me right now. I cry over everything - love the drugs.

Later that evening we met up with friends and family for sushi and had a fantastic meal. I was stuffed! But managed to shovel some birthday cake in after we went back to our place. I was spoiled rotten (to the point of incredulity, really) and was feeling very fortunate to have so many wonderful people in my life to celebrate with.

Today I slept in, then Hubs made me an incredible breakfast that would rival any Denny's slam. My fab SIL went above and beyond yet again, so thanks to her I then went for a divine mani/pedi and even got silly little flowers done on my big toes.

Fingers still drying, Hubs, DeeDee and I got into the car and headed out to this elaborate mini golf place I'd seen about 45 minutes from home. Even though it wasn't our weekend with her, DeeDee phoned this morning and said she wanted to spend some time with her dad, so of course we were happy to have her join us. When she got here she handed me a pink gift bag, with the word "MOM" printed on it. Underneath it, in read pen, she'd written "#2. Your awesome. And special".

Well, my diva heart melted. How sweet was that? She even made a card for me with a picture of herself in it. So cute. I was really touched.

We then engaged in a surprisingly cutthroat game of mini golf, and I'm pleased to report that I emerged victorious - by one stroke. Ah, victory. Takes almost as sweet as my yummy birthday cake.

Golfed out, we returned home and dropped DeeDee off so she could have some pizza and watch a movie with her Auntie while Hubs and I dined in celebration at the Keg. Yet again, gift cards courtesy of my fab sister in law. Took them two tries to get our steaks right, but when they do - there's nothin' like 'em.

Now we've watched Big Brother and True Blood, had another piece of birthday cake (after I blew out more candles and heard more singing), done my IVF drugs for the night, and I have but 9 minutes more to stay awake to officially be 36 years old seeing as I was born at 10:41 pm.

I'm very very sleepy, but surely I can squeeze out another 9 minutes?

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

The working sick

We've all played this game once or twice (at least) in our lifetimes. You wake up, feel like abject crap, you're hacking up a lung...and you have to make that game day decision. Stay in bed, or go to work? If you're like me, the vast majority of the time, you solider on, shower and dress, and head on into the office.

You hack and you sneeze and you drop your snotty Kleenexes on the GO train.

You sit in the cubicle not too far from my office and I wince every time you begin the barking noises that emanate from what is surely a now raw, painful throat.

I feel terribly sorry for you - that can't feel good! You should be sleeping, resting, getting better.

I mentally tell you to go home.

Get the rest you need.

And keep your filthy germs to yourself. I can't afford to get sick right now, dangit!

The working sick - damned if you do, damned if you don't.

Every corporate culture is different, but generally speaking, I find there's a strange reward system in place for coming in to work sick. You're a trooper, you're sticking it out, look at you, feeling so bad but still managing to come in. There, there. So dedicated.

So infectious.

On the other hand, when you do decide it's best to keep your bubonic carcass home and in bed, you're almost chastised for not being strong enough to tough it out. Sure, you're at home resting which means you'll probably get better faster and be back to your productive self sooner AND you're not risking the health of everyone else around you...but, sigh, Jane made it in. Why couldn't you?

I've been pretty lucky lately. I used to pick up every little virus or bacteria under the sun. I'd have colds and flus all the time, but that's tapered off significantly and now, I'm all about the ear infections. Fun, but not necessarily contagious.

I had this internal debate just yesterday morning as I awoke from a delightful slumber and put my feet to the floor. I felt like crap. My ears were completely blocked, my head was swimming, and my voice was reverberating inside my head. The latter I discovered upon actually speaking to Hubs - fret not, I didn't get echoes from my internal morning monologue. I'm not that crazy.

Yet.

Alas, I felt brutal. Run down, nasty, just didn't want to move.

But what did I do?

Got up, soldiered on, showered and dressed, and made my way into the office. But man oh man would I have loved to have just.stayed.home.

I only made it until 1:45pm, then headed out to catch an early train so I could flake on my couch.

And I'm back at work again today. Still not feeling great, but not bad enough to mentally justify staying home. And I have the pleasure of listening to some poor co-worker who totally should have stayed home today hack up a lung. Maybe two, it's that bad.

I honestly don't even know who it is - I just know that I want to stay as far away from her as is humanly possible. 'Cause I'd really rather not add a nasty cough to my already miserable ears on the best of days. And certainly not three days before I'm supposed to start IVF.

So, what's life like where you work? Are you encouraged to actually stay home when you're sick so you can recover faster (thereby getting back to productivity faster) and not take the rest of the office down with you? Or are you forced to function in one of those environments where the phlegm-ier you are, the more kudos you receive? I'm willing to bet most of us fall into column b, but I'm interested to see your responses.

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

Heaven, thy name is Elmwood

Back in March when our frozen embryo transfer failed, my wonderful friends banded together and got me a lovely gift card to one of the swankiest spas Toronto has to offer...Elmwood. www.elmwoodspa.ca

Ah, Elmwood.

Say it with me, and you'll feel instant relaxation.

Elllllmmmmmmwooooooddddd.

Felt good, huh? Yeah. I know.

So yeah, got the gift card in March and decided it was time to put it to good use while I can really really enjoy it.

I roped SIL into joining me, and so yesterday at 2pm we arrived at our urban oasis and instantly were transported to a blissful state of mind that lasted a luxurious two and a half hours.


