'Cause everyone has a dash of diva in them

Helllllllllllllllloooooooooooooooo!

2010-02-05T10:16:00.003-05:00

So yeah, it's been an awfully long time since I've written a danged thing here. Like, since my birthday. Which was in August.

Yeah.

It's not like things have been tame, however.

After the birthday we started up yet another IVF cycle which, if you happened to check out my infertility blog, you'd know was a bust. Big, fat, huge bust. Very disappointing. I really thought that was our time, that come May of this year we'd finally have our bundle of joy. But alas...we have no joy, and the only bundle I see is the bundle of debt we keep adding to as we spin the wheel of infertility and keep turning up Whammies.

So that was August and September. October was rather crap, all things considered. Lots of time mourning what wasn't to be, as well as many a family birthday (wait - that wasn't crap) took up the bulk of our time.

November rolled around and with it came my latest challenge - National Novel Writing Month. As you can likely tell I enjoy the whole writing thing, so this was an opportunity to flex my creative muscle and finally do something just for me. NaNoWriMo involves writing 50,000 words during the 30 days that make up November. That's about 1,667 words per day, if you're averaging it out. Which I most certainly did.

I'm exceedingly happy to report that I did, indeed, complete the challenge, and that by November 29th, I'd submitted what I'd written for word verification and I clocked in at 50,330-something words. I'd done it!

What I haven't done is finish the book.

Believe it or not, I literally haven't opened that Word file again since I got my wee winners badge. I dropped my main characters like literary hot potatoes, and they've sat there, stagnant, for well over two months. Poor things. I really should get back to it, because I was nowhere near done. And I'd really like to be done, ya know? To finish what I started. And, horrors, to let other people read it and see what they think.

At the end of the day, even if I never write another word or if I actually do finish it and people hate it, I'll be just fine. For me, the biggest rationale behind even starting this in the first place was the challenge aspect. To finish. I haven't done anything even remotely artistic in months if not years, and this couldn't have come at a better time to help both distract me from the events of the previous few months and focus me on a singular task. And it was all good.

Except for the actual writing. I have no idea if it's any good or if it's complete, abject crap. Guess only time and critics will tell. If I ever finish the danged thing!

So that was November. Then we all flew headlong into December. I got right into Christmas this year...the baking, the decorating, the shopping, the music, the wrapping, the tree...I was Christmas obsessed. We hosted a lovely Christmas dinner with my family that went from civilized to disaster as cats, dog, and small children collided in a frenzy of presents, smushy faces, smudged chocolate and flying red wine. All over our recently cleaned off-white carpet.

But that's a whole other blog post. Merry Christmas to all.

We rang in the new year with four of our friends playing Wii and eating yummy nibblies. And then it was 2010.

If you've read anything I've written during a winter month, you know how much I abhor the cold and white season. I detest snow, get nervous about Hubs having to drive around in bad weather (even though he's an excellent driver - it's all the other buttholes I worry about), and hate standing on that wind tunnel of a GO train platform waiting for my tin can of germs to shuttle me along the lakeshore to my downtown Toronto workplace.

But truthfully? How can anyone complain about this winter? Hardly any snow, reasonably mild temps (give or take a day here and there) and every day we're one day closer to spring. Even I can't justify ranting and raving this time around.

January is that long, dark month that hurts in so many ways. It's dark when you leave home to go to work and dark when you leave your office at night. It's when the holiday bills start rolling in, and it's when they start taking the CPP and EI off your cheques again, so you're poorer than you were only a month before. And those credit card bastards still expect you to pay up. The nerve. So needless to say we've been feeling the pinch these past few weeks.

And here we are in February. I like February...it means January's over, it's a short month so it's not like we have to put up with it for all that long, and there's Valentine's Day squished in there for good measure. Not that we'll be fete-ing it up this year (see above paragraph re: finances) but I do have a special gift for Hubs that I'm sure he'll love, and we'll find our own low cost way to celebrate the day one way or another.

Today in particular is a very good day. It was three years ago today that we got the keys to our first home. Hard to believe it's been three whole years already, but we're still delighted with the house and have no plans whatsoever to make any move.

Today also marks the very last day of Hubs' classes. That's right - he's been in school each week since April 27 of last year, and as of today he's done the classroom stuff and bright and early Monday morning he begins his placement.

It's a day for celebrating indeed. He's worked so hard and has done incredibly well, and as trite as it sounds, I'm really proud of him. He's so cut out for what he's going into I can't wait to see how it all unfolds for him. He's got eight weeks of placement and then it's all over and he'll hopefully be back in the working world, making a difference in so many lives.

So yes, right now every day is not only one day closer to spring, it's also one day closer to Hubs having a pay cheque. Bring it on!

And there you have it...we've caught up on five months of activity in one short blog post. I'm going to do my best to try to write more frequently but hey, we all know I've said that before and have been less than stellar at keeping my word. Maybe this time it will be different!!

Besides...I'd be surprised if anyone was even reading anymore! :)

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

It's my birfday

2009-08-23T21:06:00.003-05:00

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

2009-08-19T09:09:00.002-05:00

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

2009-08-10T19:34:00.006-05:00

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!

2009-08-04T08:30:00.003-05:00

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

2009-08-02T21:46:00.002-05:00

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

2009-07-31T09:16:00.002-05:00

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

2009-06-18T11:18:00.002-05:00

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

2009-04-09T08:38:00.002-05:00

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

2009-03-01T22:29:00.002-05:00

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

2009-02-17T22:26:00.003-05:00

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

2009-02-02T22:22:00.002-05:00

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

2009-01-19T22:38:00.002-05:00

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!

2009-01-12T21:26:00.002-05:00

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

2009-01-05T21:55:00.002-05:00

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

2009-01-02T22:25:00.003-05:00

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'?

Thankfully...

2008-11-30T20:23:00.003-05:00

Things are getting better. They are.

I think my last post was a super downer and as such, lead people to draw conclusions that oversimplified the matter.

First, as I said in a comment on the last post, Thursday's offering was a snapshot of how I felt at a particular time, in that very moment. Even a few minutes later, once I'd gotten everything out there, I started to feel better. And today I feel better still.

My friend S had her baby last night. I'm ecstatic for her and her wonderful hubby - truly I am. I was honoured and happy to be the go to person who got the updates from her/her husband and relayed them to our circle of friends.

My friend L had her baby shower today and I was very glad I went. We had a lovely time, she looked amazing, and she got some wonderful things. I rocked the clothespin game, had some yummy food, and enjoyed hanging out with my friends. I may not have pleased Great Aunt Beverly who took an almost instant disliking to me when I took her clothespins but hey, you can't befriend everyone, right?

So yes, I'm okay. I am happy for my friends and have been able to pull myself out of where I was a mere three days ago. And that's a good thing! Isn't it?

I'm having a really hard time though, knowing that one of my friends, someone who obviously knows me well, thinks that I'm blaming other friends for their success, that I shouldn't be surprised if those friends decide it's time to rethink their friendship with me.

This one really rocked me. I barely even know how to respond. I...I'm speechless, because I can't figure out who thinks this way, who thinks this way about me.

Anyway, just wanted to give that bit of an update for those that were worried about me or thinking that I'm in some nasty place without any hope of escape. Yes, Thursday was a shit day through and through. But thankfully those feelings, while so very valid at the time (and therefore I will offer no apologies for having them), have ebbed and today is another, brighter day.

Thanks to those of you that understand, and to those that don't, talk to me. Send me a fb message, whatever, but please...own what you say so we can actually discuss it.

Hope everyone had a great weekend and is ready to make the leap into December tomorrow!!!

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

I should be...

2008-11-27T19:17:00.002-05:00

Today, I should be 12 weeks pregnant.

I should be getting ready to scream from the rooftops that we're pregnant. That we're almost in our second trimester, in that oh-so-coveted safe zone.

I should be finishing those nasty progesterone shots and estrace tablets up the hoo ha.

I should be celebrating with glee my friend's new baby girl, another friend's impending birth (truly any day now) and yet another friend's long awaited IVF success.

I should be reveling in my recent work success, proud of myself for what I've managed to accomplish.

I should be looking forward to a good friend's baby shower this weekend, ready to enjoy the pink-ness of it all as she's having a girl.

I should be gearing up for the holidays, thinking of all the necessities and frivolities to add to my Christmas wish list this year.

I should be....happier. Smiley-er. More carefree. Jovial, even.

But I'm not.

Right now, I'm none of those things.

Instead of being a third of the way there, I'm still dealing with the emotional and physical side effects of a miscarriage only two and a half weeks ago. I tear up for no specific reason over the smallest of things. Commercials, not even baby ones, make me cry. Every once in a while it just smacks me right between the eyes and I'm temporarily paralyzed by it all.

Instead of shouting from the rooftops, I'm screaming on the inside every time someone asks me if I have children. If we plan on it. When I hear someone talking about their kids on the GO train. When I see a happy pregnant woman walking by.

Instead of progesterone and estrace, I'm back on the birth control pill, trying to help shed the lining still left over. To keep us on track and prepare us for our next try. Here comes the mood swings and crazy acne. Awesome.

Instead of celebrating, I'm keeping a safe distance by keeping in touch via Facebook, wanting to be more supportive to my friend who's now 24 hours away from being induced but not knowing how to do it, and feeling terribly jealous of my friend and her success because I so desperately want it to be me. Think it should be me. Not me in place of her, but still.

I'm a horrible person.

Instead of being happy about work and what I've done over this past week, I...it just doesn't register. The president of our organization actually sent me two dozen deep pink long stemmed roses to congratulate me for a job well done and while I've totally enjoyed them, it's all just so tainted. Spoiled. I feel like I'm cheating myself out of happiness.

Instead of looking forward to the shower, getting the chocolates together that I think I'll make to take with me, I'm dreading the experience. I want to be there for her and will totally go, but I couldn't even muster the intestinal fortitude to RSVP - a friend had to do it for me. Who the hell have I become?

And instead of putting that Christmas wish list together, I'm stuck trying to come up with creative ways to tell family members that this year, instead of presents, I'd much prefer cash because we need to cobble together $2,200 by the third week of January to try again. That nothing else is more needed or wanted than that. That this year, embryos trump clothes hands down.

Sure, it's not always like this. I have moments of laughter. The sun does peek through the clouds. I'm not this bitter, resentful, hurtful person 24 hours of every day.

But today, when I should be 12 weeks pregnant and looking forward to all the wonderful things to come, I just can't. Can't be smiley. Can't be jovial. Can't be my normal happy-go-lucky self.

Someone tell me it gets better...

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

A comment on comments

2008-11-11T14:09:00.003-05:00

Hello my lovely readers.

I just wanted to paste here a comment I made in reference to the comments in yesterday's post.

Thank you all so much for the comments and kind words. They are very much appreciated.

You may notice a few posts have been deleted. Please note that I have taken them down not because there was anything offensive or because I didn't appreciate what was written but because they contained my and Hubs' real names.

While most of you know exactly who we are, I do try to keep real names out of this blog as much as possible to protect certain people, particularly DeeDee. And since it's not possible for me or most people to go in and edit comments after they're made, I had to delete them instead. Sucks, but unfortunately what needs to be done to protect some important people.

Hope you understand, and thanks again for the kind words. Diva

So yeah, hope that makes sense. I love seeing the comments and the support is hugely valuable so I sincerely hope no one takes this personally because it's not meant to be that way at all.

In other news, today's been a very hard day. I think it's finally hitting me...crushing down on me, for that matter.

I started bawling for no reason at all, just sitting on the couch. I knew I had to call the clinic to find out what the next steps would be, but I also knew that even talking to them had the potential to throw me into a tailspin, so I put it off until the first wave of tears had passed.

Of course, I finally got through and it didn't go well. My doctor and my nurse are both gone this week, so I had to talk to someone else. Who wasn't all that available, and simply told the receptionist what to say instead of talking to me directly. Pain in the ass.

The worst part was the inane receptionist who kept saying 'pregnancy test' over and over again. That I've apparently been booked in for a 'pregnancy test' on November 24 and I'll have to keep coming back for 'pregnancy tests' until my levels are zero.

Yeah, okay, I get that - but I just told you I had a miscarriage. Yesterday. You work at a fucking fertility clinic. Everyone else says beta, why the fuck can't you? Grrr. I got so frustrated at the end of it that I just gave up, said I would talk to Tom when he got back and we'd take care of it from there. Then I hung up, crying. Just couldn't take it anymore!

Hubs called work and said I needed another day, which I desperately do. Not only is the emotional stuff hitting me, but there's pain now, pain I never expected. Cramps but more than cramps....not cool at all.

Anyway, I'm still in my pj's and that's okay. I'm watching last week's 90210 while Hubs is off at the grocery store picking up some staples for our hibernation. We had originally talked about going to see a movie and using our Keg gift card for dinner, but given my breakdown of today, hibernation is indeed the name of the game.

How novel - a mid-day update from me. Hope you're all having a better day than I am, and thanks again for understanding the whole comments thing. :)

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

Closure

2008-11-10T19:17:00.002-05:00

***warning - this is a very long and at times, graphic post***

After six weeks of agonizing limbo, it's finally over. I'm no longer pregnant.

Despite everything, I never thought it would happen naturally. I truly believed that we'd be kept in limbo for as long as the universe deemed necessary, then I'd finally be able to go for a D&C and that, as they say, would be that.

We were supposed to go to the clinic today at 10am for another ultrasound. One to see if there was still a heartbeat. One to help us make plans going forward. I did get an ultrasound this morning - but not at the clinic, and not at 10am. Instead, I had one at our local hospital.

After spending a fantastic day yesterday at Elmwood spa with my fabulous sister in law, I was wiped. DH and I flopped on the couch, had comfort food for dinner and watched the latest Chris Rock special on TMN. Then we headed off to bed just before 11, exhausted from our weekend.

Just over two hours later, I woke up. I had been dreaming that I was miscarrying, in a car of all places, in the desert. Weird, but true. When I awoke, I thought I had just soaked the sheets thanks to hormone induced night sweats, all too common in my world these days. And then something clicked. I knew, just knew, that wasn't the case.

I got up, moved quickly to the bathroom, and turned on the light.

I apologize if things get graphic from here on out. I realize that not everyone is comfortable, nor should they necessarily be, talking about things like miscarriage and blood and passing large clots...but this is as much catharsis for me as it is update for you. So bear with me, and feel free to turn away or skip over portions if need be.

Back to the bathroom. I sat down on the toilet and there was blood everywhere. Running down my legs, all over the floor, on the carpet, you name it. Like a bad horror movie come to life.

I sat there, stunned, disbelieving that this was actually happening. How could I have gone from zero to bang in a matter of hours? No cramps, nothing. No advanced notice whatsoever. And then all I could think was how thankful I was that this hadn't happened 12 hours earlier, while floating in the salt water pool that's part of the water therapies at Elmwood.

But I digress.

I was truly in shock. Couldn't move. Wasn't fully awake. Couldn't process.

Eventually I got it together enough to wake Hubs. I just called his name, and said "something has happened". That he should check the bed, the sheets were probably covered. And I was right.

He sprung into action, stripping the bed so I didn't have to see it. Sheets straight into the washer along with the duvet cover. Mattress pad to follow. Bless his heart, he remade the bed so I could get back in, but put a garbage bag and towel down underneath the sheets so I wouldn't be worried about making more mess.

Still stunned, I stumbled into the shower to clean myself up. Surreal - again, right out of a horror movie watching that crimson water swirl down the drain, taking with it so much of the hopes and dreams we'd invested in the entire IVF process and the pregnancy as a whole.

I dried off, put on a pad, and sat stunned on the chair in our bedroom while Hubs, not quite awake, decided that Windex was the perfect cleaning tool for the blood on the carpet. A few ticks later and he remembered that we had a SpotBot...problem solved.

I went and laid down in bed and seconds later had the strangest sensation. Again, gross here, but part of the natural miscarriage process is the expulsion of massive clots, and in that moment I passed what was to be the first of many many many freaky, mess with your mind clots. Not cool.

Back to the washroom, and then I noticed I'd soaked through the pad. 10 minutes, and nothing but red. Then I knew that we were on our way to the ER, no questions asked.

Hubs set to work getting clothes together for me, starting the car to warm it up, putting towels down on the seat, putting in a second load of laundry. I put on some deodorant, the clothes he'd laid out for me, and grabbing a whole whack of pads, I headed downstairs. Just before leaving, I changed the pad again. By this time I was quite scared - I'd never bled that much or that fast in my entire life.

Into the car we got and we made our way to the hospital. We decided not to go to our closer hospital, but to take the extra time to get to one with a well known ob/gyn department as it's hugely important that to us that everything possible be considered so when we're ready, we'll be free and clear to try again.

The trip took less than 30 minutes, and by the time I got out of the car I'd soaked through everything - the pad, my underwear, my pants and onto the towel on the seat. Excellent thinking on that one, Hubs.

I stumbled into the ER and straight to triage where I stood. And waited. Finally someone came out and I told her I was miscarrying. Plain and simple. We knew it was coming, we knew exactly how far along I was (and when the baby had stopped developing) so while a shock, it was no real surprise.

From there I flew to the washroom in an attempt to apply fresh field dressings, as Hubs called them. I was greeted with blood everywhere - I can't even begin to explain the fear of seeing that much blood, to have it simply gush like a river right out of you. To have clots everywhere, not knowing which, if any, contained what had been your baby. Some of you reading this will know what I mean all too well - and if so, I apologize for bringing back memories you'll likely never be rid of. But you'll understand better than most.

I attempted to pull myself together, tried to clean myself and the bathroom as best as I could. Then I waddled over to check in, and this time they took me seriously and took me quickly into my own little room in the ER. I could finally get out of my clothes, put on a fresh pad, and just lie down.

They took my vitals, and my blood pressure was 180/98. Yeah, no shit. Could I BE anymore stressed? Guess not.

But even in the room of my own, I couldn't relax. The clots just kept coming, and I soaked through everything. The pad, the gowns I was wearing, the pads on the bed, the sheet itself. Every half hour.

Then my loving husband had a stroke of genius - he found me some adult diapers, yes diapers, and I could finally relax with confidence, knowing I was protected. The nurse came in, started an IV in the worst possible place, the crook of my right arm, and the saline started its work. They took blood, and told me to relax.

The night staff were amazing. I had two male nurses that were absolutely incredible - great sense of humour, really explained everything that was happening, and, maybe most importantly, they actually expressed sorrow at what we were going through. Amazing what a little kindness can accomplish.

Then we saw the doctor, and he recommended I get pitocin/oxytoxin, a hormone that causes the uterus to contract. This would apparently help to ensure everything was expelled and that the bleeding would subside, because it just.wasn't.letting.up.

Of course a lovely side effect of this medication is extra cramping, really feeling like you're having contractions. All things considered I was fortunate - I never really had massive cramping, and the pain was never unbearable. I thank the universe for that.

My wonderful sister in law showed up then, having made a trip to our house to pick up clothes for me so I'd actually have something to wear home. Bless bless bless her.

Hours went by and we waited for our OB consult. But first, I needed an ultrasound so they could know what they were dealing with and if a D&C was necessary. So at around 7:30 am, I was told that my ultrasound would be at 9:30 and I needed to drink four glasses of water to fill my bladder.

Okey dokey then.

Having done a gazillion full bladder ultrasounds, I know how much I have to drink and when. So I based my consumption on being ready for 9:30. You can imagine, then, the lack of bladder fullness I presented with when they took me to ultrasound half an hour early.

Now, through all of this, as scary and hard as it was, I hadn't yet cried at the hospital. These days I cry at any and everything, so this was a big feat. I'd managed to hold it together...until I made it to ultrasound.

They wheeled me over, me madly trying to swig back glass of water number two. Then as we got in the room, they took my glass and tossed it down the sink, saying I couldn't drink while laying down anyway. Okay.

Then all hell broke loose. The technician, a raging thundercunt if ever there was one, tried to tell Hubs that he should wait outside, that there were going to be things he didn't really want to be seeing going on.

Shock and awe.

He fought his way in, saying he'd been with me through all this and wasn't leaving me alone now. He'd seen how many ultrasounds - he wasn't stepping outside now.

She fought him - he won.

And then the good times started in earnest. She tried to do the full bladder ultrasound, but told me I was empty and they weren't going to see anything that way. I felt like a child being chastised - just what I needed.

Then she asked me what brought me to the emergency room this morning. Diva says WHUT? Do you really have to ask me that? You know exactly why I'm here! Ugh.

Then she asked about the date of my last menstrual period. I said I didn't know, but knew exactly how far along I should be, and she, in the snippiest of tones, asked how I could possibly know that. I replied that this was an IVF pregnancy, gave her all the details, and she asked if my clinic had sent the info over to the hospital for them to review.

Uh, well, they might have had anyone asked us to ask them, but nope. They're not mind readers. They're good, they're not that good.

Finally she makes me get up to put the silly pillow thing under my butt for the internal. I give her some guidance on how to insert the probe properly and easily, and she tells me that I'm going to insert it myself.

Yeah, like that's easy. I have a short IV line in my right hand, and I'm right handed. The danged IV box kept going off all the time as it was because I would have to bend my arm from time to time - now you want me to bend my arm and run the risk of ripping out my IV to insert the probe myself? Fuck you very much.

Finally we're in and she gets to work. Says nothing. Clicks, snaps, measures, whatever, then takes out the probe and gives me a small box of Kleenex to 'clean up with'. I asked if she could see anything, and she snapped right back that the doctor would review it and get back to me.

Okey dokey then.

She leaves. Gone.

Another nurse comes in and gives me bigger, better wipes to use. As I'm sure you can imagine, this all makes quite a mess, not something that can be cleaned up easily with a half sized kleened with an IV line that doesn't give me enough slack to scratch my own nose.

By this point I'm standing up, trying to reorient myself and throw away all the wipes I'd been given. I'm straightening out the covers, tryin to figure out how to get back on the bed, and my IV line alarm starts going off, the nurses keep pushing in to see if I'm ready to go back to the ER, and at this point, I lost it. I just burst into tears. I was so frustrated, the alarm wouldn't stop, I felt dehumanized and humilated - truly awful.

I lost it with tears, Hubs lost it with the nursing staff. He called them out - 'will someone please get over here and help my wife?' He got action, that's for sure. They helped me navigate back into bed and got me the hell outta there. What a horrible experience.

Finally back to the ward (I'd been kicked out of my private room and squished amongst the other sickies) and it was all about waiting for my ultrasound results and the final say from the doctor. By this time, it was well after 10am and I was starving. Of course I couldn't eat anything in case they had to do the D&C, so I sat there, watching the minutes pass, craving coffee and a bagel.

At long long last, the doctor finally came and told me that I'd miscarried almost all of the 'products of conception', that there was 'minimal residue' and that it wasn't thought that I would need the D&C after all. They unhooked my IV (bliss, true bliss), and sent me on my way.

Almost nine hours to the minute that we left the house, we were home.

First thing I did was take a shower, and it was blissful. Then I ate. Then I called my mom. Then I slept. And that's kinda been my day.

I'm exhausted in every sense of the word.

Physically, mentally, emotionally, I am spent.

Despite everything, I don't think the magnitude of what's happened has, in fact, hit me yet. I just can't wrap my brain around what we went through today. Or the fact that this is over, really over. I've even surprised myself with how generally 'okay' I am mentally. Maybe it's because a part of me, a big part, started mourning this pregnancy long ago.

The bleeding has stopped - for now. Who knows what tomorrow will bring, but for the moment, I have some relief. I'll be staying home from work tomorrow as well to try and recover, again, both physically and mentally. But most of all, I just want to sleep.

If you've actually read this, thanks. Hope I didn't gross you out too much. :)

Thanks too for all the support you've shown over the past few weeks - it really has helped me get through what has been a very dark and dreary time. My hope now is that the healing can begin in earnest, and Hubs and I can spend our time comforting one another, healing together, instead of merely stressing out about what the next week, next ultrasound will bring.

So for now, we hope this is the end, we follow up with the clinic, we take some time for ourselves, and we look ahead to the possibility of trying again in January.

And I try to look on the bright side. At least now I can have rum in my holiday eggnog.

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

Mourning the possibles

2008-11-03T16:36:00.005-05:00

Hi.

Yep, it's me. It's really me. With an update at long last.

Apologies for my prolonged absence. I just haven't really known what to say.

Not true...I've known what to say, or what I've wanted to say, but I never could find the strength to actually type it out. Put it on paper.

Because that would make it real. And I would do anything for the events of the past month of my life to be a dream.

But alas, here we are again.

Truth be told, I can't even remember where we left off. I can't even remember if I'd mentioned that Hubs and I had decided to bite the bullet, drop the cash and go for IVF. I think I had, because I'd mentioned that our first go 'round was cancelled because I didn't respond to the meds.

That didn't happen the second time.

I responded, all right. Things went much better on the second try. Valuable lessons had been learned and were put into practice. By retrieval day, they'd gotten 15 eggs, 14 of which were mature. A day later, 10 had fertilized. And four days after that, seven of those 10 remained - we had seven beautiful day five blastocysts.

September 23 we transferred two of the wee things back to their rightful home. The transfer went wonderfully. The doctor was happy and very optimistic. I, for the first time in a very long time, was too.

Fourteen days after transfer I was supposed to go for my blood test (a beta, they call it) to see if things had worked. Never a patient diva, seven days post transfer I decided to pee on a pregnancy test to see if there was anything worth looking at in that elusive second line department.

Well sweet holy shit - there was.

Now, Hubs had to squint and hold it up to the light sideways to see it, but it was there. Truly. I still have the stick to prove it.

A few hours after that wonderful moment - I started spotting.

Not much, but enough to freak me the fuck out. My good friend urged me to call the clinic, so I did. They asked me to come in for some bloodwork - maybe I wasn't absorbing one of the support hormones properly. So I marched right over there and thrust my vein at anyone who would prick it.

Sure enough, I wasn't absorbing the progesterone. And that's not good - you need progesterone to not only get but, most importantly, stay pregnant. Expected levels during this time should be over 100. Mine was eight.

Eight.

I was literally millimeters away from starting a period and losing it all.

They also did a beta test to see if I was indeed registering pregnant that way. Anything under five is negative, over 10 is considered positive.

Mine was seven.

And thus the roller coaster that has been our lives for the past two months began.

Not only was I not absorbing the progesterone in the format in which they had given me, I wasn't making any of my own either. Doctor just shook his head, kept saying 'eight', like it didn't make sense to him either. So we switched to shots of progesterone in cottonseed oil, to be taken by a massive needle once a day directly into the muscle of my upper ass.

Good times.

I took the shots, the spotting stopped, my beta numbers started to increase. But not like they should. By day 10, my number was 27. Tripled (they're supposed to double every 48-76 hours) - this was exciting. But still, it wasn't nearly as high as it should be for that far along. I was told that I needed to see a number of at least 150 to 200 by 14 days after transfer for us to have a shot.

So what was my number on that 14th day? 151.

Seriously. I kid you not.

Numbers continued to increase, just barely along the lines of 'acceptable standards'. Doc booked me an early ultrasound because he was concerned about the viability of the pregnancy.

Turns out Doc's a smart guy.

We showed up for the ultrasound at 9:30am two Monday ago. I was ready to vomit, I was so so nervous about what they'd find - or wouldn't find. I should have been 6weeks4days along by this point. And by this point, they should have been able to see a heartbeat.

