Yespleasenothankyoudropdead!

Happy Birthday My Baby...A Year In Pictures

2008-01-30T00:27:00.000-08:00

A WHOLE YEAR HAS GONE BY. I truly cannot believe that, even as I type. I mean, when I was pregnant, everyone told me to enjoy every moment because "it goes so fast". But as you may recall, it was a tad difficult to revel in the enjoyment while I was suffering from Le Puke Extraordinaire.

But they weren't kidding. I keep telling people that where the pregnancy felt like an eternity of endurance, babydom has been the blink of an eye. That's the thing about motherhood. Every cliché turns out to be true. You just have to learn how to wait out the painful parts...sometimes literally, sometimes figuratively.

As for this poor ghost town of a blog, there's really not much to say about the fact that it has SOOO fallen by the wayside, other than to mention I've been a wee bit busy. You other new mamas who still manage to post are to be commended. Seriously. I am in awe.

But I have just had a really hard time finding any free time anymore. Or as I like to say...any "me" time. It's one of the hardest things about being a full time Mom. I spend every waking hour...no scratch that...every waking, sleeping, breathing hour with my child.

I AM NOT EXAGGERATING. It's called Attachment Parenting. Feel free to call me a hippy.

I know it's not for everyone, but it works for me. Mr. Blogger, for as much as he would stop an oncoming train for Miss Keira, isn't quite as big a fan of the co-sleeping aspect of this philosophy as I am. But as I said when someone asked what I do about that conflict...um, well, I usually get my way. Yeah, I know. Bitch.

So I've learned to balance the fact that I don't sleep a whole lot, or get to blowdry my hair on a consistent basis (hello natural curls...goodbye 5-hour salon straightening sessions) with the plain-as-day evidence that Keira is thriving on lots of love.

Trust me, I consider myself neither saint nor martyr. Ask MB. He deals with one tired, weepy mess on a far more consistent basis than I would like to admit. And there is many an evening when he is greeted with "Here. Your turn. I'm taking a damn shower."

But in general...yeah. I love it. Every frizzy-haired, no makeup, all day in my jammies minute of it.

I love parent-baby gym class,

and playgroup with tons of babies crawling all over each other while Mommies can tell the truth to each other,

and music class where Keira gets to shake her bonbon, and the television permanently playing just the music channels (especially the Showtunes channel 'cause Mommy knows all the songs and Keira finds the re-enactments HILARIOUS).

We got to take her to her first UCLA game,

celebrate Halloween while escaping the fires all over San Diego County,

go to England with a baby on an eleven hour plane ride and survive,

And celebrate her first Christmas.

I am not fond of the teething, but I thank the gods that invented Gripe Water.

I could do without one illness after another being passed around the three of us, but I keep telling myself she's building up immunities. At least I hope so.

I wish to God I knew how to turn my brain off sometimes from the consistent worry over trying to do everything, be everything. Be Super Mom. Be Super Wife.

So far I'm just Super Insomniac.

But you, my sweet baby, are a year old today. What a year we have ALL had. And look how you've grown.

I'd do it ALL again in a heartbeat.

Happy birthday!

Four months or...what a difference a month makes

2007-06-08T09:24:00.000-07:00

While my car windshield is being replaced (went to a friend's house yesterday, had a visit, said goodbye and got back in car to find entire windshield shattered...yeah, these things only happen to me and you know it) and Mom is sleeping with Keira, I thought I'd take a not-easily-found moment to catch up.

K is fantastic and at her four-month-old visit to the doctor she weighed a whopping 13 lbs (double her birth weight). My once skinny mini is now chunky monkey. And I love it. Daddy does too.

She would, however, like you to see what those horrible nurses did.

Disco ball AND Taz band-aids notwithstanding, she made it through the tears, and two day fever and oh who am I kidding...MOMMY made it through the tears and two day fever.

But may I say, holy crap. Nothing like everything in your world turning upside down. Ok, ALMOST everything. NO not Keira this time. Moi.

I have become a stay at home Mom. For now anyway...or as long as we can possibly afford to keep it up. But lest ye give me any kudos for making such a big decision, wait 'til you hear how it was simply, or not so simply made for me.

After getting myself completely psyched up to daily leave the ever-so-smushy-cheeked-love-of-my-life (the kid, not the hubs...his cheeks aren't at all smushy), I returned to the bank crap...yes, its official name.

Ah, but wait, I'm getting ahead of myself already.

The Friday prior to my return, I got a phone call from my boss' boss...a senior senior VP. She wanted me to come see her first thing Monday morning to go over some changes that had occurred in the six months I was off. This wasn't entirely strange in that the bank had been bought out in that time (yes, this happens at every stinkin' place I end up working for) and it was actually a completely different bank.

But my antennae were up nonetheless. It seemed a little odd and I joked with Mr. Blogger, watch, I have a job, but it's in San Ysidro. (That's very very far, for those of you not in the know.)

Uh huh. Cut to the chase. That's just about what happened.

Not only had they rehired someone in my position, which had been at a branch two miles from my house, but they offered to let me "train" at another branch THIRTY miles away. And after such "training", they really weren't entirely sure where I'd be or what I'd be doing.

So I asked if they'd pay my mileage to the training branch at least. I believe my exact words were, "Look. I just had a baby. There's no such thing as disposable income anymore." Come on. A SIXTY mile round trip as opposed to FOUR. And not to sound like my cranky 80-year-old neighbors, but have you SEEN the gas prices as of late???

But what mattered more than any of that was the fact that I had always planned to come home (or to daycare in July) every lunch hour to feed and bond with Miss K and had purposely laid out my life in a five mile radius. Now that would be impossible.

She is not happy about that.

At ten past 5:00 in the evening I got my answer. This time a senior senior SENIOR VP called me (how painfully obvious does it have to be that no one wants to deal with such a fiery upstart).

She stated that no, they would not pay my mileage. And when I dared to ask why no one had perhaps thought to tell me all of this oh, say, BEFORE I RETURNED TO WORK, she said other really rude stuff too, but I am SO OVER IT, I can't even be bothered to bitch about her rant anymore. The writing on the wall couldn't have been clearer if it had been done in florescent paint.

No one gave a shit about me. So I had to give a shit about myself...

Buh-bye. Finito. I quit-o.

I tried working part time at a baby store that I absolutely loved, and except for the fact that my feet were aching in such a way that had not been felt in the twenty some years it had been since I worked retail, I really enjoyed the job. It was something entirely different and I am just so burned out on banking, it was just not in my heart to go to another financial institution.

But then you find that part time retail pays just about enough to pay daycare. And now Mom, who is here visiting to take care of the baby as you recall, is going to need surgery. And, well Mom, I say this COMPLETELY understanding your limitations, but she's just not as much help these days and I have officially become a hausfrau.

So guess who is going to need to take care of both of them? Circle of life and all that, I suppose.

Frankly, even as much as I am SO SICK of washing bottles, I love every minute of being at home. I don't kid myself that this couldn't all come to an end in a matter of months when we run out of money, but it's still something I am enjoying immensely while I can. We've even talked about moving in order to keep it up, so we'll see.

I get to see all the massive drooling and smiles that I wasn't wanting to give up in the first place.

And boy is she quite the rolling-over pro these days. Actually, she has asked if she should maintain her amateur status, seeing as how surely there is an Olympic event for such a magnificent feat.

But to stave off the temptation to just sit around all day, play on the floor with Keira and never wash my hair, I have actually joined some playgroups and even made plans to get together with friends who are stay-at-homers as well. I love meeting with other women who can both offer tips and just plain old commiserate.

Hopefully not all of them will have random flying objects aiming for my windshield in their neighborhoods though.

Three months old and the end of maternity leave

2007-05-01T03:51:00.000-07:00

I realized as I sat down to write the inevitable "My Baby is Three Months Old" post, that as a new mother, you really run the risk of alienating everyone who just is not all that interested in your baby. I guess my blog has taken the expected turn into a "mommy blog", but I refuse to view that as all bad.

I may go on ad nauseum about the genius of the Bumbo chair, or enjoy the rantings of my fellow sleep-deprived warriors in the battle of the bedtime, but that's just life. I've changed. FOREVER. And I sure did ask for it.

But I can remember a time when I looked at the umpteenth pic of someone's baby and thought, yeah, it's a baby. I mean they're little and they don't do much and their expression hardly changes. So what do you say?

But when it's YOUR baby, well of course she's the most gorgeous thing in the world, and would you like to see some pictures?

I can't help it.

It's a fascinating, ever changing life...this whole new mommy thing. NOTHING is the same. I go back to work next Monday and I have yet to truly give in to that. I'm trying desperately to see if part-time work may be an option for me, but it's pretty doubtful.

In the last few months, I could tell you exactly how many times I've left the house and not really have to use a second hand to count. And if it weren't for doctor appointments, I don't know that I'd ever get out.

I pretty much spend my days feeding and changing Keira. And if I'm lucky, I get a shower. Hair is done about once a week. Makeup? Um, about once a month? Yesterday was my 4th anniversary with Mr. Blogger and we ordered a pizza. Woo hoo!

And yet here I am, fighting to be able to continue this existence full time. I would give anything in the world to stay home with my baby. I have another two months of my Mom taking care of her until she goes back home to another state, but then it's off to daycare in July. And EVERY SINGLE TIME I think of her with a "stranger", I lose it. It wouldn't matter if it were Mary Poppins. I want her with ME.

It's VERY strange for me to admit that I want to stay home (and please know that I am a HUGE proponent of letting mothers make the whole "working mom decisions" for themselves and making sure we support them in those decisions). I have had so many self-esteem issues in my life, but the one area I was always able to gain some semblance of self worth was initially school and then work.

So to say I'm willing to toss that is a huge change of stance for me. I ALWAYS thought I would want to go back to work and would need the adult interaction. I never thought I'd be so attached to my baby.

This last month Keira had her first shots and I just about thought I would die. I tried to be quiet because I didn't want to scare her, so as the tears streamed silently down my cheeks and MB held her down, I wanted more than anything to take away the pain from my poor little unsuspecting baby. I wonder sometimes how I'll ever make it through all the (I'm sure) much more difficult matters to come.

But she's a tough one, our little Keira, and took it like a trouper. In much the same way everyone says, "Oh, she'll be fine" with my leaving to go to work every day, she's not the one I worry about.

So here's my attempt at sharing exactly what I'll miss most. The funny thing is that I thought I was taking a picture in this first one and had no idea I had the video feature switched on the camera (I've never used it!), so that's why it's bouncing all over the place and why you hear me say "I didn't click it." I thought the camera didn't work. What a dork.

(MOM...CLICK ON THE ARROW TO PLAY) :)

Here I have a little more practice, and yet still can't keep the camera still. I was trying to get her "talking", but wouldn't you know after all kinds of chatter, she clammed up when the video started. I especially enjoy the "You did WHAT?" head tilt towards the end.

I love you, my baby. Starting Monday, be good for Grammy. And don't be alarmed if when you see me, I scoop you up and won't let go.

Shower the people you love with love

2007-04-28T04:15:00.000-07:00

I've been forced out of laziness (aka non-stop feeding of The Hungry Child) to write a post, but it's a great idea and I'm honored to have been invited. (Yes, of course I'll be writing a "Keira is Three Months Old!" entry in a few days, but this one needed more immediate attention as BABIES ARE BEING BORN AS WE SPEAK!)

TB at Soul Gardening, Liz at Mom-101 and Christina at A Mommy Story are the lucky honorees of an on-line baby shower. Not only can you go over there to play games and send the love (and see pics of both Keira and ME as a youngster...but I can't tell you which we are), but there are some extremely cool prizes to be won! The women that put this together are some very organized mamas. I feel so inadequate.

But my job, as I've chosen to accept it, is to let the mamas-to-be know about the best and worst advice I received regarding motherhood. Seeing as how I'm just so experienced in all my 90 days at the job, and how two of the ladies are going to be second time arounders...I feel a little silly imparting anything to anyone. But I'll give it a go.

WORST ADVICE

1. Get your sleep now 'cause you'll never sleep again once the baby's born!
I know this one is said in jest half the time, so I'll allow for at least a bit of a sense of humor, but I just think it's pretty stupid. First of all, I don't think there's some kind of sleep bank you can invest in prior to the birth. And secondly, it seems as though it's always other mothers who say this with some kind of glee at the loss of your previously sleep-filled life (!)...it's as though they're rubbing their hands together in anticipation of your misery. Ha ha, welcome to the club, and all that.

Yes, you're going to be a zombie. Accept it. There's no need for me to rub it in.

2. Let the baby cry it out...if you respond every time she cries, she'll just learn to manipulate you.
Um, excuse me? A newborn hasn't exactly developed that level of manipulation. She'll be bargaining the whole new-bike-for-straight-A's in no time I'm sure...but at a week old? To be fair, this advice was really only ever given to me by VERY old ladies and complete strangers.

I never knew how much my own baby's cries would affect me until I saw her face. How could I ever think it would be ok for her to look so miserable? BELIEVE ME, just today she cried THE ENTIRE DAY. I have definitely been worn down on occasion, but I would never just put her in another room and walk off to the sound of her shrieking. I would sooner stab myself in the heart.