Huge fluffy robes, a fantastic whirlpool in mosaic tiles in every shade of blue, chandeliers everywhere, dressing tables with blow dryers, straighteners, every kind of cream imaginable, cranberry/orange flavoured water, peppermint green tea - and the most incredible massage a girl could ask for.

A hugely indulgent afternoon, well enjoyed.

Upon leaving we even managed to procure some incredible handmade soaps...one a cranberry and the other almond and buttermilk.

It's amazing that soap could make me that happy. Talk about the icing on the cake.

If you have the time and the resources, I highly recommend that you splurge and treat yourself to the wonders of Elmwood at least once in your life. Preferably more, much much more, if possible.

Thanks again to my fantastic girlfriends for making it all possible. I left there feeling relaxed and carefree. And these days - that's a pretty incredible feat.

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

Dash of Diva gets a makeover!

Yep, it's time. It really is. The daily dash was neither daily nor dashing anymore, so I decided to put her under the digital knife and up came what you see before you now. I hope you like it!

A little easier font to read (I hope), nice concise links to other blogs and followers, and a kick ass graphic at the top that the saver in me fell in love with - what more could you want?

I hope you like it just as much as I do. Or, well, even just a little bit. Liking it a little bit would suit me just fine.

I miss shopping - I really do - so I can now live vicariously through the sassiness of the exceedingly svelte diva in the upper right hand corner. Note her multiple pink bags, and the fact that they all say sale or 50/70/80% off. That's my kinda gal.

And her purse is kinda cute too.

So there you go. A new look for the daily dash. Me likey.

As always, if you'd like your blog added to my list, feel free to leave a comment with the addy or send me an email at jshtoronto@yahoo.ca.

Toodles!

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

The gems of summer television

So here we are, smack dab in the middle of summer. These are the (supposed) days of sunshine, picnics, holidays, running in sprinklers, lemonade...and crap television. Because you're supposed to be on holidays, running in sprinklers and picnicking while drinking lemonade during the summer. Not stuck inside watching television.

But alas - this summer, the weather is what's crap and the television is actually not that bad. I thank two things - HBO and Big Brother.

First, I love Big Brother. Yep, I do. I'll admit it. Yet another one of my guilty pleasures. I love rooting for the underdogs and am always fascinated at how fickle I can be from week to week, my allegiances shifting from person to person faster than I ever would have thought possible. I try not to read the spoiler sites, but sometimes I can't help it.

And I find myself yelling at the television more than once a week.

Now THAT'S good tv.

Then there's HBO. Thanks to this brilliant network, I have not one, not two, but three incredible shows to enjoy each week. Top of the list would have to be True Blood. Sundays at 9 have never been the same.

We got hooked a bit slower than normal. After seeing something about the show somewhere online, I looked it up and Hubs and I were instantly addicted. And for Hubs, that's a huge flippin deal, 'cause that guy pretty much hates tv. But True Blood - that shit is golden for us both.

I love the whole vampire thing, the southern gentleman thing, the intrigue, the different characters, and the Eric. Har. He's just every kind of fine.

Then there's Nurse Jackie. Edie Falco as a drug addicted nurse having an affair while her hubby waits for her at home. Great characters, snappy dialogue, and some laugh out loud moments. Another reason to look forward to Monday nights.

And finally, there's Hung. How could you not love a show like this? Gotta dig the role reversals - female pimp and male ho - and all the family dynamics. You never know where it's going to go from one episode to the other. And through it all, you're just sitting there, kinda waiting for him to get caught. We shall see!

So if you have HBO or TMN On Demand, I highly recommend checking out these three shows. True Blood is in season two, but Hung and Nurse Jackie (which I think is actually a Showtime show, not HBO now that I think about it) are new this year so it doesn't take long to catch up.

Happy summer tv watching! Hope you're loving these shows as much as I am!!

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

PS - as I mentioned in my last post, I've started a parallel blog for my IVF journey. If you're interested, here's the link. http://seedsininfertilesoil.blogspot.com

22 days

The countdown is on, my friends.

Well, truth be told it's been on for well longer than 22 days. But since I'm finally getting around to posting again, you're getting as true a snapshot as I can give you.

22 days until we start the drugs again for our next IVF cycle. And only 23 days until I turn 36.

Just over three weeks and I'll be up to my knees in ultrasound techs - literally. The whole thing will begin anew, and I'll do my best to remain hopeful that this, our third attempt at IVF, will finally be the one that works.

I'm hopeful.

And I'm scared to death.

I'm going to start a separate blog to capture all the details of the IVF process. I'll still do my best to post here as well, but I'll try to keep the infertility crap, all the minutia of this shot and that shot, in a separate space. Once my brain has settled upon a snappy title, I'll share with those that want a glimpse of the eerily technical world that is, fingers crossed, conceiving a child when nature won't do it for you.

So for these next 22 days, I'm doing my best to keep busy, enjoy the summer (our weekends are packed full of outings and bbqs and all that fun stuff) and I'm definitely partaking in the wonders of alcohol and caffeine for as long as I'm able.

If only the weather would cooperate!

I'll do my best to come back a bit later and get back to the diva posts you've come to expect - now, with 78% less infertility musing!

Hope you're all well and enjoying what life has to offer. Happy almost August!

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

It's been, like, forever

Yep. Forever since I've posted. Once again, I've been a bad diva. But once again, it hasn't been the best of times.

Hasn't been the worst, but not the best either.