Bladder full to busting, I hobbled into the ultrasound room and assumed the position. The technician was poking and prodding and pushing around - and, of course, not saying a word. When she was all done, she told us the baby was there, measuring 5weeks4days, and there was no heartbeat.

I was crushed. Hubs believed it was simply too early to know.

We talked to the doctor. He told us that this is what he was afraid of...that by now there should be heartbeat, and we shouldn't already be measuring an entire week behind. He asked us what we wanted to do, and we were not ready to give up yet. We wanted to keep going, solider on as it were, to see what might happen. This little bean had hung in so far - we needed to know how much it had left.

Doctor warned us not to get our hopes up, that there was less than a 5% chance of this being a viable pregnancy. That horrible word again - viable. Like getting pregnant wasn't hard enough - now I have to fight and hope for it to just be viable? Isn't that kinda the freakin point here? Ugh.

I was a disaster. In my mind, it was the beginning of the end. Just a matter of time. Sure, we'd keep going back to see what, if anything, had changed, but that less than 5% was a death knell to me.

That week of being in limbo was brutal. I did my best to try and merely keep my head above water - to not worry about things too much until the day before the ultrasound because nothing could change the outcome. But every once in a while, these horrible thoughts would creep into my brain...visions of my uterus, so confused by all the artificial hormones, holding on with everything it's got to a baby who will never breathe a single breath.

It haunted me.

Finally, the week had passed and we were back in the clinic. I had an early morning meeting, so Hubs was going to meet me there - and of course, got stuck in traffic on the DVP. They made me go in without him.

The ultrasound technician, Lily was her name, was amazing. She got to work setting things up and said, 'okay, let's get ready to look at your growing baby' and I burst into tears. I didn't think I could handle this without Hubs there....she held my hand, stalled as much as she could, and before you knew it he was there and able to take her place as my official hand holder. She told me she was good luck, and that she thought good things were going to happen for us.

And then she turned the screen to me and showed me our baby's heartbeat.

I cried. Openly and deeply, I wept on that table, legs akimo, cooter cam lodged where the sun don't shine. I cried because I got to see that little flutter, and even if it was only for a few seconds and no matter what the outcome, no one can ever take that away from me.

Then I cried some more when she said to the doctor (who had recently entered the room) that the heartbeat was 89 beats per minute, and the baby was measuring 6weeks1day.

Before he even said it, I knew. But hearing him say the words 'this is not good news' truly solidified things.

He knows me well, my doctor. Knows that I don't want things sugar coated. That I need realism, not a cheerleading squad. And so he gave me realism, right between the eyes. While I was lying on that table, legs akimbo, cooter cam lodged where the sun don't shine. And I cried some more.

We chatted afterwards, and he told us his biggest concern was the slow growth rate. That the baby had only displayed three days of growth in a week's time. And the heartbeat wasn't great either. Yes, it was there, but it was low. Should have been over 110.

Feels like a broken record, doesn't it? Numbers never lining up, always there but not there enough. Yes, this has been my/our life for what feels like way too long.

So we decided to cut the hormones in half and see what that did. And it's back again in a week for, you guessed it, another ultrasound.

Of course, this is the week where I have my nephew's birthday, my niece's first birthday party, and a friend's baby shower. Oh, and Halloween. A truly kid filled week. And I won't lie - it was freaking hard. So hard, trying to keep a smile on my face. The only thing that saved me was thinking of that little flutter, and wondering, hoping against hope, that things might change direction.

Then today rolled around. In we go for another round of poking and prodding. I have the non communicative technician again this time who says nothing while she pokes and prods. Nothing. I have no idea what's happening - but in my gut, I know it's not good.

As I stand up to leave, I'm putting my pants back on when she tells me in her heavy Russian accent that the baby is measuring 6weeks1day. In that moment, I know it's well and truly done. No growth. Nothing.

I wait to ask about the heartbeat, sure that it's gone. That all life has just stopped. But instead, she tells me it's 114 beats per minute.

Yet again, we defy all medical logic.

We gather our belongings and wait to speak to the doctor. He confirms my beliefs - there is no hope left.

No growth in a week. In fact, what was supposed to be our baby actually shrunk in one of its key measurements. And he has no idea why the heartbeat has gotten stronger. Makes no sense, but he's sure there is something genetically wrong with this particular baby. And that we need to be put out of our suffering, our misery. He said that he hates to see us in this limbo.

And for once, Hubs and I both agree with him - this is the end.

So I'll stop taking all hormones and see what happens from there. Because oh yeah - no hospital will do a D&C on an embryo with a heartbeat. Talk about adding insult to injury. We know it's not going to be viable, but we can't help you.

So once again, we wait. We wait to see if my not taking drugs will help me to miscarry naturally. Goodie. Sounds like fun. Can't wait.

If nothing happens between now and Monday, you guessed it!, we go back in for another ultrasound. If the heartbeat has subsided naturally, they'll begin the process of scheduling the D&C. And if not, we have two choices - wait for nature to do its thing, or have it taken care of clinically.

That's right - I'd have to have an abortion.

Nothing like adding a truckload of salt to my already gaping wound. Because there's a heartbeat, we would have to make the decision to terminate the pregnancy and get it done at an abortion clinic despite the fact that there's no genetic viability for this little one. Just doesn't seem fair to me.

What's worse, is that after a D&C, they can/will take the tissue and send it away for testing. We could get answers as to what happened. Why this didn't stick, what went wrong. Not so with abortion. So again, not like it's bad enough we have to go through the abortion process, but we don't get any much needed/wanted answers either.

'Cause sitting in a waiting room surrounded by women who are CHOOSING to end their pregnancies isn't bad enough.

Fuck.

Fuck the universe, big time.

So there ya go. The update to end all updates.

Again, sorry for being absent, but now that you've had a front row seat, hope you'll understand why hibernation was the name of the game for so long.

I can't promise that I'll be back daily, but I'll do my best to update as I can, when I'm feeling up to it. I have no idea what the next few weeks shall hold, but then again that's nothing new for me lately.

So for now I'll sign off and thank you for reading if you've made it this far. Believe it or not, it actually does help to get it all out there.

And that's your long overdue dash. How's your diva doin'?

Insane week

2008-10-02T20:26:00.002-05:00

Hi all.

I know it's been a while, but this week has been insane. More bumps in this baby making road. Big ones.

As a result, I'm exhausted, mentally and physically, so I've been yet again off my blogging game.

I'll do my best to check in again soon, but for now, I really need to concentrate on resting and doing pretty much nothing. Good times.

Thanks to all for understanding, and for checking in. Sorry I don't have more for you but I hope to be back in the swing of things next week.

And that's merely a pinch of dash. How's your diva doin'?

Just another Wednesday...

2008-09-24T21:21:00.002-05:00

After all the excitement of the past few days, today was delightfully uneventful.

Slept in, had breakfast, played around online, then Hubs and I went to see Burn After Reading so I could get out of the house a bit.

I keep calling it Burn Before Reading for some silly reason...can't wrap my head around the title. Huh. Strange.

Anyway, I'm actually quite tuckered today, so there's truly not much of anything to report. And even though I'm sure I could find something to blather on about, I just don't have much energy to blather, ya know?

So I hope you'll excuse me if I leave you with this uber brief installation of the diva dash due to pure fatigue and lack of an interesting life today.

Hopefully more will transpire tomorrow!

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

Baby Mama?

2008-09-23T21:56:00.002-05:00

Interesting title, I know. It works in two ways - one, because for the first time in, uh, ever, I have a real shot of being Hubs' baby mama. And two, because we just watched the movie of the same name.

I heart Tina Fey, truly I do. But given all we'd been through, this was one theatrical release that I had to forgo. If Knocked Up taught me anything, it was that seeing baby/pregnancy related flicks while being infertile is highly discouraged. Big time.

Word.

But today was the one day where I thought I could view this little baby bump of a film and actually be okay about it. And fortunately, I was right.

Yes, today was transfer day. Two beautiful, high grade blastocysts were delivered to the proverbial 'sweet spot' of my uterus at 11:03am. So sayeth my doctor, and boy am I inclined to believe him.

Two weeks from now we'll find out if it worked, but in the meantime I can float in this bliss bubble for a week at least, before I start peeing on things to see if I can get an early test result. And so I allowed Baby Mama into my bubble.

It was good, had some pretty laugh out loud moments, but the ending, as expected, was meh. But what could she do? Forced into a corner, she pumped out her Hollywood ending and there was much rejoicing. And I'm not giving anything away to those that have yet to see it, trust me.

Back to me as baby mama now. Hubs and I went out for dinner tonight thanks to some Outback steakhouse gift certificates CJ had given me for my birthday. We had a fantastic meal and chatted a lot about what our new future might mean, what changes to expect, what we were both excited and scared about.

At this point, quite frankly I'm most scared that I'm jinxing us by even having these conversations. That merely talking about it as something that could happen is enough to anger the universe that's been so cruel to us in the past. But for tonight, all second thoughts were shoved aside and there was meat to be ingested. All in all, a lovely evening.

So cross your fingers, toes, whathaveyou that little eenie and meenie (Hubs' names for our embryos) are snuggling in nice and tight to the cushy lining I've been busting my hump to keep plump for them since they were merely eggs and sperm. Only five days old and I'm already complaining about the work necessary to keep a roof over (and under) their heads.

I'm going to do my everything to think positively, to visualize this actually happening, to picture those embryos latching on, getting bigger day by day, and one day becoming the son or daughter we've craved all these years.

'Cause even if it's only for two weeks (or as long as my bliss bubble remains intact) I will always be baby mama to eenie and meenie. I'll always have that.

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

Annnnnd we're back.

2008-09-22T16:51:00.002-05:00

Well hello my lovelies. I realize it's been a while...a long while. Much longer than I said I'd be. My bad. I do apologize. But hopefully once I fill you in on what's going on you'll be a bit more understanding.

So by now you of course know all too well our fertility challenges. You also know that we had started IVF just to get cancelled because I was oversuppressed and didn't respond to the medications properly. And that we were waiting to start again.

Well, start again we did. Around the middle of August, in fact. Started popping that birth control pill (yes, it is all part of the plan) and went about our merry way.

Being on the pill was pure hell. Mood swings, much higher and more severe than ever before - poor Hubs. Breakthrough bleeding for two plus weeks - nothing like things not going the way they're supposed to right from the get go. And acne - the absolute worst acne you could ever imagine. It was everywhere - my face, my heck, my chest....I looked like the president of the high school chess club. Not cool at all.

Coming off that was the best day, seriously. I celebrated like crazy when I took that last pill. Of course it took forever for things to finally wind down, but in the end I suppose it did its trick and we were well on our way.

I started my stimulation drugs at the conclusion of my sister in law's wedding. Literally. I stored them in the fridge behind the bar at the reception site. What an auspicious beginning!

The wedding went well, was beautiful, and I was relieved. I held the role of day of coordinator, so was running around like a crazy person all day. I was delighted to slip into bed that night, the drugs hard at work.

This time around things went much better. I responded to the drugs. Things that were supposed to grow, grew. Levels of hormones that were supposed to increase in my blood, increased. And before you knew it, we were ready for egg retrieval. We'd made it further than we'd ever gone before.

Around this time is when I kinda went blog silent. I was so tired from the drugs, so worn out from the not knowing what was coming next, so sick from yet another ear infection, so stressed about what to say and how to say it that I elected to just retreat from it all until I could figure things out.

Have I figured said things out? Nope, not necessarily, but I do have the relief of knowing that we're able to progress yet another few steps. They got a good number of eggs, most were mature, and a huge number of them fertilized. More than my wildest dreams, actually. And we find out tomorrow just how many are left as we jump over the final hurdle in the actual IVF process - the transfer.

Transfer is the easy part, really. What truly sucked ass was the retrieval. Yes, you're given drugs through an IV so you don't feel anything. But it sure doesn't improve your pain level when the nurse, obviously new to IV's, tries to put on in and blows your vein. You can imagine the huge bruise I have on my right forearm. Looks like Hubs was seriously pissed off at me one day!

Finally a more experienced bloodletter came along and slipped in the needle lickety split. I donned my lucky socks, grabbed the IV pole and we were off down the hall to the procedure room.

I don't think it's really necessary to go into all the truly gory details of what egg retrieval entails. Let's just all agree it's not much fun. A nasty means to an end. But they got what they went in for and that was good.

Recovery wasn't so good. First, because of the size of my ovaries and what they had to do, they told me to expect some gas pain and bloating. Uh, some? I'll have to get them to rewrite their post-op expectations for patients. I had no freakin idea a wee touch of gas could be so debilitating.

Add to that the constipation that resulted from the progesterone I was taking/making and I was a flipping bag of toys.

They'd given me percocet because they expected I'd have some extra pain due to how big my ovaries got. Sure enough, by the end of the day I was pretty danged sore, so I decided then was not the time to play hero, and I took one.

Big mistake. Big. Huge!

Percocet is not my friend. In addition to making me stoned, it also constipates. Yeah, just what I needed, more help in the bunging up department.

Friday morning I was feeling a bit better, so we made the decision to go to a friend's wedding in Ottawa. It truly was a game day decision, as I wasn't sure I'd be up to it. But I totally wanted to go, so we set off.

By Saturday, things weren't improving much. I got ready in the hotel in phases, taking a shower, curling up on the bed for a bit, doing my makeup, curling up on the bed...you get the picture.

We headed out to the burbs for the ceremony but managed to find a Shoppers so I could get some much needed Metamucil (actually, a tasteless, pasteless version thereof) into my system to see if that would help. Picture this - Hubs and I, all dressed up, sitting in our Kia in the parking lot of the Catholic church, me putting BeneFibre into a bottle of water and Hubs shaking it up while I wipe the excess white powder off my dress.

Quite the scene, I tell you. But boy did it feel good to actually think we might be making some progress.

The rest of the wedding was beautiful. A long time coming for my good friend the groom, and I was just so delighted that we could actually be there. I made it through 'til about 10:30, then it was back to the hotel for pass out time. But despite everything I'm glad I went.

Today I've just been resting, resting, resting. Sleeping for all that it's worth. Went over to my mother in law's new apartment and Hubs helped her put up some pictures and put some shelves together. It's great to see her back in civilization, able to do things for herself again. So much better than being in the middle of nowhere, where it was impossible for her to even go to get her own newspaper.

And tomorrow, tomorrow is transfer day. They're (hopefully) going to put in two wonderful embryos, and I'm going to wait for two weeks to see if it all worked.

And so it begins.

So there you have it! The update of all updates. I hope now you'll understand a bit better why I was so scatterbrained and not quite up to posting par over the past few days and weeks.

I'll be looking for plenty of distractions in the next two weeks, so look for posts on all sorts of wild and wacky stuff! For example, Sex and the City comes out on DVD tomorrow. Guess what this diva's present to herself will be for transfer day?

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

Yo.

2008-09-09T20:49:00.002-05:00

I wanna post.

I really do.

But I'm so tired, and I think I'm starting to get sick again.

Which means I'm royally pissed off, too.

My throat feels like it has a new flap affixed to the back. I'm not enjoying this sensation in the least.

Add to the mix a fever, having to get up stupid early in the morning to get to the clinic, and weird weather systems, and I'm a flipping bag of toys.

With no strength to post about a darned thing.

I have ideas o'plenty though, fret not. More than anything I want to write about my particular take on 90210. Hopefully I'll get to that one tomorrow. :)

But for now, bed calls.

Til next time!

Spotted in my sleep...

2008-09-03T19:56:00.003-05:00

Okay, okay. I know it's been a looooong time since I posted. Apologies. It's been a rather crazy week and a half - mostly recovering from the notion that I'm now 35 years old. Hehe - yeah, that's it.

Nah, it's been nuts doing a thousand gagillion different things for different people. My sister in law is getting married on Saturday, so I've been filling in in the role of wedding planner. I also offered to purchase and assemble the fixin's that now make up the favours, so my free time has found me cross eyed, cutting small strands of ribbon, tying them to tiny jars, sticking on labels, and just today, dumping in the yummy candy that will be consumed by the nuptial-witnessing masses in a few short days.

I see jelly beans in my sleep.

I've also taken on the role of jewelry pimp for my mother in law. You'll hopefully remember my post from a few weeks back that discussed her handiwork. Well, she's surprisingly prolific, and has now made more than 300 sets of necklaces and earrings.

300. Insane!

Since I've got a plethora of her creations in my personal collection, I wear them to work quite often and get many the comment. So much so, that co-workers asked me to bring in some of her wares for their perusal and, perhaps, purchase.

In preparation for said sale, she came over on Sunday and we went through everything. I selected 140 sets to take to work with me, and we set to pricing and labeling each individual piece.

I see jelly beans and beads in my sleep.

The fantastic news is that in just over an hour, I was able to sell over 30 sets and net her more than $500! Not too shabby! And there are still many a person interested in perusing my large pink bag of treats - now delightfully lighter than it was on the way into work on Tuesday!

Talk about your win win situation - she's making some extra income, people are able to get wonderful, one of a kind pieces, some even starting their Christmas shopping, and she's decided to donate 10% of the proceeds to the charity I work for.

I love it when a plan comes together.

Monday Hubs and I truly wanted to do anything but Labour, so we hung out in our pj's until 2 and watched a movie together. As much as I was enjoying our pure flakieness, the insane mess of weeds in the backyard was calling to me, so I set out on a mission to remove the offending growths.

So yeah. I don't 'garden' per se. Actually, ever. That's my sister in law's department. We have a lovely front garden, and I have a pair of gardening gloves...that she bought me...so I was at least protected from Nettle Forest when I went to destroy the evil bitches.

Um, pulling mega weeds is serious work. Who needs the gym? I was in target heart rate the entire time! And my hands - I could barely pick up the soap to have my well deserved shower once it was all done! Ugh.

I see jelly beans and beads and weeds in my sleep.

But the worst side effect of all is the excruciating and apparently never ending pain in my hamstrings. Do you have any idea how long it takes me to go from a sitting to a standing position, or vice versa? I feel like I'm twice my already advanced age! Sheesh.

I kinda want to just soak in our big tub but I'm truly afraid that I won't have the leg strength to get myself out once I'm in!

So that's a brief recap of what's keep me insanely busy these days. Is it the weekend yet?

To top everything off, I'm hopped up on all sorts of hormones again. I just finished a course of the birth control pill (all part of the process, as strange as it sounds) and can I just say how much I hate the damned side effects this time around? Marvelon is not my friend at all!

The roller coaster emotions are one thing. It's the freakin breakouts that I can't handle.

I've generally been pretty lucky to have decent skin. Now? I look like the 10th grade president of the chess team. Seriously....I look like I have the chicken pox, I have so many spots. All over my chest, up both sides of my neck and face, everywhere! I've seriously never been this self-conscious in all my life! I'm totally hating it. I can't WAIT to get some clear skin back. I have a whole new respect for all the kids in those ProActiv commercials now. Sigh.

I see jelly beans and beads and weeds and spots in my sleep.

Ah, sleep. Sounds like a really good idea, no?

'Night!

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

Moving Boxes

2008-08-25T19:54:00.002-05:00

Greetings from the other side of 35.

Yeesh.

Yes, it's official. I can no longer, in good conscience, put a check beside the 25-34 box on the most basic of demographic surveys.

Boo-urns.

I didn't even have much of a reprieve from my first earth shattering box click either. Hubs, bless his wonderful soul, got me the pink iPod nano I'd had my eye on for months. I was soooo excited - I'd dreamed of finally getting back into iPod land for eons, but given everything else going on, dropping the cash for a luxury item wasn't in the cards.

And then came my birthday!

So yes, I open the package and there she was, all pink and shiny. Beautiful! I immediately rush to my laptop, plug her in, and begin the synch-ing process. At which point Apple asks me to register my iPod. I of course agree, and am subsequently confronted with the first kick in my old pants - Apple wants to know how old I am.

And there it is. I hover over the 35-44 box and, grudgingly, click.

It's 11:32 am. And so it begins, nary a few waking hours into my day of birth.

What a wonderful weekend though.

Hubs made a totally yummy breakfast of waffles, homemade homefries, scrambled eggs and maple bacon. My good friend L stayed over the night before 'cause we were celebrating Kristine's birthday, and the festivities continued!

Then I got to play with my iPod, received a few phone calls from family and friends, and just lazed around in my pj's for a few hours. Then it was off to Nat's a for a pre-pub pool party!

We actually had decent weather, so it was a real treat to feel the sun on my (now aged) skin.

After a nice soak and some delish appies (Nat does know how to buy some mean finger foods) we returned home for a quick change, then it was off for all you can eat sushi. Which I actually do adore, despite my deep dislike for anything that swims. Good thing there's more to Japanese food than just fish!

Totally stuffed, we caravaned down to the Irish pub for the final round of the evening's festivities. I was delighted to have a wonderful turnout, friends from all different circles and phases of life. Everyone was so generous and kind - for an exceedingly non-religious person, the best word I can think of to describe the feeling of that day was blessed.

Blessed to have a wonderful husband who went out of his way time after time to make sure I had a fantastic day. Blessed to have friends who hosted parties, travelled to the 'burbs from downtown, gave up a Saturday night in the summer to come to celebrate with me. Blessed that those same friends, even though I told them not to, spoiled me rotten with so many gift cards that I can't close my wallet, and other gifts that required both Hubs' and my arms to get them to the car. Blessed that Hubs' mom and sister made the trek to party with us - I truly am so fortunate in the in law department.

Yep - plain ole blessed. And it was an incredible feeling.

I delight in being overwhelmed by the kindness of the people in my life. The friends that I have made, be they long suffering (aka since high school) or relatively new to my fray, and my crunchy-on-the-outside-soft-and-chewy-on-the-inside husband who'd do pretty much anything to make me happy.

How much luckier can a gal get?

Kinda makes moving boxes seem like a pretty petty thing after all.

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

A matter of taste

2008-08-19T21:10:00.002-05:00

Scads of apologies for my absence. But this time I have an excuse, really!

I've been sick.

Yes, sick. Argh. Stupid summer. And I'd managed to go sooooo long too! Not since March had I experienced the mucous madness...and alas, here we are again.

Not sure if it was my boss that passed along the yuckies or if I snagged them off some public transit railing. Regardless, last week I got sick. Knock you on your ass sick.

Before I could say echinacea, it felt like I was swallowing razor blades. Quite the auspicious beginning. Blessed me.

The next day I was a huge diva bag of poo. Felt awful. Came home from work early and just crashed on the couch. Snotty mess. Wicked headache. Terrible fatigue.

Blech.

Friday I woke up and there was no. way. on. earth. I was leaving my house to go to work. I somehow managed to pull myself together and Hubs shuttled me over to the walk-in clinic for some medical attention as colds never just stay colds with me.

The verdict? Bronchitis and an ear infection.

Lovely.

The doctor whipped out her prescription pad and within seconds I had the ticket to feeling better in my hot little hands. Ten days of biaxin. Good times, good times.

Not sure if you've ever taken biaxin, but it's one of those annoying drugs. It works fantastically well - you start to feel better incredibly quickly - but you must contest with a nasty side effect.

The worst freaking taste in your mouth. For ten salivatingly long days. Every morning I wake up, and it hits me like a tidal wave of disgusting. Nice way to start the day.

For the first few days, it wasn't even that big a deal. The difference from how I felt Friday to Saturday was nothing short of transformational. Friday I simply laid about and moaned a lot....Saturday I was up and about, making a cheesecake for celtic_kitten's birthday fete later that afternoon.

God bless thee, Alexander Fleming.

Now yes, I was feeling better, but still not fantastic. I did decide to go to that afternoon's pool party because a) it was super close by, b) I thought the nice fresh air would do me some good, c) I felt I was being good by electing not to go in the pool, and d) I just darned well felt like being there. So I went, had a lovely time, enjoyed simply sitting outside on a summer day.

Somedays it's important to just be.

My biggest fear of the day was not how I was going to feel, it was how my cheesecake was going to turn out. I'd used a brand new recipe as I know she's partial to the New York style cheesecake. And then the panic set in.

What if the recipe didn't turn out? What if I was about to serve everyone a slice of eek on a plate!? I mean yeah, it'd be eek topped with your choice of cherry or fresh strawberry topping, but eek nonetheless! And lets face it, no one wants to mow down on eek in the middle of a sunny afternoon.

So we all sit down, have a lovely dinner, and the cheesecake is served. I take my first bite....

...and I can't taste a thing.

I'm so stuffed up that I register no taste, none whatsoever. I look around me and see smiling happy cheesecake faces, but these are all such nice people that there's no way in hell they'd ever tell me if it was crap, ya know? Celtic_kitten had a delighted grin which reassured me somewhat, but I was not going to know for sure until I had cleared up enough to taste it for myself.

Fortunately there were two pieces left over, and the next day I got my taste. It was worth the wait, in my most humble of opinions. This is one recipe that will make its way into permanent rotation.

Oh yeah...Hubs liked it too.

Sunday I awoke feeling pretty much the same, but there was work to be done - it was off to Brampton to explore the sight of my sister in laws' forthcoming nuptuals. We spent the afternoon discussing all sorts of wedding minutia and by 6 I was spent. Home to bed we went.

I'm still feeling rather nasty. The worst part now is the coughing that keeps me up at night. I have to sleep sitting up, four pillows stacked behind me. Humph. All I want is a good night's sleep - is that too much to ask? I mean really!?

Alas. Only a day and a half more to get through this week, then I'm off Thursday afternoon and Friday. I plan on enjoying my final few days as a 34 year old in style - out for lunch with friends, the EX with Hubs, and a spa morning with my fabulous sister in law.

Doesn't sound too bad, does it? Now if only I can get back to my somewhat healthy diva self, I'll be delighted! 'Cause I don't want to miss a mouthful of my Japanese with the girls or the spa lunch on Friday!

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

I'm sprouting fungus

2008-08-11T19:22:00.002-05:00

Hi. It's August, right? Summer?

And I live in Ontario, right? Not the freakin Costa Rican rain forest?

What is with this weather?

Seriously. (That's my fave word lately. Seriously.)

I truly feel as though I am sprouting fungus. Spawning 'shrooms. This is nothing short of ridiculous.

Spring and summer are supposed to be my reward for making it through winter alive. I'm not a fan of winter, as I'm sure you're well aware, and this past icy season was particularly heinous.

So you can imagine (and in fact likely shared in) my delight when April sprung to life with gorgeous warm temps. Positively balmy. Away went the coats, out came the sunscreen.

What a tease.

The rest of the spring/summer has been abject crap.

I can't remember a rainier summer. It's rained something like 45 of the last 70 days in my little corner of the world. WTF?

Hell, if I wanted weather like that, I'd move to BC. At least I'd have pretty mountains to look at.

Tonight was a doozy, that's for sure. Massive fork lightning and house shaking thunder. We've had all kinds of storms this summer but this time the thunder was so close I felt the shudder all the way down in my pancreas.

Seriously.

Hell, a few weeks ago Nat and I had to go to the flower place (also known to many as the nursery but I'm not the biggest fan of that word these days given our circumstances) because I needed new hanging baskets. Thanks to all the rain, my pretty yellow pansies had actually started growing mold.

Never in mine almost 35 years have I ever seen anything like it.

At least the weeds are thriving. I'm pretty sure that if I spent enough time in my backyard I'd discover a never-before-seen tribe of pygmies or something. Lord knows there's enough foliage of every variety back there for them to thrive in.

My backyard depresses the hell outta me. I call it ghetto fabulous. Without the fabulous.