3. Listen to all my advice...it's very important.
Ridiculous, isn't it? Which brings me to my point. You're going to do what's best for you. Anything I say is really a moot point because I don't live your life, have your baby or share your existence in any way. IT'S NOT UP TO ME TO SAY WHAT'S RIGHT FOR YOU. I have really learned that we all need to be supportive of one another's choices regarding this whole motherhood thing.

But having said that...

BEST ADVICE

1. Talk to them all the time. Read to them all the time. Just generally keep jabbering away.
My (over thirty-some years in teaching elementary school) Mom is a huge proponent of this and consequently I was reading by age one and a 1/2 (she swears!). But she made it FUN. I can't remember a time when I couldn't read, nor can I recall a time I was ever "shushed". Overly talkative women are the norm in my family.

So to my friends and family: feel free to blame her.

2. Whatever it takes to get them to eat and grow properly, do it.
Trust me; I had planned to be the Breastfeeding Queen prior to Keira's birth. My body, on the other hand, had other ideas. When my poor little baby reached an alarming weight loss in her first week, we had to supplement with formula.

I felt like the worst mother in the world. But why? For cripes sake, I was hardly neglecting her. Frankly, it would have been neglect to let things continue the way they were.

You do what you have to do. And now she's healthy and happy and still gets both breast and bottle, which has allowed Mommy to have small breaks and Daddy to take over on occasion.

No one has to tell you breast is best. We all know that. Get help, but don't kill yourself to make it happen.

3. But if you're nursing, buy Lily Padz.
Seriously. You have to. They rock.

Congrats to the three lovely ladies and welcome to the babies-to-be!

Two months old

2007-04-02T02:30:00.000-07:00

Well, Mommy is a bad mommy and didn't blog when Keira hit the one month mark, but in my defense, there's no such thing as February 30th so she didn't have one. Yup. I use any and all excuses for my negligent behavior already.

I realized that I never really wrote anything resembling a "birth story", but I have to say that after all the ups and downs of a highly "eventful" pregnancy, the birth itself was a breeze. Hey, I had to catch a break somewhere.

My doctors had basically realized that I had HAD IT (no, really...every single day towards the end there I was threatening to cut the kid out myself) and I got a huge surprise phone call from the hospital saying that I was scheduled for a c-section on January 30. I hobbled on over to the guest room (wish I could say I ran, but that was not possible) to tell my Mom the good news and then of course panic set in.

Mom had been here since January 11th and it was now the 24th, and in that time, she was shocked to be there in person to witness just how bad off I was. I couldn't eat, walk, sleep...you know, little things like that. I think Mr. Blogger was just relieved to have some help in retrieving things for me. God help that man.

The next day MB's parents arrived from London and it was Operation Get Ready For Baby full speed ahead. There was still so much to do, buy, prepare, arrange...I was freaking out over not even owning a robe, for criminy's sake.

By the time the 30th arrived, I actually felt ok. I wasn't panicked about the surgery at all, I was more thrilled to finally be starting this new life. OK, and to NOT BE PREGNANT ANY MORE. I felt very calm and in good hands. The only hitch really was that the spinal took about thirty attempts and the anesthesiologist was starting to panic, but I just kept breathing. Pain was nothing at this point.

I did almost pass out from my blood pressure plummeting apparently, but hey, what can you do?

MB was finally allowed into the OR once the spinal took effect and had the camera at the ready. It went so fast and I'm so thankful for the anesthesiologist telling us what was happening so that I knew when she was out. Then, of course, you find yourself counting the seconds until she cries. Come on little baby. Make a sound.

Didn't take long. No...not any child of mine.

I couldn't see anything, but I kept hearing everyone saying, "She's beautiful!". Then I got to see for myself...

I agreed. And I was immediately in love and ridiculously protective.

I could bore you with the pain in the ass that healing from the c-section plus trying to breastfeed turned out to be (I think I may FINALLY have the hang of it and it's only been two months), but does it really matter? She's doing fine, finally growing well and is the absolute center of our lives.

Now, when I go back to work in a month, I may lose my mind. I seriously burst into tears every time I think about it. I mean, how can you leave this?

I don't even want to think about it.

And nothing was ever the same

2007-02-07T16:03:00.000-08:00

Presenting...
Miss Keira Lauren Blogger
Born January 30, 2007
11:24AM
6 lbs 13 oz
19 inches

Mommy and Daddy are officially in love with the most beautiful daughter ever to grace the planet and would like to hereby send even more love to those who kept the faith that she would ever make it here.

Now I know what a miracle truly is.

To think everything was going so swimmingly up 'til now...ha!

2006-12-13T04:59:00.000-08:00

Oh COME ON! I just wrote a whole freaking post and it's gone! My right hand brushed by something and it's just kablooey!

That's what I get for typing this on Mr. Blogger's new laptop that I still don't quite have the hang of...I'M SO MAD! (Or maybe that's the curse for my yelling at him for spending the money on this laptop to begin with WHEN WE DON'T EVEN HAVE A CRIB! Quite the WWIII we had going over that one...)

You know how it is when that happens though, and how you don't even want to bother re-typing everything. So I'm TRYING to not say screw it here and start over. OK, deep breath...

Well, basically I'm still here and still going, but it is HARD lately. This has been one interesting pregnancy, to be kind and not give my child a complex. And in the last month alone, it's all gone haywire.

A laundry list...

*I'm on bed rest and off work for good now.

*I have the beginning signs of preeclampsia, although I don't quite have it as of yet. I've been to the hospital three times in the last 5 days and as of Friday, the doctor even said that it was a strong possibility this kid could be out within the week.

*I AM ONLY 31 1/2 WEEKS PREGNANT. I don't want her going anywhere yet.

*The good thing is that at last night's hospital stay, the labs were a little better, so we may get her to stick yet.

*The Hyperemesis came roaring back. Just yesterday I was quite convinced that I should perhaps find a way of getting my bed to just fit in the bathroom since it was becoming too much trouble to go back and forth so much.

*My blood pressure went up, but is somewhat stable. Well, today it was anyway. I have to chart it with my cuff at home to make sure.

*I am on nighttime injections of insulin since the Gestational Diabetes is worse. I also chart the blood sugar levels a few times a day. Hell, I chart EVERYTHING these days. I have to come armed with reams of paper to each doctor's appointment.

*I have sciatica down the back of my left leg/butt cheek and can't walk. Like, at all.

*I have had horrific stomach pains which led to the determination that my liver enzymes are high and apparently I have some kind of "fatty liver disease". That did wonders for my self esteem.

*I'm 6 lbs UNDER my pre-pregnancy weight. But as one of my doctor's so lovingly stated, eh, I have weight to lose anyway.

*I've been given shots of steroids to strengthen the baby's lungs in the event that we do have to deliver much earlier than planned.

*I spent this weekend giving TWO showers (one in SD and one in LA) and barely made it out of two hospital stays to make it to both. And I had to look like an idiot greeting everyone from a seated position...I looked like the freakin' queen receiving her subjects or something.

*Two separate doctors at different locations each referred to me as a "ticking time bomb". Thanks guys.

I'm sure I'll think of more, but I haven't slept all night, it's 5:00AM, and I'm tired. But what else is new?

You know...I was well aware of the fact that I was old, high risk, etc. But all of this keeps making me ask "where are these women who just fly through pregnancy...loving every ice-cream eating minute of it?"

And should I feel bad that I'm getting REALLY tired of feeling like crap, and more importantly being TERRIFIED on a regular basis? How does anyone make it through this...am I just a wimp?

I don't have ANYTHING done by way of setting up a nursery or pre-washing clothes or packing a bag. Yes, even though they've told me it may be imminent. I can't even muster the energy. Where is that supposed nesting instinct that the pregnancy books keep telling me I'll be getting? (I should mention that when the instructor brought that up in our birthing class, Mr. Blogger just laughed.)

In the end, all I want is for everything to be ok...is for Keira to be ok. (Yup, that's the final choice of a very controversial decision making process on a name for Ms. Bean...still no middle name yet.) All my monitoring has at least shown that if nothing else, she seems to be thriving in there. And I've always said that I'll take anything, go through anything to make sure she's fine.

So be careful what you agree to. You may have to prove it.

Stuff that's happened/I've learned in the month it's taken to get my ass in gear

2006-10-09T11:40:00.000-07:00

Yes M-I-L, I do plan on blogging again. ;)

But I know, people, I suck. I half considered giving it up altogether, but I'm not ready to throw in the towel quite yet. I just feel really bad about dropping the ball on everything these days...it's all I can do to get to work each day, and frankly, I'd like a medal for that alone.

So to catch you up...

1. I took a month off of work, spent the entire time in bed, on the couch or in the bathroom and then on the first day I went back to work, not only did I have ZERO energy to deal with ANYTHING, but my boss promptly left on a three week vacation and THE FREAKIN' BRANCH WAS ROBBED. Damn inconsiderate bank robbers. I was tempted to puke on the guy.

2. I had a birthday last week. And I proceeded to yell at Mr. Blogger because he bought a humungous carrot cake that:

a. I cannot eat (I haven't been able to tolerate anything sweet since just about the day I found out I was pregnant) and...

b. I cannot bear to smell

He has eaten almost the whole thing himself. In hiding. So I can't smell it.

Or maybe because he's afraid of me.

3. Along those lines, and in my defense of being a bitch (see...at least I admit it!), due to the fact that I ALWAYS feel like crap in one way or another, I have become Angry Pregnant Woman.

Remember this?

And as a follow up...this?

Well it never ends.

I got home before Mr. Blogger one day in which he had ridden in a co-worker's van as they were to see customers in two's that day or something. Anyway, MB's van was on the street and there was a note taped to it. For I think the third time in a couple months.

Yet more complaints about the fact that it was on the street. And the writer's wife "had almost hit it numerous times".

I suddenly snapped. I mean, really. Your inability to back out of your driveway without hitting cars on the OTHER SIDE OF THE VERY WIDE STREET is really not my problem buddy. Or buddy's wife. Whatever.

I marched over there and proceeded to get into a screaming match with Mr. Old Man. He literally said he just "didn't want to see it there". He would be taking this up with the Homeowner's Association, as we were in clear violation of BLAH BLAH BLAH. I seriously can't even be bothered to finish the rest of his lunacy.

I can't remember the last time I completely went off on a total stranger like that. But I do have to say that by the end, I got my way, there haven't been any more notes, and in the process I think I scared the shit out of him.

All in defense of my husband's right to park where he damn well felt like. I of course told MB he owed me big time for all of that.

(You KNOW if he had gone over there to chat with Old Man, it would have ended with tea and cookies.)

4. I've only made it to ONE out of the four home games UCLA has played this season. Yes, I finally realized that someone else is holding the reins here, and it sure is not I.

Can I add that the Gigantor Boob situation REALLY makes it difficult to do the 8-clap?

5. In all honesty, I feel a LITTLE better. I throw up every morning or so, but it's nothing like what I experienced previously. I still have all kinds of digestive issues (I'll spare you), but to the makers of Sea Bands and Preggie Pop Drops...you deserve a Nobel Prize.

Seriously. Zofran didn't work. Phenergan did squat.

But stupid little sour candies helped. Ok, that, IV's, acupuncture, and foot rubs. Lots and lots of foot rubs. (Did I mention that I really do love my husband?)

6. Most importantly, in the time I've been away, we learned that...

IT'S A GIRL!!!!

But we still can't agree on a name.

One step at a time.

Boy is this kid going to hear about it later

2006-08-30T17:51:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry it's been so long you guys. And the fact that many of you have worried over me has actually forced me out of bed and on to the computer for once. Boy do we need a laptop in this house.

Yes, both The Beanie and I (and a VERY patient Mr. Blogger) are still alive. Barely. Don't worry, everything's ok. I just can't function. It's as simple as that. Everyone else is fine.

After trips to the ER and several complete breakdowns where I was hysterical in the assumption that Beanie couldn't possibly be ok with all this vomitation...my doc finally pulled me out of work for a few weeks. Turns out I have Hyperemesis Gravidarum, which is frankly just Latin for "Food is not your friend".

As Betty said...how could I possibly get this when not only do I not fit the profile, but only 1-2% of women even get this. Oh no, that's right. OF COURSE I would get this.

Since not much stays down, I get IV's and I'm on my third attempt at an anti-nausea med. None of them have worked so far. And I gotta tell ya'...this one's not doing much more than making me constipated.

I of course, blame my mother. Since she was sick the entire pregnancy with me, it's possible that it's hereditary. Sure, EVERY SINGLE PART OF MY PHYSICAL BEING TAKES AFTER MY DAD'S SIDE OF THE FAMILY EXCEPT THIS. I take it back then. I blame my father.

I actually dragged myself out of the house, and wore makeup and everything, to get to a bridal shower last Saturday. It was a big victory for me. Well, right up to the part where I threw up while she was opening the gifts. Don't worry. I made it to a bathroom at least. What was I thinking, daring to eat a piece of cantaloupe.

That's just pretty much my life these days. It sucks. But what matters most is that Beanie still seems to be thriving. I still worry every time we wait to hear the heartbeat, or look to see the ultrasound results (who am I kidding...I don't "worry"...I cry so hard my contacts fall out), but so far so good.