So, let's start with the good news, shall we? Hubs got accepted into the program he wanted. He found out as I was en route to Niagara Falls for a conference, called me on my cell, told me, and I burst into tears I was so relieved. It's been a while since I cried happy tears, but boy oh boy were they wonderful.

A few days later he joined me in Niagara and we upgraded our room, had a wonderful dinner at the Keg overlooking the Falls to celebrate, walked and talked for hours, did some shopping...and the rest...well, you can use your imagination.

It was just like this massive weight had been lifted from both of us. Finally, FINALLY, things were going our way and he could get back on track. He found out Wednesday, he started the following Monday.

And thankfully, he's loving the program - and excelling, as I knew he would. Sure, there are the ups and downs but by and large he's really found his niche. And I couldn't be happier for him.

Some of you have asked about his birthday present. I can report now that he did indeed love it, even if it didn't get here on time. Well, Canada Post said they tried to deliver it, but we all know that Canada Post lies, so I blame them for him not having something to open. But I digress...

Hubs has always lamented the fact that he doesn't have very many pictures of me. In fact, if pictures are to be had it's because by and large I'm the one taking them, and am therefore rarely in front of the camera. So I decided to suck it up and do some photo shoots for him.

First, boudoirs. Now, for those of you not in the know about the boudoir photography world, rest assured I had clothes on. I was definitely covered. No naughty bits pokin' out and nary a pube to be seen. No thank you! Mine is the type of body that needs clothes. Having said all that, I was remarkably pleased with what my wonderful photographer Tara was able to accomplish. And Hubs? Well, he just loved them.

Deciding I didn't want to stop there, I coerced two other photographer friends into assisting me in bringing this birthday present vision to life. I was going for photo overkill so Hubs could no longer complain about the lack of me pics in his viewing realm. I met John downtown on April Fool's Day and we shot the urban set, complete with bricks and stone and graffiti and all that good urban stuff. Loved them!!

A week later Steve shot a set at our local waterfront on one of the coldest, windiest days of the month. I was windblown, but wow did he get some incredible shots. I showed them to my mom and she even asked me for copies! My gratitude to the two of them for their time and kindness knows no bounds.

Once I received all the proofs I carefully arranged them into a photobook for Hubs' eyes only. Said book is what failed to arrive in time, but at least I had the discs from all three shoots to show him. I think I finally got him a gift he loves.

I have no clue where to go from here now. I peaked in the gift department. Dag.

Just under a month later, Hubs and I celebrated our third wedding anniversary. It was a low key affair, but pretty much exactly what both of us wanted. No gifts, just cards and a sushi dinner that we both enjoyed immensely. We chatted about what we remembered of our wedding day, highlights and fave moments. We shared many smiles and both readily agreed that we'd do it all over again in a heartbeat. Every day I remind myself how lucky I am to have him.

From sweet to bitter though. One day was our wedding anniversary, the next the original due date of the child we miscarried back in November.

Wow. I knew the day would be hard, but I wasn't really sure how it would effect me until it hit me right between the ovaries. No mercy. Sucker punch. I managed to keep it together during the day but once I got home and into Hubs' arms, I just collapsed under the weight of it all. What haunted me most was having to mourn what should have been. Seeing others who got pregnant around the same time starting to have their children while I...well, you can figure it out.

Which brings me to the not so good news.

Yes, we're still having no luck in the conception department. Since I last wrote we've had three more tries, and it appears as though neither have worked. All that time, energy, money, hope, and nothing. Especially this last cycle, I'm just heartbroken. Everything seemed to be perfect, all of the ideal elements were there...but yet again, today began with one single, solitary pink line staring me in the face. No matter how I twist and turn the stick in the light, I can't magically make that other line appear.

I go in tomorrow for the blood work that will most likely be the nail in this cycle's coffin, and then we're done for a while. I need a break. We need to regroup, figure out what our next steps are. And if I can't be pregnant, then I want to drink my way through the summer, dammit.

Said drinking will begin in earnest on Saturday should said blood test indeed prove negative. Two of my sisters and I are throwing a 25th wedding anniversary party for my parents (mom and stepdad, but he's been dad for decades) at my sister's place, about two hours from our home. It was to have been a pool party, but if you've looked at the weather forecast for Saturday for Ontario, you're pretty much shaking your head right now, aren't you? We're hoping for a minor miracle, but we're not holding our collective breaths. We'll save that for if and when we actually make it into the pool.

This party will be fun, but it's meant much planning, running around, and emptying my wallet of money that was never really there in the first place. Man, an afternoon party for 22 people can get awfully expensive, even with three people splitting costs and doing it on the thrifty side.

Then of course Sunday is Father's Day, so no rest for the wicked here. First it's brunch at my sister's with stepdad Dad, then we have to race home to my other sister's place (which happens to be close to us, thankfully) so that we can host our father for dinner. Yes, our family tree is a complicated one, with many a gnarled branch.

I'll need a weekend to recover from my weekend.

Thankfully I'll have a mere four and a half days back at work, then I'll be on staycation for two weeks. Two whole weeks - I don't know if I've had two weeks off in the summer since I was in uni. I can't wait. Hubs is off those two weeks too, so we'll find something to do, I'm sure. Unfortunately there are no trips or jaunts in our future due to finances, but we'll make it work.