Thank goodness no one can see it. Except my neighbours if they look down from their bedroom windows. But I've got the goods on them, so they can't say too much. And it's not like my backyard is affecting their curb appeal....I could say plenty a word about their patch of weeds, dirt, and the strangest little pansie weeds that have taken over their entire lawn.

Dirt, lawns, weeds and fungi aside, I just want to see the sun, ya know?

I mean, this morning started off rather well. Cool, but at least the sun was out. I saw that heretofore painfully shy blue sky that I crave so desperately, and for a moment, all was good.

Fast forward to the trip home and the heavens open just in time for me to disembark from the GO train.

I love the smell of wet diva in the afternoon.

Seems to have stopped now for the time being. The odd flash of light still streaks the night sky, but it's noticeably further away now.

Any bets on how long this latest respite shall last?

Meh. Guess I'll just put that umbrella back in my purse.

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

Back to work I go.

2008-08-06T21:06:00.005-05:00

Yep. Mini break over.

Five and a half long days away from all things work has been surprisingly wonderful.

We went to my sister's new place in Waterloo over the weekend and had a great time. Pool was more hot tub than pool, and we all swam until we pruned up something fierce. Then we drank, and ate, and celebrated my brother in law's 50th birthday. We hit the St Jacob's Market, procured some very yummy fudge and jam, and all in all had a fantastic time away from home.

A much appreciated diversion from all the things we should have been doing this weekend had we not been cancelled just a week ago. But I digress.

We returned home late Sunday and I was delighted to have three more days of precisely nothing to do ahead of me.

You'll be happy to know that Hubs and I found a plethora of wee tasks to keep us busy. First on the list was a trip to Canadian Tire on Monday to finally, FINALLY! procure the coveted chandelier for our master bathroom that I'd blogged about all those months ago.

Thanks to a birthday cheque from my mom kindly dated for now as opposed to the birthday proper (later this month), I was delighted to throw caution to the wind and secure my shiny new fixture. A few hours of swearing (on Hubs' and my part) and manicure destruction (all mine) from trying to get all the danged crystals into place, she was finally all assembled in her new home.

First, a reminder of what we were working with below. Big globe-y blobness.

And here she is, in all her ensuite glory! Unlit by day....

And lit by night! Pretttttty. She throws some great light, nice and warm without being overpowering. Much better than the before, I'm sure you'd agree!

Thanks for all your assistance in helping me find the perfect new addition! Now for your next challenge...the fixture above the massive mirror. Same bathroom, same colour scheme, all that jazz....but sweet jeebus we need something more stylish to replace this nastiness!

As always, any and all suggestions will be warmly welcomed! Thanks in advance.

As for the rest of my time off, I finally took the plunge and spent a bit more of that birthday money on some new clothes. It had been ages since I'd shopped for myself so it was a real treat. I managed to get some shop-tastic end of season (sigh - since when is now the end of the summer season?) bargoons, including a dress that I luuuuurve to wear to my sister in law's wedding at the beginning of September. Excellent trip, all things considered.

Tuesday we slept in a bit, then embarked on a trip to Costco and Chapters. I'd decided that my sister wasn't reading her copy of Breaking Dawn, the one she was going to lend to me, fast enough for my liking, so I needed my own. Got home around 3 and I started reading. Hubs went off to play his silly boy games, leaving me home alone with my book. In about seven hours, I made dinner, cleaned out our entire pantry, and read that book from cover to cover.

All 754 pages of it.

Perhaps needless to say, today was a non-reading day for me. My eyes needed the break!

After a super yummy breakfast of french toast and maple bacon (have I waxed poetic about the virtues of maple bacon yet? OMG - best stuff on the planet, I swear it) we finally got our acts in gear and took in a matinee of The Dark Knight.

I hadn't really been all that interested, but Hubs went last week and loved it, so I decided to bite the bullet. But before we did, we popped in Batman Begins (which neither of us had seen) as a prep course for what was to come.

All in all I liked the movie. Good action, lots of drama, and lots of talking from Gramps and his hippie grandkid sitting behind us.

Someday, as gawd is my witness, I'll be able to go to a movie and not hear the cacophony of stupid people talking as I try to watch a flick I paid some serious money for. If you want to talk, rent the fucking movie and stay home. Makes me truly mental.

And here we are, back at home again. DeeDee's with us tonight. We had a great dinner, watched the Hannah Montana/Miley Cirus Best of Both Worlds in 3D concert thingie that DeeDee had PVR'd a few weeks ago, and now we're all watching Back to the Future.

My very PG13 Wednesday night.

Shortly it'll be off to bed, then back up and on the GO train in to work. I suppose I really can't complain too much. A two day workweek AND new clothes to wear? Why, that's a diva's dream come true!

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

So yeah.

2008-07-31T20:21:00.002-05:00

We're cancelled.

You may have figured this out by now.

Or you may have read about it elsewhere.

Regardless, it's true. Cancelled. Try again. Better luck next time.

Blech.

So here's a picnic. Since the meds didn't work quite right, we have to clear things out in an attempt to get ready to start anew.

Okay. Fun!

Basically I was told to give myself the 'trigger' shot, the special cocktail of hormonal goodness that forces ovulation. I've taken this drug a bunch of times for other cycles we've done in the past and it was no sweat. Out popped the egg, maybe two, that had been growing thanks to the medication, and on we went.

But not this time.

Oh no.

You see, while the medication balance for the cycle wasn't quite right for me, I still did develop a number of eggs. They may not have matured entirely, but they were big enough that they needed to go.

All 11 of them.

Yes, you read that right. I had 11 follicles developing, and the trigger shot ensured that they vacated the premises en masse.

Ever been punched in the ovaries before?

Me neither, but I now can relate to those that have. Fuck.

It's getting better now, thankfully. But ouchie ouch ouch, it hurt something fierce.

The silver lining in all of this is that now I get to do some fun things in August that might otherwise have remained on the back burner.

For example, Hubs, DeeDee and I can go to my sister's place in Waterloo this long weekend. I can drink. I can go in their pool. All things I would not have been able to do had things gone ahead as planned.

And I can drink. Did I mention that? Hehe. Yes, I realize it's somewhat sad to take so much pleasure in being able to drink, but cut me some farking slack, yo. I have to get through this somehow, and if a POMtini or two puts a smile back on my face, it's worth it.

Just ask Hubs, it would most certainly be worth it.

I'll also be able to drink for my 35th birthday, now merely three flippin weeks away. It would have been hard enough without alcohol, but hell, I would have been pregnant if this had worked, so I would have found a way to be okay with it.

Now, I can get blotto and not worry. Good times.

Sorry I haven't been around these past few days, but it's been hard. So much that I've wanted to say, yet so much time spent in limbo waiting for phone calls and confirmations of the worst. At the same time, I've been trying to focus on the good things in my life so that I can retain the already tenuous grip I have on sanity right now.

I'm walking one heck of a tightrope, folks. And seeing as I have the grace of a water buffalo, it's going to take all of my strength just to stay upright.

Thanks for keeping me steady.

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

Bitterness, thy name is diva

2008-07-24T20:53:00.002-05:00

Well holy fuck.

Pardon the profanity, but I'm really pissed at the universe. Again.

Quel surprise.

I'm just damned sick and tired of being infertile and being crapped on by the babydust bitch.

That little tramp decided she'd left me alone for far too long and so today, she pulled up in her scuzzy paneled van and threw a flaming bag of poo at my doorstep.

And it stinks.

Yes, we're back in fertility land. I've kept a bit quiet about it because it's been awhile and I'm really trying to not have it dominate my entire being as it has in the past. And I had been doing a somewhat decent job of it.

Until lately.

So yeah, things aren't going according to plan. Which sucks hairy ass, 'cause as we started this whole thing, we were told that we were going into it with ideal conditions.

And no one had ever said that to us before, so you can imagine how we clung to that like a lifeline.

Well, now it appears as though we're drowning, and someone's yanked our precious floatation device right out from underneath us.

Bitterness, today thy name is most indeed diva.

Now, I should say that all hope is not lost. We're not completely out yet. But it really is looking that way. So I've done my crying (not all of it, I'm sure - but I do need to rehydrate in order to actually get my body to produce new tears) and I'm in my angry, bitter phase.

I do hope it's all for nothing, and that tomorrow I look like a real stupid diva for getting all riled up over what might actually never materialize. I'd happily take back this post and all the crappy things I said about the universe if she actually comes through for us just this one time.

Pretty please, Ms Universe. I've tried to be good. I've tried to be nice. I've even tried to be patient. But we've waited so long, spent so much and come so far, I'm just not prepared for this to be over already, ya hear?

Pretty please with sugar on top.

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

My mother in law

2008-07-23T20:27:00.008-05:00

Ah, the much maligned mother in law.

Some mothers in law make you nuts. Some make you angry. Some make terrible, inappropriate comments. Some make you feel like you'll never be a part of the family. Some make you cringe every time you have to set foot in their home. Some make you feel like you must deliver a grandchild (or seven) in the next year. Preferably less.

As for me? My mother in law?

She makes me....jewelery.

That's right! I totally lucked out in the in law department. I believe I've mentioned this before but it certainly bears repeating. I got plain stinking lucky. And not just because she makes me cool stuff.

I've got two fab sisters in law and a mother in law that, besides never doing any of the nasty things I outlined above, has recently taken up jewelery making.

And the woman is a wiz with beads!

She's emptied out every bead store within a gazillion mile radius, and sweet holy crap the stuff she puts together! I'm seriously impressed! And you know it takes a goodly deal to impress this diva in the accessories department!

I've snapped some photos of but a few of the goodies she's compiled. Some specifically with me in mind, and others, well...I've snagged them from her massive bag of possibilities.

So far, she's made more than 150 sets. Most are necklaces and earrings, some are necklaces alone, and some include bracelets.

And they're all pretty freaking sweet!

Take a peek! Apologies for the crappy photography - don't have the super duper camera that would really do all of these justice. Someday though!!

Anyway, gives you a pretty decent idea of what she can do. Now is that impressive or what?

And the crazy thing is she has over 150 sets of these all done and ready to go.

But what to do now? We'd love to find a way to set her up so she can make a bit of money off of all her hard work. We've tossed around eBay but that's a challenge since she's not a fan of the computer. I think she might bunk with a friend at her local flea market and see if she can make some headway there.

Regardless of what she wants to do next, it's just so cool to see her get into something she loves and that she's truly good at. I just had to show off all her hard work!

Yep, truly hit the jackpot this time. Lucky, lucky diva.

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

Nothing much today

2008-07-22T21:15:00.002-05:00

Howdy.

I'm trying to write every day, so here I am.

But not much to say on this Tuesday. I stayed home from work today because I had a terrible night. Woke up a bunch of times and was sick. Didn't get much sleep. Felt absolutely gross.

I wondered if it had anything to do with the drugs. Upon further reflection I don't think so - in fact, I think it was instead something I ate. Nevertheless, I was exhausted and dehydrated, so I made the decision to stay home, rest, and suck up the fluids.

I'm feeling a bit better now, just tired still and fighting off yet another headache from all of these insane weather systems. When will we see a nice, clear, stable-barometric-pressure day again?!

Sigh.

So just a really quick hello my lovelies today. Now it's time to head off to bed and hope that tonight is a vast improvement over last night's travesty.

Ciao for now! Hope I have much more exciting topics to discuss tomorrow!

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

Booze without booze

2008-07-21T20:33:00.002-05:00

So.

We're back on the fertility bandwagon, and I'm at a point right now where it's not the best idea to consume alcohol while on the medication.

Okay, fine. The things I sacrifice in the name of trying to get pregnant.

It's not that I'm a huge boozer, truly. But I do enjoy my drinks. Always have, always will.

I mean, it's summer time! Nothing goes down better than a cold brewski after a long, hot day at work. Gawd, it sounds like I toil in the coal mines or something. But still...a cold beer is super yummy after a day at the office.

So I've decided that I won't give up beer in its entirety. As we were headed to a party on Saturday, I elected to suck it up, made a beeline to the Superstore, and for the very first time, purchased a 12 pack of near beer.

Whoooo-ahhhh. Near beer. Molson Excel.

I am one

wild

diva.

Watch out, I've had four Excel's and I...have to pee.

That's about it.

The problem, I've subsequently found, is that the stuff doesn't really taste all that much like beer.

Bummer.

They only sell it in cans, and I've always hated the taste of a canned beer. I lived in residence in university for four years and the only beer we could bring in was in cans. Blech.

Pfft. At least that beer had, well, beer in it.

I decided that I'd have one with dinner tonight. Try to spice up my meal. Make me feel like I wasn't missing anything.

Meh. Maybe I should have just quit cold turkey. This is such a tease, 'cause 'near' is nowhere near enough in my books.

I also procured some .5% wine coolers. $1.49 for some lemon ice wine cooler thing. Hehehe. Too funny.

But that fared much better than the beer. It looked like a cooler so I could blend in with my drinking friends, it tasted like a cooler, so I felt like I actually was drinking like all my drinking friends, and it had pretty much no alcohol in it whatsoever.

The kicker? 34 grams of carbs per bottle.

Snap.

I'm just not destined to win this mocktail game. 34 grams of carbs is way too much for this diabetic to consume in a stinking drink.

So I have two choices....beer that doesn't really taste like beer, or caffeine free diet Coke.

With options like these, however shall I choose?

Sigh.

All for the greater good, I keep telling myself. Please god, let this all be for the greater good.

Off to finish the last of my 'beer' now. At least I can use it to wash down those meds!

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

Put your danged belly away!

2008-07-17T20:27:00.004-05:00

No, despite the title and my current infertile status, I'm not issuing a blanket directive to all pregnant women. They only have so much choice of where to put the belly anyway!

Instead, I'm referring this evening to those of the so called fairer sex who decide it's hip, cool, and generally okay to expose their midriffs for all the world to see.

A small percentage of the female population can actually get away with this. The ladies with the concave bellies who work out like crazy, eat really well, and upon viewing, basically make me feel even worse about my diva physique than I do on a regular day. Yep, they're the ones.

They can pull off the belly shirt. And I'm okay with being exposed to that flat patch of flesh - hell, they work that hard to get it, hells yeah, show it off to everyone who walks by!

The rest of the ladies out there - and really, you should know who you are - should, before leaving the house, ensure that there is full fabric coverage throughout the entire midsection area.

See, this is a no brainer for me. Never shall my fish belly white tummy region see the light of day. Never gonna happen.

Hence its current state of fish belly whiteness.

Shit, I'll even do the stretch test just in case. You know, I'll stand in the change room as I'm trying something on and do a fake reach up with one arm to be sure the belly doesn't slip out the sides of my shirt. 'Cause you never know when you'll be called upon to fetch an item from a tall shelf or forced to thrust your arm skyward to grip the middle bar on the subway.

But for some reason, other gals just don't get it. They apparently see nothing wrong with flaunting their muffin tops and love handles to anyone graced with eyeballs. They care to not cover up in public. And to me, it's just plain wrong.

Maybe they don't see anything amiss when they look in the mirror. I suppose that's not entirely a bad thing. In this day and age of 12 year olds wearing minuscule string bikinis and modeling their diet and lifestyle after the Olsen twins, maybe feeling okay about your body, muffin top and all, is a rather healthy mental state.

But when I see a white belly replete with stretch marks and ripples coming my way, I nevertheless break out into a full body shudder.

I say this somewhat tongue in cheek of course, mostly because I am nowhere close to those super fit, flat tummy-ed girls that I barely have the energy to aspire to be, let alone aim for. I know that no one would ever want to see my belly in its fleshy goodness. Hell, my upper arms rarely make public appearances - there's no way my diva pooch will ever see the light of day.

And therein lies the difference.

I know better.

I KNOW not to wear a shirt that's too short for me. I KNOW that my pants/skirt/shorts must come up to a certain point in order to prevent exposure. I KNOW that specific tshirts will never meet my length requirements, and therefore I do not leave the store with them in my possession.

Now if only I could convince some of the walking fashion disasters that cross my path on a daily basis to embrace my simple techniques I'd be just plain delighted.

Until then, I'll have to stick to my current practice of averting my eyes as best I can.

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

First one's free, next one's $5.99.

2008-07-14T13:24:00.005-05:00

I've become a pusher.

Not really anything I ever aspired to do, but here we are nonetheless.

But fret not - no need to shield your children or addictive-personality friends, etc, I ain't peddling crack.

No no, my good friends...instead, I've recently been peddlin' some kick ass chocolate. As addictive as crack, but without all those pesky side effects and legal ramifications.

And it's soooooo goooooood.

Here's the story - a few weeks ago, maybe even months now, MMK emailed me a link to get free chocolate.

Talk about a call to action - I clicked on that sucker PDQ, filled in their online survey, and waited to see if I was accepted.

Turns out they were looking for 300 people from a few cities across Canada to be part of Dove chocolate's word of mouth marketing campaign. And hells yeah, they chose me as one of the lucky 300.

My job? To eat chocolate. Give chocolate out to other people and listen to what they had to say. Talk about chocolate.

How I suffer for my treats.

I became a very popular person, especially when my package of goodies arrived. And despite my desire to lock the door, turn off the lights, and keep all the chocolaty yumminess to myself, I did my Dove-ly duty and became the Robin Hood of chocolate. I gave rich, chocolate goodness away to my poor, unsuspecting friends and colleagues.

I've never felt so popular.

Sure, they only wanted me for my chocolate (picture knocks on the door, random email messages, Facebook wall posts, all politely requesting more, more, more). But I figured they could come for the chocolate, and stay for the diva.

The jury's still out on that one.

Nevertheless, it was great to actually be involved with a really good product. I'm relieved to say that no one I shared it with thought it was crap and/or that they'd never eat it again. Instead, I've had lots of people ask where to buy it (try your fave mart - Shoppers Drug Mart, Wal-Mart, etc), how you can buy it (larger tablet form, purse packs with four individually wrapped pieces, and larger cartons with more than four individually wrapped pieces), and what flavours they have (milk, dark, 71% dark (in tablet only), and my personal fave, dusk, a mix of milk and dark. Rawr.).

I've attached some photos for your reference, 'cause if you've ever been in the US and purchased Dove there, it's the same brand, but different. This is the good stuff you can get in Canada, so don't miss out! The photo on the left shows you the purse packs. Strange though - not sure how many of these actually make it to the purse. It's just too easy to consume four of these puppies in one sitting.

Then again, I've always had issues with self- control...

Moving on...

So there you have it. All in all it was a very good experience, but then again, when is getting free premium chocolate a bad thing?

Exactly.

Give it a try if I haven't tossed a nibble or two your way as of yet. You won't regret it. Try the Dusk...it's my fave.

And just to make things perfectly clear, I get nothing from the Dove folks other than some free chocolate, a notebook, a pedi kit and a wine glass. Yes, a somewhat odd assortment of goodies, but I believe in being transparent, so there ya go. I don't make any money if you buy Dove, and I won't lose my house if you don't, so let your taste buds and pocketbook guide you!

Speaking of what I get and don't get, and on a completely different note, I wanted to thank everyone for their comments and suggestions on what to do with that pesky upper lip fur. I did try the Parissa and I'm still trying to figure out how I feel about it. I don't think I used it correctly, 'cause it didn't do what I had hoped it would. I don't think I warmed it up enough in my hands, because it didn't pull much off, to my chagrin. I got the after burn feeling but the hair remained.

I will say, though, that the little bottle of oil stuff to cool your skin afterwards worked like a charm. So I'll reserve my judgment until I try the stuff a second time to see if I just did it wrong. Totally possible.

In a weird twist, I actually got an email from the people who do the PR for Parissa because I had mentioned their product. Intriguing! Hi Parissa folk! Your product does come very highly recommended, so I'll give it another shot and hope for better second results.

So there you have it, Monday's product review post. And look at me, posting so early in the day! Gotta love taking Monday's as vacation day.

And now the whole night lays ahead of me. Hubs is cooking stuffed sole for dinner tonight - yes, that's right, I'm actually going to attempt adding fish to my culinary repertoire. If you know me, you know that's huge. So wish me luck.

In the meantime, I'm a wee bit PMS-y today. Lemme see, where's that Dove chocolate?

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

A diva confesses

2008-07-10T20:29:00.002-05:00

No, I'm not here to once again confess that I've been a bad diva for not writing enough. You already know that - hardly a confession!

Instead, I write today to discuss something I rarely talk about but that haunts me on a daily basis. I can barely look in the mirror without obsessing over it. I see it, and I know others can potentially see it too, if they look for it. I think of all the different ways I could deal with it, then attempt to go about my day as best I can.

My confession?

I kinda have a moustache.

Now before you start picturing me with crazy black hairs sprouting in every direction from my pretty upper lip, stop yourself. Back that truck up and allow me to explain.

First, it's a somewhat blonde 'stache, thankfully. There are a few thicker, coarser, black hairs, you know the ones - they just keep coming back despite repeated pluckings. But generally speaking I can keep them at bay with my handy dandy tweezers. Fabulously painful tool, those tweezers.

But tweeze my entire upper lip I simply cannot. Too many hairs, most of them fine and lightly coloured, and just too much pain to pull them all out one by one. My pain threshold just ain't that high.

So what's a diva to do? On occasion I'll splurge and spend an extra $8 to get the upper lip waxed when I'm out getting my mani pedi. But wax and I aren't always the best of friends.

No, that waxy bitch leaves behind a whole host of other issues. Sure, the hair may be gone, but it its wake is left a trail of blemishes (that's fancy diva talk for zits) that overtake my upper lip area.

WTF?

Drives me nuts.

And they're painful blemishes too. Darn right! As if the searing (albeit short lived, thank goodness) agony of the initial rip isn't enough, now I have to put up with the nasty prolonged annoyance of zits lining the rim of my sexy pout.

Kinda takes all the sexy right out of the equation!

So. Where does that leave me, other than either hairy or zitty? How's that for being between a rock and a hard place?

Recently I've become aware of a product called Parissa (I think?). Yes, they're wax strips, but the at home kind. I'm left to wonder if the at home kind can possibly be better for you than the spa-grade wax, but I sense I'm about to find out.

I've had the stuff in my possession for almost a week now, but I can't quite get myself to open the package, let alone try it out. I want to, don't get me wrong. Every glimpse of mine hairy reflection in the mirror makes me want to rip open that package with increasing abandon.

But as always, I'm worried about the repercussions. What if I try it and my face stays red all through the next day? Or I break out in hives? Or some other dermatological misfortune befalls me? How do I show myself to the world? Sit on the GO train? Actually turn up at work? Yeesh.

Luckily, I'm about to enter into a three and a half day weekend. So I think I'll give it a whirl tomorrow afternoon and see what happens, let this be my science experiment for the month. I'll be sure to fill you all in and let you know how things turn out.

If you have any other suggestions on how to manage the wee forest that grows unwelcome on my otherwise happy face, I'm definitely open to suggestion!

And if you're one of the gal pals I'll be seeing for our bbq on Saturday, don't laugh too hard if things don't turn out right, okay? I mean, you'll be able to tell just by looking at me, that's for sure.

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

Is it hot in here?

2008-07-03T19:47:00.003-05:00

Or was it just the firefighters?

Yes, I'm back. I realize it's been a while, that I've been shirking my bloggerly duties. I'm a bad diva. Diva culpa. But life's just been plain ole crazy lately.

Since I've been gone, life's gone on for all of us. Captain obvious yet again, that's me. But it's true, no? Life has gone on for you. Heck, last time I posted we were but two days into a new season. Now we're in a new month, seeing some serious heat and are finally getting a break (it would seem) from all that rain.

Canada Day has come and gone. Hope you had a good one, and hope that you also managed to swing the Monday off. I did, thankfully, and thoroughly enjoyed my four day weekend. I didn't do much - slept a lot, trying to shake off a bug that's desperately trying to take hold, but I refuse to let the bastards in. Methinks I might be losing that war though...the battle rages on.

But before my four day weekend was the much anticipated Friday night - the Toronto Firefighter's Calendar Competition at the Phoenix.

Rawr.

Now, I can't explain it. There's no reason behind my abject affection for the boys in reflectively suspendered cargo pants. I was never rescued by one following a traumatic experience. I don't have hero fantasy dreams (although I'm thinking that might not be such a bad idea). But despite it all, those firefightin men somehow manage to transform rational, self-assured me into a mumbling pile of gelatinous goo.

The fact that it was sizzling hot outside as well as in didn't do much to discourage shiny face either.

Hubs knows about my predilection. Would we call this a fetish? I'm not quite sure, and am way too tired (read: lazy) to google the requisite definition. Either way, he knows, he does his best to accept, and tries to keep me on the straight and narrow. Tries to snap my attention back to reality in the car as we pass a firetruck, etc.

Doesn't help that we're mere minutes away from the regional headquarters of our fire department.

Well, doesn't help him much anyway. For me, it was an excellent selling feature for the house.

:)

Anyway, I kept joking with Hubs that he should be prepared for pretty much anything when I got home that night. I knew I'd be having a few cocktails with the girls, I didn't have to drive home, and anything was possible. He didn't seem too enthused by that premise. I tried convincing him that it didn't matter where my appetite came from, as long as I ate at home.

He wasn't impressed.

Turns out, he had nothing to worry about. The week leading up to that Friday night had been insanely busy and by the time we were on the train home I was ready to pass out. In fact, I think I might have. I can't recall a time that I was more excited to see my bed, to take my shoes off, to close my eyes and just sleep.

Besides, Hubs barely woke up when I came to bed anyway.

So yeah, there's but a glimpse (a fun one, at least!) into what I've been up to for the past little while. I'll try to be a bit better about posting in the coming weeks. I'm getting my hair cut on Monday - that's always post worthy if nothing else!

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

In a parallel universe...

2008-06-23T21:46:00.002-05:00

...I think I'd like to be an agony aunt.

I know that's a completely out there statement and you're probably shaking your head going 'huh?', but it's true.

And I also know that it's more of a British term than a North American one, but it's the best that I can come up with right now. So for those of you who don't know what I mean, allow me to explain.

An agony aunt is the person you write an anonymous letter to asking for advice. You see them in Cosmo and online and in the papers...all over the mainstream media. You read them with glee, happy that whatever's happening to said anonymous person isn't actually happening to you. And you wonder who actually writes these things.

You see, I like to believe that I'm pretty darned good at giving advice.

That's right, I said it.

No evidence other than anecdotal to prove my point, but I like to think that a) I'm a very good listener and b) I have a knack for sussing things out and coming up with potential solutions. Ones that could actually work. Improve a situation. Make you feel better.

And as I'm sure you can surmise, I enjoy writing, the clever turn of a phrase, so I wonder if agony aunt isn't actually the perfect career path not taken for little ole me.

Hmmmm....

I wonder where I'd even start researching openings for this kind of job. I can see my sarcastic self writing a letter to the editor that goes something along the lines of:

Dear Editor,

I've got a good job and a great husband and a nice house and a few kitties but despite all that, something's missing. More than anything, I crave an outlet, an opportunity to help those with seemingly inane queries make it through the day. Are you looking for me? Are you the answer to my mid-career crisis? Please help me figure out how to make my agony aunt dreams come true.

Signed,
(wannabe) Auntie Diva

Unfortunately, I don't think it would fly.

Snap.

It's funny, most of us are actually quite shite at taking our own advice. So when something comes up in my life that requires deep pondering, I often phrase the issue as a letter to a Dear Cosmo type folk for the answering.