HOWEVER...I WILL NOT MISS THE FIRST GAME OF THE SEASON. Sure, being stuck in the Rose Bowl stands while feeling a wave come upon me may be a tad bit inconvenient. And I have nothing to wear now that I'm at this weird "in-between maternity clothes and yet I can't button my regular jeans" phase. But that's ok.

Beanie WILL be indoctrinated from the womb and WILL come out doing the 8-clap. (And I'm so excited to buy these I can't stand it!)

Did you expect any less from me? Come on now. So the people sitting around me might freak out a tad.

That's ok. I'll just bring barf bags.

13 weeks, two days and another deep breath

2006-08-08T17:48:00.000-07:00

First and foremost...AGAIN...thank you for every single kind word and virtual hug you've thrown our way. It never seems enough to just say thank you though, so if I'm repeating myself, just keep in mind that it DESERVES repeating. So there! ;)

WordGirl was even SOOO kind as to nominate me for a Perfect Post for what I thought was just my incessant rambling. She's so freakin' talented that I was almost embarrassed to be considered. Much love back to ya' WG...MUCH love!

So yesterday was a tremendously momentous day and I had PLANNED to mark the occasion with proper pomp and circumstance. Little did I know that such planning would include vomiting all over my local drugstore's floor.

I find that highly apropos.

You see, I am now officially in my SECOND TRIMESTER. I have trouble even believing that as I type. And if I end up typing most of this post in all caps, please understand the significance.

I HAVE NEVER EVER HAD A SECOND TRIMESTER BEFORE.

EVER.

THIS IS HUGE.

OK, I'll try to contain myself a tad and lose the caps.

And what I find so funny about being so sick yesterday is the fact that Beanie decided to mark the first day of this celebration with MAKING ME SICKER THAN I'VE BEEN IN WEEKS. (I guess I lied about losing the caps...sorry.)

First I didn't get to work until noon because I couldn't peel myself off the bathroom floor. And then when I decided to stop at SavOn after work, she/he/whatever decided to remind me who's running the show here. I don't think I've thrown up in public like that since I was a little kid. I mean there was NO TIME to find a bathroom. Yeah. I wanted to die.

The second trimester is supposed to be the time of waning nausea and increased energy? HA! (Beanie seemed to say...) I'LL SHOW YOU! MWAHAHAHAHA...

Oh and later my entire dinner came right back up in brilliant technocolor as well.

Gotta love that Beanie.

(My BFF Kona Girl is convinced it's a girl if for no other reason than Beanie's pretty damn demanding. But keep in mind that KG has also already vowed to come down from Seattle to attend every dance recital and spelling bee.)

But Beanie did give us some good news last week. My Nuchal Scan (plus blood draw) confirmed that my chance of Down's is 1 in 941. And the chances of Trisomy 18 and 13 combined is 1 in 1561.

At first, being the skeptic I am, I found it hard to understand the enthusiasm in the nurse's voice since it still seemed kinda "eh" to me. That was until she told me that my chances were originally 1 in 60 (!!!) just due to my age alone, so this is a pretty huge jump in the right direction. Additionally, this puts me somewhere in the range of a 26 year old, which I will definitely take.

What's funny is that until we heard these numbers, Mr. Blogger and I were pretty set on doing an amniocentesis because of all the risks associated with my...yes...age. (Can't get enough of hearing how freakin' old I am all the time.) We had already ruled out a CVS and the Triple Screen and were going to go straight for the amnio only.

But when I called the genetic counselor we had met with prior to the Nuchal Scan, she told me that one way to look at it is that they don't necessarily recommend amnio for 26 year olds.

So now, after A LOT of thought, we've decided to go with just a level II ultrasound, done around the 18th week. The risks involved with the amnio ended up being more than I was willing to take in the long run. And this type of ultrasound should hopefully show us even more. For now, I can only hope things continue on in a positive manner.

(As a final say on what has become such a controversial matter, I have found that a lot of people have given me both solicited and unsolicited advice on this matter and the best thing I can say is that it was our personal decision. Everyone does what is right for them and I would support anyone's feelings and thought processes involved in their choices. I guess I just wanted to make sure I wasn't offending anyone.)

Anywho... long and the short of it is that we're doing ok. And most importantly Beanie seems to be kicking and thrashing away (not that I can feel it yet but you know what I mean)! I think I've had another two scans since I last posted and I'm still amazed every time I see that.

Oh, and she/he/whatever seems to have a penchant for ska-dancing. That's our child.

All ultrasounds. All the time.

2006-07-21T21:59:00.000-07:00

(Seriously. I'm about to retitle my blog "This Week's Beanie Action.")

We had another ultrasound today and I was actually so nervous about it, I hadn't even wanted to blog the fear. It's just so scary and terrifying every time I watch that screen and pray to see SOMETHING. There have just been far too many times that I didn't.

To start though, the doctor first tried the doppler over my abdomen to see if we could hear the heartbeat and after pressing the crap out of my midsection...nothing.

I was literally shaking as we walked to the ultrasound room. Even though she said it was entirely common not to hear anything this early (10 weeks, 5 days and counting), when she then had trouble getting anything on the monitor, I swear, I was THIS close to passing out.

She complained about my strangely shaped uterus (news to me!) and then...finally...there was Beanie. Heartbeat flashing away. I am apparently pregnant with E.T.

But get this. Beanie is an actual, like, BABY. Ok fetus. But you get my point. (And did you know that this week I officially went from embryo to fetus? The things you learn from obsessing, I tell ya'.)

I mean, she/he/whatever isn't a kidney bean anymore. There were ARMS. And LEGS. And a HEAD.

And then she/he/whatever JUMPED. Like a hiccup or something.

THERE IS A LIVING BEING WITH A HEAD AND APPENDAGES AND THE ABILITY TO HICCUP INSIDE OF ME.

That has suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks.

And while I allowed myself the requisite 12 hours of joy, I am of course on to new worries. Like next Thursday's Nuchal Scan. But one hurdle at a time.

In the meantime, I hope and pray you don't find this a bit indulgent, but I have to be honest that the last couple weeks have been, well, hellish. I am so torn because I feel as though I'm not allowed to complain. I should feel LUCKY and BLESSED. And I do. Really. Obviously. Beyond belief.

But Beanie. Can we chat for a sec? We all know that you rule the roost. In every way possible. And I will do everything and anything for the rest of my life to make sure you are happy and healthy.

But you're kicking my ass.

First there was the Gestational Diabetes diagnosis and the constant finger pricking I have to do now. It's ok...it's just a little tough to hear the dietician tell me I need to stop eating so many carbs when I'M A VEGETARIAN AND THAT'S THE MAJORITY OF MY DIET.

And I bet you didn't know you could have diarrhea and constipation at the same time. Or ravenous hunger while nauseous?

Then there's the constant and never-letting-up vomit-o-rama. It's especially fun when I'm working. (This had to be one of the first times a doctor asked why I'd LOST weight at a check up.)

I cried my eyes out last weekend because I felt SO DAMN GUILTY for being sick and tired of being sick and tired. But I just broke down.

PLEASE don't think I don't know how lucky I am to even be in this position. I keep telling myself that if there's a healthy baby at the end of this, it was ALL worth it. And it is. I guess I never realized it would be so hard.

Ok, it's off my chest. So now, little hiccupping Beanie. Do what you gotta do. I can take it.

But if you could let me eat like, a WHOLE bagel, that would be awesome.

Houston...we have a heartbeat

2006-07-06T22:05:00.000-07:00

I know you can't see a damn thing and really, well, Beanie is only someone a mother (or a father...ok or grandma) could love at this point. But if you look at the bottom left where the "cross, dot, dot, dot, cross" measurement is, there's a blob with a bright spot.

The blob is my perfectly sized eight week, four day old Beanie. That bright spot, my wonderful friends, is a heartbeat. Honest.

You see, this is the first time ever that we've been able to see such a wonderment.

I can't even begin to tell you what that means to us. I cried on the table and told the doctor that it was the first time I've ever cried over something GOOD at an ultrasound.

I know that if it's at all in the realm of possibility to have good thoughts and prayers lead to this, well, I don't know that I'll ever be able to thank you enough. Now, that doesn't mean you can start slacking, mind you. We have quite a few hurdles to go.

For now though, THANK YOU. To anyone and everyone who wished we'd see this day. It's truly a miracle.

But lest you think me too optimistic...I of course only allowed myself about an hour of happiness before I got online and Googled "chances of miscarriage after heartbeat". It's a hard habit to break.

Be careful what you wish for...

2006-06-26T13:46:00.000-07:00

Is anybody still out there reading?

I really should start this entry apologizing for my absence and telling you all how much I've missed you. And as much as both statements really are ENTIRELY appropriate, well, I have bigger fish to fry. Ugh. Fish. Frying.

You see...just the mere THOUGHT of a fish fry is going to send me running for the bathroom, for oh, about the fifty gazillionth time.

I'm pregnant.

As my step-dad likes to say...AGAIN.

Yup, preggo number five. (Wasn't that a song?) But let me start from the beginning, shall I? Hold on a sec though. I need a sip of ginger ale.

Nope, not helping.

It all started after miscarriage number four. Mr. Blogger and I decided the hell with this "just keep trying" bullshit and after meeting with fertility specialists and undergoing even MORE tests, we finally came to the decision to go through IVF.

We were supposed to do it in May, but our financing fell through. Then we were shooting for July. I began some meds, we started using condoms (VERY odd for people trying to get pregnant, but we did as we were told) and all was full speed ahead.

Until May 21, 2006. Yes, my little beanie, I know EXACTLY when you were conceived.

SOMEBODY forgot to use one that night. And SOMEBODY else had absolutely no idea where she was on her cycle, given that she was for once relieved of the obsessive record keeping. But well, what can you do. Oops. I mean really, what are the chances, right?

Actually, I KNOW the chances. I was watching a program on couples trying to conceive through IVF and one of the women was my age. She went through SIX rounds of IVF with no luck and then ended up using donor eggs. To quote the announcer, "The chances of Mrs. Infertile conceiving on her own at her age is FIVE PERCENT".

FIVE.

I'm sorry, did you say FIVE?

I immediately began to cry.

So when, a couple weeks later, we were heading off to a weekend trip to L.A., I started noticing I sure was having to use the bathroom an awful lot. (Ahhh the days when using the bathroom a lot only implied frequent urination...such times of innocence.) Hmmmm. And I was getting a bit of heartburn. Double hmmm.

Now, as I stated before, I've been through this part before. A second trimester? Nope, never. But I've at least had a few weeks of joy in my time.

I know the signs. And I had a funny feeling. So we picked up a First Response on the way up to my aunt and uncle's where we were staying for the weekend.

Saturday morning I bounded out of bed after the fourth time of getting up to go to the bathroom that night and decided to try. The line was really really faint. But it was there. Sunday morning, same thing. But a little darker.

I have now decided to trademark the name Most Fertile Infertile Woman on the Planet®.

The following week I had jury duty, and of course I was chosen. I even told them I was pregnant, hoping that would help me in some way, but nope. They apparently wanted someone who pushed past the elderly and infirm to get to the restroom when they finally called a break.

And in that time, I still had to make it to two blood tests to see if my beta levels were rising. They did. And that made me very happy.

But I know a thing or two about being happy at this point. It never lasts. Ok Mom and M-I-L, SORRY. It never lasted BEFORE.

But here's where the interesting turn of events takes place.

I have always enjoyed being pregnant. I've never been sick. EVER. At the most, I get heartburn and that's nothing a couple Tums won't fix. I'm usually just hungry and tired.

Well the pregnancy goddesses have decided to laugh in the face of the one who once wrote THIS. Just skip down to the last line if you like. Now you may laugh as well.

OH MY GOD have I been sick. All the pregnancy books list a litany of digestive issues you MAY experience while pregnant, and may I say, overachiever that I am, I've had 'em all!

I can't decide if the puking or the mind-numbingly painful constipation is more fun. Either way, it is AWFULLY hard to concentrate at work. (Oh my compadre in puke...I feel for you...I really do.)

And frankly, after the Weekend of Puking A Go-Go, that's why I'm home today.

My doctor ordered an early ultrasound for last Thursday so we could see what was happening at this particularly worrisome point in my pregnancies, and I was pretty excited about it until we got there. The screen was away from me, the tech didn't say a word and I was told to call my doctor for the results. What the hell?

Only today (yes, I had to wait FOUR FREAKIN' DAYS for the results) did they tell me the following, and I quote...

"Confirmed intrauterine pregnancy of 6 to 7 weeks."

No. Really. I COULD HAVE TOLD YOU THAT YOU BIG DORKS!

The nurse said at a scan that early, that's all they're trying to establish. It's not ectopic and it's the correct size. I thought we'd see a heartbeat, which I know other women have at this point, so I'm now of course worried and PISSED. The nurse on the other hand, thinks everything is just hunky dory, given my beta numbers and now the scan.

EASY FOR YOU TO SAY, LADY.

The big day of the Big Ultrasound is July 6. I am so nervous, my knees are knocking already.

So today I am 7 weeks and 1 day, which is longer than it lasted last time, but not as long as others. That Big Ultrasound has been an arbiter of doom on many an occasion, so if I can just get through that with good news, well, that will be a first.

In the meantime, I tell myself that it's GOOD to be sick. And worry will get you nowhere.