So that's some kind of update. Sorry you're getting more of the textbook walk through and not my more jovial self - it's only been a few hours since the pee dried on the stick and I can't seem to shake my feelings of sadness at another bust cycle. I didn't even cry when the last two didn't work out, but I've already shed a good number of tears today for this one. Stoopid hope.

Doesn't help when it feels like everyone around me is pregnant. Of course I'm happy for them, especially friends who have struggled for so long, but it won't negate the sadness for me. Amazing how we as one being can simultaneously experience two completely polar opposite emotions. Lucky us. I'm starting to feel schizophrenic.

Apologies again for the long delay, and thanks to those who've sent comments and spurred me back to my verbal vomiting grounds.

Ew, that sounded kinda gross.

Happy summer everyone!

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

Emerging from hibernation

Greetings.

Forgive me readers, for I have sinned.

It's been way too long, well over a month, since my last post.

But I have an excuse - I've been hibernating.

I think the bears have it right. Snuggling up into a cave to sleep out the winter sounds like something I could really get behind. If you've read my posts of winters past, you know how I feel about that blasted season. I am no fan. Sure, I enjoy the holidays and that first winter's snowfall, but it all gets old. Fast.

Especially when you're standing outside on a concrete platform, exposed to all the elements, waiting for a GO train that will never come because the switches are frozen. Or the signals don't work. Or there's some random equipment problem.

Yes winter, I detest thee.

It's also been not the most uplifting of times in my life. My last post was the day before the embryo transfer for our first attempt at a frozen cycle. Well, it didn't work. Not one bit. All that hope, energy and money, down the drain. Back to square one. Not a happy diva.

And so I viscerally comprehend the concept of hibernation.

I hibernate quite well when I'm down, upset at the universe. I like to be at home, can't wait to get to bed, and don't really do much of anything. I'm proud to say that I still find a way to haul my carcass to the gym etc, but I'm just not my regular dynamic self when I'd rather be hibernating.

In order to keep myself busy and distracted (two very good things when your world comes crashing down) I've devoted a good portion of my free time to getting Hubs' birthday present together. I can't go into too much detail here at the moment, 'cause while he says he doesn't read the blog regularly and I totally believe him, I'd be uber pissed at myself if the secret got out because of my stupidity. So I'll fill y'all in mid-May once his birthday passes.

Other than that it really is business as usual - or what everyone's referring to as the 'new normal'. Still waiting for Hubs to find out about school, still living paycheque to paycheque like everyone else, still thinking of ways we can cut back in an attempt to save. I'm sure most of you can, unfortunately, relate to at least one of those things. Good times, eh? Sigh.

Work is going well so no complaints there. And the extra long weekend is just around the corner, the mere thought of which is the only thing that's kept me going these past few days.

It's sunny again - and sunny makes me happy. We have four different colours of crocus in our garden, and that makes me happy. We're having Hubs' family over on Saturday and we always have a good time - so that makes me happy. We have the rest of the long weekend to ourselves - and that makes me very happy. I have to find a dessert recipe to make for Saturday night. That makes me a smidge stressy, but hopefully it'll all turn out, people will love it and yes, that will make me happy.

Last weekend we had a girls night in and man oh man, do I have a great group of gal pals or what? I LOVE that we can all show up at 7pm and do nothing but eat and talk until well after 1am. No silences, no awkward pauses, no need for activities or something on tv to keep our attention - we just chat about our lives, the people we love and the ones we love to hate (ha!), and are just really there for each other. Yes, our girls nights always make me happy.

So now that spring truly does seem to be here, I'm rubbing the metaphoric sleep from my eyes, stretching my arms wide, and emerging, blinking in the sunlight, into spring.

And more importantly, back into my life.

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

It's embryo eve

T'was the night before transfer and all through the house...

Yeah, I tried, but I couldn't make it work. I'm too tired and it's late and I've got other things on my brain. So sorry, no classic poetry remakes for you today.

Still, it is indeed the night before embryo transfer and I couldn't be more excited.

That's right - circa 11:15am tomorrow, three of our five snow babies/kidsicles will be reconstituted and returned to their rightful home - my uterus. The preparations have been made, the silly green pills have been properly inserted, and the evil shots in the muscle of my upper ass have begun again in earnest.

Yep, in just over twelve hours I'll take home Miney, Moe and Leroy. Those of you who've been with us for a while may remember that last time we transferred Eenie and Meanie. So we decided to stick with the theme this time, hence Miney and Moe. But since we're transferring three, we needed another name.

And that's where Hubs came in.

Leroy is in honour of Leroy Jenkins of World of Warcraft fame. He's a bit of a rogue who charges ahead and rushes the bad guys. Sure, he pissed off his fair share of compatriots fighting beside him, but he's got legions of fans now...and how can that be bad?

Now normally I shun or mock all things WoW, but hey. If Hubs wants to put his stamp on the process, so be it. Go, Leroy, Go!

So yeah, the funds are ready, I've taken my antibiotics, the lucky socks are out and ready to go, and I've even repainted my fingers (and toes this time) with OPI's La Paz-itively Hot because it has the word 'positive' in it (kinda) and that's what I'm aiming for - to stay positive so I can end up with a positive pregnancy test.

The stage is set and it's all over but the cryin'. The cryin' that comes with the necessary full bladder to make the transfer possible, that is. Seriously, that's the only part of this whole thing that's even remotely uncomfortable. And that ain't nothing in the grand scheme of things.