Upon second thought, Dear Cosmo is a little out of my age bracket lately. Long gone are the days of my-roommate-macks-on-her-boyfriend-while-I'm-in-the-room-and-they-think-I'm-sleeping,-whatever-shall-I-do? laments. My personal blend of agonies have matured as I have.

Lucky me.

But seriously, sometimes phrasing whatever's got my brain a stewin' in a silly, advice seeking form really does help to put things into perspective.

Now if only I could find a way to translate my little hobby into something that paid the household bills.

THAT would be some super useful advice.

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

It just ain't fair

2008-06-18T21:39:00.002-05:00

Us infertiles of the world are often known to lament that life is not fair. It's not fair that we can't get pregnant when any garden variety crack whore seems to have more than mastered the process. It's not fair that some of our husbands will never be given the gift of fatherhood. It's not fair that our maybe-never-to-be-born children will never know the loving parents that eagerly await their coming into being.

And tonight, I've just faced another example of how it's just not fair that I'm not a fucking mom yet.

Thanks to the relocation of Sludge and DeeDee, Hubs now gets to spend much more time with his daughter. In fact, he sees her every second weekend, every Wednesday night, and every Sunday morning. Talk about your improvements!

This then allows him to take a more active role in her schooling and helping with her homework, something she so sorely needs. As is evidenced by her entire approach to homework, but that's a whole other story.

Tonight she was preparing her line for the play they're doing in French class. Tomorrow. So she jots it down on paper, says it out loud, and I know she has it wrong.

So we go through her line and I ask her if she knows what it means. Not a clue. So I break it down for her, word by word, and gradually she comes to understand it.

Then we start at the beginning of the play since she's never really read it and has no idea what the entire thing is about. She doesn't know what the most common words mean. It's just never stuck. Fortunately, the entire piece is all about repetition, so eventually she comes to recognize words more and more for what they are and that boosts her confidence. But I'm amazed at just how little she knows of what it is she'll be presenting tomorrow.

Once we've dissected every part of the play, we go over her line again. I help her with pronunciation. I break the hard sentence down into five pieces so she can remember them. I give her little devices to help her remember both the sentence and the pronunciation. And when she's got it down pat, I send her off to bed.

And that's when the unfairness of it all hit me yet again. This is one of the reasons I so desperately want a child of my own - to help teach them, to see that sparkle of delight and satisfaction in their eyes when they realize they've gotten something right. That they're learning. To be a part of that process just seems magical even now, and I'm one step removed.

I picture our child sitting at the table, Hubs and I helping with the homework. Fleshing out what they're learning in school with additional information and cool facts. Like we do now with DeeDee.

That's close, but it's not the real deal. As much as I love feeling as though I am having a positive influence on that girl's life, I'm not her mother. She has a mother, one I never can (nor do I want to) replace. So yet again, I feel cheated.

Nothing about infertility is fair. Nothing about glimpsing the potential of what would likely be if you WEREN'T infertile is fair. And it all really pisses me off.

Je suis desolee.

Then again, maybe there's no such thing as fair after all. Lots of people have things that they can claim aren't fair in their lives too.

Pfft. Reminds me of a great line I heard on wb...fair (fare) is something you pay to get on a bus.

Ain't that the truth!

So now it's off to bed where I'll try to slough off my anger at the unfairness of it all. 'Cause tomorrow is indeed another day, and I've got to make sure DeeDee still remembers her line in the morning.

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

Oh me aching heed

2008-06-17T20:59:00.002-05:00

Headaches.

I get them. A lot. Especially these days, when insane weather systems move through hour after hour. Never know what the next few minutes are going to bring. One minute the sun is shining, all is right with the world, my head knows no pain, the next, kablamo! The clouds roll in, the air changes, and my poor brain feels like it's going to explode.

Today was a particularly bad day. Woke up with a pounding between my ears. Never a good way to start the day. I finally broke down and took something for it around 11 am.

I was shocked and chagrined to note that I had failed to replace my trusty Advil Migraine supply in my purse. I'd used the last one at dinner last night to put that headache down, but never did restock. Silly diva.

I was pleasantly surprised to find a sample of Asprin's Expresspack or whatever they're called in my desk drawer. Ah, the benefits of trundling through Union station every day - you're inundated with samples of new and novel products.

So yeah, this Expresspack stuff is the size of a sweetener package that you rip open and dump a pile of granules in your mouth. Interesting concept. Even more interesting is that some genius bonehead decided to make the danged stuff cola flavoured.

Blech.

Cola flavoured or not, it did take the edge off for a bit. But sure enough, a few hours later the pesky pressure returned and I was right back where I started from.

Taking the train home was a boatload of fun. All that din and chatting and silly loud people really did a number on my already beaten brain.

Finally made it home and very first thing I did was reach for the aforementioned trusty Advil migraine. Did the trick about half an hour later, and I was able to function a bit more normally. Had coffee and a chat with a friend, got out of the house - all good things.

And here we are, just four and a bit hours later, and the freaking headache's back AGAIN! Is there no rest for poor me? I can't, in good conscience, pop another pain reliever. I think at this point the only respite for me is bed.

So now I bid you a fond farewell and ask that you all say a private word or two to Mother Nature to keep the danged flux to a minimum. It sure would be swell to have a prolonged period of static barometric pressure just to get some freakin relief, ya know? That's all I'm askin'!

Hope everyone else is faring well in this crazy pre-summer weather!

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

My PVR hates me

2008-06-16T21:57:00.002-05:00

It's true.

Not sure what I ever did to it, but all of the sudden it's got a massive hate on for me.

It all started a few weeks ago whilst taping The Bachelorette. I came home halfway through the episode and tried to watch from the beginning then boom - stupid thing froze and rebooted on me.

Huh.

So I waited for it to go through the reboot process, load everything all up again. Figuring that it was a fluke, I tried again.

Boom. Game over.

Well piss me right off.

A week goes by and Monday rolls around again. Once more, I'm forced to watch the show after it's original air time. I pull up my Recorded Shows List, hit select once I've landed on The Bachelorette....and you'll never guess what.

Yep. Won' t play.

Argh. Other shows play fine - what the hell is it about The Bachelorette? Is my PVR possessed with a Deanna Pappas-hating entity!? Just doesn't make any sense to me.

So tonight, here we are at Monday yet again. Hubs and I were out for dinner at my aunt and uncle's place and didn't arrive home until well after 10. This, therefore, means that in order to watch my show, I must brave the PVR once more.

I held the remote in my hand, scared of what might happen. Surely this couldn't happen three weeks in a row.

Surely.

Yeah. It sure can.

I'm just agog. Can't really understand how this is possible. Other shows on the same channel work just fine...how am I supposed to get my fix? I can't even find a slot to time shift it.

Woe is me. Guess I'll actually have to stoop so low as to look for online episodes. Oh the humanity.

In other news, it was an insanely intense, long week last week. We had our anniversary which was lovely, went out to dinner at a new restaurant and had a fantastic meal. It was also bittersweet as our anniversary is Hubs' father's birthday - and this is the first year he hasn't been alive to celebrate. Such mixed emotions for one day.

Wednesday was one of the longest days in ages. Worked an event in the evening that was frustrating from start to finish. And to make matters worse, the finish part didn't come until well after 11pm. Add the hour long commute home, and it was past midnight before I finally got my much needed sleep.

Me. Midnight. School night. Yuck.

Needless to say, 6am Thursday morning came way too early.

The rest of the day was a blur of meetings and other important work-y stuff. Thankfully a late afternoon meeting was cancelled and I was able to flee a bit earlier than expected. So flee I did.

Friday I took a much needed day off. Slept in, took it very easy, played Guitar Hero, then Hubs and I went to see a late afternoon showing of The Happening. I won't ruin it for you if you want to go and see it, but I will caution you to not expect too much. That way it's harder to be disappointed.

Saturday was busy as well. Had a 40th anniversary party from noon to three, then home to prepare for Hubs' family to be at our place for 4pm. Saturday marked the one year anniversary of my father in law's passing, a day that, of course, no one was looking forward to.

We ate a great meal, sat around, laughed, and toasted Jim. As only Hubs' family knows how. Have I mentioned recently how very fortunate I am to have become a member of this fantastic family?

Sunday was Father's Day. The final kick in Hubs' gutt. All that pain in a few short days. Poor guy. Can't have been easy.

But we had DeeDee with us so we made the most of Father's Day, the three of us. She'd made a nice card and brought a present for him, then she and I made a v yummy breakfast. He decided he wanted to go and see the Hulk, so back to the theatre we trudged. I have now seen the Hulk. Lucky me.

And all of the sudden, here we are back at Monday. Things are slowing a bit this week at work which makes me very very happy, and all the things I have to do in the evenings are personal/fun tasks, so I've no room to complain.

Now if only I could convince my PVR to release all of those episodes of The Bachelorette from its finicky clutches...

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

The many why?'s of diva living

2008-06-09T18:48:00.003-05:00

Hello my lovelies.

So long since we last spoke. So long since I last wrote. I could begin to tell you how ridiculously insane the week was, all the stuff that went on, how crazy work has been, but that's really not all that exciting in the grand scheme of things, eh? So no. Let's not focus on the insanity. Let's just agree that the week was busy and all be happy that I'm back.

I've been compiling this post in my mind for a while now. Every time I see something or hear something that makes me go 'huh?' I add it to my mental list and now happily present said list to you for your reading pleasure.

So.

My why?'s. Are you ready? Okay, let's begin.

Why? number one:
Why do some iPod users think we want to hear their disgusting taste in music?

I mean really! You know who I'm talking about....they're on the bus, the subway, the train, the plane, standing beside you at the stoplight....the idiots who don't understand that the entire purpose of earphones is so that the user alone can hear the music. Argh. Makes me mental, especially when I'm sharing the same audio space and am trying to read! Your techno dance party jams force me to read the same paragraph over and over again. Turn it the fuck down!

Why? number two:
Why hasn't anyone introduced you to a pumice stone?

It's summer. Calendar be damned, it is. It's hot and with the heat come the sandals.

Now, I understand that general foot maintenance is gross. I hate feet. I'm quite happy to pay someone else a tidy sum to take care of them on my behalf every month or so during the dog days of summer, just to minimize my own exposure. But still...that's only once a month, and there are three good weeks of upkeep that are all up to you.

Pumice stone. A few bucks at Shopper's, a few minutes in the shower every few days. Slather on some good lotion and you'll be good to go.

Please. Do these few tiny things. Make your feet better and less disgusting for all who have to view them this summer.

Why? number three:
Why do you think your bra is an accessory?

Gar. Summer. Tank tops. Bra straps. Bra straps way wider than tank top straps. Makes me mental. Not too bad when they're colour coordinated, but hells no, I don't want to be staring at the wee bit of material that keeps your boobies outta play, ya know?

Took me a while to get this one under control myself, mostly because I don't wear a lot of tanks (my upper arms rarely make public appearances). And the fact that given the ample size of my breastesses, the straps have to be rather wide lest they carve deep, bloody welts into my poor shoulders. My solution? I look for a thicker strapped tank. Crisis averted, spectacle no more.

Why? number four:
Why must you test out all of your new phone's ring tones in public?

I can HEAR the groans here. You've had this happen to you, haven't you? Be it public transit, the movie theatre, a restaurant, coffee shop....you've been sitting peacefully and all of the sudden your blissful grande latte tranquility is broken by the 1812 Overture, the Entertainer, Hello Moto, cosmic blips, the list goes on. Do people really think that's quiet? Or not annoying? Pfft.

Why? number five:
Why must you sit on the middle seat on the TTC bench?

Fuck this one pisses me off. Sorry for the profanity, but it does, it really does. So you get on the subway and you see the bench that has three seats on it. All are available. What on earth possesses you to plant your ass on the one in the middle? Greedy much!? Pick a side, pick a damned side! Otherwise everyone's going to go somewhere else and two perfectly good seats go to waste until the train gets too packed to sustain it and someone sits down on either side of you, squishing you right in after all.

Why? So many why?s.

I know there are more. I do. I just can't remember them at the moment. Feel free to share any of yours with me to help jog my proverbial memory. Tell diva what irks you. What makes your blood boil. What, with one mere glance, causes you to fall into a full body shudder.

It feels surprisingly good to get these out. Very cleansing, ya know? Ahhhhh.....I feel better already!

In other news, a few shout outs to do before I flee. First, big huge congrats to CJ and her man on their engagement! So very exciting! Woot woot! And a massive welcome home to our long lost gal Nat. We're just delighted to have you back. Bachelorette next week?

And finally, I likely won't be here to blog again tomorrow night. Hubs and I will be going out to dinner and yadda yadda yadda to celebrate our second wedding anniversary. Hard to believe, but two years ago tomorrow I became Mrs. Hubs and I have loved every moment of our married life.

I'm a very lucky diva, I tell you what. Not really sure what I did to deserve him but I'm very lucky that he tells me every day why he loves me.

Fortunately, that's one why I pretty much never need to ask.

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

Monday mishmash

2008-06-02T20:27:00.002-05:00

Greetings, diva friends.

It's Monday. I'm not a fan of Mondays, really. Never have been. Just too far away from happy Friday, I say. Poo to Monday.

The good news? It's almost over. And as an added bonus, it was a beautiful day here today.

In attempting to figure out what to write about tonight, I found myself tripping over all sorts of little stuff, but nothing really substantive enough to merit an entire post.

And so I've decided to throw it all into one big Monday mishmash of a post. Are you ready? Here we go!!!!

SATC:
Did you see the movie yet? So many things I'd like to say about it but it's still early so I don't want to spoil it for any of my loyal readers. But I will say this...I loved it. Really did. Maybe it's because I had very little in the way of expectations and was just so happy to see my fab four on the big screen that they could have sat there and read the New York Times and I would have left happy.

Well, okay. Maybe that's exaggerating a bit.

I was delighted to see it with CJ and another friend, Emma, both of whom were at my house for the finale of the series four years ago. It was wonderfully symbolic and a nod to great, enduring, female friendships.

My PVR hates The Bachelorette:
Grrr....it truly is the weirdest thing.

Three weeks running, my PVR won't let me play any recorded episodes of The Bachelorette. It records it, but as soon as I go to play it back, poof. The damned box shuts down and does a total reboot. It's the most bizarre thing I've ever seen. Truly. No other shows, no other times, just this one. WTF is up with that?

Hubs thinks it's because DeAnna bobs her head around like a chicken all the time and it throws off the delicate balance of the PVR. I tell him that's just plain tomfoolery, but at this point, it's as good an explanation as any other.

Weird.

We went for a walk tonight!!
It's beautiful out tonight so we decided not to waste it. We slapped on our shoes after a yummy dinner and hit the road.

Yeah, okay, so we walked to Diary Queen, but we walked! It's not THAT close to our house. But I do suppose that the ice cream more than negates any good work done by the walk.

Sigh.

It's DEFINITELY time to get back to the gym. Willpower, where art thou? Why have you forsaken me?

Double sigh.

Tomorrow night's a big step:
Hubs and I go for our IVF group information session. We learn all about the process and what it means, what it is, what the drugs are, all that delightful stuff. I go for my final test (yet another glucose/fasting test) before we get this process started.

And I'm totally scared shitless.

Honestly, I hate the fact that this is real. That we're actually inching closer and closer to this with every passing day. There's some excitement in this, sure, but the fear is pretty damned strong. Bees could smell it, no question.

It's just been this possibility looming on the horizon, the last fertility chance saloon way, way in the distance. And now? I can see the paint peeling on the freakin building.

And finally...

Three Years Ago Yesterday...
I quit smoking.

Yep, I did. Smoked for 17 years - can you believe that? And now, three down with nary a puff since I quit.

I even amazed myself just now. Snaps to me. Too bad I'd still smoke this very moment if Hubs wouldn't leave me over it. I exaggerate, of course, but still. He'd be right pissed. And there's just way too much going on right now to have him pissed at me, ya know?

So yeah. There you go. So much running around in my crazy head these days. Work is busy too - lots of events and meetings. And oh yeah, our second wedding anniversary is just around the corner to boot.

I had so much fun shopping for Hubs' birthday. What the hell am I going to get him for our anniversary?

Fuck.

Meh. I still have a full week to figure that one out. Must deal with other stuff first.

Yes. Solid plan. V. good plan. Will of course entertain any suggestions loyal readers have for said anniversary gift in the interim.

:)

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

A very delightful diva find

2008-05-29T22:00:00.003-05:00

Enough about woes and kitty guilt and all that stuff. Tonight, I blog about the lighter, fluffier side of my life. That whole diva thing that got me going on this in the first place.

I figure we're all due for something a bit lighthearted and hella helpful.

Buckle your seat belts - here we go!!!

So.

I've spoken at length in many a post about my love of nail polish and the almighty manicure. My nails are always - always - polished. They may not be forever chip free, but if there's one thing you can count on in this crazy world, it's that I'll have a coloured laquer of some kind on my fingernails.

My addiction to the mani started almost seven years ago when JBJ and I would go for our gal bonding pampering every three weeks or so. The now defunct Spa Baby was an Essie salon, so I became an Essie snob. I bought bottle after bottle after bottle and made sure that my polish was refreshed between professional trips.

It was years before I allowed myself to branch out and experience the wonderful world of OPI. Having tried numerous shades of each I'm not convinced that one is better than the other, but I am enjoying the expansion of my options. I've pawed my way through the Australian and Russian collections, and even wore a nice pink from the Vegas collection on my wedding day. A number of the beauties in the Hollywood collection were even on my Christmas wish list. How lucky was I to get them all? :)

Recently I had noticed a very cute new Essie pink, so I dragged Hubs into our local Trade Secrets to take a peek and hopefully bring home a new colour to add to my collection.

I didn't score what I was looking for, but far be it from me to leave empty handed.

I picked out a few cute colours, but my best find was of the top coat variety. And now I feel it is my duty to share my find with you, loyal reader, so you may procure said product and revel in its wonderfulness.

Backstory - my fab sister in law also was kind enough to get me a top coat and base coat back when I mentioned I was in need. Base coat is still going strong, but it would appear that I did not properly secure the lid on the top coat and as such, much escaped into my makeup bag during our last trip to Cuba. Grrr.

Since then, it's never been quite the same. It's gotten thicker and stringier - it was, sadly, time to say goodbye and bring in a replacement.

As I scanned the shelves for new options, my eye stumbled upon what I now consider to be the holy grail of quick drying top coats....RapiDry Top Coat.

Here's a visual to help you once you've
put on your coat and made a run for the mall...

Amazing that a tiny frosted bottle could house such a miracle of modern nail technology.

Sigh. Having done my nails tonight with this product for the very first time, I can now categorically and without hesitation report that I, your diva, <3 this product.

It goes on super smooth and, as promised, dries super quick.

One of my biggest beefs is that by the time I actually get around to doing my nails at home, it's around 8 or 9 o'clock at night.

Not a problem in and of itself, but with a base coat, two coats of polish and the top coat, that's a lot of polish to fully dry! More often than not, I'd awake the next morning with a subtle grid pattern embedded into my once beautifully cured nails. Gar. So frustrating.

Methinks this time, yes this time, it might be different.

I applied this magic coating to my nails and as promised by the package enclosure, within five minutes, my nails were dry.

DRY!

Really and truly dry.

What a wonderful world we live in that has products like this available to the busy diva in all of us.

So nail gals unite. If you polish at home and always fret about your post-polish movements, I strongly suggest you take a trip to wherever OPI is sold and get yourself some of this good, good stuff. It's not cheap - $14.95 a bottle - but in my mind, it's worth every hard earned penny.

I'll be back to let you know how it holds up over time.

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

And then there was one more

2008-05-28T19:49:00.006-05:00

Well, our status as a one cat household was shortlived.

Poor Maxx. He wasn't adjusting well to being by himself. He was clingy, vocal, never leaving our sides, waking us up insanely early in the morning. So yesterday afternoon we bit the proverbial bullet and sourced out a new buddy to keep him company. Keep him young.

I took a half vacation day yesterday. I just felt very meh about all of this and still hadn't quite recovered from the ordeal of the weekend. Losing Baylee still didn't feel real. Not sure it's sunk in even now....still expect to see him bounce onto our bed, walk sideways into my legs, pop his head into our bedroom in the morning.

The more time we spent with Maxx, the more we realized he did need a furry friend. We called our local PetSmart and sure enough, they had four kittens from a rescue agency available for adoption.

We hopped in the car with our carrier...just in case. I have always said that pets pick you - you don't pick your pet. I wasn't sure if any of the four would speak to us, but did want to check it out just in case.

You can pretty much guess what happened next.

Two of the four were cute, but didn't fit the bill. One was super cute, all fuzzy-like, and I thought he was it, but as soon as we picked him up he flew out of our hands, not wanting to be held. We needs us a cuddly cat, so he wasn't it either.

That left one more. One little guy sleeping at the back of the cage.

I wasn't that impressed - he just kinda slept there. But as soon as the cage was opened he sprang to life and started mewing like crazy. Hubs picked him up and he nuzzled right in. I knew he was the one when he started licking Hubs' hands...our next cat had chosen us.

Maxx isn't sure yet. He's pretty set in his ways and is used to life as he likes it, with animals he's used to. But we'll get there. The little guy won't back down which is good, and doesn't cower like crazy when he gets hissed at. Which is often.

I feel somewhat weird about the whole thing though. Part of me feels like I'm betraying Baylee for getting a new little guy mere days after we lost him. Like we couldn't wait to replace him. Like we don't even mourn his loss, that we can just go out and pick up a new one and move on.

Then I remind myself that a huge part of us moving so soon was to get Maxx back to a good place - once we go through the transition phase, that is. And I try to be okay with it and just love our new little furry friend.

And just because he's so darned cute, here are a few pics of our new guy. Introducing Loki, aptly named after the god of mischief:

Curious on the kitchen counter

So tiny he has to step INTO the food bowl

A close up when he finally stopped moving

And to show you just how small he was, here's some perspective. He's so wee!!!

So there you have it. A new addition to the diva household. He sure does have the right attitude. He loves to run around, cause trouble, and sleep purely on soft fabrics. A kitty after my own heart.

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

The end of an era

2008-05-26T21:16:00.002-05:00

What a week it's been.

So, we went ahead with the whole garage sale thing after all. Spent pretty much every night last week poking through the house pulling out all the crap that we no longer wanted or needed. It's incredible just how long all of that takes, so that would explain my absence from here for a while. We made the decision Wednesday morning, then it was off to the races.

In purging through things I decided to attack the pursery. Yes, it was time to let go of a good number of bags that had piled up over time and deserved to be loved. I think I mentioned this in my last post....it all overlaps now...

So Wednesday night was looking, cleaning and sorting stuff out. Thursday night we went to my sister's place to watch her (sleeping) kids while they went to see a movie. Since we were having the sale at her place, we looked at it as the perfect opportunity to take a bunch of crap over there and price it since we weren't at home.

We did great! Priced it all, got all the purses up on Facebook for the pre-garage sale sale, and were able to sit back and watch the two hour season finale of Grey's. Then it was home to bed, just so we could do it all over again.

Friday morning was uneventful, then in the afternoon I had to go for yet another fertility related test. This one involves a catheter and some saline to see how my tubes and uterine cavity look.

Hells yeah, we know how to have good times on a Friday afternoon.

The whole thing went reasonably well and took very little time. My tubes are nice and open (yay me) and all looked good from that perspective. Back to work I went.

A few hours later, I was in agony. Yep, cramping like crazy! I hoofed it out of work, caught an early train, popped some Advil and went to bed for an hour. Heaven.

The remainder of the evening saw Hubs, DeeDee and I tackling the garage and spare room closet (the repository for all sorts of junk). I wasn't able to lift anything so it took a bit more time than we'd hoped, but we did manage to get the final pieces together and assembled in the living room.

By midnight, we tumbled into bed, alarm set for 6:20a.m. Blech.

Around 6:10a.m., I awoke to a clatter. Sounded like the cats were running around or playing in the laundry room or something like that. It was short lived, but it did wake me up. Figuring it was simply the cats at play, I enjoyed my last ten minutes in bed before the alarm went off.

That ten minutes passed disgustingly quickly, then I was up and in the shower. Hubs left to go and give Maxx his shot and put the food back down for the boys.

He came back a few moments later with a very serious look on his face.

He'd found our cat Baylee dead on the laundry room floor.

I'm still in shock. It happened Saturday morning and I still can't believe it's true...he was with me for 11 years and was a huge part of the family. And now poof - he's gone.

I have no idea what happened. I don't know if that commotion I heard was him falling and breaking his little orange neck or what. Maybe his heart just gave out. I have no clue. And it haunts me, especially since I heard the noise and did nothing. :(

We had to go to the garage sale. A friend of mine was joining us, and since she and my sister didn't know each other at all, I felt I needed to be there. I was numb, in complete shock, and having something to do actually helped get my mind off of the tragedy at home.

Hubs took care of everything. I just couldn't do it. He was amazing...I can't imagine how much worse it would have been without him.

Now whenever I'm home I expect to see him everywhere. Friday night as I was going through all of our stuff I pulled out a picture of him with Pekoe, the little guy we had to put down a few weeks ago. Now they're both gone...

Poor Maxx, the last (and oldest - weird) of the three, is looking for him, too. When Hubs got home to take Baylee to the vet (they didn't open until 9) Maxx was sitting in front of the closed laundry room door. Hubs picked up Baylee and let Maxx see him...he rubbed his head against him, almost like he was saying goodbye. Ugh. Breaks my heart just thinking about it.

It's been three full days and I am still in denial. It hits me every once in a while, then I forget. Then I feel bad for forgetting. I walk through the house and find little tufts of his orange fur on our beige carpet. I've tucked some of it behind the picture of him and Pekoe that I don't have the strength to put out yet. Just to hold on to a piece of him before every last trace of him is gone from our home.

Kinda creepy? Sure. Sentimental? Hells yeah. I never got to say goodbye...this is all I have.

So yes, this past week has been the end of a number of eras. On the silly side, it's the first time I've gotten rid of one purse (let alone the 33 that I sold) in...uh, forever. But on a much more serious side, we're back to being a one cat home. Maxx is all by his lonesome. And that makes me even more sad than I thought I could be.

I decided to get Maxx a buddy six months into having him since I was away at school all the time and he needed some companionship. That was Baylee, and he was an awesome buddy for Maxx and little furbaby to me. For eleven years. And now, here he is, alone again.

It's pretty quiet around here. It's strange. I don't like it.

I really miss him.

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

To yard sale or not to yard sale...

2008-05-21T08:04:00.002-05:00

...that, apparently, is the question.

I have a lot of crap. Well, crap is a relative term, but in the grand scheme of things, I have a lot of stuff in my house that is now crap to me. Stuff that's just taking up space. That I never use. That has sat in a blue Rubbermaid tote in my basement since the day we moved in, and that I haven't even given a second thought to since.

Crap.

I have picture frames and candlestick holders and vases and all sorts of miscellaneous clutter makers that I have, over time, phased out of rotation. Where once they had a place of pride on a dresser/shelf/entertainment unit, they now are completely out of sight, but not quite out of mind.

I'm no minimalist (by any stretch of the imagination) but I'm getting a bit consumed by the increasing clutter that's taking over my home. It's insidious....kinda like one of the many signs of the apocalypse. Forget locusts...I know Armageddon is upon us when there's no room on any surface in our living room for a cute new find from my local Homesense.

Something has gotta give.

It's so bad, I'm even ready to part with a good number of my purses.

Deep breaths, my lovelies. Fetch a paper bag, that will stop the hyperventilating.