One of these days, I may just believe it.

Sick and tired

2006-05-15T15:52:00.000-07:00

So here I sit, hacking up a lung, voice completely lost and sinuses blocked with what appears to be cement. I even called in sick to work.

But I knew it was coming.

I have ALWAYS gotten sick, broken a bone, had an accident, or caught some mysterious malady when I'm stressed. I've long ago accepted that I'm just that kind of person. You know the type.

But what makes me mad is being called a Drama Queen. I thought that was reserved for those who actually enjoy the attention. Kind of like Janice on The Sopranos. And I really can't stand her.

To the contrary, I HATE being that person. I HATE knowing that if someone at work is sick...I will be the one to catch it. If I fall down...I'll be the one who ends up in a cast and on crutches, while others just brush themselves off and get on with it. If anything can go wrong in a pregnancy...well, you get my drift.

And boy has it been stressful around here. Or around work, more specifically.

You see, without risking my place in that ever-tenuous ladder of success, I'll leave it at this:

The auditors came.

The auditors saw.

The auditors fired people.

And some others quit. In the end, those who weren't affected (which frankly, I feel AFFECTED as hell) were STILL stuck in Spanish Inquisition meetings all day. Let's just say that the end result was my now doing the job of THREE people.

It sucks. And if I knew a better word for "sucks" which would not involve pressing my swelling-with-congestion brain any further into action...I would use it. I'm just too damned tired.

But on the upside, Mr. Blogger made me grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup this weekend, even though I had no appetite and couldn't finish a meal (hey...there's another upside!). He plied me with juice even though I complained it burned my lips, which are raw from all the open-mouth breathing.

So yet again, I feel I shouldn't complain.

Do you ever feel like you somehow aren't allowed to have EVERY aspect of your life in order? That there's some kind of alarm that sounds on God's desk whenever you're TOO happy?

Like, you may have found the perfect mate, but good luck with the whole "making a baby with him" thing? Or you may have always been told you're smart and capable and a hard worker, but you can't help but feel like your career is just a big pile of time-wasting poo? Or you may be blessed with wonderful friends and family, but your health will always be in question?

Yeah. Me too.

In the meantime, please excuse me. I need to go blow my nose.

Missing

2006-04-30T21:05:00.000-07:00

Jeez...I can't believe it's been three whole weeks. But thanks for checking in on me, and your comments wondering where I'd gone were very touching. ;)

Truth is...I was bumming. We were semi-all set to go on the IVF thing when the financing kinda fell through at the 11th hour and I was pretty devastated. I spent a whole day off work just crying and alternately vomiting. If that tells you anything.

It's no one's fault really. And I feel selfish for being so wrapped up in my own issues, but it just felt so disappointing to have worked up to it, only to have the rug pulled out from under us. I'm only human.

And it took me some time, but I finally had to let go. I had to tell myself that it's just a detour and it WILL happen eventually. This was all just out of our hands for now. It obviously wasn't meant to happen so quickly. Or something equally mature-sounding.

But that was a while ago, and I haven't had the energy/time/motivation to feel I had anything of interest to say since.

Then I got to meet Teebs. Mr. Blogger and I met her for dinner while she was here on business and I can't tell you how lovely she is. But then you already knew that. It was wonderful to meet her in person and finally talk about all the things we'd emailed or blogged about. I wondered if I overwhelmed her with my talkativeness (I can't help it), and I was so worried about what she would possibly write about our meeting...I needn't have worried. She is the epitome of grace.

Speaking of MB, he's in London for a few days visiting his kids and as many relatives/friends as he can fit in. So I've been really down since he left because:

A. I couldn't get the time off work (aka...I was too afraid to ask) to join him

B. Our anniversary was on the 29th

C. I just don't sleep well when he's not there

I snuck an anniversary card in his shaving kit, but it wasn't the same. We did go to Seattle and Vancouver last weekend for a wedding, so we said we'd count that as our weekend away, but I couldn't help but be sad we weren't together on the day.

Not that I wanted to take him away from where he is (his son's birthday was this weekend and from all reports everyone had a great time celebrating). I just wish I had been there with him.

In the meantime, he's bringing me home Jaffa Cakes and Marmite Crisps. What more could a gal want?

Except her husband to share them with.

No-baby blues

2006-04-09T20:48:00.000-07:00

I've spent this weekend in a bit of a funk, to the point where I guess I was sighing so loudly and frequently, that MB kept asking what was wrong.

Truth is, it's all this fertility stuff.

I've kind of avoided talking about too many details, partly to not bore you, and partly to live in denial that I have to face it quite seriously...SOON.

I've written many a letter recently trying to get SOMETHING paid for by my insurance (the blood tests after my miscarriage were even denied by my HMO, so that should tell you something) and after we met with our high risk guy, I've been reading up on all the options.

But when we got out of that appointment, I felt as though I should just give up. The charts he showed us, where the angle takes a STEEP downturn at age 40, left me positively bereft.

I mean really, why bother? Apparently, at 41, I'm as good as menopausal according to their charts. Sure, I keep getting pregnant. Sure, I haven't had one stinking thing show up on any test I've done.

But I should just call it a day, I guess.

Except that I'm not ready to.

So that leaves a few options. Trying on our own. IVF. Egg donors. Surrogates. Adoption.

I'm not feeling exceptionally positive about continuing to try on our own. And not to say that I wouldn't miscarry again with any other method, but I feel like I need more medical intervention.

I told the doctor that I'm getting tired of getting a positive and then no one seeing me until my first ultrasound. This last pregnancy, it was only because I had done my homework and basically threw a hissy fit, that I even knew to have the beta tests done. I need a little more hand-holding than that.

So then we have IVF.

What's funny is that I've known some women I've worked with over the years who have gone through IVF and I always vowed I would never bother. If it didn't happen naturally, then it wasn't meant to be. Or some other such young, idealistic nonsense.

But here we are. We have the follow up appointment with our doc on Tuesday morning, and I have started to feel strangely terrified. I had a blood test after the last one, which he followed up with me by phone, and my eggs are fine, or the levels testing them are. Or...whatever, it's very confusing and technical. I'm about to become a Reproductive Endocrinologist myself, based on what I've had to learn.

So again, nothing is wrong with me that they can find. I don't know if that makes me happy or annoys me. I want answers.

The IVF would at least let us ram a half dozen of those puppies up there with the hope that at least ONE will stick this time. Remind me to laugh when I'm pregnant with quadruplets or something.

But the more I've read about it, the more it scares me. I don't know how to explain it. It's not the giving myself shots every night, or starting on the lovely side-effects of Lupron, or anything like that.

I think it's, well, what if THAT doesn't work? What if it all goes wrong again? What if we try and try and I just CANNOT END UP WITH A BABY.

We've pretty much ruled out the donor eggs or surrogates, etc. But then I said to MB, where do you set your end point? When is it time to give up?

I honestly don't know.

Maybe that's why I'm so terrified.

I STILL love my Bruins though

2006-04-04T22:20:00.000-07:00

I was tempted to just title this "I'm depressed" and then only write that "I don't want to talk about it".

VERY tempted.

As a matter of fact, as soon as the game was over last night, I went to bed at some ridiculously early hour because I was so sad.

But what can you say, really? They outplayed us. It's that simple. There was no bad officiating to blame it on, or luck, or any other bitter nonsense.

Florida was just better. They were on fire through much of the tourney, so it wasn't entirely unexpected. Therefore, yes, they deserved to win.

I can't take that away from them.

(And it was very cute how many of you were concerned about me! I wore a black suit to work today, if that means anything.)

Our Bruins are a young team and there is so much potential there. I'm proud of how far they went and honestly, I never dreamed we'd be in the title game when this all started. So on to next year!

And really you guys, this sure was a nice diversion from all the baby-making worry and job stress and stupid foot problem I now have. I loved every minute of it.

True blue to the end.

Yes this film is from last week's game, but...

2006-04-01T23:28:00.000-08:00

If you want to know what I'm experiencing today, this comes close...

ON TO THE NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP GAME ON MONDAY NIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GO BRUINS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Every day is a winding road...

2006-03-26T16:44:00.000-08:00

Yes Rock, you're going to have to hear about my Bruins for another WHOLE WEEK. You poor thing, you.

FINAL FOUR BABY!!!

But lest I lose you again with all the basketball talk, I decided to share a few things that also touch my heart.

Did you know it's Mother's Day in the UK today? So to the woman I must worship for the man her son became...

Happy Mum's Day M-I-L!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(May you get to spoil all your grandchildren and hand them off to their parents when they get cranky...what more could you want?)

Next, as I was reading other blogs today, purely by chance, I happened to look back and see when I first started this blog. And guess what? It was exactly six months ago this very day.

So I decided to share the things that have happened and affected me most in that time (in no particular order)...

1. Because I put myself out there to someone who I thought needed it, two people I've introduced are now in love. Lissa and Betty...you know my heart is with both of you today.

2. I finally went back to work after almost six months on Disability from a big fat physical breakdown due to the stress of my previous job. Amazingly, and with everyone's help and caring, I'm doing all right. OK, I cried when I got home on Thursday night, but I blame that on my sore foot and PMS. I'm allowed.

3. I got pregnant in January, which is a good thing, but then I miscarried (AGAIN), which wasn't. All of your kind words and true thoughtfulness were a lifeline to me. I'm hoping you'll still be around when we figure out what to do next.

4. I made friends, which means the world to me. Even just today, of all crazy things, I received an email from Miranda, whom I found from her "Person of the Week" status at Melanhead's, and who turned out TO HAVE KNOWN MY DAD. How "it's a small world after all" is THAT?!

And Teebs and I are going to meet up when she's in San Diego on business next month! I'm so excited!

I love that this little project of mine to have something to do while I sat around on my butt all day...well...it's turned into so much more. (And I have my ex-employees to thank for getting me started to begin with. You guys know me all too well.)

Here's to the excitement of the next six months...I can only imagine what awaits.

The screaming...oh, the screaming

2006-03-23T21:58:00.000-08:00

Before I get to John's tag response (I feel so special to have been tagged by a Bloggie-nominated writer, no less!), I have to say...

YEAH BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now, any Bruin worth her salt knows exactly what I'm talking about, but let me explain.

First, WE WON TONIGHT, meaning we advance to the Elite Eight.

That should sound exciting in itself, but (and I know I'm losing some of you here, but humor my enthusiasm at least), at one point this evening we were down by ALMOST 20 POINTS. Or something close to that. As a matter of fact, is was SOOO bad, that I started reading a magazine.

The words, "You know, there's something to be said for losing by so much. At least I'm not nervous about the outcome" ACTUALLY CAME FROM THESE TRUE BLUE LIPS.

I am ASHAMED.

For my gutty little Bruins came ALL THE WAY BACK AND WON IN THE LAST FEW SECONDS. (Shades of Tyus Edney's last second shot in '95 I tell ya'...DOES ANYONE KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT? No? Oh well...then watch this and tell me YOU wouldn't have been excited!)

My throat is raw from the screaming. My sore foot that I've been hobbling on all day from a crazy injury earlier in the week...I JUMPED UP AND DOWN ON IT.

It ain't called March Madness for nuthin'!

The price you pay for supporting your team.

(I must also now mention, in a highly jarring segue that there is various reproductive-type news on the horizon as well (don't get your hopes up there...we just saw the high risk guy is all) and when I'm ready to talk about it at length...and I do mean length...I'll devote a future blog to our decisions on that topic as well. Frankly, we haven't even made our final decisions, so that's the main reason for the hold up.)

Now back to your regularly scheduled meme...

Black and White or Color; how do you prefer your movies?

Depends on the movie. I mean really, can you imagine "Casablanca" in color?

And "Good Night and Good Luck" is an excellent example how a modern film can still employ the effects only black and white can produce.

Criminy, I sound like some kind of film school snob.

(A post script...I just went back and read John's comments and two other people mentioned the same examples...I SWEAR I didn't know that!)

What is the one single subject that bores you to near-death?

Anything dry, numbers-driven and monotonous. Like Accounting. Or Statistics.

Thus my perfect fit of a job in Banking.

MP3s, CDs, Tapes or Records: what is your favorite medium for prerecorded music?

I can't tell you how much I cherish my old LP's, but I have nothing to play them on. I love the feeling of holding a big honkin' album in my hand...studying the artwork, reading the lyrics. It reminds me so much of the hours spent as a kid...lying on the carpet next to the stereo console...singing along and getting lost in the music.

But for the grown up me...I guess CDs. They work in my car. (Can you tell what a sophisticated audiophile I am?)

You are handed one first class trip plane ticket to anywhere in the world and ten million dollars cash. All of this is yours provided that you leave and not tell anyone where you are going. Ever. This includes family, friends, everyone. Would you take the money and ticket and run?

Nope. If I can't take my husband, I'm not going anywhere.

But if they gave me TWO...that would be pretty tempting.

Seriously, what do you consider the world's most pressing issue now?

It's a toss up between poverty (and all that encompasses) and war. I think that given our resources, there's no excuse for either.

Oh crap. Then there's AIDS. And discrimination. And the imminent fight to keep Roe v. Wade legal.

I'm depressed now.

How would you rectify the world's most pressing issue?