For now, that's pretty much all I've got. I'm sleepy and headachy since I can't have caffeine anymore, so sleep is totally calling me.

Tomorrow I'll be pregnant! Well, technically, anyway. But I'll take it!

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

Finding humour in the silliest things

Hello everyone! Long time no write. I know, I know. I'm starting to not be so good at this! Sigh.

I think winter has swallowed me whole. Ugh.

I probably shouldn't have complained given the nice weather we've had lately. But complain I will! I want spring!

This long weekend was super long thanks to taking Friday off as well. But it was super busy as well, it felt like I was run off my feet until late Monday afternoon.

Just in time to go back to work. Pfft.

Part of the reason it was so busy was that finally, FINALLY, things seemed to get back on track in the baby making department. Which of course meant that I needed to be up at 5:30 am on Monday morning to make that trek into the clinic.

Goodie.

Saaawwweet.

Got home and went straight back to bed. That part rocked.

Hehe.

Yes, getting to the funny part now.

So, as part of the protocol for all this stuff, you take drugs. Surprise! Drugs.

The benefit of doing a frozen transfer is that you have to take a helluva lot fewer drugs than on a fresh cycle. Shorter timing, less emotional side effects, way less cost. All good things.

So my drug taking started on day three of my cycle - Monday. The beginning part requires me to take estrace - an estrogen derivative - twice a day. Two little green pills each time, twice a day.

Now, the difference here is that I don't just take these pills with a glass of O.J. or something like that. Nope.

These pills? I gots ta take vaginally.

Ooooooh lucky diva.

Yep, I get to pop two of the little green tabs right on up there. Goodie!!!

I had to do this with my last IVF procedure, but took fewer at that time. When things started to go badly, off the drugs I went and I tucked everything in the far back corner of the medicine cabinet for next time. If there was to be a next time.

So when I got the call yesterday, the clinic told me to start taking them right away. I pulled out my trusty bottle, dusted it off, and got right to it. I only had eight left though, necessitating a refill toute suite so I'd be all stocked up for tomorrow and beyond.

The fab nurse at the clinic faxed in the prescription for me and loving Hubs went to pick it up. Earlier tonight I was pulling everything, including that little Shoppers bag, out of my purse. And when I extracted the new bottle from it's wee paper bag, I broke into fits of hysterics after a single glance.

I took a picture so you can enjoy it for yourself.

There truly is humour to be found in the simplest of situations.

So yeah, without further ado...and remembering that I have to take these bad boys vaginally...

...wait for it...











Bahahahahahahahahahahaha!

Ooooooh the images that flooded my brain! Take with food!? TAKE WITH FOOD?

What else, praytell, do I have to shove up there? Some saltines? A hard boiled egg chaser? Tee hee.

So yeah, that's my uber giggle for the day. Enough to bring me back to blog land so I could share it all with you. Hope you laughed as hard as I did!

Or maybe my sense of humour is just so warped these days that I'm the only one who actually finds this shit funny?

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

Hellllooooooo February

Yep, February. Month number two of this 2009. Shortest (and often coldest) month of the flipping year.

And while February as a whole generally sucks ass, it has one thing going for it...

It's not January anymore.

I hate January. Once you get past new year's day it's all downhill. Cold, dark, nothing to look forward to...blech. It's a bitch.

Surviving January is like a Canadian rite of passage, and dag yo, have we earned our winter Brownie badges this year! Tonnes of snow, frigid temperatures, massive heating bills, GO train delays...you name it, we've suffered through it. Hells, I even wore LONG JOHNS to work on more than one occasion in the first 31 days of the year.

Now February is upon us and things are looking up a smidge. February brings us groundhog day (pfft - what a waste of a media rush if you ask me), Valentine's Day (can be both good and bad in almost any situation) and now Family Day (for those of us lucky enough to get it as a holiday).

And best of all? Every day that passes is one day closer to spring.

Anyone that knows me or has been following this blog over the years knows how much I detest winter and absolutely adore spring. I want to wear a lighter jacket. To not HAVE to wear boots every day. To not have to start the car five minutes before I want to leave the house. To be able to lick a metal pole without having my tongue stick to it.

Well yeah. The last one is more abstract than concrete, sure. But I do look forward to the day when it would be POSSIBLE for me to do that. No worries, I'm not gonna run out and do it or anything like that.

So there you go. Welcome February. I plan on enjoying thee and thine bounty for the next 26 days.

But you bet your ass as soon as March shows his lovely face I'll toss you to the curb so fast you'll never know what hit ya.

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

Just another mortified Monday

Hello, my lovelies!

Hope you've all had a good weekend and are as happy as I am to have Monday now behind you. While I'm not now and never have been a huge fan of the Monday, these days I find myself actually looking forward to them for one reason and one reason only:

The Bachelor.

Ooooooh boy. I am well and truly addicted to this show and just can't get enough. And this week I was, once again, not disappointed. Gotta love the drama! But if only he'd let that pukey silly psycho stalker Shannon chick go I'd be so much happier, ya know?

But I digress.

While I was abuzz with sweet anticipation for The Bachelor this evening, I also had some fab good times to look forward to first thing in the morning.

My annual colposcopy.

http://womenshealth.about.com/cs/cevicalconditions/a/colposcopy.htm

In a nutshell, it's a glorified Pap. Yeah, good times. Click the link - always good to be educated on cervical health. It's my good deed for the day - inform thyself. :)

This has truly been a banner week for doctors picking about my girlie bits. Flippin speculums have seen more action than Hubs, for pete's sake! Sigh...