Yes, what you read is true. I am finally ready to prune the purse tree and decrease the population of the pursery. Open season has been declared on my extensive collection of handbags. And I'm surprisingly okay with it.

We have so much stuff that we just don't use/need anymore. Sure, we have an unfinished basement to store it all in, but just knowing that it's full of STUFF haunts me. It's that little niggling thought in the back of the brain, the one that just won't let go.

But the detritus of my life has sung its last siren song. I no longer feel compelled to keep the funky table display photo album (that never was filled with photos) or the wire cat candle holder I procured years ago when said things were kinda cool.

Yes, that time did exist, thank you very much.

But those times have indeed gone, and I find myself filled with a rapt wonder at what my house (and therefore life) would be like if all of these dusty remnants of times gone by were to finally leave the nest. Be gone. Sent off into their next lives with someone who can truly appreciate their wire cat wonder-ed-ness.

Here's the kicker.

I don't come from a long line of yard/garage sale folk. The entire scene is somewhat foreign to me. I know not how to advertise, choose a date/start time/end time. I don't know how much stuff we could truly fit into our wee single car driveway (ah, the curses of new subdivisions).

But more importantly...I don't know if garage sales are 'done' in my neighbourhood.

I don't think I've seen one in action in our little subdivision in the entire time we've lived there. Then again, I haven't really been looking for them, but they sure haven't jumped out either.

I wonder what our neighbours would think of us if we were the first to break into garage sale territory. Would others follow, delighted in the fact that someone else broke the community cherry? Or do we risk an ole fashioned shunning for hocking our crap for all the world to see right there in the heart of their suburban bliss?

Strikes fear in my heart.

I considered asking my neighbours if they might be interested in doing one on the same day. Would increase traffic, and there would be safety in numbers. And yet....these are my next door neighbours. If they're not up for it when I suggest it, we'll always have that undercurrent...the 'ew, she wanted to have a garage sale. Yes, a GARAGE sale. Can you believe it?' vibe that can't easily be cleansed from our relationship.

Out, damn spot. Out, I say.

Maybe I'm over thinking this (huh - really?). Maybe I just need to do a bit more research, check my paper for other listings, that kinda stuff. And I'm sure there's a Garage Sales for Dummies book that I could get from Chapters - they have those for everything now a days.

And hey - if we actually do go ahead with it, I could always suck the knowledge out of the book, then turn around and sell it to some other neighbourhood shmoe who's about to embark on the same crazy journey. Sounds good to me!

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

Long weekend bliss

2008-05-15T20:48:00.002-05:00

I tell ya, after all the pre-birthday running around, that goodness we're sliding into a long weekend.

Yes, I spent most of my night in pursuit of slippers. Fucking slippers. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find decent looking slippers in May? Dang near impossible!

Doesn't help that the place I vaguely referenced in yesterday's post closed at 7 tonight. Stupid me pulled into the parking lot at 7:17.

Foiled again.

So I caved, went to Best Buy and got him a freaking gift card. I figure that, the games, the dvd's, the belt and the freakin slippers I finally managed to procure at my neighbourhood Globo should do the trick. Even managed to pop into Dollarama for some gift bags and wrap. Yep, the diva loves her Dollarama finds, and I simply refuse to pay more for gift bags and tissue, for pete's sake. So that's all done.

Now I just have to wrap everything and determine how to give it to him tomorrow. The fun part!

Since it's a long weekend, I finish work at noon tomorrow. Very exciting! Hubs decided he needed a five day weekend so he took Thursday and Friday off as well. My man's quite the workhorse - today alone he got the laundry done, cut the grass and weeded both laws as well.

Sidebar - are you infested with dandelions too? Sweet holy crap, they're everywhere!! What a mess! A veritable sea of yellow. And of course, they've all popped their heads so it actually looks like it's snowing here, there's so much in the air. But I digress..

After the birthday festivities, we have nothing on our plates. Nothing. SFA - sweet fuck all. Waaaa hooo!

I want to sleep in and go to the gym and continue the work on our lawn and clean the windows and put away the winter clothes and pull out and wash my summer ones and sleep in...

Hang on. That doesn't sound much like nothing, does it? Oh well, I suppose in the grand scheme of things we have no specific place we have to be at any specific time, and if nothing on the above list gets done no one gets hurt...so it isn't all bad.

Now to just get through my half day tomorrow so the aforementioned long weekend bliss can begin in earnest!

Hope you all have a fantastic long weekend whatever you're doing. And celtic_kitten, hope you have an absolutely incredible Alaskan cruise!!!!!

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

The quest for the elusive perfect gift...

2008-05-14T21:50:00.002-05:00

So yes, apologies for my absence. No real excuse, truthfully. Just tired. Woefully tired. As soon as American Idol is done these days, I'm ready for beddy. Sigh.

Tonight is really no exception, but since I've been egged on to post by a bored, blonde ex-pat living in Aussieland, here we go!

Friday is Hubs' birthday. Yay Hubs! Disaster for me.

He's unbelievably hard to buy for. Not to mention that we're at that crucial point in our relationship where we've had enough birthdays, anniversaries, Christmases, and Valentine's Days to have made our way throughout the standard gift roster. In the past I've given him box sets, die cast cars, a beautiful pen and pencil set, a wallet, photo books, calendars, Porsche books, video games, clothes...hell, I've even given him a new tank to put his freakin snake in!

And now I'm back at square one with nary an idea of what to do for him.

You see, I like my birthday gifts to be meaningful. Something I know the other person is going to really like if not love (and yes, stop snickering, snake tank was actually on that list - really). I am hooked on that high that comes from securing the perfect gift. Yet here I am, two days away from his birthday, and I'm still lookin to score.

When I asked him many weeks ago what he wanted, here's what I got:

a belt (black or brown, I need both)

slippers

Toca 2 for XBOX

Goodfellas and Shaun of the Dead on DVD

Seriously, that was his entire list. Oh, he wants Best Buy gift cards too so he can buy his Bose Companion 3 speakers for his computer.

A wild man, my husband.

I ask you, how does one find anything meaningful in any of those suggestions? Yeesh.

So while on my quest for the elusive meaningful present, I start to pick up the smaller pieces to have them on hand just in case. I find him a great leather belt that's actually reversable - black on one side, brown on the other. And better yet - it's not one of those tacky reversable belts either! Seriously! The non-tacky versions do exist out there, and in two days, Hubs will have one of his very own.

I went to the Eaton's Centre today during my lunch hour and picked up the DVD's he wanted. I got him an extra one too, just 'cause their sales are absolutely insane. I got 7 DVD's for $42. And that included tax. Well done, HMV. Well done.

I also managed to score a used version of Toca 2 since they don't make new ones anymore (sigh) for $5 at the EB Games. And not to be outdone, I also grabbed Toca 3 for his gaming pleasure. I figure the more games he has (and actually likes to play) the less he'll razz me for being on my computer. :)

A diva can dream.

I'm still on the hunt for good slippers though. He loves his slippers, my man. Jealous, girls? I know you are. Back off.

He does need a new pair though, 'cause his last ones pretty much disintegrated. He got so sick of them he threw them out. Which means he's pretty confident he's getting some from me. Awesome.

If you haven't gone male slipper shopping lately, I suggest you give it a whirl, just for shits and giggles, so you can better comprehend my pain. No one makes a decent, manly slipper anymore! I tried the SprawlMart - nope. Joe Fresh let me down... I'm running out of time here, people!

Oooh...I have an idea. There's a neat outlet place near here that has a wall of slippers. Now if I could only find an excuse for needing the car and slipping away tomorrow night. Must ponder that some more.

I had all sorts of other ideas, but they went over like the proverbial lead balloon. I thought I'd finally hit pay dirt when I saw that Chris Rock was playing Casino Rama in July. We both love and quote on a regular basis Bigger and Blacker, so I was SURE this would be a hit.

BUT...knowing how he'd waffled on so many other things, I decided to suck it up and ask him about it before I went out and committed those tickets to plastic. Good thing, 'cause he meh'ed right over Chris Rock! Shock of shocks! What has become of my husband?

The other challenge of course is that I don't have a wack of cash to spend, as much as I'd like to have anyway. If I had my way, I'd buy him the big screen tv he so desperately wants or a digital SLR camera. But alas, 'tis not in the cards this year. Unless, of course, we win that $25 million on Friday...then all bets are off.

What are some of the pressies you've bought your beloved in the past? Methinks this birthday is a write off in the meaningful department, but our second wedding anniversary is less than two months away, and all this turmoil will begin anew! I'd love to hear your suggestions!!!!

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

The day after

2008-05-12T22:14:00.002-05:00

Well, I survived.

Barely.

I got through Mother's Day, somewhat unscathed.

But for once in my life, I was pretty happy to see Monday roll around. Wacked, I know, but there it is.

Had a pretty good weekend though. Went down to Waterloo to see my sister and CJ, and it was great to get caught up with everyone. We went to some garage sales, the farmer's market, the Jones New York outlet (where I procured a lovely new pair of pink linen pants - an early birthday present from my sister), and the local Sobey's. Then we hooked up with CJ and her bf to see their pad and do a drive by of their new home. Very exciting!!

We then all congregated back at my sister's home for a superbly yummy bbq - great way to top off a fantastic day. Beautiful weather, great food, awesome friends and family, and a Bacardi Breezer or two. We even brought out a cake for Hubs' birthday (coming up this Friday). All was right with the world.

Sunday morning we got up relatively early so we could hit the road and make it to our local Mandarin in time for our 11:30 am reservation.

Mother's Day had officially arrived.

I steeled myself for the onslaught to come. I called my own mom who wasn't there at the time so I left her a message. I'd sent flowers and a card earlier.

I finished writing the message in my mother in law's card, so as to be ready for presentation during our buffet feasting.

I put my game face on as we walked through the hordes of smiling families, kids in their Mandarin Sunday best, moms everywhere with flowers and cards and gift bags. I even managed to hold it together despite the fact that directly in my line of sight was a family of six...mom, dad, and four daughters, one still in her car seat. She was adorable. She was facing me. She was heartbreaking.

The straw before the straw that broke the camel's back came with the bill. The waiter arrived with said bill and a handful of flowers, which he started dishing out to the mothers.

Ugh.

He thrusts one at me and instantly, everyone at the table goes into semi-shocked mode. I keep saying no, but they encourage me to take one. Hubs tells me later he was paralyzed and had no idea what to do. I took the flower, and gave it to DeeDee later on.

And off we went.

We dropped DeeDee off (Sludge was working until 2 and though it was our weekend we all agreed that she should be with her mom as much as she could be on Mother's Day) and headed home...frenetic weekend over, the relief of retreating to my cave and feeling sorry for myself in private almost palpable in our wee Kia.

I was happy to be home.

And I'm extra happy to the thought of wearing my pink linen pants to work later this week. Whatever shall I pair them with?

Hope everyone had a great weekend!

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

The peaks of humiliation

2008-05-08T21:12:00.002-05:00

I hate buying bras.

Yep, hate it. Despise. Loathe.

First off, to borrow a Julia Roberts-ism, it takes a village to raise this cleavage. Therefore any bra I wear must lift and separate, thus attempting to defy the laws of gravity.

And of all the laws in the universe to fight, gravity ain't the first one I'd naturally pick.

But it was time...it really was. Time to venture out into the harsh flourescent lighting of my local clothing store and peruse the shockingly unattractive over the shoulder boulder holders available in my size.

Which meant I could try on three.

Lovely.

And of course, I face yet another challenge in this entire process - I detest underwire. It hurts. It's just cruel and unusual punishment to me, and as such I avoid it like the flipping plague.

I do own more than a few underwire bras, but they see the light of day so very infrequently, ones I purchased eight years ago still have their tags on.

Yikes.

I have my token black underwire bra that I use on those rare occasions when I need a more uplifting look. Specific shirts or blouses simply don't look right if the girls aren't in their allotted spaces.

You know what I mean....I know you do.

The rest of the time I alternate between a few white stretchy numbers that, due to frequent washing and pretty much every day wear, cause my nipples to spend more time pointing towards my naval than the bright blue sky.

And that just ain't right. Enough is enough.

Fortunately for me they were having a buy one, get one 40% off sale, so I kinda scored there. Especially since I managed to find TWO newbies. Now I can finally say goodbye to my old faithfuls. They could tell some stories, I tell you what.

Of course Hubs joined me in the changeroom to give me his unbiased opinion. Such a sweet guy...never misses a chance to tell me how beautiful he thinks I am. Or to cop a cheap feel.

So yeah, that was the highlight of my day, really. Got a lot done at work today which was great, picked up a few small necessities after work, then headed home. I've got to pack tonight as we're going to see my sister and my friend in Waterloo tomorrow - waahoo! We'll be there until Sunday morning, at which point we'll hurry back to meet up with Hubs' family for Mother's Day.

Mother's Day - now there's a topic that's worthy of its very own post. I think I'll leave that one for Monday to let you know how/if I managed to pull through.

For now I really must get moving. Must pack and all that. Not that I'm overly tired however, considering I fell asleep at 7:30 last night.

Yep, you read that right. Fell asleep on the couch after dinner. Hubs woke me at 9, we went upstairs and watched American Idol in bed, then we both fell right off to sleep again. Well, it took me a little longer than him. He fucking snores like no one I've ever heard before.

But I digress...

If nothing else, I'm looking forward to putting on one of my virgin bras tomorrow and greeting the world as the new, perkier me. Happy that it'll be a long while before I have to endure this entire bra buying purchase again. Much to Hubs' chagrin.

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

Perspective is everything

2008-05-06T21:30:00.002-05:00

Everyone needs a good coping strategy.

When the shit hits the fan, some people bury their heads in the sand and just avoid avoid avoid.

Others lash out at whoever is closest - burn bright, but burn out fast.

And some internalize everything, every little piece, until they build and build and build and the slightest thing knocks down the entire precarious pile.

Me? I can be a combination of all three, despite my best intentions. I try not to avoid - I'd much rather deal with things and be able to move on. I sometimes burn bright, then feel badly for anyone unfortunate enough to find themselves in my scorching radius. And at times I do let things build, but more often than not I'm able to scatter the pieces so they never actually tumble down.

In my almost 35 years on this planet, I've evolved in how I deal with things. I went through a very angry, sense-of-entitlement phase. I like to think that I've moved through that and am in a much better place.

But I'm the first to admit, some days are better than others.

With all of the insanity that has rolled into my life in the past little while, I've decided that neither avoidance, flashes of temper nor tumbling bricks fit the bill anymore. Instead, I've simply turned to perspective.

Allow me to explain.

No matter how bad your life gets, someone else has it worse.

That's what I mean by perspective.

Seems kinda strange that I can feel better by simply thinking about other people who are going through even worse crap than I am, but I choose, yes actively choose, to see the positives in even the nastiest times of my life.

'Cause let's face it - it could always, always, always be worse.

Some days are harder than others. Some days I get sucked into my own void and it takes every kernel of strength and positive energy I may have buried deep inside to pull myself out of the funk du jour.

But strange as it sounds, I take 'comfort' in the knowledge that someone else has it worse.

Every time I get distraught/angry/frustrated/depressed/insert appropriate emotion here about our fertility challenges, for example, I remind myself of the fact that I have a wonderful husband, a fantastic job, and a great home. Then I remember how I used to be when I was single...how alone I felt, how desperately sad, how badly I craved someone to share my life with.

And so when the going gets tough, I tell myself that there are people out there, lots and lots of them, that read my blog or are in my life and think, 'oh yeah? You can't get pregnant? Well at least you have someone to share your life with. I still haven't found that person.'

And strangely enough, it helps. Focusing on the good in my life really does make me feel better, as challenging as it may be in the moment.

What I try to stay away from is the flip side of this coin - if someone else has it worse than me, I may very well be someone else's worse. Ya know? All those pregnant women who are dealing with morning sickness or cankles...maybe they look at me and think, 'geez...I've got nothing to complain about...at least I CAN get pregnant and WILL have a baby.'

Yin meets yang. Balance in the universe. And all things unfold as they should.

It's been a rough few days. Hubs and I have had some very serious talks about where we're going on this whole fertility journey and it's been hard. We're eeking ever closer to this whole IVF thing and it's really starting to hit us both...it's real. It's going to happen. And I want to puke.

But every time I need strength, I remember this too shall pass. This is not the end of the world. I remember where I work - a cancer hospital - and am grateful for all of the good things in my/our lives. And somehow, I get through.

This is not at all the post I was going to write tonight, but I think I needed to be reminded of my own perspective philosophy given the past few days. And strangely enough, that reminder came via a post on an internet forum that I happened to click on.

It was a post about another blog, one I'd never heard of. There was a bit of a disclaimer...lychee, forgive me for quoting you, but you said it perfectly:

Don't read this blog if you want to read only about happy, sunny things. Its a blog about life and death, endless happiness and bottomless sorrow. Its going to make you cry, but it will also touch your heart.

I paused. Did I really want to read about bottomless sorrow when I was pretty deep down myself? Endless happiness? Hells yeah! Sorrow I've had enough of.

But I clicked anyway. Maybe it was because I needed my daily dose of perspective. And boy, did I get it in spades.

So the next time you're feeling sorry for yourself and you're in need of emotional rescue (do you have that song in your head now?) remember - perspective is everything.

Things could always be worse.

And for someone else, they are.

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

If you're up for it, here's the blog: http://www.mattlogelin.com/if-you-havent-been-here-before/

Sleepy, so very very sleepy

2008-05-01T20:20:00.002-05:00

Sorry for missing out on yesterday. I've just been so insanely sleepy that I can barely keep my eyes open.

Scratch that - a good portion of the time, I'm not even keeping my eyes open.

I fall asleep on the train. Nothing new, but sleeping from the time I get on the train to the time we pull into Union is kinda unheard of. And even crazier is the fact that I sleep all the way HOME too...now THAT'S unheard of.

I generally enjoy my ride home. I read my book, do one last cursory glance at the BlackBerry, and that's about it.

But now? This week? All I can do is sleep.

Sleep.

My favourite five letter word these days.

I want to go to bed so badly right now I can't even begin to describe it. Right in the middle of Grey's Anatomy and everything! And it's actually a pretty decent episode. But I want bed.

Man, I can't freakin wait for it to be Saturday morning so I can sleep in. Just lounge in my bed, no alarms, no DeeDee running around looking for breakfast, no plans until well later in the day. And it's supposed to rain, so maybe if I'm really lucky I'll just spend most of the day lying in bed with Hubs watching movies and just resting. Resting.

Sounds pretty damned good to me.

So that's why yesterday's post never happened and why today's is both boring and brief. My apologies. Here's hoping I'll have much more interesting stuff to blather on about after my Saturday lie-in.

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

Back to 'normal' - whatever that is

2008-04-29T19:43:00.002-05:00

So I'm home! Yep, back in Ontario, happy to be sleeping back in my same bed with my happy hubby.

Had a fantastic trip. It was very busy, very rushed, and somewhat frustrating at times, but I got to see/meet so many people and had an amazing time hanging out with some fan-fuckin-tastic women that I've been dying to meet for ages. Allllll good.

My only regret is that I never made it to Abbotsford to see my good pal who was a bridesmaid in our wedding. Sigh. Stupid weekend was so packed it just couldn't work. And that sucked.

Came in late Sunday evening and was met at the airport by a super smiley Hubs. We were both ridiculously mushy while I was away, and decided that five days is just too long for us to be apart. So lemme tell ya, every minute they made me wait for my luggage was one tick up on my Air Canada hate meter. Nobody keeps me away from my man any longer than need be!

The trip home was relatively okay, but a bit painful. I managed to wrench my back as I was checking out of the hotel on Sunday morning and hot daym did/does it hurt! I cried in the cab on the way to the airport....I just couldn't find a reasonably comfortable position. And the cabbie giving me advice on different yoga/stretching positions and their accompanying breathing techniques really didn't help much. I'm just not that kinda gal.

Worked from home yesterday 'cause I was just plum tuckered and my stupid back was still killing me. Thank goodness for remote connections and the ability to dial in to voice mail from afar!

Today I braved my twitchy back and headed back to the office. And I learned that my desk chair simply isn't suitable to strained backs. I found one comfy position and managed to hold it as long as was feasible. Only drawback? I was in super slouch position, facing slightly away from my computer, so it looked like I was slacking, surfing websites all day. But it was the only thing that worked!

Finally around 1 I went to see my boss who had, when I spoke to her yesterday, promised me Aleve upon my return to the office. I'd been taking Advil thus far and it seemed to take the edge off, but she swore up and down that nothing could touch Aleve where back pain was concerned.

Now, you can't buy this stuff in Canada.

That should have been my first clue.

So I hobble down the hall to get my expense report signed and fetch the good drugs. She greets me with a smile as always, and pulls out the container of magic pills. I've never taken them before, and she suggests that I take two to get started.

Happy white and yellow pills in hand, I trudge back to my office and slurp down my bounty with a swig of diet iced tea.

An hour later a colleague comes into my office and finds me almost asleep, sitting up in my chair. I could nap so hard at that moment...my eyelids were like lead weights! Simple words weren't coming to me and I was mixing up my syllables.

Methinks I'll stick to my Advil.

To make matters worse I had a meeting at 4 with two doctors and I had to keep it together. Fortunately (for me) only one could make it, so we chatted briefly and I headed on my merry way to catch the train home.

Where finally, without fear or concern, I could fall blissfully asleep. And did I ever. Slept all the way from downtown to my station. And am still so exhausted that as soon as this is proofed I'm hitting the sheets.

So that's my update. Maybe tomorrow if I have the energy I'll bring you up to speed on Sludge's latest hijinks. 'Cause rest assured, they are many, and they are outrageous.

Good times, good times.

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

Greetings from the west coast!

2008-04-25T01:12:00.002-05:00

Yo.

It's me! I'm in Vancouver right now, typing this blog post overlooking the harbour. Boats everywhere, the mountains now invisible in the darkness. It's 11:13pm local time, but my body still kinda wants to believe that it's much, much later.

And to make matters worse, I have red wine teeth.

Yes, the dreaded grey pallor that takes over your teeth after a few too many glasses of red wine. Which is why I don't often drink the red. Well, that and the heartburn. But I digress.

Tonight was our conference banquet and there was wine on the table. They were serving beef (which makes perfect sense to me - everyone comes to Vancouver for the beef) so red seemed like the perfect choice. After the dinner itself a bunch of people bolted, so like the good scavengers we are, my colleague and I grabbed any bottles left on tables and made it our mission to ensure no bottle went undrunk.

Well come on - who wants to let good booze go to waste? Certainly not me. I mean, that has to be one of the advantages of not being pregnant, or even in the throws of trying to GET pregnant...me and booze can be friends again.

Last year at this time I was in Halifax for this same conference. I was right in the midst of our first medicated cycle at my first fertility clinic, so there was little to no drinking (and huge heaps of stress) for this diva during that conference.

I'm happy to report that I'm righting that balance this year.

It's weird...I remember being in Hali last year and seeing the booth promoting this year's conference in Vancouver. I took one look at the booth and thought, too bad! I love Vancouver. But I'm sure I'll be pregnant by then - or hey, might even have a child and be on mat leave! - so I won't be able to attend.

Every time I remembered that moment I topped up my glass.

So yeah, like I said, I've got red wine teeth.

It's been a good time so far. I had a fantastic dinner last night with two of my virtual 'friends' that I hadn't met before we chowed down together. Now, I'm increasingly saddened that these very cool women don't live closer to home, 'cause daym are they fantastic women. Sigh. But alas, despite the fact that we can't get together for cocktails more often, I'm so happy we did have the chance to connect while I was here. All good things...all good things.

The ride hasn't been smooth though. I got here yesterday morning and they didn't have my room ready. Fair enough - it was only noon and check in time is 3pm. Even though I had requested an early check in, I knew it wasn't a sure thing so I was relatively okay with it. I hauled my suitcase into the bathroom, got changed, and went to my first session.

I came back out at 3pm, the aforementioned check in time, and you guessed it...my room wasn't ready. Boo-urns. Me and the Westin were not getting along so well.

I return again at 5 and finally, my room she is ready. I haul my bags up, unpack my stuff, plug in my laptop...and nothing. It doesn't work.

Grrr. I had numerous conversations with the tech support folk and of course, they couldn't fix it. Double grrr.

Fast forward to today, and again...internet still not working. So I go to the front desk and they decide to switch my room. I get 'promoted' to the Starwood preferred floor with a king sized bed, a view of the ocean/mountains and, eventually, internet access.

Soooooo....I hope that explains my absence of the past few days if nothing else. I'm very happy to be back online...red wine teeth and all.

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

Free at last...

2008-04-21T21:22:00.002-05:00

...free at last, thank gawd almighty I'm free at last!

That's right - she's gone! Waahooo!

Saturday night at 7pm we finally reclaimed our home as solely ours. Well, us and our remaining four legged kitty cat creatures, but they're no pain in the ass, ya know?

Let me backtrack a bit before we come to the end of our silly story...

Friday. Last weekday. Last sleep. All good things to come.

Until I stepped out of the shower.

Shooting pains in the general vicinity of my left ovary. Every breath hurts. I feel every bump in the road. I can't even bend over to put lotion on my legs.

Fuck.

I get on the train, go to work, hope it gets better. It doesn't. I send a physician friend of mine a facebook message asking for advice. She suggests I contact my fertility clinic to see if they can get me in for an ultrasound. Which I do as soon as I get to the office.

Sure enough, the clinic thinks I should get it checked - at the emergency room. They can't do the bloodwork necessary with the turn around time that's required, so they make the suggestion that I go and get it looked at. Now.

So off I trundle, book in hand, to the ER at Mt. Sinai. I arrive at 1:05 pm, and six hours later I'm discharged.

To summarize those six hours, I sat, I waited, I had blood taken, had my blood pressure taken a gazillion times (and it actually hurt and left bruises on my freakin arms), I waited, I finally wrangled an ultrasound, and sure enough, my physician friend was right - a ruptured ovarian cyst. Nothing they could do but give me pain pills, which I elected not to accept.

By now I know I'm not going to make the next train and I really don't want to wait another hour to get home. I'm tired, I'm peckish, and my feet hurt since I chose that day to break in new sandals. So instead of heading to Union and waiting forever, I took the subway up to Yorkdale and hooked up with Hubs and friends who were having dinner there.

Despite all the crap of the day it actually worked out quite well, 'cause I didn't have to spend a second with Sludge! By the time we got home they were already in bed and it was blissfully quiet.

Saturday we slept in a bit, but were awakened by a knock at the door. It was DeeDee, saying that Mom had asked her to ask us if Hubs was going to make breakfast.

Whu? I just laughed it off and shrugged...why change now? Yeesh.

Anyhoodle, the day went by rather quickly, all things considered. My sister in law came by to help out and was a huge huge help. She's the freakin energizer bunny - never stops for anything. I guess you could give some credit to the Red Bull. No one can pound one of those bad boys back faster than she can!

UHaul called and told us that the truck was ready early, so we made our way there and before you know it a 14' truck was in our driveway. Leaking oil. But whatever - it was my chariot of freedom...drip away.

So yeah - truck gets here at 3, load it all up, drive over to the new place, interrupt some kids playing with water balloons, unpack the truck, sweat to death, take the truck back. By 6pm. What a freaking fantastic feeling.

As we drove away from their new place I let out a whoop that even I didn't think was in me. Seriously - window shattering. Good thing ours were rolled down!

By 7 that night Hubs and I were all showered and clean, the pizza had been ordered, and Juno was popped into our DVD player.