I am quite honestly the least politically savvy person you'll meet, so I'm afraid of coming off like an idiot. But I know enough to vote. And to express my opinion about what really matters to me.

You are given the chance to go back and change one thing in your life; what would that be?

This is SO easy. I was just telling Mr. Blogger about this last night!

I would love nothing more than to go back to my 5'3 135lb self in 10th grade and say, YOU'RE FINE. DON'T START THAT FIRST DIET.

Because I thought I was such a monstrously fat, disgusting piece of crap, I ended up with a lifetime of eating disorders and a seriously fucked up metabolism. Had I just stayed the PERFECTLY CUTE person I was, I'd be in such a better place physically AND mentally.

I kick myself for it EVERY SINGLE DAY.

You are given the chance to go back and change one event in world history, what would that be?

Make Mrs. Hitler have an abortion.

A night at the opera or a night at the Grand Ole' Opry? Which do you choose?

Are you kidding me? I have a best friend who is a bona fide world-renowned opera star and I hate country music. No contest.

What is the one great unsolved crime of all time you'd like to solve?

Who killed Jon-Benet? It hurts me too much to think it was her parents. But if it talks like a duck and walks like a duck...

One famous author can come to dinner with you. Who would that be, and what would you serve for the meal?

I just saw a biography on F. Scott Fitzgerald and it made me want to be Zelda. Yeah, I know. Besides all the madness and infidelity and stuff. I still love him as a writer.

Plus, you'd only have to serve them alcohol. No food required.

You discover that John Lennon was right, that there is no hell below us, and above us there is only sky. What's the first immoral thing you might do to celebrate this fact?

Well I'm sure my husband would love me to say have sex in public.

So a dictator walks into a bar...

2006-03-20T20:08:00.000-08:00

Not a soul at work knows of my blog, nor do I intend to share it. I like it that way and I think it makes sense to avoid Doocification. I'm fairly sure I'm safe when it comes to relaying a few things to you.

But worry not. I'm not stupid...there's only so much I can mention before the self-censor comes into play.

So considering I've only been there just short of two months, and there are quite a few employees in our branch, I'm still getting to know everyone. You see, my branch was once a "one branch bank" before it was bought out by the bank I currently work for, so it's a pretty huge area. Especially when you compare it to my former in-store branch that was so tiny, we quite literally bumped into each other.

The people on "the other side of the branch" tend to be older, and male. Most of us in Operations are younger and female. Guess who makes the most money?

But that's not my point today.

We recently hired a new temp teller since the previous one (an itty-bitty gal with a humongous fake rack that threatened to tip her over at every turn) had to leave. Imagine our surprise when the man who showed up to replace her was a good ten years older than the average age of the rest of my tellers, MALE and with a thick accent. He was also wearing a suit and throughout the day, as he observed the tellers, he was consistently mistaken for the manager, or better yet, an auditor.

It turned out that he is Iraqi. I noticed that a lot of people were initially ill-at-ease with him, but I think it was mostly due to his being a bit hard to understand. I inquired about his background, which turned out to be fascinating, and he has since learned to open up with the others.

He made small talk with the men about sports in the lunchroom (which I of course had to butt into since my Bruins are on a roll in the NCAA tourney...yeah baby!), he brought in homemade baklava that his newlywed wife had prepared, and he quickly learned to keep it VERY breezy with the resident Moody Girl. It amazes me to see how well he's done with the varied personalities in our group.

I think that's how he's managed his whole life though.

So today, I overheard him ask my assistant, "Do you want to hear a joke? It's about Saddam Hussein."

My ears immediately perked up to find out what he'd say.

My assistant, an sweet woman who also immigrated from another country, innocently asked, "You mean your president?"

I cringed. And I knew what he'd say.

"No", he calmly replied, "My president is George Bush."

He wasn't mad. Just matter of fact. And frankly, I never thought I'd hear someone say that with so much pride. But to hear what he's been through to finally reside in a country he now calls "his"...well, it's inspiring.

The joke wasn't that funny, and needless to say it made Hussein out to be an idiot. But I laughed because he got such a kick out of it; I don't think I've ever heard him laugh so hard!

Can you imagine the joy he gets...JUST FROM BEING ABLE TO TELL THE JOKE AT ALL?

I can. Because it was written all over his face.

Life is good my friends. Life is good.

I suck

2006-03-13T20:18:00.000-08:00

Honestly, there was no better title of this post.

I am feeling really down on my blogging lately. It's all I can do to get through the day and find the effort to eat, crash and watch American Idol. Oh, and spend some time with my husband. The poor guy never sees me conscious.

Weren't we supposed to be making babies or something?

I had no idea that going back to work would suck the ever-living life out of me. (Ever-living "LIFE"? What the hell kind of mixed metaphor is that? See...I'm slipping.)

You guys all manage to do this, and do it WELL, on a regular basis. So what's my problem?

It's not as though I don't have things to share. I do. I can't tell you how often something happens and I think about how "in the old days I would have blogged about this".

Such as the fact the UCLA is ranked #2 in our bracket for March Madness. GO BRUINS! I am so excited, I can't stand it. (M-I-L: March Madness is the basketball championship...football season doesn't begin 'til the Fall, er, Autumn.)

Or I could have told you I managed to talk a good guy friend of mine out of marrying a woman from another country, purely for her to have a visa. I talked to the guy for HOURS on Sunday, and well, she may come to hate me, but I'm not letting a good man go that route.

See? Now had I elaborated, that could have been very interesting. (Don't worry...he doesn't read this. But she might. Eek.)

It drives me crazy that I can't tell you of all the quirky nonsense that happens at my job on a consistent basis. I don't think a day goes by that someone doesn't make me laugh. Intended or not.

Like the customer who...damn...I'm not supposed to talk about work, am I? You'd never guess that bank management was so amusing.

I do have to tell you about the tiny little boy who took one of the cookies we have available for customers, loudly exclaiming "These cookies are DELICIOUS!" (with all the aplomb of a true gourmand). All seventeen employees in the entire branch collapsed in giggles. Customers too.

OK, it's also the funniest sight in the world to me when grown men take a lollipop from jars on the teller line. Maybe it's a Kojak thing.

But I've noticed that it bothers me that I don't find the time to write about such things.

I've noticed how everyone else has such rapier wit and opinions of value and interest...on a daily basis.

I've noticed how Teebs is so ON THE MONEY with everything she says, every single day, and I am so envious of her talent and warmth to all. She is the blogger I wish to be. Well, maybe even the woman I want to be.

As are the rest of you, in all honesty. You make me laugh, cry, think and enjoy myself immensely. You're smart, well-written, generous, opinionated and astonishingly open about what concerns you.

See, I do read you. All the time.

I just never end up with a chance to write.

The good the bad and the gorgeous

2006-03-06T20:18:00.000-08:00

By somewhat popular demand, I am going to go ahead and do a highly random recap of last night's festivities. I'm slightly depressed, so it may be colored by that. (And my resulting M&M's consumption.)

Yes my darlings, Brokeback lost. Well, not entirely, but it lost Best Picture, which was the big enchilada. It did win Best Screenplay and Director, so that was nice. Hmmmm...we liked the story and the way you filmed it, but weeeeeeeellllll...we gave Best Picture to Crash.

Huh???

But I really shouldn't bag on Crash since I haven't seen it. Maybe because it takes place in L.A., I felt it would perhaps hit a little too close to home? I don't know. I'll get around to it when I come out of mourning.

So on with the show (I didn't take notes, so this is going purely on memory and thus not in order)!

1. Latinas rule!

My fellow Hispanic ladies were ROCKIN' the gowns last night. SERIOUSLY, could Salma Hayek, Jessica Alba and (ok, even though I don't like Ms. Lopez, I have to give her credit where credit is due) Jennifer Lopez have been any more beautiful? When I was growing up and wanted nothing more than to be tall, thin, blonde and blue eyed (basically I guess your standard Charlize Theron or Nicole Kidman), I never thought I'd see a night that it helped to be short, dark and voluptuous (like ME!).

(OK, in all honesty I also loved loved loved Keira Knightley as well, but I'm trying to make a point here...)

The hair was stunning, the colors were magnificent and for the love of God...they had FIGURES!

Salma...you little five foot nothin' ball o'curves...can I please be YOU now instead?

Mom's during-the-show phone call: "What's up with seating all the Latinos together? Did they think they'd all want to speak Spanish to each other or something?"

2. I happened to LIKE Jon Stewart

I've read some iffy reviews of his hosting abilities, but I thought he was perfect. You can't be too terribly snarky at this biggest awards show on the planet, but he did get in enough of his personality to keep it from being a complete snooze-fest. It wasn't his fault that all the awards were fairly predictable.

I thought the opening was freakin' hilarious. Especially seeing his joy over having George Clooney in his bed. Or Billy Crystal and Chris Rock in the tent. Hehehehe!

How about "And we never had those problems....AGAIN." And his "Next, the Oscars salute montages. We have literally run out of film clips!" comment was EXACTLY what I was thinking...what WAS up with all the montages? Was it a big year for film noir and no one told me? And wow...in movies...sometimes actors play REAL PEOPLE. Fascinating.

Mom's during-the-show phone call: "What was Lauren Bacall introducing? I was on the phone. Oh, film noir? I wondered why they were showing scenes from all my favorite movies!"

3. George is God

Speaking of Mr. Clooney, let's just go ahead and crown him King of the Prom. He was freakin' GORGEOUS, classy, articulate AND funny. What more could we ask for? His talent impresses me to no end. Who knew?

Mom's during-the-show phone call: "Well, I was very happy for him. I enjoyed his speech immensely. It's important to mention these things!"

4. It IS hard out here for a pimp

Perhaps even more than my audible gasp over Crash winning, my almost dropping the champagne glass of sparkling apple cider (doin' it up RIGHT here people!) when Three 6 Mafia won for best song...was the most unexpected moment of the evening. Don't get me wrong...I thought it was fantastic! Anyone that excited to win is A-OK by me. Sometimes we need a little shake-up.

Oh, and I've had the damn song stuck in my head all day.

Mom's during-the-show phone call: "Wasn't that nice for them!"

5. Don't mess with Meryl

I am now going to totally steal this entire section from MSN Entertainment's Kim Morgan because she is SO on the money:

Lily Tomlin and Meryl Streep Rule
Look, there's a reason these people are actors: They like to perform. And though we don't expect Oscar-nominated actors and presenters to act like barking seals (it is, after all, their moment to be somewhat human), we love it when they get on stage and entertain us. This is exactly what Lily Tomlin and Meryl Streep did when announcing Robert Altman's Lifetime Achievement Award. Discussing the legendary filmmaker's career in Altman-esque overlapping dialogue, they managed to not only explain just why Altman deserved this accolade but illustrated what makes him so unique. And it was hilarious. We know Tomlin is a comedienne, but who would've thought Meryl Streep could steal the show from Ben Stiller, Will Ferrell and Steve Carell in one fell swoop? Guess there really is a reason she's been nominated for 13 Academy Awards.

And didn't she look FAB as well?

(Mom forgot to call. I was shocked because she loves Altman. Maybe she was too busy actually watching.)

6. Yes Reese, you're cute as a button

I also didn't see Walk the Line, but from what I've seen, she deserved Best Actress. And she is a little firecracker who seems to have her priorities straight.

But didn't you KINDA want Felicity Huffman to win one for the old gals?

Mom's during-the-show phone call: "Well, I liked Felicity."

7. WHAT THE FRICK WAS UP WITH PLAYING THE MUSIC WHILE THEY WERE GIVING THEIR 'THANK YOU'S???

'Nuff said.

Mom is equally annoyed.

There's more to say about the genius of Philip Seymour Hoffman and Ang Lee and the wonderfully haunting score from Brokeback Mountain...but I leave you with these sage words:

"Crash just didn't touch me like Brokeback did."

You got it Madre.

All Oscars...all the time

2006-03-05T13:10:00.000-08:00

The popcorn is prepared, The Man is going out to get candy...I AM READY!

It's Academy Awards day people! And that means it's my Super Bowl, Olympics and March Madness all rolled into one...and that's saying A LOT for me, 'cause I LOVE LOVE LOVE all of the above!

I considered live-blogging the event, but frankly, my typing skills aren't good enough. Well, that and I don't have a laptop. We do have a TV signal in our computer which, right this minute for instance, is allowing me to watch E!'s all-freakin'-day coverage in an itty bitty screen in my monitor's upper right corner. (Did you know that there is makeup with ACTUAL CRUSHED DIAMONDS in it? Sounds kind of painful to me.)

But you gotta watch the Big Night on the Big Screen! Our 50" HDTV that MB HAD TO HAVE was made for this.

And I can guarantee you that Mom will be calling me every time there is:

A. An upset ("Can you BELIEVE he/she won?!)

B. A fabulous and/or fabulously hideous outfit ("That color is STUNNING on her!" or conversely the ever-popular "What was she/he thinking!?" OH! And I forgot...the Spanish phrase often used by my grandmother "No mas se peiño y se fue!"...it doesn't exactly translate, and frankly I can neither speak nor spell Spanish very well, but you generally use it when you see someone who looks like they just ran out of the house without so much as a comb through their hair...the ultimate put-down from my well-coiffed beautician Gaa)

C. A touching moment ("I just got all TEARY!")

D. A Susan Sarandon sighting (I don't think she'll be there this year, but because Suze and I have the same birthday (not year though), and well, she's just so cool...Mom always calls me if there's news to be shared. For example, when Ms. S was one of the flag-bearers in the Olympics (who knew?), Mom was BEYOND thrilled. We're like sisters, me and La Sarandon...I tell ya'.)