So each time it's always kinda weird since I work very closely with the doctor who does the procedure. Like, I've met her family, she's met Hubs numerous times, I raise money for her research, etc. So it's always that little bit awkward that she gets to be intimate with my cervix, but whatevs.

So I'm sitting on the table with the sheet draped over me and we're chatting, then it's time to skooch into position. So I slide...

And I tooted.

Not quietly.

OMG.

I was beside myself. Mortified.

Fortunately we were all chatting still and the rustle of the deli paper helped muffle some of the offending sound - but STILL!

It's always been my worst fear and today it came true!

After all this time, all these cooter cams and random tests and cervix checks, ugh. I've survived each and every one of them without airing my gassy grievances. There have been some close calls but by gawd I've managed to hold them in and stop them from becoming that unwanted presence in the room.

But not this time. No.

And of course it wasn't in front of some random stranger I'll never see again, noooooo, but someone I work with! That I had to call this afternoon to talk about a work related issue. Yeesh.

This'll serve me right for trying to eat healthy. Danged fibre.

Alas, tomorrow is another day. Hopefully I'll be able to keep my toots to myself.

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

So far so good!

So here we are, a mere 12 days into this new year, and already things are looking up for us.

Since you've asked no, my period never came. So I went in Friday morning for a random day 3 since I haven't had said period since my miscarriage and it didn't look like one was coming.

But that's okay! Here's why:

Back on November 21, 11 days after the miscarriage, my lining was super thick at 1.3 cm. Sorry for all the technical talk, but it is what it is. :) Yikes. I would have expected it to be much less, considering how much I bled during the stupid thing. But still, I knew I needed to have another good bleed before the frozen embryo transfer, hence all that time on birth control pill to ensure it actually happened.

But I never got said period, so they brought me in Friday to see what's what, and it just doesn't make any sense.

Remember, I hadn't had a bleed since the miscarriage - November 10. My appointment was January 9. My lining back then was 1.3. Friday? It's 0.67.

WTF? Where did it all go? All my hormone levels were textbook day 3 numbers. And so I was stuck at day 3.

Technically, we could start the FET process right now, but when I spoke to the nurse I said I was less concerned about the timeline this time and more about making sure everything is RIGHT. That we go into it with IDEAL conditions to increase our chances.

So instead of moving forward, on Wednesday I'm having an endometrial biopsy. Fun. Then I have to wait a few WEEKS for those results to come back, THEN do another random blood work and ultrasound to see if my body is STILL stuck at day 3 (which it likely will be, thanks to the delightful polycystic ovary syndrome) and then we go from there.

If everything is okay with the biopsy, then we can potentially just move into the FET, not needing to bring on a new bleed because the conditions are already good.

Again, WTF?

I asked what they were looking for in the biopsy, and the nurses response was 'we don't know, but we want to be sure everything's okay'.

Okay. I guess.

So I was kinda freaked out, but kinda reassured that we can rule out anything bad before we invest more time and energy and money in all this stuff. And I've since learned that this procedure can actually help make the lining 'stickier' for embryos during transfer. So again, I'll take all the help I can get.

Interestingly enough, despite the time lag, I'm actually a bit relieved. Relieved that we're taking every necessary step to make this right...and that we have that much more time to get the money together.

'Cause January's a bitchy month to try and come up with a few grand in extra cash! But now it's not the cash holding us back, it's the process. And I'm surprisingly at peace with that.

But now the real good news!

As background...you've heard me wax poetic (sarcasm) about our lovely Kia Rio 5. We've had it since September 2005 and our four year lease is, therefore, up this year.

Yeah, never lease. Leasing is bad. Let this be your lesson of the day, dear readers. Leasing is a crock.

Ahem.

Leasing was a good idea for us at the time. But with Hubs' extra travel for work, we added a gazmillion extra kms on the car that weren't covered by our lease. Like, we're already 26,000 kms over.

And it's January.

And each extra km is $.10. Yowzers. That's some serious coin.

So come September, we were going to have to pay about $4,000 to pay off the extra kms and just give the stinking car back OR shuck out $7,700 to buy a car we didn't really want to keep (hence leasing in the first place). And all of this would have relied on my bonus coming in in July - and I think we all realize that bonuses sure ain't guaranteed in this economic climate.

Then out of the blue, a sales guy from Blank Kia (not naming the dealership, 'cause as much as I hate them I ain't a fan of getting in trouble for badmouthing them on the interwebz) calls and speaks to Hubs. Says hey! We notice your lease is coming up and we'd like to get you into a new car!!!

We'll eat some of the kms! Help break the lease!! Low monthly payments!! Great interest rates!!!

Hubs calls me at work to relay the conversation and my curiosity was piqued. So immediately, I asked him to call our local Kia and see if they'd match the deal.

Well whaddya know! Sure enough, they went for it, and so on Wednesday night we pick up our 2009 Rondo.

I can't even begin to explain what a huge fucking relief this is for us. No more worrying about what could happen since ours is no longer under warranty. We knew the brakes would have to be replaced very soon - now we don't have to worry about that! It needed new tires - not our problem! Now we won't need to renew our CAA membership in February.

So. much. relief.