Yes, despite the drama of the week, at that very moment I was actually mentally okay, ready to sit down and watch Juno for the very first time. We liked it - lots of laughs - but Hubs kept looking at me to see how I was doing, especially during the ultrasound scenes. But I managed...I mustered through.

Despite our intentions to run around the house naked and make out in every room we were both plum tuckered and headed to bed rather early that night.

Fret not...Sunday morning did not disappoint.

How blissful it was to sleep in without anyone knocking at the door and demanding food.

We still managed to get up in decent time and decided to treat ourselves with some breaky at Denny's and a flick. We are fortunate that our local movieplex only charges $6 for movies before noon on weekends, so we decided to take in Forgetting Sarah Marshall. Good times - great flick! Laughed out loud a thousand times - highly recommend it.

The remainder of Sunday was spent doing small errands and just enjoying our home back to ourselves and the beautiful weather. We had a bbq for dinner and I extra splurged with a cooler or two to wash down my burgers.

Bring on spring. What a fantastic weekend.

Today was crazy busy. I leave for a business trip to Vancouver on Wednesday morning but will be staying near the airport tomorrow night since I leave so early, thus requiring me to pack tonight. All plans to head to the gym flew out the window thanks to just too much to do. Blech. Oh well...I'll hit the gym again when I get home.

So there ya go! I survived. I made it. Our home is intact and relatively free of damage. It's like a giant mental weight has been lifted from inside these four walls...you actually FEEL a difference.

And I couldn't imagine a more welcome feeling. Dats right - my house, bitch. See ya!

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

The times, they are a changin'

2008-04-17T20:43:00.002-05:00

***weird. I wrote this Thursday night, clicked 'publish post' and everything, but it never showed up...so here it is, better late than never I suppose!***

Well well well. Despite having to be around her almost the entire day, today wasn't too bad.

I'm kinda shocked. I feel like I should be knocking on wood or something, but here we are.

The day started off kinda awkward. She came downstairs shortly after I'd completed the morning's post, and we didn't really know what to say to one another. I informed her that I was heading out to pick up a few things for dinner, and just as I was getting ready to walk out the door, she said she'd walk with me, 'cause she was heading to WalMart to check on her job application status anyway.

Lucky me!

So I said fine, let's go, and off we trundled.

Thank god it's a short walk.

We parted ways at the lights - she on her way to WM and me to Timmy's to get my morning fix. From there I headed to Payless (ah yes, proof of the budget crisis at casa de diva) to procure a much needed pair of brown shoes so I could actually wear more of my wardrobe. I've been subsisting solely on items that work with black shoes for so long now, I decided the $23 investment was one worth making.

This is what's become of my life.

New shoes in hand, I kept on walking to my neighbourhood Superstore, procured the last few ingredients needed, and walked home blissfully alone.

I beat her back to the house, so I cranked open the windows, put on a pair of shorts, and popped Colbie Caillat's CD Coco into the player for my listening pleasure. The diva highly recommends this album, btw. Then I browned the meat for tonight's dinner, popped it and the other ingredients into the slow cooker, and let'er rip.

It was everything a mental health day should be. Fresh air, coffee, sunshine, a walk, good springtime tunes, and even a pair of shoes thrown in for good measure. I grabbed my book and a beverage and even had time to sit on the front porch basking in the sun and reading. Awesome.

I spoke to my sister and suggested we get together at some point, maybe go to the park with her kids since it was so nice out, but she and my nephew weren't feeling great so we decided to hold off a bit. She called later in the afternoon and asked if I still wanted to go out, and since DeeDee was home from school and she LOVES my nephew (and going to the park) we said sure.

The appointed time rolled around and we started putting on our shoes, but Sludge didn't move. She decided she wanted to stay here - she was going to vacuum DeeDees' room since there's cat litter dust all over the carpet thanks to their cat Rosie having to be cooped up in there for the week.

I think she was just terrified of meeting my sister, but who am I to judge? hehe

We got home an hour and a half later and what to my wondering eyes do appear....she'd vacuumed not only DeeDee's room, but the whole house! Except our room of course - she didn't want to go in our room. Fair enough.

My jaw darned near hit the floor when I noticed. Now, it'll pretty much take an act of God to make me not hate her with the firey passion of a thousand white hot suns, but I will say that anyone who vacuums my house is entitled to at least a snap or two.

But no more than two.

She even emptied the dishwasher.

I wondered if I was in the right house.

But then it all came rushing back to me when I went to use the phone and it said Line in Use. Hmmm...no one was actually on the phone though. Sure enough, she somehow found a way to hit the button on the phone, thus engaging our line for god knows how long. Just one more example of being completely clueless when it comes to being mindful of her surroundings.

Not that our phone rings like crazy but still - we did miss at least two calls during whatever time the line was tied up.

Sigh.

I suppose that this is nothing compared to the other crap we've had to put up with this week, but all in all I can't really complain too much.

Which actually scares the hell outta me. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop, ya know?

Well, only two days left to go. We can't get a truck to move her until 3pm on Saturday, but once that's all done...we's home free, baby. But at least it hasn't been as bad as the past few days, and I'll take my small miracles wherever I can find them.

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

The dawning of a new day...

2008-04-17T10:13:00.003-05:00

Well, it's Thursday. Only two more sleeps and she's outta here!

Not actually all that much to report from yesterday's festivities. Fortunately I got to spend the evening with some great gal pals who really took my mind off all the crap - and got me out of the house for pretty much the entire evening.

I'm off today - decided to take a much much much needed mental health day. Had a mini breakdown yesterday when I found out, on top of everything else, that my raise, which should have gone through LAST pay cycle, didn't go through again this pay cycle. So yes, I opened my pay stub and bawled in my office.

The straw that broke the camel's back, that's for sure.

So I decided that since it's 20 freakin degrees outside and is going to be cloudy tomorrow and I had no meetings scheduled today I would keep myself away from the office, sleep in and enjoy the sunshine.

Sludge is upstairs and hasn't left her bedroom.

hahahahahahha.

I've had my shower and my bowl of Mini Wheats, and once I'm done this brief entry (but fret not, I'll be back tonight - I'm sure there'll be much more to share after an entire day under the same roof) I'm walking over to the Superstore to pick up the last little things we need for dinner. I can't wait to get outside, enjoy the sunshine, and not be this close to her.

'Cause if I see her and she says anything to me, I swear, I'm gonna snap. I came down this morning and she's upstairs, but three lights are on. Lights that are totally unnecessary thanks to all the sunlight that comes in. And at some point yesterday she must have hit something on our programmable thermostat, because it was set to 73. We usually have it at 68.

Somehow she hit something that changed the setting from heat to cool. We keep our house set to 68 for heating and 73 for cooling...

Since the cooling was engaged, the air conditioner came on. And had been for a while. The same air conditioner that's in our backyard, still covered for the winter.

Yes. Still covered, but running.

I go to bed last night and mention that there's a weird noise...oh, it's the air conditioner. Hubs freaks, jumps out of bed, and says the compressor will explode if the cover is on.

Holy shit.

Not only is she running up all our bills, now she's done something that can blow up our freakin house.

I hate her. Hate hate hate.

Thank diva I commented on the noise and Hubs was able to take the cover off. Geez. I don't even wanna THINK what would have happened if we didn't.

So there ya go. Another little glimpse into the fun that has been this week.

Back later for more! I'm sure you can't wait!

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

A shift in the time/space continuum

2008-04-16T21:53:00.002-05:00

Yeah, so I normally post at night before I go to bed. But tonight, I'm just too damned tired. Went out to dinner with 17 girls and had a blast...now I'm just too sleepy to type.

But fret not - I am taking tomorrow off as a much needed mental health day, and after a good night's sleep I'll be back to regale you with all the joy that is the continuing saga of Sludgefest 2008.

Same channel, just different time. Unfortunately, it's the same kinda story though.

Yay me.

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

Adventures in stupidity

2008-04-15T20:28:00.002-05:00

Welcome to day three of our continuing coverage of Sludgefest 2008.

We invite you to grab a beverage of choice, sit back and relax. We're about to begin.

So it's Tuesday. Pretty much a good-ish day in a normal-ish week. But there's nothing normal about this week, you say. How right you are...how right.

The festivities at my now-crowded home continue. In some ways, the situation actually has shown some improvement. There was assistance in dinner prep this evening (albeit because Hubs told her exactly what she should be doing, then left to come and fetch me from the train station) and she even helped put some dishes in the machine once it was all said and done. I consider that some progress.

The day started off in a particularly craptastic fashion, however. Hubs had to be somewhere downtown for work at 8:30, which meant that Sludge had to get on the bus and take DeeDee to school. They left when we did so we could drop them at the corner to ensure they were at least headed in the right direction.

As some background, let me first say that public transit is not necessarily a cheap way to get around. But since she has no money and we wanted her out of our house during the day, Hubs caved and gave her money to buy 10 tickets for her to travel the local bus system. She and DeeDee went to pick them up last night but didn't/couldn't buy single child tickets there, so they would have to pay DeeDee's fare on the bus as they boarded this morning.

Okay. Back to the present.

We all pile in the car (cozy!) and as we're approaching the intersection where they will get out, she asks 'well, what about money for DeeDee's fare? It's $1.75 for her.'

I started swearing under my breath and madly grabbed the requisite coins from the cup holder piggy bank to get the poor kid on the fucking bus. Like she doesn't even have $1.75? Seriously?

This makes me especially angry not because it's $1.75, but because last night when I got home, they weren't here...they were at WalMart. They came home with four bags of stuff, all kinds of snacks, etc, THAT THEY PROCEEDED TO TAKE UP TO THEIR INDIVIDUAL ROOMS AND HOARD AWAY SO THAT THEY COULDN'T BE CONSUMED BY HUBS OR I.

Sorry to scream that at you, but it just makes me fucking apoplectic.

She has no money to live, it's here or the streets, she needs to save every penny for her new place and what she'll need to get started, she's eating all our food for breakfast, lunch and dinner, using all our hot water with her 20 minute showers, leaving lights on in her room ALL NIGHT LONG because she's a fucking two year old who's scared of the dark...and she spends her money on snacks and junk food...and doesn't even offer to add her goodies to the communal food pantry. Where she's free to snack as she sees fit.

Worse still, she spends her money on snacks and junk food that she won't share...then doesn't have $1.75 to spend on her kid's bus fare.

Whut the fuck.

And don't even get me started on the fact that she didn't even take their dog out to pee this morning before we left. The poor thing hadn't been out since 8:45pm the night before, and didn't have a chance to go outside until she got back well after 9:30am today. Disgusting. What a vile way to treat an animal. Lazy, selfish bitch.

Rest of the day was interesting. Hubs and I navigating our new (temporary) world. We promised one another that nothing she did would interfere with us, cause us issue, and we slipped a bit today. It sucked. Big time. But I'm happy to report that we've talked it through and are back to good.

As good as we can possibly be under the circumstances.

The best news of all is that DeeDee started at her new school today and things seem to have gone well. She has a new best friend, and I think it's fabulous. She's adapting remarkably well, this poor kid who's gone through so much upheaval. Good on her. Let's hope school life just gets better and better for her.

I'm exhausted. Plum tuckered out. Guess it's time to head up to bed and lock ourselves in our happy isolation chamber...I mean master bedroom. The other two have long since gone to bed. Although they in actuality left us alone hours ago. As soon as dinner was done, Sludge decided she wanted to spend some time with DeeDee so they once again retreated upstairs and away from us to have their special time.

Too bad said special time included spilling nail polish all over the comforter in the guest bedroom. Yep, an entire bottle. Of dark purple/black nail polish. All over my predominantly white comforter. Upon which she subsequently poured an entire bottle of nail polish remover in an attempt to...well...remove the nail polish. To no avail, of course.

So now she's run yet another load of laundry, probably in hot water and with our soap, in an attempt to get the thing clean. Which it won't be. Sigh.

Thanks to her I now have a permanent record of her stay here. I wish she would have just signed the fucking guest book and went on her way.

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

PS HUGE thank you shout out to my fantastic sister in law for sending me flowers at work yet again today. Totally totally totally came at the exact right moment. You rock! Thanks again.

PPS JBJ, I LOVED your prayer for me in yesterday's post. Snaps to you, baby!

PPPS Marlene, I got your blog taggie thing and will endeavour to fulfill my duties next week when Sludgefest has drawn to a close.

PPPPS 420grrrl, you were looking for the nutritional information on the Simple Pleasures...sorry for the delay, here ya go! This is for the chocolate ones:

Nutrition Facts

Per 4 cookies (26g)
Amount	% Daily Value
Calories 140
Fat 5g	8%
Saturated 1 g	5%
+ Trans 0 g
Cholesterol 0 mg
Sodium 140 mg	6%
Carbohydrate 14 g	5%
Fibre 0 g	0%
Sugars 8 g

Protein 2 g
Vitamin A	0%
Vitamin C	0%
Calcium	0%
Iron	4%

Well, you'll never guess what...

2008-04-14T21:29:00.002-05:00

Okay.

So I've waited a while to talk about this 'cause I wasn't really sure how much I wanted to put out there, but now...I needs ta vent something fierce.

Let's make a very long story short and say due to circumstances, Sludge and DeeDee are living with Hubs and me for a week.

Under the same roof. Our roof.

For a week.

I'll give you time to re-read those few sentences.

Now some time to let it allllll sink in.

Welcome to the hell that is my life.

I've kept it off the blog for a while because there are so many things that have lead to this moment that don't really need to be discussed here in my little corner of the blogosphere. I could really give two hoots about Sludge, but I've hesitated out of concern for Hubs and DeeDee. But since Hubs has seen how fuckin stressed I've been over the past few days, he's green-lighted me to speak about it, albeit as minimally as possible, here.

It was either here or a shelter for Sludge for this week. DeeDee was a no brainer - she could stay here no problem. Part of me, the nasty part, was of the mind that Sludge had to accept the consequences of her actions - why should I be the one to bail her out for fucking up yet again? Then the not-wanting-to-hurt-my-husbands-child part of me spoke up and asked how would I be able to look DeeDee in the face and tell her her mother had to go to a shelter and couldn't stay in our guest bedroom because I didn't want her to be here?

And you see my dilemma.

The good news is this is temporary. Seven days. Seven long days. I can survive that, right? I've faced more than three years of infertility, all sorts of other drama - seven days should be a piece of cake, especially when those seven days are spent on my turf.

Yeah right. Today is day two and I am in complete and abject hell.

She's not a terrible person. This is what I have to keep telling myself. She's not a terrible person. Say it with me, boys and girls...it'll help, really. She's not a terrible person.

But dear god is she socially inept and just a few sangwiches short of a picnic.

I can't even begin to itemize my litany of complaints. They're small, they're petty, sure...but they're mine. They're how I feel about the whole situation. And try as I might, I can't change them.

My biggest beef? Nothing new to you loyal readers, I've even dedicated an entire post to it months back. What I can't stand is people who refuse to take responsibility for their actions and actually do something to help themselves instead of expecting the world to just do things for them.

'Cause yet again, that's Sludge. Who found her her apartment and made all the arrangements with the landlord and shuttled her everywhere to drop of resumes - that he wrote, typed and printed up? Hubs. Who researched job postings and bus routes and school info and after school programs? Me.

Why? Because if we didn't, they'd be here for a helluva lot longer than a week.

Again I'm torn - part of me wants her to just fucking fend for herself. Find her own place. Find her own job. But the part of me that wants my life back will do anything - ANYTHING - to get her the hell outta here.

And the sad part is, all we're doing is feeding into her fantasy that people will do things for her. But I gotta tell ya - if it gets her out of my guest room sooner, I'll take up that battle later. When she's a safe distance away.

Sigh.

Breathe.

Two days down, five to go. I can do this....I can do this.

Welcome to your ringside seat.

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

Willpower, where art thou?

2008-04-09T21:09:00.004-05:00

It's no real secret that I've been trying to get healthier, eat better, exercise more, and lose some weight.

Never really understood that term, lose. Generally when I lose something I want to find it afterwards. Weight? Not so much. Well, not that I want to find it, that is. But man oh man, it seems to have no trouble finding me and negating it's lost status.

I've lost and gained and lost and gained and gained and maybe lost a bit more for at least 25 years. Over the past year and a bit, I have managed to lose 27 pounds and keep it off.

Everything after that is a fucking struggle.

And it's not like I have a little bit of weight to lose. Quite the contrary. I won't go into specifics here and now 'cause a diva never actually gets that deep into the numbers, but suffice it to say that in order to get to a more healthy body weight, I need to shed over 100 pounds.

Crikey.

Whenever I think about losing precise amounts I always enjoy comparing them to real life objects. 10 pound bags of potatoes, 1 pound blocks of butter, that kinda stuff. My fave movie comparison can be found in the otherwise craptastic film America's Sweethearts, starring Julia Roberts. She is, of course, the newly pretty sister of Catherine Zeta Jones. When someone comments on her new physique, she says yes, I've lost 60 pounds. The response? Holy cow - that's a Backstreet Boy.

Still makes me snicker to this day.

And while I have more than one 60 pound Backstreet Boy to shed myself, I do what I can to take solace in the fact that I don't need to rid myself of the entire band. Nah, I'm more in the one of the Olsen twins realm.

As skinny as they may be, it still doesn't make me feel that much better.

My biggest challenge through all of this has been simple willpower. I want food, all too often I'll just eat it. My current physique therefore must come as no surprise to many then.

The flip side of this coin is that as long as I don't bring crap into the house, I can't consume it while I'm home. Add to this the fact that I'm just too fucking lazy to go to the store to pick up something, and you'd think all would be right with the world.

Alas...I don't do the grocery shopping.

Hubs is fantastic in so many ways, and is always doing little things for me to make me happy. He brings me flowers, makes dinner, calls just to say hello, and will pick up a treat or two for me while he's out. Thereby negating my game plan.

'Cause now the stuff is in the house. And I will consume it. Oh yes, I will.

Sigh.

We had a talk recently and I explained that I love that he wants to do things for me, but maybe instead of buying chocolate, he can pick up my new snacky faves...Simple Pleasures cookies from Dare.

Yummy.

Those Dare people sure are practicing truth in advertising when they say Simple, 'cause there ain't much too them. Plain and simple, but surprisingly satisfying. My two faves are Chocolate and Lemon Social. La di da. Here are two photos for your shopping reference:

I highly recommend them. I love that you get four cookies in a serving...that seems so decadent to me. And the lemon ones are super good when paired with yogurt.

Yes, this is the new regime, ladies and gentleman. I am now excited about pairing my yogurt with other snack foods. Wow. Mark this day on your calendar.

Bottom line, I'm trying to be better. I'm trying to shore up that willpower. I'm hoping that things will improve simply by virtue of the fact that spring seems to have arrived. That my dinners can be made at home on the bbq. That I can get outside and walk more.

Like tonight! We went for a walk after dinner. Who's proud of me? Hells yeah!

Okay, so we walked to Baskin Robins but come on - we walked!

Now before you go getting all disappointed in me, I'll have you know that instead of my traditional faves - peanut butter and chocolate and Rocky Road - I instead went with one of their low fat frozen yogurts. Not a spectacular choice, but still...I did manage to exert even a modicum of willpower, and these days I'll take my little victories where I find them.

Hmmmm....wonder if my lemon social biscuits go well with frozen yogurt as well....

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

Huh?

2008-04-08T21:46:00.002-05:00

No, that's not a quizzical or rhetorical question tossed out into the universe...it's a nod to the fact that I have to go and have my hearing tested tomorrow morning.

Yee haw, bring on Wednesday!

To add to my lovely myriad of weird and wacky health things happening to me, for the longest time I've had trouble with my ears. I get dizzy at times, have a rushing/whoosing sensation at other times, feelings of pressure, and there's a certain exit ramp from the DVP that I always have to close my eyes for otherwise I slip into a massive dizzy fit.

Fret not - I only do that when I'm not driving.

So I finally decided it was time to get them checked out after our trip to Cuba. On our swimming with the dolphins extravaganza, I jumped into the ocean from a platform and as soon as my ears hit the water I thought my head was going to explode.

Now, before you ask, I'm a very good swimmer, very used to water. And despite my more than robust physique, I actually used to be a competitive swimmer.

Stop laughing.

I mean it, stop it. That's not nice.

Anyway, that experience made me realize just how reluctant I am to actually get my ears wet when I swim. I'll do almost anything to avoid putting my head underwater, just so I don't have to deal with the consequences (aka the frenetic canine-esque head shake as I try to set the water free from the prison that is my ear canal).

I wondered if I was one of those people with a hideous wax build-up, a virtual candle factory lurking inside my head despite my somewhat obsessive Q-tip routine. I thought I might go and grab myself one of those ear cleaning kits where you put liquid in there and suction it out with a freaky blue balloon thing.

Then I remembered that liquid and my ear is not a good combination, and decided to leave these important things to the professionals.

So off to my doctor I trotted.

Turns out there are no big, bad, ear wax deposits. Goodie for me. My aural hygiene has paid off. Tee hee. My ear drum looks good, and basically my doctor couldn't really see any reason for why I might be having all of these issues. So she did what any overworked, inner-city GP would do...

...she referred me away to someone else.

So now I have a hearing test tomorrow morning. Not really sure what that's going to accomplish, unless they try to gauge the volume of this ringing sensation I've become all too familiar with.

Meh. I guess time shall tell.

In the interim, I've loaded some new songs onto my old iPod so I can finally put it back into rotation. I'm so sick and tired of all the inane conversations on the GO train that I'm in need of some major sensory distraction.

Pfft. Who needs a hearing test? Every morning on public transit tests my ears, and unfortunately I can hear all their mundane crap just fine.

Guess we'll let the experts have the final ruling though.

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

Mommy, how come drama tastes so good?

2008-04-03T21:43:00.003-05:00

If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times - I am a 100% factory certified drama whore (queen, whore, close enough. Sad, google images had nothing suitable for me when searching drama whore).

Yep, I loves me some good drama. I think it's hardwired into my DNA, in fact. I have an over-expression of the drama gene.

And it suits me just fine.

Now of course I should clarify - this drama of which I speak, I much prefer when it doesn't actually directly involve me or, if it does, it has no real detrimental effect on my every day life. I don't consider having to put Pekoe down as drama, for example. That was downright heartbreaking.

No, the drama I refer to is a good old fashioned girl fight. Being the electronic age, it's now easier than ever to virtually bitchslap some bad ass bitch from the rival high school in record time - and with a crowd of thousands backing you up. Sure, you don't get that oh-so-pleasant sting in the hand that comes from doling out a good smack, but the back and forths and the freaking out by the holier-than-thou's gets my heart pumpin enough to almost qualify as cardio.

The internet is a vast place. Thank you Captain Obvious, you might say, but bear with me. Yeah, so the internet is a vast place, populated by all sorts of folk. MOST of whom have at least a modicum of intelligence/tech savvy (enough to at minimum get them connected to that cyberweb thang). I say most. Just most. Definitely not all.

Some of these people find their way to any of a gazillion message boards/forums/chat rooms whatever you want to call them and suddenly find themselves members of a whole new kind of community.

Some of those people are women.

And some of those women are bitches.

That's right, I said it. There are bitches on the internet - lock your doors and hide your tiaras, they're coming after you next!

Personally, I'm not too concerned about my tiaras going missing. I've managed to find myself a fantastic online community, maybe two, where the women are warm, friendly, welcoming, and chock full o humour. They come from every ethnic background, every education level, every socio-economic status, and from across the country - hell, even beyond. And I can only think of one or two that might come after my tiaras.

But oh the drama that ensues when these thousands of diverse women are thrown together. There are the mean ones who say anything to get a rise, the totally daft ones who, unfortunately for all, can't put a sentence together. Don't forget the passive aggressives, and of course, there's the pink fluff posse - the ones who prefer to be 'nice' in both the style and content of what they put out there. I fully admit I am a card carrying member of the PFP. I think we're getting jackets made...

Anyhoodle, as much as I am some days loathe to admit it, I love the drama that can arise when these forces of nature collide. The ominous thunder that sounds when a know it all gets snippy with a wide eyed innocent. When a passive aggressive misinterprets a rather innocuous musing.

Most days I roll my eyes, carefully select my words (wouldn't want to have to turn in my jacket just after I get it) and chime in on behalf of the party I choose to side with that day.

What's been extremely interesting of late is to watch rival communities attempt to tear each other to shreds. Gone are the days of interfamilial bickering - oh no, we've taken it to the streets now! The Sharks and Jest ain't got nothin on this rumble.

And woe be she who has pledged an allegiance to both sides by claiming dual citizenship! Torn between two lovers, two homes, two totally different groups of women. Forced to defend their presence on one in the other. Sad, really. Truly.

Sigh.

At the end of the day, I'm overjoyed that this drama, as entertaining as it may be on a daily basis, well and truly ends for me when I close my iBook and head up the stairs to cuddle with Hubs and drift off to sleep, safe in the knowledge that my tiaras are safe for yet another night.

And that there's always going to be more to enjoy tomorrow *laugh*. Wink!

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

I take it back...

2008-04-02T21:41:00.003-05:00

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I said I was going to write tonight about what not to say to your infertile friend.

I will write the piece, oh yes, I will, just not tonight.

I'm gathering some stories from my fellow "I can't believe I used birth control for all those years just to end up like this" gals and will be using them to fully round out whatever I write. So if you're one of them and you've responded to my requests, thanks so much! I hope to do you some kind of service with whatever it is you've provided me.

And I promise to make the writing better than the abomination that was my last sentence.

Blech.

Other than that, it's been a pretty quiet day/week. I'm stoked as all hell for the weekend to get here, mostly because it's actually supposed to be spring like. How sad is it that I'm actually looking forward to getting outside and picking up those random pieces of garbage or errant recycling that's been buried in the massive banks of snow all these long months?

Yes, I, your diva, am eagerly anticipating the weekend's garbage picking.

What has become of me?

Oh well, at least I keep getting comments on my beautiful new pink bag. That helps keep me balanced.

In other news, I'm going to have lunch with the Minister of Health tomorrow. Well, we'll be in the same room, and lunch will be served...that's close enough, right? Double dog dare me to rub that balding head of his? He's surprisingly diminutive, our fearless man with the health money.

And I hope to get to the gym tomorrow. Oh yeah, big day in diva-land this Thursday.

Before I jet to bed, I want to wish the best of luck to two of my gal pals who will be getting important news tomorrow. Hope all goes well!

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

No fool so far this April

2008-04-01T21:17:00.002-05:00

Well, no one tricked me. Thank goodness. I don't think my fragile self could have handled it today.

Instead, I got a lovely bouquet of flowers delivered to my office courtesy of my fabulous sister in law. She had heard about having to put Pekoe down and wanted to cheer me up. So sweet, and very much appreciated.

Had a relatively quiet day otherwise, then met a former colleague for a quick bite, came home and hit the gym. I wasn't sure if I was going to make it or not, but after reading a super inflammatory comment directed towards women with fertility challenges, I decided I needed to get the hell outta dodge and pump some iron.

Hehe...I sound so butch when I say shit like that, eh?

For now I'm just tired and really need to get to sleep. Tomorrow I think I'll write something I've been meaning to put together for a while...the average woman's guide to dealing with a fertility challenged friend. I'm just so sick of all the crap that people can spew (most of them with no malice, I will note) and if I can give even one person the tools they need to not make their friends and/or family members feel like complete crap when dealing with infertility, I'll be more than satisfied.