I kid, because I love you Mamacita...it's because of you that I'm so wrapped up in all this extravaganza! ;)

You see, when you grow up in L.A., you can't help but know someone who is an actor/producer/director/scene painter in the biz. And I think I honestly did date all of the above. Hollyweird is in your blood, whether you want it to be or not.

So since I'm a second generation L.A. chiquita, Mom and I have always had that connection. Did I ever tell you how John Stamos should have been my brother? It's a long story. Suffice to say that Mom got engaged a lot when she was younger.

(She is sooo going to kill me when she reads this blog.)

So we ALWAYS sat down to watch the Oscars together every year. We would jump up and down; we would cry; we would shout at our outrage...you name it.

When I was in London and had to watch the show at the ungodly hour of 1:00AM in the morning, I STILL called my mom to share reactions. And now that she's in Tucson, I know she'll have the cordless right by her side while she relaxes on the couch.

I won't go over too many of my picks here (go see Rock...he's got the right idea). But I will be rooting for Brokeback, which I do think was a wonderful, emotionally-wrenching film, but more importantly, I never thought that in my lifetime a love story between two men would ever be so successful.

See how excited I am when the run-on sentences JUST WON'T STOP???

Trying to put on a happy Monday face

2006-02-26T21:47:00.000-08:00

First off, I need to update my Blog-A-Ma-Roll since there are so many of you I read daily now (even if I don't get the chance to comment as often as I'd like), who weren't on there previously. So I promise to do so tomorrow...ok, maybe Tuesday. Monday nights tend to mainly consist of "how-quickly-can-I-undress-and-get-to-bed" these days.

Secondly, since it's Sunday night, and you know how I do enjoy being depressed at such a time (although I must say that this week's existential crisis actually occurred in the MORNING, so we're all done now), I just had to give you guys a few links to both frighten and then hopefully inspire.

My sorority always did say to end on a positive.

*Now, if this doesn't scare the shit out of you, I don't know what will. I can't tell you how much I worry for future generations of women.

*First you split with your longtime fiancee, now this. Get well, Ms. Crow.

*I am sad the Olympics are over, and I think I have an itty bitty crush on Apolo Anton Ohno. No, actually, I just think he has the most gorgeous teeth I have ever seen. I'm just jealous.

Oh, and if I were a gay man, I would be ALL OVER that Johnny Weir. Always did like the iconoclasts.

*This story made me cry. I love that kind of feel-good stuff...can't help it.

Everybody have a good week ahead, and keep kicking ass!

Makes you want to sing the Golden Girls theme, doesn't it?

2006-02-22T20:57:00.000-08:00

I can't believe how kind and generous you all have been. Well, I can, given that I've gotten to know you all by now. And you're pretty amazing people. What the freakin' hell would I do without you? Through EVERYTHING.

I am still semi-against the begging for baby money thing...but it's nice to know there are people in the world who would even consider donating to such a thing.

Notice I said semi.

But now, I just can't bring everybody down any more. Yeah, I know I've said that before. I'm just feeling like I'm losing you guys with all my pathetic downer of all downer posts these days. (Well, except for the times I get to talk about The Man Who Makes Me Want To Be A Better Woman.)

So here's my attempt at a version of all of your wonderful "100 Things About Myself" postings (there's no way I can come CLOSE to the FANTASTIC things you've written!):

Ten Things I've Learned About Myself, Having Gone Through All Kinds Of Crap Lately:

1. I actually really want a baby...more than I ever realized. But if it doesn't happen, I will be thankful for what I DO have.

2. Going back to work should have been a good thing for me. And it mostly is. Except for when it's Sunday night and I have panic attacks because I'm not good enough. Self esteem is a hard fought battle for me. Always has been. I'm working on it.

3. Having no money on Valentine's Day sucks. But having the best Valentine in the world makes up for it. I honestly have times where I feel guilty for having him.

4. When I wonder why God would want anyone to have four miscarriages, I realize I'm being selfish. I never thought I'd get to that point, but I have seen enough women on various sites telling of far worse. My heart breaks for them.

5. My family and my friends are as important to me as the air I breathe.

6. I can wallow in self pity if I feel like it at times, and no one gets mad at me. That's something everyone should be able to do.

7. When I see injustice... you do NOT want to tangle with me. For someone who is generally known as being "too nice", I will fight to the death for what I believe in. That includes gay rights, animal rights and reproductive rights. I thank Mom for the backbone when it counts.

8. I have much more than others. Not as much as some. I'm ok with that for now, but I won't give up trying for what I want.

9. I know how to love and be loved. I'm proud that I don't hold it in.

10. I really, really miss my kitties. I wish I could cuddle with them when I'm sad. Or happy, for that matter.

To all of you...thank you for being my friend.

HMO stands for Horribly Mean Ogres

2006-02-20T00:19:00.000-08:00

I should be in a really good mood considering I can sleep in tomorrow. Ohhhhhh, how I love to sleep. I crave it like candy.

One of the things I love about being in banking is how many holidays we observe. Mr. Blogger, being a Brit, however, cannot understand this concept of some people (me) getting a day off, and some people (him) having to work. In his country...EVERYBODY'S OFF DAMMIT.

Sorry Honey.

Anyway, I feel really pissed off and I've been trying to shake it all weekend, but it just seems to be festering.

You see, after I went to the OB/GYN appointment last week, wherein she could only suggest additional blood tests and couldn't remember anything we had already done, the point was for her to refer me to the RE/high risk doc. We were hoping that I would be able to get in by the time my blood results came back and then go from there.

But noooooooo.

I give you the following letter received Saturday...(verbatim here folks...CAPS INCLUDED)

Dear Blogger, Brooke A.:

We have received the request for service from the above provider/physician. This notice is to inform you the service is being denied. This determination was made based upon our review of your health condition in relation to Stupid Shits HMO conditions of coverage and/or medical necessity criteria, and in accordance with the terms and conditions of your Evidence of Coverage, Exclusions & Limitations section.

ACCORDING TO YOUR HEALTH PLAN, INFERTILITY CONSULTATION IS NOT A COVERED BENEFIT. PLEASE REFER TO YOUR EVIDENCE OF COVERAGE FOR ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.

Blah blah blah fucking blah.

Yeah, ok. No problem. That was just our last hope, is all. And we can't afford to finance that particular doctor privately. And we SURE as hell can't afford the $15,000 it's going to take for IVF (yes, I know the "getting pregnant" part isn't our issue per se, but IVF was recommended to us in that they'll weed out my best eggs, add them to MB's best swimmers, shove a half-dozen or so of the results up there, so my chances would be greater of at least ONE sticking this time).

Basically, my HMO can just go suck it.

We went out to dinner with Emily and G/\R*E tonight and Gary jokingly suggested placing a "Donate to My Infertility Fund" PayPal button on the blog. The man may have an idea there...hmmm....

Nah. I couldn't ask for it, even as badly as we need it.

I'm just so pissed that it isn't even approved to SEE the damn doctor, before we even get to any procedures.

So that puts us back to "just keep trying". And then what, I ask. Just keep miscarrying?

And I thought I was depressed Friday night when we got home from seeing Brokeback Mountain.

A quick Valentine's Day story

2006-02-14T18:57:00.000-08:00

(Yes, I realize that may be misconstrued as Mr. Bulger (hmmm...maybe not so bad), or Mr. Bilger (which conjures dirty water to me for some reason...ick) , but you get the jist.)

Since I went back to work and have only recently started to feel like a real live human being after The Sickness, I have a tendency to come home, put on my jammies and collapse. Oh...and just to make life with me even more of a roller coaster, I went back to having panic attacks this weekend. I'm a whole lot of fun to be with. You sure wouldn't want to be married to me...BELIEVE me.

So when I asked MB what we were doing for the big red day, he kept saying not to worry and that he had made plans. Honestly, part of me wanted to just get take-out, and as the day went on it only got worse.

My feet hurt, my nylons had run, and my suit made me really hot and uncomfortable all damn day. I even tried texting him with "Don't forget I have to be home by 8:00 for the Olympics!" and again I was told not to worry.

My husband is a big puppy dog about these things and you just can't bear to disappoint him. He loves to go out. He loves to eat. And most of all he loves to dote on me. I'm not stupid...that's not something to be messed with. Let the man take you out, Brooke. Put on a happy face and THEN come home and collapse.

So as I walked in the door, he sighed heavily. He sounded upset.

You see, he got home late and I got home early.

He had it all planned.

Italian bread, fresh mozzarella and tomatoes for an appetizer.

Veggie loaf, fresh broccoli and mashed potatoes for dinner (my FAVORITE meal in the world).

Strawberries for dessert, champagne (for him) and Martinelli's sparkling apple cider (for me).

It was all on the counter but he hadn't had a chance to cook it yet.

I didn't have to go out and I could wear my jammies.

He then ran out, put gas in my car (I couldn't bear to go out again), and has now come back to start dinner. I'm not doing a DAMN THING.

So to my husband from your wife of many issues...

"I love you" isn't enough.

"I need you" doesn't convey it.

"I can't live without you" is obvious.

Plainly said, you give me peace. And you know how hard it is for me to find that.

I don't know how to repay you, but I will never stop trying.

Random commenting from the Sicky Who Never Blogs Anymore and Hates Herself For It...

2006-02-11T13:46:00.000-08:00

*Yes, I turned out to be very sick. Work sucked. Life sucked. Health sucks. Ability to form interesting, coherent postings sucks.

I'm getting better, but still can't swallow. No dirty comments, please.

*The kitties in the last post were not mine, although I wish they were. I miss my kitties. Ex-husband got custody when I moved to London. But see more of the Supercats here.

*Went for my follow up appointment with OB (post-miscarriage check up) and she didn't remember anything about me. I had to give her time to catch up on my chart. She suggested an HSG...had to remind her we did that already. Ok, how about an endometrial biopsy? Did that one too, Doc. You know, 'cause they were so much fun the first time.

She's giving me more blood tests instead. But didn't they take SEVENTEEN TUBES OF BLOOD OUT OF ME after last year's miscarriage (the last time she saw me)? Is she secretly a vampire?
Oh, and I have to wait two whole freakin' periods to start again. THE CLOCK IS TICKING LADY.

Lissa has offered up a uterus transplant. Wish I could take her up on it. No, REALLY.

*Thank you for all the low-cost Valentine's Day ideas. They were quite helpful, but I don't know if I can wait that long to try Melanhead's chocolate-covered strawberry recipe. MMMMMMM...

I'm working on something that The Man Who Reads My Blog and Everyone Else's cannot see. I'll tell you later.

*I'm currently flipping back and forth between a VERY close UCLA/Washington basketball game and the Olympics. It's a tough call...I LOVE the Olympics. I'm addicted really. And I don't know how I'm going to get myself to stay up every night to see the coverage.

They're showing ski jumping right now...perfect Telemark landing! (See, you only learn phrases like that during the games!) Doesn't it look like ski jumping would be fun? But then you remember The Agony of Defeat.

Oh, and figure skating is a long, long, LONG-held obsession. I took lessons for a while and I can tell you...looking pretty in full makeup and sparkly outfits while (practically) running a marathon is FREAKIN' HARD, people. (I'm so worried about Michelle Kwan.)

*The Grammys were OK. I was happy Kelly Clarkson won a couple. (Especially for Rock.) SOME people need to stick to singing in the studio however.

* American Idol is onto the final cuts. How am I supposed to keep up will all this programming?! I need a TiVo.

The little cowboy is so sweet. I want to protect him from big bad Hollywood. I don't think he'll make it far, but all that crying and singing to turkeys just endears him to me.

*Mr. Blogger is home from taking Emily some pills for her back (and going all the way to The Company With No Soul to deliver them) and getting me bagels. I love that he loves me, and I really love that he loves my friends. He would do anything for anyone.

Have I mentioned how much I love him?

Maybe I should just give him this blog as a V Day present.

From falling to flying

2006-02-06T16:46:00.000-08:00

I'm getting there folks. If nothing else, I feel pretty good about how the week went overall and I think I'm doing pretty well. But as usual, there's more to say. SO.....

Things that make me mad....

1. I'm sick. I just have a stupid cold, but to make life more fun, I can't move my neck or shoulders from the excruciating pain. Mr. Blogger tried to rub it out and I was screaming. Consequently, I won't be able to write much since it hurts to move. But I'll be damned if I go much longer without blogging.

2. They have just scheduled me for teller training (no, I'm not a teller but everybody has to learn the system) on the day that I was supposed to have my follow up appointment with my OB about the miscarriage. Now I'll have to change my appointment. Grrr....

Things that make me sad...

1. What's with all the couples splitting up these days? Does no one want to stick it out anymore? And now I hear that both Denzel Washington and Madonna are on the verge of splitsville (to their respective spouses) as well. Hmmmm....they would make an interesting couple together though.