And it came at us right out of left field, and I couldn't be happier. I feel like our luck is finally turning, that for a change, the universe is on our side. I feel good about our prospects now, generally speaking, and can't even begin to describe the contentment that I feel knowing this one piece of the puzzle has been taken care of for us now.

And hey - if our bonus actually does get paid out, I can actually use it to pay off debt and make other good things happen! So flippin exciting.

2009? So far, so good. I'll take it!!!

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

The silly things we wish for

I'm waiting for and desperately wanting the weirdest of things. My period.

I know, I know. It's not generally considered chic to discuss ones menstrual cycles in public. No one really wants to read about the arrival patterns of good ole Aunt Flo.

And more often than not, said period is not something that often tops a gal's wish list. Unless, of course, you're 20 and coming off a trampage the likes of which you barely remember. Then, there's no more blessed sight than your monthly friend.

But alas, here we are. I guess I'm not chic. And I'm definitely not 20 anymore.

No, I'm waiting to begin my next surf on the crimson wave so that we can get our frozen embryo cycle underway. I've spent six weeks off and on birth control pills, and the stupid biotch should have made her presence known on Saturday.

As of today...nada. Nothing. Nary a sign. Booooo.....

I even had to call and cancel tomorrow's appointment. And now I have to wait until I actually make it to day three to go in. Dag yo, I haven't even made it to day one yet!

And of course, like all things in our lives, this minor setback will now translate into something more substantial. Looks like we'll miss the window of our doctor's availability and instead of the third week of January, we'll now have to wait until the first or second week of February for the transfer to happen.

Of course!

Oh well. In the long run I'm really not freaking out all that much. The great news is that there's so much more flexibility in how these cycles work than the fresh ones, which are extremely regimented. And hey - a few extra weeks gives us that much more time to cobble together the funds necessary to actually make the transfer happen. And that is never a bad thing.

So in the meantime...I wait.

And wait, and wait, and wait.

I hope the day will come very soon where I'll be delighted to bid the period adieu for almost 10 months. 'Cause that would mean I'm actually pregnant, ya know?

But for now, I'd be perfectly content for her to show her face so we can get this show on the road. So send me some period wishes, will ya?

I think that's the strangest sentence I've ever typed in over two years of writing this blog.

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

Welcome to 2009

Well hellooooooooo there. Long time no see.

Much has happened since my last foray into blogworld, that's for sure. As always I apologize for my lengthy absence, but I think taking a break from many facets of my life, including reporting even the most minute of details of said life here in me blog, was a good thing.

Yes, as Martha Stewart would say, it was a good thing.

So, uh, hope you had a great holiday, and Happy New Year! I delighted in having almost two weeks off work, and while I love it, am lamenting my return on Monday. I could still use more time! I'm sure I'm not alone here, yes? And of course I have absolutely nothing to complain about, seeing as I had two full weeks off. So I guess I'll quit while I'm ahead.

Not that I can actually complain at all in the work department. December was a good month for me - I confirmed two $2 million donations and a $12.5 million gift. I was deliriously happy at this progress, and am so thankful to these wonderful families that are doing truly transformational things. But even so, I was quite content to get away from it all and just relax for the holidays.

We had a lovely Christmas at my sister's house in Waterloo. They're wonderful people, always so hospitable and kind, and their home is warm and inviting. A great place to relax with family and enjoy the furor that is the holidays in our family. Especially when my nephew's birthday happens to fall on Christmas Eve!

There were presents galore for the four kids, and much good food and laughter. All in all, a nice, albeit quick, Christmas trip.

After the presents were open and we had gorged on breakfast, we packed up the car and headed back east to Brampton and my sister in law's home for dinner. Another lovely meal, much frivolity, an incident involving stuffing being flung into a wine glass...you get the picture.

And then, a few hours later, we were home. The flurry of activity that was the past few weeks caught up with us, and we slept for something insane like 13 hours straight. A record, if you ask me.

Emotionally I also fared reasonably well, all things considered. I only had two meltdowns, a number I'm actually rather pleased about. I had no idea how the holidays would impact me, if finally being able to stop and rest (yeah, that whole two and a half days off work post miscarriage really doesn't promote much in the way of emotional healing) would allow the floodgates to open and the damns to break. So all in all, I feel rather okay about how I made it through.

The first came on our way to Waterloo. We'd decided to take the 407 and were listening to Mariah Carey's Christmas album at the time. I was in good spirits - had my Tims in my hand, was on vacation, had presents galore in the car, and was singing along. Then her song "I Miss You Most At Christmastime" came on. No big whoop. All is fine.

Until we pass the exit we took to get to the hospital the night of the miscarriage.

Yeah, not a good combination if you ask me.

It was the first time we'd travelled that road since it had happened. And everything came rushing back to me. The song lyrics stuck out in a way they never had before. And the tears.just.came. Bang.

Of course I couldn't react, couldn't do anything, couldn't let on, because DeeDee was sitting in the back seat. And she has no idea that any of this has even gone down, so quiet sobs were the order of the day.

Fortunately I was able to change the song on the CD and just cry it out of my system quickly. And then it was on to the next carol.

The second came Christmas Eve just after dinner. We'd finished eating and cleaning, and were all just getting ready to sit and digest the mountain of food we'd just demolished. My dad and brother in law were in the living room chatting, and the television was on in the background. Their main level is quite open, so you can hear the tv from pretty much anywhere.