So watch this space tomorrow for another rant from this reproductively challenged diva!

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

So much for the lamb theory

2008-03-31T20:23:00.002-05:00

You often hear it said that March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb. Well, if memory serves they got the lion thing right, but the end of March hasn't displayed a single shred of lamb-iness in my little corner of the world.

I will say that this last weekend of March did start off great.

Friday night we went out to dinner with Hubs' colleagues (who picked up the tab, which was very nice). We went to Brant House and I felt like I was living the downtown diva super swank lifestyle all over again! It was nice to be out, but man, later that night was I ever glad to get home! It had already been a long week and going out on Fridays kills me now!

Saturday we got up early so I could drop Hubs off at the GO station. He had a big trade show he was working at the convention centre so it made more sense to take the train than drive. I dropped off library books on the way home, went to the grocery store, cleaned the house a bit, hopped into the shower, then my mom and sister picked me up for a girlie day out.

We went to a little store here in town that I like, then to Red Lobster for lunch which I'll never say no to. We then headed up to the Jeanne Lottie warehouse sale and my mom bought me a bag I have been coveting for a while. So I didn't spend any money! Good diva, very good diva.

Then I got home, cleaned a bit more, and a good friend came over for dinner. We then met up with a bunch of other wb gals, ate bad food, almost burned her condo down during Earth Hour, and watched Ghost. I got home at 1am and passed out.

Sunday it was nice to sleep in a bit. As I came downstairs, I noticed that Pekoe, the youngest of my three cats, was lying on the carpet by the window. He's usually a very skittish guy, so you walk near him and he bolts. So I walked gingerly past him so I could open the blinds, and he didn't run away. I bent down to pet him and again, he didn't run away. Instead he cried out in pain and I knew something was wrong.

Long story short, hours later we took him to the emergency vet and his entire urinary tract was blocked. They drained his bladder, but it was full of blood and crystals, so he was really sick. They could treat it, but there was a good chance it would happen again, and he'd need to be in the vet hospital for at least 48 hours with IV etc etc, and it would cost over $3,000.

Yeah.

So we spoke to the vet more and I asked realistically what his chances were of getting better and she said they were 50/50. I asked what would happen if we just tried antibiotics etc and went from there, and she didn't think he would live for another 24 hours but would die a painful death. God. So I had to make a terrible decision and ultimately we had to put him down.

The vet was awesome, she made me feel okay about the decision and told me I wasn't a terrible human being (that's all I could say over and over and over again) but it still sucked. Thank god she was nice though, 'cause had it been anyone else it would have been even harder if that's possible. In the end, I left the office with an empty cat carrier and $600 less in my meager savings account.

Sigh.

So today I'm all puffy from crying all night and I didn't get any sleep so I'm exhausted too. Of course it's grey and drizzling and just plain nasty, which doesn't help but sure does fit the mood.

I'm going to watch the Bachelor and head to bed. Here's hoping tonight I finally get some sleep.

Is March over yet? 'Cause it sure seems like the lambs are still screaming.

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

I'm not an addict, baby

2008-03-26T21:30:00.003-05:00

Well, that's not true. I guess I kinda am.

Hello, my name is divajen, and I'm a smidge addicted to Guitar Hero.

Sad, isn't it? I'm almost 35 years old and I keep coming up with creative ways to borrow it from my brother in law so I can play my fingers off. No, I don't own it myself - see yesterday's post on attempting to be fiscally responsible - but you can bet your butt it's on my birthday list. Even if my birthday isn't until August.

I've only recently discovered that I can wait for stuff. But fret not, I'm still an instant gratification girl at heart. I just don't have the budget to keep that particular habit up.

My brother in law and sister went away for the long weekend, so while at their home to drop off the kids' Easter presents on Wednesday, I convinced him to loan me his precious Guitar Hero.

And here we are, a full week later, and I still have it. Wondrous.

I think it helps that he recently bought Rockband, and Guitar Hero (II, no less) is but a distant memory.

I've managed to get five stars on every song on Easy, and almost every one on Medium. I was rocking out like a mad fiend, with 200+ note streaks at 95%. Hells yeah.

Then I hit Hard.

Sweet merciful crap, they weren't kidding! It's freaking tough! I can barely get through the first few songs without being booed off stage. How to knock a diva off her self-created pedestal.

Apparently my fingers don't move as fast as my brain, but more importantly, my brain doesn't move as fast as that scrolling screen. I crash and burn with the best of them.

So this is how I'm attempting to de-stress tonight. Had a simple meal, caught up on some crappy tv, and I am now off to tackle a few Hard choices before I head to bed.

Rock on, sistahs! Rock on. And wish me luck!

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

This too shall pass...

2008-03-25T20:21:00.002-05:00

It's one of those days.

I'm ready for it to be done. I'm ready to be back to my old self. I'm ready for spring to come and the snow to stop and things to finally start going my way.

I'm ready.

I said, I'm ready, dammit!

So why don't the things I'm ready for actually happen!? Argh.

Today sucked. I've got the weirdest hormonal things going on right now so I spent the entire day close to tears. And covered with a very strange chest acne that I can't even begin to describe or explain. Seriously. I am oddly speckled from the top of my boobs, all the way up my neck and behind my ears.

Seriously. How freaky weird/gross is that?

It's not a new soap or product...this is something weird that happens to me at some point in my cyclical hormonal progression. I get it all the time - but never to this degree. We're talking maybe 5-10 spots in a normal go. This time, there are easily ten times that.

Blech. Can't wear most of my tops. Am resorting to turtleneck sweaters and scarves. Looks like I'm trying to hide some super nasty love bite Hubs gave me in my sleep.

But enough about my oddly speckled boobiledge.

What a shitty day all around. Add to the hormonal fun the continued financial pressures that keep pushing down on my gut and a disgustingly cold, dreary, gray, rainy/snowy day, and I was one cranky princess this March 25th.

Yes, financial pressures. Despite the fact that Hubs and I have a more than decent household income, we're really feeling the pinch these days, especially since we now need to save for some seriously big things in our life, namely in vitro fertilization and buying out our car.

Double blech.

I haven't really talked much about the need for us to move to IVF, but I guess I'm ready now. We had the chat with the clinic just after we got back from Cuba and they suggested that we go for it. That we've waited long enough, that the chances for success are just that much higher, and that other stuff just doesn't seem to be working. So why waste any more time and money?

Makes sense. In a very general way, that is. But when you consider that IVF will cost us about $8,000 (not including drugs) you can see how the financial stuff starts to add up. And quickly.

Could we get a loan to pay for it? Probably. But that doesn't help the bigger picture - the one that has us already saddled with a good amount of consumer debt that we were hoping to work hard to pay off. Over time. So what do we do?

I'm almost 35 so it's not like we can take lots of time to save, ya know? We've been playing this game for so freakin long I just want to finally have something work. 'Cause I just don't want to have to go through this (the mental 'this' that I live every very emotional day of my non-pregnant life) any longer than I absolutely have to.

Le sigh.

I'm sure everything will look better in the morning. That if I take the time to examine our finances and how we can make things work best for us, I'll start to feel better, more in control. That with a bit of sleep and maybe some sunlight, my outlook might start to rosy-up.

It's like I've told myself about a thousand times today...this too shall pass.

I'll take any good saving/debt reduction tips you oh so brilliant gals have to offer. Thanks in advance to one and all!

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

Daym, chicks are smart

2008-03-18T21:29:00.003-05:00

This is a follow up post, of sorts. Follow up to yesterday's diva on a mission, my quest for a chandelier for my ensuite.

First, thanks to everyone who posted links, etc. to some really great options. There are lots of great suggestions there from places that hadn't even crossed my mind, so woot (and thanks!) to you all!

For the record, here are two of my faves thus far:

This beauty as recommended by Gina, on sale for $90 at Canadian Tire. Hmmm...I have some good Canadian Tire money sitting around....

And this gorgeous thing is a rec from Jenn, available for $120 at Pottery Barn Kids. Yes, kids! But I love it just the same! I think it would be stunning against the coloured walls.

Whuddya think??? Awesome suggestions!

Second, you gals are super smart. And you sure do care about me - not wanting me to get electrocuted and stuff! Yikes!

Hadn't really crossed my mind as something to be afraid of, but it sure should have! That's the last thing I need - to be sitting in my tub, relaxing with a cup of coffee or glass of wine (who's kidding who, it would totally be wine), yummy LUSH bath bombs smelling up the room, reading a trashy novel, and kablamo! My beautiful chandelier, the one I worked so hard to find, comes crashing down and fries my stupid carcass in the tub.

Not a good mental image, no.

It's always been a deep dark fear of mine to have something terrible happen to me and have rescue squads happen upon me naked. Seriously. I think I would drag myself to a robe by my teeth were that ever to happen. Providing I was somewhat conscious, of course. Methinks that might not be an option with tub electrocution, however. Fatal Attraction has taught me many lessons, including this one.

But I digress.

I will therefore reassure those of you who were concerned that my home isn't up to code that all is well - the stupid thing isn't actually directly above my tub!

I realized this key element this morning getting out of the shower. I looked up at the ugly globe and swore. I was super pissed that the damned thing wasn't even centered over the freaking tub! Argh! I started cursing new builds and the companies that throw homes up in the blink of a cheap developer's eye.

Annnnnnnnd now I feel stupid.

Sigh. Of course it makes sense to not put the damned light above the tub. Argh. Duh.

You girls are so smart. What would I do without you? This is awesome. I love how I can ask for info/suggestions/comments and not only do I get them in spades but I also get timely and relevant safety recommendations. Love love love it!

So that's about all I have to talk about today. It's been a rough few days - three friends told me they were pregnant within a three hour time frame yesterday, and it sucked. Then another one told me she was too this morning.

Ugh.

And perhaps the saddest of all, my mom's best friend was diagnosed with breast cancer yesterday. She's been like a second mom to me since I was 8 years old. She's been at every graduation I've ever had, every big family event. She and her husband are my second parents and my sister and I are practically their children since they were never able to have kids of their own.

She's 60 years old. And it's aggressive.

Since you guys were kind enough to keep my safety in mind, today I'll simply ask you to keep Sharon in your thoughts and, if appropriate, prayers. I think she's going to need all the help she can get, and you gals sure do know how to come through in a pinch.

With gratitude.

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

Diva on a mission...

2008-03-17T21:52:00.003-05:00

So my friends, I am in need of your help.

Let me give you some back story...

First, you know I've been sick. I stayed home again on Friday to try to rest and just get better. By Saturday, I was ready to pull my hair out. I'd been home every night and two days that week, so when the sun came out, it was time to just get outside and start moving again.

Hubs and I decided to go to a cute little town not that far away from our place. We hopped in the car, hit Timmy's for a hot beverage, and off we went.

We walked up and down main street, did some shopping, took our time and just enjoyed the (very) fresh air. But after a week of house arrest, it didn't take me long to get tired.

So back home we came.

As we were coming down the road I mentioned to Hubs that one day I wanted to go and visit the model homes of the builder just north of us. It's a nice subdivision and I've always wondered what the interiors look like. Not that we have any desire to buy something else and move, but looking sure can be fun!

Since it was close and it was still relatively nice out, we decided to walk. Exercise is good.

Yes, that's right. I said exercise is good.

We head into the homes and start poking about. Nicely done but strangely laid out - phew! I said a silent word of thanks, 'cause the last thing I need is to get 'I want a new house' vibe into my brain. Sheesh!

There were three homes to check out, two empty and one all decked out with furnishings. The furnished one was the smallest of all three, but had a better layout. Nice long master bedroom, and a great ensuite, similar to our existing one, but with the drool-worthy double sinks.

Sigh....

But more than the double sinks, the bathroom had an extra touch that I totally fell in love with and is therefore now the subject of my quest:

An absolutely gorgeous chandelier over the corner soaker tub.

We have a corner soaker tub. But ours has a really plain, boring, stupid globe light over it.

And now that I have seen the light (hehehe - soooo funny, I am) I must find a new bathroom chandelier for our house.

So here's where you come in! See if you can find me some pics of a chandelier that would work in a bathroom. Can't be too big or ornate, 'cause that just won't work. And no gold or brass - diva don't do gold or brass. Silver or crystal or that kinda stuff.

The wall colour is a cafe au lait colour, as are the tiles on the floor and in the surround. Very neutral. Towels are white, turquoise and chocolate brown. Chocolate brown accents are in the artwork. Vanity cupboards are medium wood, and the countertop is also taupe.

Hell, why don't I just show you a picture!

Witness the hidiosity that is the current light fixture. Now you understand my quest.

So....the parameters. I don't wanna spend a fortune - we have a gazillion other things our cash could be going towards, ya know? It can't be too big 'cause, well, there just isn't room for a huge fixture. It won't work in the space.

But that's about it.

So help me out, will ya? Show me what you can find - I'll take all the help I can get!

I love a good shopping mission. Hope you do too!

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

Can't blog...still sick...

2008-03-13T20:39:00.002-05:00

Well, I suppose I CAN blog, I'm not that sick. Really, I am such a drama queen at times I even roll my own eyes at me.

Having said that, I am still sick and I feel really crappy. I haven't been around these parts as much lately as a result - every night I'm so wiped that I head up to bed, all my energy sapped.

Not that I actually sleep when I get into bed thanks to the coughing etc but still...what can you do.

The hardest part for me right now is the side effects of the really strong antibiotics I'm on. You know that saying, 'the cure is worse than the disease'? I'm kinda living that right now, and it sucks.

What's been interesting about this is that I had a pretty monumental day at work on Wednesday - I secured a huge commitment, the biggest of my career, and one that ensures I meet all of my goals for the year. That's pretty danged cool...but I'm just gonna have to celebrate it next week when I'm feeling up to actually celebrating. Bummer.

A friend of mine got some fantastic news this morning and I'm just so freaking happy for her. Just wanted to put that out there...I know it's totally off topic and I don't even think she reads the blog but still...I just think it's great and it gives me hope. So yay for you!

Uh yeah. Proof that my brain is not functioning as it should. This post, as short as it's been, is all over the proverbial map. So methinks it's time for bed. Maybe tonight I'll actually do some sleeping while I'm there. A diva can dream, right?

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

Huh?

2008-03-10T19:33:00.002-05:00

Maybe it's me, but things are just plain weird lately.

It's March, and there are mountains of snow. That in and of itself isn't really weird, but I'm actually serious - we have mountains. In March. Ten days away from spring.

Some of the trees on my street are actually completely obliterated by snowbanks...the curse of new developments, where houses are squished so close together that there's nowhere to actually put the damned white stuff when it falls.

Okay, okay. So that's winter in Canada. Stop complaining. It's not like this is new or anything.

But what's extra weird? We've got all this snow, and I'm still being blinded by the reflection of the SUN on said snow at 6pm at night.

That's right, this whole clocks springing forward three weeks early has really thrown me for a loop. In this case I'm truly not complaining - as much as it sucks to lose an hour of sleep, I'll gladly give it up for sunlight on my entire train ride home.

But the snow mountains and sun setting after 7:30 pm is some kinda crazy juxtaposition that doesn't quite compute in my winter-weary brain. And I don't think I'm alone here.

I just want spring to arrive, once and for all. No more snow (and I say this, knowing full well that we're getting even more of this crap tomorrow), temperatures above 0...that's not too much to ask for, is it really? It sure as hell would make more sense given the sun's new schedule. Yeesh.

That's my rant for the day. I can't help it - I'm just confused by it all!

To top it off, I'm sick. Again. First time in 2008, so I actually made it almost three months with nary a cough.

But alas, the germies have crept back in and I have bronchitis. Sucks. I stayed home from work today in an attempt to get more rest and see a doctor, and while I accomplished both, I do have to return to the office tomorrow. Just too much going on to stay home any longer. Crappy, but true.

So now I'll be that person I hate...you know the one. Hacking on the GO train, sniffling on the subway, coughing up a lung in my office. The one you wished would have just stayed home to recuperate and now - they're sitting next to you. For an extended period of time. Spewing germs your way.

Oh yeah, can't wait to be that most beloved stranger. I can feel the daggers already. Do antibiotics work against daggers, too? If so, I might at least have a bit of protection.

I will admit I'm not all that disappointed to go into work, thanks to this killer case of cabin fever. I left work early on Friday at the onset of this plague, and between just feeling crappy and that insane snowstorm, I didn't leave the house until this afternoon when we went to see the doctor. If nothing else, I know I don't have housebound tendencies.

Of course I say this now, out of desperation to leave my insular home. But I'd bet dollars to donuts come noon tomorrow I'm going to wish I was snuggled at home on my couch in my comfy clothes with my laptop and remote control. And fuzzy socks. And sugar free Halls.

Ah, the wanton pleasures of an under the weather diva.

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

Life in five year increments

2008-03-06T21:03:00.002-05:00

WB gals, you'll have to forgive me for recycling my own material, but I've been thinking about this a lot lately and thought I'd bring it into my blog universe as well. Besides, I think I'm starting to get sick and will be turning in soon for some much needed rest, so this is my cheater's way out. But at least there's a post today!

So...

It's one of my favourite interview questions - where do you see yourself in five years? I have no idea what I'll be up to in 2013, but I figure life might have a few less changes in this next period than the last one.

'Cause five years ago I was single, dating but nothing serious, on the cusp of my 30th birthday, living downtown in a rented apartment, going out dancing all the time, jetting down to NYC for a weekend every few months, had a totally different circle of friends, and was devoted, almost to a fault, to my job. I was living the Sex and the City lifestyle, right down to the fabulous accessories and Cosmos by the dozen.

Now I'm much more Desperate Housewives than Sex and the City. In the past five years I met Hubs, bought a car, got engaged, got married, bought a house in the 'burbs, became a step-mother , watched my nephew and niece be born (not literally, of course), wrote a will, have been to Europe and to Cuba twice, and have seen a complete transition in my circle of friends (one or two exceptions to that rule, but still). And sadly, I haven't been to NYC for almost four years.

Sigh.

I still work in the same place but have a better title now, and make significantly more now than I did then. Thank god.

If you'd asked me the question in 2003 I don't think I would have even come close to being right. Sometimes I am just amazed (and delighted) by the trajectory my life has taken.

What do I see for myself five years from now? Well, I fully expect to still be married to my wonderful Hubs, living out in the 'burbs, and quite potentially still working for the same organization. If not, it will be something closer to home to lessen the pain of commuting. My biggest hope is that come 2013 Hubs and I will be the proud parents of a four (or so) year old. But other than that, I don't expect too much to change. Given my age, etc, I think I've done all of my big life changes over the past few years.

Amazing how the road of life can twist and turn like this, but in the end you end up at a rather delightful destination. One you kinda didn't even know was on the map, but how happy you are to get there!

It's funny - in so many aspects of my life I'll plan things down to the last dot. I'm not averse to spontaneity, but I like my surprises in easy to digest, bite sized portions. I am definitely a fan of the even keel.

And despite that, I've never been one to have my entire life planned out. I never thought I'd get married period, let alone by a certain age. While I've always wanted children, due to my issues of the past I've been way too nervous to ever attach a time frame to becoming a mother, so that was out. I always expected to own a home someday but a good part of me thought I'd be living on my own in said house. Well, I wouldn't be completely alone. I do have three cats after all.

Strangely enough, I actually had a much easier time envisioning myself as the crazy cat lady homeowner than wife and potential mother cat lady homeowner.

I definitely prefer wife over crazy.

So how about you? Have the past five years brought what you expected? And how about the next five years - where do you think you'll be in 2013?

Hope you enjoy thinking backwards and forwards. And I hope you've enjoyed the curve balls life's thrown at you as much as I've loved catching mine.

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

Welcome to my 200th post!!

2008-03-04T21:33:00.003-05:00

Ta da! Cue the balloons and streamers, the confetti and tiaras - post number 200 is coming your way on this snowy Tuesday.

How's everyone been? I've been okay, busy, but okay. Work continues to be nuts and winter continues to take its toll. Stupid winter. As you well know I'm sooooo done with the snowy season, but I'm not here to chat about that today.

No, today I want to talk about words.

Yes, words.

I like words. Words are my friends. They should be your friends too, but fret not, I won't impose my wordy views on you. Har.

I read a lot. Not like that's much of a surprise, but it's true. Once I moved out to the 'burbs I started keeping track of the number of books I read and by the time the end of the year rolled around, the total was 85. I moved mid-February.

The book I'm currently reading is one I've read before, called Inappropriate Men, by Stacey Ballis. When I first read it a few years ago I was a single city gal who was finally thrusting herself back into the dating world. I loved this book at that time. Loved it with every fibre of my being. It spoke to me, the character thought like me, and she had a way with words that made me smile.

It's amazing how the passage of time and the accumulation of life experience can radically alter your perceptions. I'm re-reading this book mostly because I hadn't had a chance to get to the library for some new 'uns, and I plain ole refuse to get on that GO train without a book in my sassy bag.

But my how time has changed me! I'm now married (and therefore as far away from the dating scene as a faithful wife can get) and living la vida suburbia. Perspective sure has changed!

I still love this book, though. Maybe because I've romanticized it so much over the years that have transpired between readings one and two. Maybe it's just because it's a darned good book.

All that to bring us back to the topic at hand - words. At one point in the novel, the main character's writing an email to a potential beau about her favourite words (she's a writer). And that really got me thinking...

...what words would be on my favourites list?

There are a few that instantly spring to mind...

loquacious

titillating

alacrity

phantasmagoric

package

bonus

triumvirate/pentavirate

plebian

I of course asked Hubs what some of his favourite words are, and here's his list:

fuck

awesome

Porsche

Nurburgring

serendipity

acceleration

mint

snake

swish

schedule

God I love this man. Could we be more different in our choices?! Yeesh! He did pick the greatest word of all time for his entry into my little experiment though. Gotta give him snaps for that.

And now he's giving me shit for my word choices. Saying that I'm only using them to try and make myself look smart, so that you'll all have to run to dictionary.com to figure out what they mean. That instead, I should have included key yet simple words like pink, bling, and diva much like he included acceleration, mint and snake to his list.

What I am apparently wasting my time trying to explain to him (as he's now trying to edumacate me on the origins of the word fuck and is therefore not listening to a single thing I say) is that I don't really give a rip about what the word means necessarily, what it represents, but rather how it sounds. How it rolls off the tongue.

He wasn't buying it.

So, I open the floor to you all now...what are your favourite words? Lemme know - I'm sure I'll be titillated by your responses!

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

American Idol - censorship at its best

2008-02-27T21:24:00.002-05:00

What crap.

What is this world coming to when a gal can't sing the entire lyrics to All By Myself?

Come on...great song. Opening lyrics to Bridget Jones' Diary, playing in the background when Cher realized that she loved Josh in Clueless, Celine Dion smacks the hell out of it whenever she sings it, and poor little Asia'h attempted it on American Idol tonight.

But someone, whether it was her or the idiots at Fox that censor this kinda stuff, decided she shouldn't sing the words "makin' love was just for fun" and substituted it with "and even though the nights are young".

First off, doesn't even really make sense. And she had this little grin on her face when she sang that line that told me even she thought it was outrageous.

What the fuck (and how I revel in saying fuck in a post that rails against censorship) is up with that? Sure, she's 19 or something but come on, she chose the song, one of the songs that Fox et al offered up for her to sing - why be so idiotic as to change the words like that? Did ya think we wouldn't notice? Do they honestly believe that the viewing audience is solely made up of vapid tweens who've never even heard the song before? Pffffft.

That's what I say to them...pfffft.

All By Myself is a true diva song and one of my all time faves. It's a challenge, no doubt about it, and is all too often butchered by those not quited skilled enough to pull it off. Like our little apostrophed continent gal here tonight. She can sing, sure, but she's sick and the song just kinda swallowed her whole. Not too pretty to watch.

Of course now it will be stuck in my head and poor Hubs will have to listen to me tackle it once or twice before I make my way up to bed. No need for me to suffer on my own, and it is a great song. Originally recorded by a guy, btw. Eric Carmen in 1975.

Man, my brain is tired. After remembering it was Eric Carmen, my brain has, for all intents and purposes, shut down and is now singing All By Myself in an Eric Cartman (a la South Park) voice. And I do a mean Cartman, if I do say so myself.

Poor Hubs. Me belting out the song as me was certainly bad enough. Cartman voice will make him want to pack a bag and find alternate sleeping arrangements for the night. Sigh.

And of course, as soon as I start singing in Cartman voice, I can't stop until I've also reprieved I'm Sailing Away while begging for Cheesie Poofs.

Just when I thought I was ready to head up to bed, suddenly an entire evening's worth of activities have unfurled before me.

Too bad I'm so tired and have to get up at an insanely, ungodly hour tomorrow. Maybe I'll have to do the super speedy version of Sailing that Cartman does. Yeah, that's it. I'm sailllinnnnng awaaaaayyyyy, free to face the liiiiiife that's aheaaaaad of me....

So very tired. Must go bed now.

Oh yeah, uh...and censorship sucks!

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

F you, February.

2008-02-26T22:56:00.002-05:00

I'm done with winter. Done. Finito. Bye bye la. Ciao, biznachio.

All this vitriol and I even had a week in the sun. I honestly can't imagine how those of you who haven't had that much needed break have survived. It's enough to make me go all postal or strap on an AK47 and climb up all those stairs to the top of a bell tower.

And you KNOW I don't like climbing stairs.

Sigh...alas, there are but three days remaining in this horrid month (February is the only month of the year that has both the letters F and U in it...coincidence? I think not) and then March, that wildly unpredictable 31 days, greets us with open arms. March is kinda like the cousin you like to party with once in a while...you look forward to their arrival, but once you've spent some time with them, you remember why you don't do it more often and can't wait until they leave.

March has such promise...because it's not February. It's the month that heralds in spring, even if it's more in theory than practice. But most importantly of all, March 1 is everyone's badge of honour, our reward for surviving the hell that is (and most certainly has been this year in particular) February.

I love spring. I know I've waxed poetic about this before, likely last year around this time, but there's just something entirely mood transforming about being able to wear a lighter jacket. Not coming home in complete darkness. The smell of the grass as it struggles to revive itself. I even embrace the ugly hard chunks that remain as the snowbanks gradually melt away, and the salt and sand that's left behind. I'll happily go outside and sweep any excess away to bring my home back to its fairweather glory.

Man. Is it March yet?

Okay, all this endless winter chat is depressing me, and hearing the gale force wind outside doesn't help much. But hey, only three more days to go, right? Danged leap year, prolonging the agony.

Hope the rest of your FU month flies by! And bundle up - it's supposed to be stupid cold again tomorrow. Argh.

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

Chicks rock

2008-02-25T22:01:00.002-05:00

Through my life I've been rather fortunate to have made some freakin fantastic friends of the female variety. Moreso from high school and beyond, 'cause let's face it, being the chunky kid is not cool when you're 12. If there's one thing I know to be true, it's that little girls are bitches.

I'm the type of person who loves to meet new people. I've always had a large circle of friends and consider myself very fortunate as a result. When I got married, my gals included great friends from high school, university, and someone I met through work. Friendships come and go, but these gals (and many others) have always been there for me.

Unfortunately, it's not so easy for me to see them these days. One is a super busy teacher who lives downtown. Another lives with her husband and kids in BC, and the third recently moved to Waterloo to start a new job and shack up with her boyfriend.