2. Valentine's Day is coming and I have no money to spend on MB. Any ideas?

3. I need to figure out how to spend more time blogging, since I feel like everyone is going to forget about me. I would be super duper sad to lose all my new friends. Did I mention that my mother just loves all of you? That's no faint praise, let me tell you.

Things that make me happy / laugh...

1. I got a card in the mail from Nancy (Mom / Ma'am / Me) and it was lovely and heartfelt and I can't thank her enough. But THANK YOU!!

2. This video says everything about why I managed to stay up until 11:00 ONE NIGHT last week, because I was NOT going to miss Project Runway.

3. Supercat, up there, makes me want to fly (courtesy of Cute Overload).

4. Emily and Madge are preggers. You can't get much better than that.

Have a good week ahead everybody!!!

Alive...barely

2006-02-01T19:47:00.000-08:00

OK, you guys. I'm here. You all rock immensely...have I told you that enough lately? 'Cause you need to hear it more. You're one of the few bright spots in my day.

I wanted SO BADLY to read and catch up with everyone, and I did, but I haven't yet been able to comment. And I need to be in a better state of mind to really reply properly. Please don't hate me. You've all written some amazing posts as of late and I am with you in spirit.

My writing sucks from utter and complete exhaustion. I apologize profusely.

I can't even begin to tell you how tired I am. My right eye keeps twitching. My contacts are stuck to my eyeballs. My legs ache and my feet are throbbing.

Every night I've made it home, only to be able to strip off my clothes, wash my face and crash. I'm personally just impressed I can even do that...it HAS occurred to me to just go to bed in my clothes.

I forgot how exhausting work is. I forgot how much fun it was to sit home all day and read blogs.

I don't dislike the people or the place. (And yes, I realize I'm on the verge of Doocification if I'm not careful.) It's ok.

And to see my happy peppy self just SO ENTHUSIASTIC and SO HELPFUL AND FRIENDLY TO EVERYONE...you'd never know I was anything less than THRILLED TO BE THERE!!!

People seem to like me. I seem to be catching on. I work my ass off and have been there at least 10 hours a day each day.

But I can't help but wonder...are there people out there who LOVE their jobs? What do THEY do?

And it's only Wednesday.

I am woman, hear me freak out

2006-01-30T05:57:00.000-08:00

I of course woke up at the crack of dawn today, the big day, so after I had my cereal and made my lunch, I thought I'd quickly get on here to say thank you for all your good wishes!

I'm a little freaked, considering I haven't been at work in 5 1/2 months. But I went to lunch with my new boss on Friday and it seems like we're going to be a good fit. She's refreshingly human. (Of course, NO ONE will be able to compete with the Boss Man. But she can try.)

I have to report to HR in their corporate offices at 8:30, then I'll be on my way to the branch. My suit and blouse are pressed. Everything I'll need for my desk is packed up, including a framed pic of the MB and me (I'm hoping a glance at his wide smile will give me a boost when I'm lagging), I bought new clothes and makeup, got a mani/pedi, my car just got out of the shop with a clean bill of health and I'm ready to go.

Ok, I had a major breakdown shopping yesterday when I hated everything I tried on because of my hideous body, I was mortified at my broken-out face when the nice girl at the MAC counter recommended a new foundation, and I went to bed at 8:30 from sheer exhaustion at so much drama.

But that's kind of just par for the course for me. And today is a new day.

Here we go...

A little bribery is a good thing

2006-01-26T07:09:00.000-08:00

OK, confession.

I've been up the entire night. Yup, never went to bed. I'm in my somewhat manic and anxiety-ridden phase again, although it is a bit exacerbated by some lingering physical pain and cramping. So I promise it isn't my usual slide into spazzville...I'll be better soon. (Really Mom and M-I-L. Honest.)

But what is especially wonderful is that I'm on this trip again, just in time to start my new job on Monday!

Monster energy drink six-packs...here I come!

But after watching lots and lots of bad movies on Lifetime Television for Women, I finally got on the computer and have at least caught up on everyone's blogs. Well, until you write something else later today, that is. Damn.

I am really worried about how I'll keep up with blogging when I get on with the new job. I imagine I'll run home, ditch the nylons and heels, and dash to the PC every evening! But I think it may be closer to...run home, ditch all my clothes and put on sweats and socks (all the better to impress my husband when he gets home) and try to keep the eyeballs propped open before surrendering to bed at some ridiculously early hour.

But I'll figure in the blog time in there somewhere.

It's just that I haven't worked since August and it may take a while to acclimate. This seems especially crazy to me though, since prior to this big fat mental health break, I was the most obsessed workaholic at all my jobs since college. I always want to be the best. I always HAVE to be the best.

But not anymore. Right now, I'd settle for being the best at being ok. I purposely picked a position with slightly less responsibility than my old Bank V.P. self (notice I said slightly...I do like to be in charge...some habits are hard to break).

I'm hoping I can learn and grow and do well, all within a reasonable frame of sane work hours. No more six day weeks and 12 hour days for me. I have at least finally learned that it isn't worth it. And that my body apparently agrees.

So here's Brooke's new guide for starting a new job (but don't hold me to it):

1. Get a decent amount of sleep when possible, but don't get mad at self for HAVING to watch Sex and the City every night at 11:00PM...hey, I can get to work in FIVE minutes, so you better believe I'll push the wake-up time

2. Bring lunch and snacks to work, thereby eliminating the "I never take a break or go to lunch and aren't you proud of me for such dedication!" excuse which only leads to binge city when getting home...Ben & Jerry's is not a healthy dinner

3. Realize that I'm not going to know it all, or be perfect at everything immediately...ok, if ever

4. GO HOME...there is no need to be there when everyone else has gone for the day...all that crap will still be there in the morning

5. And on that note and perhaps most importantly for me...

LEAVE WORK AT WORK

Do not obsess over what you could have done better. Do not worry about what the customer thinks of you because you wouldn't give in to his complaining over federal policies. Do not stress that because your boss was quiet all day, that must mean YOU caused it. If you can't sleep at night because you feel like such a failure, know that you're the only one who feels that way. So cut it out!

So I will try.

In the meantime, I think bringing a dozen Kripsy Kremes on my first day can't hurt. Although with my luck, the whole staff will be on a diet and will resent me. That's ALL I need.

And here he is doing jello shots at my 40th birthday party

2006-01-24T17:04:00.000-08:00

I've started to write this a few times and keep deleting everything and starting over.

I feel like one big blob of lethargy and I don't want to bore you.

Plus, how many times can you guys say "I'm so sorry" before you want to tell me to snap the hell out of it? I know I'm tired of me. I can imagine how you feel. (But thank you all the same, HONESTLY, and if I haven't been on your site to thank you personally, it's because I can't get to it or it won't let me comment..."annie" and "m&co" come to mind.)

But I was tagged today with a completely new meme and I think it's worth my writing about. Thanks mamalujo1...I needed something to get my mind off of stuff!

The rules: The tagged victim lists 8 different points of their perfect lover/partner, mentioning the sex of said partner. Tag 8 victims to join this game & leave a comment on a post letting them know they've been tagged.

If tagged before, no need to contribute.

(Now after the above cut and paste job, I do have to add a caveat. I personally don't think you should have to mention the sex of your perfect partner if you don't want to. I don't see what it really has to do with their attributes. But seeing as how we all know Mr. Blogger well by this point, it does me no harm to mention it. Just didn't want anyone to be offended.)

Sex of My Perfect Partner: male

My Perfect Partner:

1. Is patient, understanding and knows just when I need a hug.
2. Can make me laugh just by watching him laugh.
3. Is highly aware of the fact that I am accident, injury and illness prone and doesn't blame me for it. Having a medical background is therefore also highly desirable.
4. Is very outgoing and requires no babysitting at parties and social events. Everyone I have ever introduced him to ends up loving him just about as much as I do. In a different way of course.
5. Loves me for me and never asks that I change a thing. (See also: thinks I am gorgeous and desirable even though I think he may be insane.)
6. Has a British accent and is wickedly sexy.
7. Is smart and capable and works hard.
8. Makes me proud to be his wife.

I think eight is an awfully high number of tag-ees, and I don't want everyone to be "meme'd out", so I will only ask those I know who won't hate me for it (I hope)...

1. Emily
2. Rock
3. John
4. Melanhead

Oh, and in the time it took me to write this, I got a phone call. The bank that's super duper close to my house wants me to start on Monday. It's a good position and an ok salary (don't we all want more?) and shouldn't be as stressful as the one at The Company With No Soul that caused me to be on disability to begin with. To think that a week and a half ago I would have been thrilled silly.

Any ideas on how to get my shit together by Monday would be greatly appreciated. Mr. Perfect is going to have to get with the hugging. STAT.

Getting there

2006-01-20T02:40:00.000-08:00

Since it's 2:30 in the morning and I can't sleep anyway, I figured it was time to come out of hibernation. I have finally read through all your comments, and no Emily, I didn't know 30-some people even read my blog, let alone could be so caring.

I guess it's true that in times of crisis or pain, you find out what people are made of. I have learned that as much as I hurt, in ways both obvious and unfathomable, you have all helped me to know I'm not alone. I know I have my friends and my family and most importantly Mr. Blogger to get me through this...that has never been in doubt.

But I never really knew that complete strangers whom I've never met, nor laid eyes on, could be so ready to lend a hug, or an "I'm sorry" or an open heart full of compassion.

In addition to the comments, I've received emails from random readers who happened upon my story. Some could relate. Some wanted to offer a story of hope. And some were just kind enough to write. That is more than I ever thought I deserved.

I noticed that some of you even mentioned me in your own blogs and asked others to come on over and offer support. That is beyond appreciated and I am truly touched.

To all of you, a simple "thank you" could never be enough. I hope you know how much your words of sympathy meant to me. I can't begin to repay you for your thoughtfulness. I can only say that it meant a lot.

A LOT.

Now, the truth is that I'm still somewhat in a self-wallowing phase. I'm pissed off and hurt and angry and disappointed and embarrassed...and a slew of other adjectives that all somehow don't seem strong enough to describe what I feel.

Physically this is different than any of my previous experiences in that it seems to be taking FOREVER to complete and every day I face the crippling pain and blinding headaches and I keep wondering when the hell it will be over.

I feel punished for being hopeful. I feel punished for my pride in being pregnant to begin with. I can't figure out what I've done to have FOUR. MOTHER. FUCKING. MISCARRIAGES. But I must have done something horrific, because it appears someone wants me to pay.

I know I'm being irrational, but none if it IS rational. It doesn't make any sense to me, so I search for reasons. And I apologize for perhaps being melodramatic, but I can't help it. Give me time.

So I cry. Over and over and over until I have nothing left.

I shudder at the remembrance of being in the shower Monday afternoon and screaming because I couldn't stop the flooding that brought upon the hideous resemblance to some kind of crime scene in my bathroom.

But before that I had no warning this time. No spotting. No cramping. Just some very slight dull pain that afternoon that did make me call the doctor who of course, said not to worry.

I had JUST called MB and said if this didn't get better by Tuesday, I was going to go to Urgent Care. Just to make sure everything was ok before he left for London on Wednesday.

Not more than half an hour later I called him in complete terror and said he needed to come home. NOW.

The doctor we saw that evening was really very kind and sweet and understanding. I'm sure I looked like a ghost and she knew not to ruffle me much. She tried to give me hope after the physical exam by saying that the good news was that my cervix was still closed and many women experience some bleeding in their first trimester.

But you can't say that to a woman who knows better. A woman who NEVER seems to be in that group of "...and everything turned out just fine".

So my betas were zero. ZERO. Who knows how long this had been going on. And of course I played my "I told you so" card.

I haven't been super pleasant to be around lately. I didn't want to talk to ANYONE for a few days and my poor husband has run many an errand to ply me with Diet Dr. Pepper and chocolate chip cookies and anything I may need to make me feel better. Of course none of it does.

MB didn't get to go to London, although I did try to convince him he should, because I didn't want him to disappoint his kids. I feel AWFUL about that. But he wouldn't leave me. I should have known he would not be swayed.

I'll be even more brutally honest with you now (if I haven't already lost you with my tales of woe...I'm sorry for being so graphic but I have to get this out).

I don't know if I can keep going through this. It's getting to be too much. I have a feeling that I'll probably be pregnant again at some point if we continue to try (after one particular miscarriage, I was pregnant the very next month), but do I want to be? Well, of course I want to be. But do I want to risk this outcome, is I suppose the better question.

We have a follow-up appointment with my OB in a few weeks, but what else can she do? She already tested me for everything after the last time.

It's just this simple. I'm old. And my eggs are old and apparently chromosomally unsound. I can't do ANYTHING about that.

Maybe it's a crapshoot. ONE OF THEM has to finally be ok. Right? Well, that's what I told myself this time too.

In the meantime, I HATE that every time I get pregnant I have to tell everyone that I'm not anymore. I HATE that I still haven't yet told my step-dad and step-brother and his wife...whom I had JUST told I was pregnant a few days before.

I HATE that I am battling some pretty horrible cramping right now in the battle to stay upright and write this in the need for catharsis.

Most of all, I HATE that I feel broken.

No prescription strength pain reliever is going to fix that.

Just to let you know...

2006-01-17T00:53:00.000-08:00

This is Mr Blogger...

This is going to be a very short blog, I just wanted to let you all know what is going on.