And just as I was chatting with my mom and sister, it came on tv. The Pamper's commercial, the one where a woman is quietly singing Silent Night as they show pictures of beautiful sleeping babies. Instant tears.

For some reason, this one gets me going like nothing else on earth. It's practically Pavlovian. I think it's worse, because the night of (or the day after, who can remember) the miscarriage, Hubs and I were lying in bed getting ready to sleep and it came on. I begged him to turn the sound off, the tv off, anything...and ever since I've done the same any time I've stumbled upon it on tv. And ever since, Hubs has been on remote control duty to just make it stop.

Sure enough, Hubs is in the other room and is chatting with my sister, so doesn't realize it's come on. The tv is too far away for me to do anything, so I immediately just leave the room, cower in a corner, and burst into tears, trying not to make a spectacle of myself. My mom and sister come over and try to comfort me as best as they can, then finally poor Hubs realizes what's happened and poor guy, feels like shit because he didn't hear it, couldn't stop it, couldn't protect me.

Have I mentioned lately how fantastically sweet and protective of me he is?

As with the first incidence it came on fast and dissipated just as quickly (thankfully) and I could get on with the evening. But all things considered, I certainly could have done without tears on Christmas Eve.

The week between Christmas and New Years passed insanely quickly. We did some cleaning, some baking, lots of sleeping. We hosted my younger sisters for dinner one night which was great - we don't often have the chance to get together and chat, especially without our mutual parent (Dad) around, so that was quite cool.

Then, thanks to the generosity of my fabulous sister in law (who now lives with us, btw - another new but wonderful in every way development) and my good friend Ami bringing the sweet deal to my attention, Hubs and I spent a night in Niagara Falls in a huge king bed, two person whirlpool suite. We walked down Clifton Hill, got some fudge from our fave shop, made our donation to the casino, had a super yummy steak dinner at the Keg, then...well, the rest is none of your bidness, right? :) But suffice it to say, it was the mini-break from real life that we both so desperately needed. Time away from everything to just relax, be, and enjoy each other.

Many times.

Ahem.

So yeah, where are we now? Oh yes, New Years.

I love New Year's Eve. One of my fave holidays of the entire year. It's entire raison d'etre is to celebrate. Party. Countdown. Drink champagne and, if you're lucky, eat yummy cheeses.

We were very lucky.

Our delightful and gracious hostess Nat took very good care of us in all of these departments. There had to be at least 7 kinds of cheese.

It was good.

It was lovely to just hang out with friends, eat good food, laugh, kick some Guitar Hero ass, and welcome in 2009 with a more-than-mild buzz and some pink champagne in my glass. Many of us were glad to bid adieu to the year that was, which just made the celebrations all that much heartier. A good time was had by all, and I can't thank Nat and her hubby enough for hosting us. :)

New Year's Day we hosted Hubs' family here for dinner. His mom made her patented Swiss Steak at home then Hubs picked her and the dinner up mid afternoon. The food was great! What isn't so great is that a not insignificant portion of it sloshed out from the pan onto the passenger side floor mats of our Kia, leaving behind a pool of meat juice.

We now drive around in a meatmobile.

Ugh - it stinks. I have no idea how we're going to get the stank outta things. And this is WITH the mat being out of the car. Any suggestions? Dear Heloise, how do you get the stink of beef of of your floormats? Sigh.

And here we are, caught up to today. Friday, January 2. The last non-working work day before I head back.

Hubs and I decided to take advantage of a Cineplex gift card we were kindly given for Christmas and head out to see Marley & Me. Remind me never to go to an afternoon showing of a movie when kids still aren't back in school ever again. Ugh.

Hubs and the white trash daddy behind us nearly came to blows at one point. Never a dull moment! Apparently daddy, his wife and his two smallish kids obviously thought they were still in their own living room while watching the movie. They talked at pretty much full voice, but what made me mental was the girl rustling her popcorn bag. Normally wouldn't be a big deal, but it was a bag of MICROWAVE popcorn they'd brought from home. You know how much noise those things make? Now put that in with a quiet movie and it's as annoying as hell.

So I kept doing my glance-over-the-shoulder-with-a-stern-look thing and the kid says, 'why is that woman looking at me?'
Mom, full voice: that woman keeps looking at her!
Me: yes, you're making a lot of noise, please be quiet
Mom: she's only eating popcorn!
Me: and talking
Daddy and all three of his teeth: ahhhh shuddup
Me, fuming: no, YOU shut up, that was my point

and I went back to watching the movie.

20 or so seconds later, Hubs leans in and asks me if the guy told me to shut up. I nodded, but told him to just leave it alone. Then they got into a nice staring contest after the movie was over and I think the guy realized it likely wasn't a good idea to say anything more. So he walked away.

Silly boys. Mine is rather protective.

Double sigh.

Now it's 11pm and I'm tired. But thankfully I still have the weekend to start getting back into a working/commuting head space and to kick back and relax a little bit longer. The house is clean, the decorations are down and put away, order is coming back to my life.

Come Monday we'll get back to a good routine of eating better and going back to the gym so I can feel like I'm doing something good again for my physical (and, by extension, mental) health. Then Tuesday morning it's back to the fertility clinic as we get ready to try this whole let's get pregnant thing all over again.

So here's to 2009. May it bring us all prosperity, health, happiness, and the things we desire most out of life. May it be better than the last in every way that matters. And most of all, here's to surviving 2008, to living to envision and hopefully experience a better year to come.

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