Enter WB. A delightful well of new people and, thankfully, new friends. Fresh gal pals. People who can relate to me on the infertility front. People who got or are getting married in the not too distant past/future. Hell, people who are none of the above but still incredible women all the same. People who make me laugh til I pee, make me cry my face off, and keep me sane when I think this trying-to-get-pregnant thing is going to take over my life.

Since joining just over two years ago, I've met 28 different gals from all over the place. And just this past weekend, I had 9 of them over at my house for an evening of muchies, girl talk, and Dirty Dancing (the movie, not the activity). Hubs was thrilled.

It's been a while since I've spent an entire evening with just gals, and I'd honestly forgotten just how freakin fun it can be. How everything is a joke, how any word or phrase can be cleverly twisted around to have a sexual connotation, and how laughing at pretty much everything is a darned good way to cure whatever ails you.

It made me remember girls' nights of years gone by with people who've really been there for me, and was an excellent little mental tweak to get me to reach out and see how everyone is, try to plan ways to see them. So I'm glad we're going bowling for wannabefrenchies birthday in two weeks. I'm glad I'll be in BC at the end of April for a conference so I can see Ange again, and I'm glad CJ will be in town, albeit for a short time only, this Thursday so we can catch up on all the new developments in our lives. I'm glad my roommate from first year and her family will be coming to our house for dinner on Saturday. And I'm glad that I have a gazillion email accounts to choose from when sending the quick hello to gals I haven't chatted with in a long time that I WILL get around to very soon.

Now don't get me wrong - girls can be bitches at any age and any stage of life. They can talk about you behind your back, try to move in on your man, do everything possible to one up you in any number of ways. As I get older and my leisure time diminishes I realize just how important it is to spend that time wisely, and to make a conscious decision about who will share that time with you. Banished from my social landscape are the negative nellies who do nothing but bring everyone down. I just don't have time for their bullshit on top of mine, ya know? Okay, so your life is shit - don't drag everyone else along for the ride!

I choose who I want to spend my precious time with, and am I ever glad I literally stumbled upon this incredible group of women who have now become more than faceless personalities on a computer screen...a good number of them have become very close friends. People I now choose to spend my free time with, that rare commodity that it is. Happily.

So call your girlfriends, book a date, and spend some time together. Grab some chick flicks, a few bags of chips and a bottle (or seven) of wine and laugh till you cry. It'll do ya a world of good. Sure worked for me!

Big hello to all my girl friends, old or new. Thanks for just being there, for putting up with me, and for enriching my life.

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

Hola chickas!

2008-02-20T22:54:00.002-05:00

Hello my lovelies. Yes, I'm back from Cuba. Been back for two days, and only now can I muster the wee strength necessary to slink onto the blog and say hi.

Trip was good, and I promise promise promise to regale you with witty anecdotes and many a snapshot within the next day or so. But for now, I must take my broken (had session with personal trainer tonight), weary (this whole getting up early in the morning thing is brutal), mentally exhausted (work is crazy - it's like all of last week has been crammed into the past few days), and throbbing (oh the joys of those pesky cysts) body to my incredibly comfortable bed.

Humblest of apologies for the long absence and this all-too-brief teaser post, but I gots to get me some rest.

Besides, Hubs said he'd rub my sore back for me. And no self respecting diva can turn down a backrub offer.

Ciao, chicas. Hasta luego.

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

The end is in sight!

2008-02-07T21:12:00.000-05:00

That's right, all my important meetings/events are done and went swimmingly well, I finally dug my summer shoes out of the closet to pack them, and we seem to have come through the other side of this insane weather system. For the next few days, at least.

I find myself supremely relieved and infinitely satisfied in the way the past few days have gone. I'm exhausted, yes, both mentally and physically, but the end is most certainly in sight.

Thank gawd.

I knew this day would come, that I'd make it through and things would go well, but now that I've made it to the other side I simply couldn't be happier. Now all I have to do is prevent myself from getting sick - that's my normal trademark move when I come out of an elongated period of high performance stress.

Let's hope the echinacea does the trick.

In other news, I managed to get home a little early today so Hubs and I ran some of our last minute errands. We hit the Dollarama and bought all sorts of stuff to take to Cuba with us for the resort staff. That's one of the great parts about trips to Cuba - the (predominantly) women who work hard to clean our rooms are so appreciative of what we leave behind that it makes every penny we dropped tonight worth it - and then some. Screw altruism - I get a real kick out of doing something, even something minute, that might help in someone in an equally minute way.

Yeah, I'm in it for the feel good feeling.

That's pretty much it for today. Yes, I never caught a GO train this morning because they were so screwed up and it took Hubs and I three hours to get where I needed to be, but no point in dwelling about that now. The sun came out, our errands are done, I've found my shoes, and there are now a mere three sleeps before we blow this pop stand.

The end is most certainly in sight!

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

Hey writers...it's time.

2008-02-06T19:26:00.000-05:00

Get back to work already. You've made your point and yes, you deserve more of the DVD cut.

Can you get back to writing my favourite shows again so I'm not left with the crap that has taken over the airwaves!?

Case in point...The Moment of Truth.

I'd never heard of this show before, and I think my life was a little better then; sweeter, more innocent somehow. I don't know if I'll ever be the same after feasting my eyes on this ridiculous piece of game show drama.

In a nutshell, the show hooks the contestant up to a lie detector test and the host asks 21 questions. If the contestant answers all 21 'truthfully', they win $500,000 or something like that. And the kicker? Their family and friends are all there to watch.

Some questions, as you might imagine, are quite innocuous. Did you ever cheat on a college exam? As an adult, have you ever taken a nude picture of yourself? Then they pull out the big guns.

And you know they're specific to the person sitting in the chair. Have you ever stolen money from a job and blamed someone else for it? Are you still in love with your ex-finance? Have you ever sent a flirtatious text message to a woman other than your wife? Do you blame your father for tearing your family apart? Do you think your mother is overweight?

These don't come out of left field. Some of these questions would be quite harmless to the vast majority of the folks out there, but you can bet your sweet bippy that to the person sitting in the insanely elevated, bright orange, rubberized hot seat that they're deeply personal.

Okay, so that's the show. Who the hell would put themselves through this bullshit? Especially if you have any kind of skeleton in your closet? I mean, this show hunts down your enemies, people you've wronged, people with grudges against you, then brings them front and centre, and gets them to stand there and ask you these seriously challenging questions that make you look like an abject asshole.

Sorry for that insanely long sentence. Please don't ever show up on that game show and accuse me of stringing way too many words together. I'd be crushed.

But seriously. Writers of the world unite and get back to Starbucks with your laptops, would ya? Shonda, I'm talking to you and your crew. Diva needs her some Private Practice and Grey's.

'Cause if I'm forced to watch more of this train wreck - let's face it, I couldn't tear myself away and even got Hubs sucked into the ghetto tv web - I just don't know what will become of me.

And that's the truth.

Or is it? :)

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

Two down, three to go!

2008-02-05T22:01:00.001-05:00

Another big day done and it was a successful one too which really makes me happy. Had a great luncheon meeting, checked a bunch of things off my to do list, and am kinda counting the hours until the week is done.

Tomorrow's a big day too. Yes, I have meetings etc, but more importantly I have my first appointment at the new fertility clinic. Yay!

Aaaaannnnnd there's supposed to be a massive storm. Freezing rain, 10-15cms of snow, making travel difficult.

Did I mention I live a good distance away from the clinic? And my appointment is at 9:30 am?

Sigh.

I'm crossing my fingers that there's no issue in the morning and it's just snow, not freezing rain. Snow I can deal with - freezing rain, and there's only so much a simple car can do. Ice wins, cars lose.

At least I know that if the weather forces me to miss my appointment tomorrow I won't be charged a cancellation fee. We need every penny we have right now! Sheesh! Small relief I suppose, but I'll take it. But more than anything, I hope it's not necessary to worry about canceling at all!

In other news, how many of you have been watching the new HBO series In Treatment? Gabriel Byrne stars as a shrink with issues in this entirely dialogue driven drama. So far I've seen about five episodes and I'm intrigued. Each day is him seeing a specific patient, and guess what? There's one couple that were dealing with infertility for five years.

'Cause hey, why shouldn't art imitate life - again!? It's like I can't get away from it, wherever I go!

This has an interesting twist on things though. In the first episode, the couple are fighting because the woman finally got pregnant and now she wants to have an abortion. Five years of trying apparently and now she wants to get rid of it. Amazing. So totally outside my realm of the expected it actually makes it worth watching.

I can't relate at all to her point of view but man does it make for interesting television. Not that I think anyone who's been through infertility actually was involved in writing the script 'cause it was just that one tick off from feeling authentic, but it was still riveting to see it on the small screen. I'm fascinated to see where things go from here.

Makes me glad that I have a number of therapeutic outlets, though. Hubs, my friends, this blog, WB...people I can vent to at any time on any topic. At least we don't have to deal with non-realistic scripts - the way real life itself plays out is already too chock full of twists and turns for me to believe anyway!

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

One down, four to go

2008-02-04T21:27:00.000-05:00

No, I'm not doing the countdown until our trip...yet. That's a whole other time line in my brain right now.

At this very moment, I'm all about getting through this work week alive.

I truly think this will be one of the busiest weeks of my professional life. Major meetings every day - the kind that actually matter in the grand scheme of things, and not just the time suckers where you sit there and write out your shopping list or practice your signature over and over and over again.

Nope, this is the big time. The time for me to shine, for me to be centre stage, for me to be 'on' the entire time.

And I've got to admit, it's kinda cool.

I actually don't mind being busy. I believe there's a sweet spot of busy-ness...that happy zone where you're well occupied and the day flies by. Not too far into idle nor into uber stress, but in that wonderful 'oh wow, it's 4pm already?' state of being. That's kinda what my week will be like.

My work week, that is. At night I have so many things to do to prepare for our trip that I'm already tired just thinking about it. And that's with getting lots accomplished this weekend! Le sigh.

I'll be heading to bed very shortly as I didn't sleep well last night. Sucks too, 'cause I certainly should have. There were fresh clean sheets on the bed (pure heaven) and I was exhausted from getting home late from a Superbowl party. Too bad I still had to fold all my summer laundry for packing and get my lunch ready and pick out clothes for the next day and change purses...yeah, a lot to do before my head was finally able to hit the pillow.

Of course the minute Hubs' head touched down on the down he was out for the count. Snoring away as only he can. So infuriating. I'm the tired one and I'm relegated to kicking him every few seconds in the hopes of getting him to stop! No peace. None.

Sure enough the alarm goes off in what feels like the blink of an eye and here we are at Monday all over again.

Oh well...just thinking that NEXT Monday there will be no alarm and no GO train trip made getting out of bed that much easier. :)

Let's hope the week flies by for all of us!

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

Today I was beat up by a girl

2008-01-29T22:05:00.000-05:00

Okay, well, not totally beat up. But I know I'll be all sore and nasty feeling tomorrow, and it's all her fault.

I had my first session with my personal trainer tonight.

Ouchie.

Everything hurts, especially my abs. I feel like I've laughed like a crazy woman cackling at a mailbox all afternoon. And my shoulders? I used to have shoulders. Now I have burning holes where my shoulders used to be.

Ouchie.

I have a busy day tomorrow and I guess I should get to bed now 'cause it's gonna take me three hours to bathe and dress myself in the morning. Ah, things to look forward to.

All in all it was a good experience. We developed a program for me that I'm going to try to do three times a week, and I go back to see her next Friday night. I figure I'll do one last huge push then leave the country for a week of eating and drinking. And swimming. And playing in the room... :) Those last two might help burn some calories, the first two, not so much.

Hard to believe Cuba's just around the corner. Fortunately nothing else in the house broke today (so far - there are a few hours left however) so I'm hoping that the universe and the house have decided they've messed with us long enough and it's time to just enjoy life for a while.

Then again, American Idol didn't tape on the PVR tonight, even though it was scheduled to. Maybe the universe isn't through messing with us after all.

Oh well, at least I can time shift and still catch it later. Haven't yet figured out how to time shift a household necessity. Operative word being yet.

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

Some days you're the windshield...

2008-01-28T20:18:00.000-05:00

...some days you're the bug.

We've had a few very bug-like days lately. Man!

So first, some updates. The furnace.

Yes, we now have heat. Thank gawd! But what a road it was to get here!

Hubs and his buddy Andrew came to the house on Friday to look at our furnace. It took the wonderful and talented Andrew a mere three minutes to fix the problem, and heat was returned to the house.

Hubs called me at work to let me know all was well and I can't even begin to tell you how unbelievably relieved I was. The trip was once again within reach, and it hadn't cost us anything. Thank all the stars in the heavens.

The job Hubs was working on was going to keep him out late, so I took the bus home from the GO station. No big whoop - it wasn't that cold. I stopped at the mailbox and made my way to the house. Soooooo excited to walk into my nice warm house.

Damn me and my high expectations.

I walked in the door, took off my coat, and realized this all feels ridiculously similar to last night. And that's cause it was - the furnace went down again. It was 58 degrees in my house.

I almost started bawling right there and then. Probably would have too, if I wasn't afraid the tears would freeze right to my flippin face. I got on the phone, called Hubs, and he and Andrew send me downstairs to do some furnace diagnostics. Fun! Friday nigh hijinks!

I picked things up pretty quickly, but I gave up after I had to blow into one of the plastic pipes. That was curtains for me....I didn't want to play anymore. I did learn a lot about the blasted things and what pieces are where though. I like that techie stuff, but I like it more when someone else is doing it.

I decided to have a bath to warm up, escape from my freezing cold house. I turned on the water but didn't want it to be too hot 'cause my wee toes were frozen and water that's too hot just stings too much. I got in, all was well. After a moment to acclimatize, I turned on the hot water to make it, well, warmer. As the water rushed in, I realized with much shock and chagrin, that the temperature was not increasing but actually going down! The hot water was all gone, and I was pumping freezing cold water into my now barely lukewarm bath.

I was not meant to be warm on Friday.

Hubs finally made it back with Andrew - at 1am. Poor guy, I just felt terrible for him. Super long day, he didn't really eat, and since he was working on a boiler he was in the cold all day too. He was supposed to pick up DeeDee but couldn't with everything going on, so he had to contend with her calling every 10 minutes to see when he'd be there. So he picked her up Saturday morning instead - at 8:30, 'cause Sludge had to work. Sigh. What a crap way to start the weekend.

But at least we had heat. :)

Saturday got better from there. I was, of course, keeping my eye on the cost of the trip. Mid day I realized that the Friday departure was sold out, Saturday had increased in price, and Sunday was still there, at the same price. Now that the furnace was working fine we decided this change on the holiday landscape meant it was time to book.

So we're booked! All inclusive in Varadero leaving February 10. Yee freakin haw!!!

And what's even better - there was some sort of promotion where the taxes were cut in half, so we saved $100 per person. Not too shabby! I of course promptly went to Shoppers and spent pretty much our entire 'saving' on the necessities for the trip, but hey. It was money I would have had to spend anyway!

Later that night I went to a friend's place and had my first encounter with Guitar Hero. And of course, I am now addicted. But due to our trip there will be no Guitar Hero in my immediate future. That's okay though - I'll take a beach in Cuba over some Guitar Hero any day. Besides, my brother in law has it, so I kinda get the best of both worlds.

Sunday we did breakfast with my sister and her family, then headed out to see 27 Dresses. Super cute movie...awwww. Nice and fluffy, nothing too mentally taxing or thought provoking. The perfect flick for a Sunday afternoon.

So here we are at Monday. Back to work, all that jazz. Had some meetings this morning, then I talk to Hubs late in the day. He just got home, and told me that there was a puddle of water on our kitchen floor.

Our faucet was leaking into the cupboard beneath and onto the floor.

You have got to be fucking kidding me. I mean really - does our house hate us? Is it mad that we're talking about leaving for a week, so it keeps doing bad things to stop us from going? Seriously, at a certain point, this is where my thoughts drift! Argh.

Fortunately, our next door neighbour is a plumber. Yes, we are quite lucky to have people in the trades come to our aid with increasing frequency.

So I ring the doorbell and extract the poor guy from his nice warm comfy home. He comes over, assesses the situation, and tells us he has an extra one of our faucets in his garage.

Sure enough, an hour goes by and everything's fixed. Again. For free. Well, it cost us a bottle of wine, but it was booze well spent if you ask me.

So now I just wonder what else the universe can throw our way in the next two weeks before we head out. Needless to say we'll leave my wonderful sister in law a long list of phone numbers of people who can fix things should the place crumble around her while we're gone. Sheesh.

Let's just hope this is all there is. I like to think that the universe is throwing all of these things our way to a) get them done and taken care of before we go so my sister in law doesn't have to deal with them all, and b) so that we appreciate the trip itself that much more, having been through all this crap in the weeks leading up to our voyage south.

'Cause come hell or low lying kitchen floor water, I sure plan on enjoying every freakin second of that trip. I'm even excited to do the laundry required to pack for the trip. And when else have you ever heard me say I was excited for laundry?

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

Just when I thought the universe was on my side...

2008-01-25T10:18:00.000-05:00

So you all know we're in the process of booking a much needed trip. Especially these days - it's insanely cold out there! WTF!?

Anyway, things were all going along quite nicely. We cobbled the money together, slapped it on the credit card, found a week that worked, got things sorted with my cat (thanks to my wonderful sister in law who's going to come and stay at the house to ensure he gets his kitty cat insulin shots), settled on a nice resort, and we were ready to go.

All signs pointed to the universe saying yes, we needed this vacation and gosh darn it, we should take it.

Until last night.

I've now been wracking my brain trying to figure out what I did wrong. Who I was mean to, what I did to upset the karmic balance that was, until last night at least, working in my favour. I've come up with nothing, but still the universe saw fit to throw a wrench in our plans.

I had a work event last night. It went well, and I was able to leave a full hour before I'd thought I could, which actually translated into me being home a full hour and a half before originally anticipated. Good start, definitely a good start.

I got home, changed my clothes, had something to eat, turned on the television and my computer, and began to enjoy my couch time.

But I was still really cold, so I went to the thermostat to turn up the heat.

You can see where this is going already, can't you?

I increase the desired temperature, walk away, then a few minutes later I head to the kitchen to get myself a drink. I glance at the thermostat as I walk by and notice the temperature is not rising despite my request of the furnace to do so...instead it's actually dropping.

Something's wrong. Shit.

Suddenly it's harder for me to conjure up an image of us on the beach. I can't taste the pina coladas the way I had a hour or so before. 'Cause if we have to pay for expensive furnace repairs we are SOL in the trip department, cash flow being what it is.

Hubs goes downstairs and takes a look around. Sure enough, the furnace isn't working properly. It goes on for 30 seconds, pumping cool air, then shuts itself off and flashes a code 34 error message.

I'm 34 years old...interesting...

Anyway, many telephone calls to Hubs' friends in the industry later, we realize our flame sensor needs either cleaning or replacement. Hubs tries valiantly but can't access the area that needs to be fixed.

As an aside, how great are these guys that they pick up their phones at 10pm, listen to the problem, and try to talk him through it? That's just awesome. Great people.

So now we wait. The hope is that a friend of his will come to our rescue, show up at the house, and fix the problem or replace the part. Fortunately the part is only $20, so there's some small cheer to be sucked from that nugget of information. However, our house is now dipping below 50 degrees (F, of course) and as the cold day goes by, I get increasingly concerned about our pipes freezing.

A $20 part I can handle. Burst water pipes and the cost of fixing all that damage...I just can't even think about it without feeling the puke rise to the back of my throat.

Before Hubs left for the day he snapped up two small electric heaters, one for each floor, in the hope that they will help to maintain a bit of heat, enough at least to keep the pipes from freezing. 'Cause if this guy does come over to fix it, it won't be until much later tonight.

So all my lovely readers out there, please please please send me some positive furnace vibes today. I so desperately need them! I know it sounds ridiculously selfish to ask for something as inane as furnace vibes, but here I am. Yes, I've sunk that low. I'll take all the help I can get if it means my pipes stay intact until the problem can be fixed.

Thank goodness we didn't book last night. I was about to pick up the phone to make the call, but we decided to wait a day or two to see if the prices come down.

Maybe the universe was looking out for me after all. Who knows - by forcing us to wait a few days, maybe the price will come down enough that the difference will equal what it will cost us to fix the furnace. Yeah, that'd be nice.

Goooooooooooood universe, niiiiiiiiiiiice universe, most reveeeeeeeeeeeeered universe.

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

I've been a bad diva

2008-01-23T09:07:00.000-05:00

January 16 was my last post - gasp! My most humble of apologies.

First, birthday wishes to my gal pal JBJ. Hope you have a fantastic day!! :)

Second, all is well. I'm feeling a bit better after my whole 'the cyst is still there' debacle, and am trying to move forward. This entire roller coaster ride is grounded temporarily by my new obsession - booking a trip.

No, nothing's been booked yet, but we've pretty much decided we're going. Just waiting for the cash to clear the credit card and one other little hurdle that will be overcome this morning, and we'll be ready to slap down the cashola in exchange for a week of sand, sun, and who cares what the hell else.

It's amazing how powerful distractions can be. In fact, this trip planning has distracted me so much that it's chiefly responsible for my inability to remember to blog! Seriously! I spend so much time cruising all the travel websites to see if anything's changed, looking for new deals, doing comparison shopping, reading reviews on Trip Advisor...and playing on FB and WB as well of course...that by the time I'm well and truly done with those tasks, I simply shut the computer and stumble, grainy eyed, to bed.

My bad. Sometimes distractions get the best of me.

I've also been a good diva, 'cause I've actually been going to the gym, eating better, and trying to spend less money. In some strange way, these are all still kinda connected to the whole trip thing.

Yes, I'd like to lose a few pounds before we go away. So I go to the gym and eat better.

I'm eating better, because I'm actually having my diabetic shake for breakfast and prepared entrees for lunch, etc, because I'm trying to save money to pay for the trip. Since all of this stuff is already in the house, I can consume it. And it saves me money because I'm not buying that bagel at Tim Horton's in the morning or deciding I need something else for lunch, thus saving me a trip to the food court. All good.

And while we save for the trip, this lack of eating out means I'm spending less....always good. Mamma needs some new sunscreen. Which we have yet to purchase, because we didn't want to jinx everything, lest the universe decide we shouldn't go at all. Once we're booked we will officially be able to say the universe has spoken, and all those necessities you need for a trip south will be cobbled together via a very happy trip to Shoppers.

If the universe wants it to be so.

Let's see, other than that things are quite busy. Work is in supreme prep mode right now. I have some major meetings coming up in the next few weeks and in fact the week before we go away (again, contingent on the wise and wonderful universe's benevolent decision) is going to be one of the busiest in my professional career. So if and when the time comes, I sure as hell will need it!

Speaking of work, I should get to it. I wanted to draft a quickie this morning so you knew things were well and where we currently stand. Thanks for all of the comments and suggestions and I promise, as soon as we book (if we book ;)) I'll be sure to let you all know.

In the meantime, send me some happy universe vibes, will ya?

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

Yes, I'm alive

2008-01-16T09:11:00.000-05:00

Just a quickie this morning, but I did want you to rest assured that I have not dropped off the face of the earth.

We had a good but busy weekend. Friday night we went to our first Toronto Rock lacrosse game and had a great time (thanks again for the tickets, V), Saturday we babysat our nephew then hit the racetrack for a social event hosted by one of Hubs' professional organizations (and won $50 on the slots), and Sunday we had our fitness assessment at the gym and both ended up taking on personal trainers to aid us in our efforts.

Not too shabby, all things considered.

Then Monday came.

It was day three, so back to the clinic. Finally. I haven't managed to get into a new one yet, so I was stuck with the existing assholes. Lucky me. But I needed an ultrasound to see if the cyst, yes, the cyst that I've had since October and they've done nothing about, was still there.

You've already guessed the outcome of this one, haven't you?

Yep, cyst still there and firing on all estrogen cylinders. They gave me the option of going forward - to which I told them to shove it - and a maddening conversation ensued.

Turns out when they checked it in November, the last time we actually did an IUI cycle (total cost - $1,400) the cyst was 'functional' as well. But they never really told me that.

Instead, they said my estrogen was high but the doctors recommended moving forward. So we did. Had they said to me, hey diva, your cyst is functioning so we think it's okay to move forward but there is a risk the cyst will take up most of the meds so it's your decision I would have said hell no.

When I go forward with these cycles it's a huge financial and emotional investment. If I'm not in optimal shape ovary-wise before we begin, I don't want to begin. It's as simple as that.

The way I see it, they owe me $1,400. They didn't get my informed consent, and I am pissed off as all hell. Once I claw my way out of my current depressive cave I will take action with the hospital's ombudsperson. 'Cause this just plain sucks.

To make matters worse, they won't do anything about my cyst. Nothing. I'm just supposed to wait until my next appointment with my doctor to figure out what we should do.

That's in mid-February. Thanks for nothing. So I sit here in true limbo, stuck, with no options but waiting. And that sucks ass.

So it's been a really rough few days.

Despite all of the crap we've been through, this is hitting me harder than even I thought it might. I'm dragging my butt to work, still able to function 'cause a little distraction is always good, but I just want to sleep. I haven't felt this down since the first cyst came along last May. And what pulled me out of that was a complete escape from our lives via a week in Cuba.

So guess who's been researching tropical destinations....

Even there I'm torn, because we're trying so hard to reduce our considerable debtload. We could pull off this trip without adding to the debt, but at the same time THAT cash could be used for debt reduction. Torn. So torn.

I desperately need something to look forward to, something positive on the horizon to take my mind off my current lack of reproductive options. But will I just be adding to my stress in other ways (by heaping more onto our financial burden)? The last thing I want is buyer's remorse over something so huge - and expensive.

So we've decided to wait a bit and see what the universe says we should do. When in doubt, let the universe make your important decisions for you.

We'll put money aside into our savings account and wait a few weeks to see what happens. We wouldn't go until the fourth week of February anyway, so we have some time to save, see how I feel, and see what other financial hurdles (including my cat Maxx developing feline diabetes - sigh) jump into our path over the next few weeks.

Not at all what I want, but it's the only way I can stay sane and feel like we're attempting to be rational grown ups and not impulsive children who must indulge their every whim.

Sucks. Insert foot stomping noise here.

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

Sunset - 5pm

2008-01-10T22:05:00.000-05:00

Thank god in heaven tomorrow is finally Friday. It's been stupid hard getting through this week, especially after two nice, long weeks on vacation.

Soooo hard.

Morning comes early. And it's still dark.

I like dark, I do. But only in my bedroom. At night. So I can sleep.

Not when I'm up, showered, dressed, and out the door on my way to the train. No, it should most definitely not be dark then.

It also shouldn't be dark as I'm leaving my office. WTF? I finish at 4:30, walk out the doors, and dark.

Didn't I already play this game this morning?

It all just seems so insanely unfair. But it does reinforce the fact that there's no way in hell I could ever live up there in the arctic regions where the sun doesn't come out for six flipping months. I think that's my idea of hell. Seriously. I'd go absolutely nuts.

Strangely enough, December 21 is one of my favourite days of the year. Yes, there's lots to enjoy that time of year, but to me it's the beginning of something wonderful.

Sure, it's the shortest day of the year. But guess what? Until June 21, it's all uphill from there. And that makes me more than happy, just knowing that tomorrow might be a minute or two brighter.

Actually, tomorrow we'll get one minute and 25 seconds more sunlight.

Now, if only the freakin sun would come out so I could enjoy it, I'd be one uber happy diva.

May the shine shine in your world tomorrow - enjoy that extra 85 seconds!

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