Brooke had a miscarriage yesterday. She had some cramping during the day and then at about 4.30pm some bleeding.

We went to Urgent Care about 5.30pm and they took some blood to do a beta test to see what her levels were. The tests showed that her levels were almost at zero so the doctor concluded that they must have been dropping for a while although she had no symptoms until yesterday.

The doctor said that, because the levels were almost zero, further tests or an ultrasound wouldn't be necessary as it was almost over and she would probably just experience some light bleeding and some cramping, but no more serious symptoms.

Obviously this is very upsetting for us. We had tried to do everything we possibly could and I really thought that this time it was going to be ok.

I just wanted to let you know, as Brooke may not be on here for a while until she is feeling up to it.

MB

Trying to steal my thunder

2006-01-16T13:07:00.000-08:00

On Friday, I was having a craving for something sweet, so Mr. Blogger said he'd pick something up on the way home. He returned with the following from the bakery section of our local Albertsons:

1. An entire apple-boysenberry pie

2. A dozen oatmeal raisin cookies

3. A pack of NINE chocolate cupcakes with white frosting

4. A raspberry coffee cake

With the exception of a few cookies and a cupcake, he has eaten almost the entire list. And he's a twig...so you may join in the jealousy.

Saturday, he was sitting at the computer and was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to lie down. He ended up taking a three hour nap.

And Sunday he kept claiming he was hot, yet cold, and was feeling just generally icky. So we took his temperature. He's not sick.

I think he may be pregnant.

Sticks of butter consumed while in the throes of depression*

2006-01-13T15:29:00.000-08:00

*Courtesy of A Little Pregnant

As usual around here, life sure ain't boring.

Yesterday was spent hauling Emily, her wife and their sperm around (I'll let her tell the story), so I was just too tired when I got home to blog much. Lately I'm too tired to do ANYTHING much. (You really can stop thanking me too, Em...I'm ALL OVER helping anyone in their quest for babydom. Especially you and Madge.)

Ok, I also sat down and HAD to watch about four hours of the US Figure Skating Championships, so that may have prevented me from sitting on this ass-numbing cement chair as well.

(Shit, you know what? My blog is turning into one of those "and then I went shopping where I bought all these super cute outfits I have pictured here..." monstrosities, isn't it? I always vowed not to bore my reader. Can we blame my utter lack of originality on The Peanut sapping my brain?)

In preparation for my interview this morning, I had more impressive memorizing of mundane data from that bank to do as well. I had to make another brag book, make sure my suit was still clean and polish my shoes. The things we do to impress a prospective employer.

But it went well, I think, and I am pretty thrilled at the prospect of working LITERALLY five minutes from my house. But I try not to get my hopes up about stuff lately. And they won't get my background check back for at least a week, so I need to get my mind off of it.

Speaking of which, I need to confess something.

I'm pretty freakin' terrified, and as much as I try try TRY not to think about it, it's two weeks to my first ultrasound and I just feel no hope.

I keep telling Mr. Blogger, "I just don't FEEL pregnant!". I have no nausea, no morning sickness, no nada. I am tired, but what else is new, and I do have to go to the bathroom at least every couple hours, but then maybe I just have been drinking a lot more.

I know, I'm only 5 weeks and 3 days, so I shouldn't worry yet. But don't forget that each of my previous pregnancies ended around this point, although I never knew it until around my 8th week. The hell of knowing you were just be-bopping around without a care in the world for at least THREE WEEKS, when you weren't even really pregnant anymore...well, it gets to me. A LOT.

I am on the progesterone suppositories for the first time during pregnancy, but even that doesn't guarantee anything. And those were frankly prescribed to me in the EVENT that lack of progesterone was my issue. None of my multitude of hard-to-pronounce tests really confirmed a damn thing. Other than that they couldn't find anything really wrong with me.

Mom always tells me I should be THANKFUL for not feeling sick, considering she had morning sickness (actually more like all-day sickness) every stinkin' day for the entire pregnancy. And she was a teacher, so every time she had to run to the bathroom, she had to make sure another teacher was covering her class. Sorry Mamacita. I guess I was a trouble-maker.

I may just be catastrophizing, but it seems like my boobs aren't as sore as they used to be either. Yes, you have entered the TMI zone. Love it or leave it.

I just feel supremely suspect over whether or not anything is still going on in there, especially since I keep reading those DAMN PREGNANCY BOARDS where everyone is bragging about their beta numbers, or multitude of symptoms, or worse yet, letting everyone know their bad news (this is inevitably titled "Back from OB" with an accompanying sad face symbol and "Angel Baby in Heaven" blinkie). Shoot me now.

I know I need to stay positive. I know I need to relax. And I do try, really. You wouldn't BELIEVE how much deep breathing and visualizing I do. And can I just say that I'm personally really proud that I've managed to not freak out about also trying to go back to work in the midst of all this. Usually just interviewing alone would have me a nervous wreck.

Sorry to be such a damn broken record these days. I know there's nothing anyone can say or do, other than to hope for the best. I just wanted to put it out there that I'm kind of tired of pretending I'm not really REALLY scared.

You know you're bad when you HOPE for the puking.

My butt is KILLING me

2006-01-11T14:41:00.000-08:00

Reasons this is so short and sweet today and why I started so late (or why I have now started some kind of addiction to lists)...

(Oh, and no, that was not my picture yesterday with the before and after hair...made me laugh just to think of it! I'm waaaay older and not nearly so tiny and cute. You mean you missed me here (no, not Mel's cutie-cute baby...keep scrolling down)?? I'm hurt.)

1. The computer chair broke and my ass is killing me. Somehow we managed to break it in such a way that it's still in one piece but has no padding whatsoever. I don't understand it at all. And Mr. Blogger spent much of last night researching the ultimate office chairs that we simply HAVE to have. I have told him that he needs to scale it down a bit. He hates it when I say that.

BELIEVE ME, baby got plenty of back over here, but this is like sitting on cement. That can't be good for Peanut.

2. I spent the better part of the morning following up with some banks I spoke to last week, just to let them know that as it turned out, I didn't go out of town, so you know, I am available for an interview...should you be so interested. Hint hint.

I did have one phone interview also, as well as what I now refer to as THE NEVERENDING SURVEY sent to me via email from one credit union I sent a resume to last week. If I have to read sentences such as "I enjoy being in a leadership role" or "I value the opinions and tastes of others" ONE MORE TIME...I may scream.

3. I got up early this morning to go through the whole progesterone suppository extravaganza as I do every morning (and night), but instead of just lying there for an hour for things to um, ABSORB, I completely fell back asleep. And I slept for two whole hours. It was nirvana. I call my usual bedtime sleep experience The Nap Between Every Other Hour Trips to the Bathroom.

4. Oh oh! Just as I typed in the number 4, I got a phone call from another bank! I now have an interview this Friday at 10:30. Woo hoo! But she has to call me back because she was trying to look up the salary range for the position (I REALLY hope it's what I'm looking for because this branch is not even TWO MILES from my house...MAN that would be great!).

She called and it's PERFECT...ok...calm down...don't jinx it.

5. I spilled fresh spinach and cheese ravioli (YUMMY) all over the computer desk earlier. Shhhh...don't tell MB.

6. Ok...I'll give you some hints on the whole cousin thing from yesterday, seeing as how I was branded as a big fat meanie and all:

* If I told you his first name it would mean nothing to you because he goes by something else professionally.

* He's my mother's first cousin, but eight years younger.

* He's NOTHING like the character he's best known for. (No, he's not Pee Wee Herman.)

* I told Melanhead. (I had to...she made me Person of the Week!) See if you can get it out of her.

Good luck...and may you not be disappointed!

Only five things?

2006-01-10T12:43:00.000-08:00

Thank you AGAIN everybody, for helping me to calm down yesterday. Honestly, I can't tell you what all the support means to me.

But I figured you could use the break today.

It occurred to me that ages ago Tink tagged me to do the "Five Weird Things About Yourself" post, and with all the drama around here, I completely forgot to do it.

Thing is, I've probably written about most of the weird things about myself, but here goes anyway...try not to be bored:

1. I ALWAYS have a song in my head. And often I have no idea where it came from. For instance, all morning I've been singing "Birdhouse in Your Soul" and for the life of me, I could not tell you why. I didn't hear it on the radio or anything and it's a very old song. At night I often have to tell myself to SHUT UP and let me get some sleep, or else the singing in my head would go on forever. I guess it's better than voices in your head...at least it's entertaining.

2. I have a pretty famous cousin, but when I was little I wasn't allowed to see any of his movies because they were not "appropriate". Consequently, all the guys I dated thought I was very cool and would quote my cousin back to me, but I had NO IDEA what they were talking about.

3. I have never ever tasted alcohol. But the weirdest part is that there's no particular reason. Just didn't feel like it. I'm not judgmental about it at all and grew up with parents who never made it the forbidden fruit, by any means.

Honestly though, once I started developing so many stomach issues, it was one of the things they told me to stay away from. That and coffee...neither of which I drink. Maybe someone was trying to tell me something?

Oh, and I can't tell you how many people SWEAR they've seen me drunk. I just like to dance and have fun at parties. I guess people don't get that you can actually be that way naturally.

4. I have very, very VERY curly hair but get it professionally straightened. Mom is still waiting for the day I go back to au naturel. Everyone is, really. (You know the drill...DO YOU KNOW WHAT PEOPLE PAY FOR THAT HAIR???)

But since I only began doing it in 2002, Mr. Blogger has never seen me without straight hair. He sees pictures of me and can hardly recognize the girl with all the curls. It's just easier to keep styled this way and I relish the extra sleep from not needing to battle with all the electric tools.

And I was JUST about to go get it done after it having been six months since the last treatment. But now that I'm pregnant I can't do it. I'm gonna have some FUNKY looking hair by September.

5. I think I can kind of understand animals. Not like in a Doctor Doolittle way, where I actually carry on conversations. More like an intuitive thing. I usually know what's bothering my pets (and it kills me that I don't have any at the moment) and am able to read them pretty well. It also goes the other way in that they always come to me when I'm "not right". My grandmother was the same way.

Of course that didn't stop my last cat from peeing on my bed every morning. WHILE I was in the bed. Ew.

Now time to tag others, even though just about everyone I read has already done it. Hmmmm...

1. Emily
2. John
3. Amber
4. Rock

Get to it, kids!

What, me worry?

2006-01-09T13:20:00.000-08:00

I know what you're thinking.

Oh SUUUUURE, now that she's all knocked up and everything, she seems to have abandoned her blog. We give her all that encouragement and support and POOF! She's gone.

Well, yes and no.

If you can call it "abandonment", I have only done it to the extent that my feeling horrifically sick all weekend (although not nausea or vomiting...nope...more like the...uh...other end...um...non-stop...EVERY TIME I EAT...is that normal or should I be worried?) prevented me from getting even upright, let alone at the computer.

Then, because when it rains it pours, I had an interview earlier today that I had to prepare for. They were quite impressed that I knew so much about their bank, so I guess it was worth it. I had my little brag book for them to keep and EVERYTHING. And I managed to keep myself from running to the bathroom, which I was REALLY happy about.

I think it went well, but of course still called a few other places when I got home. You know...eggs...one basket...you get the idea.

I of course, am still ravaged with worry and panic over being able to, FOR ONCE, make it through the entire first trimester. Each of my previous miscarriages were detected only at the point where we went for a normal first ultrasound, only to discover that the pregnancy had for all intents and purposes ended by the 5th or 6th week.

So seeing as how today I have hit the five week mark, I am somewhat of a mess. I SERIOUSLY, punch myself in the boobs at least a few times a day to make sure they still hurt. And I feel MUCH better when they do.

Mr. Blogger has come to the conclusion that I am insane. Can't blame him much.

And Dr. Internet is of course a very dangerous thing. Although this made me smile, when I had started to panic again over my beta numbers. (Go to the end of the post and click on that last link for the cutest picture ever.)

On Friday, not one, but THREE health professionals made me cry when I was trying to get some information about whether or not it was safe to go to London on Wednesday.

It wasn't that I was upset over them telling me not to, it was that EVERY FREAKIN' PERSON kept saying, "I don't know what to tell you. There's no way of knowing anything and you'll just have to wait and see." Or, "Well they have good hospitals there so even if something does happen, you'll be covered". Or my favorite, "Just relax about it and see how your first ultrasound goes."

NO ONE would listen to me. Even when my actual doctor finally returned my call, she told me, "Your numbers are so low...you're barely even pregnant yet". And she laughed. LAUGHED.

Is this any way to talk to a woman with three previous miscarriages who is FORTY-FREAKIN-ONE years old??? Can you say highest of the high risks?

So finally I called a friend of mine who went through numerous IVFs and fertility counseling for years and frankly, knows so much about this stuff, she almost went to work for her clinic. (And most importantly, has a beautiful one-year-old baby girl!)

She told me that her "High Risk Doctor" (where do I get one of THESE??) told her that the only really safe time to fly is in the second trimester and she wouldn't recommend going. She also gave me lots of other good advice and some specialists to call and made me feel better that at least I wasn't just nuts to be wondering if flying 6,000 miles for 11 hours was necessarily such a great idea.

Then I got on line and discovered that if you:
A. Are over 35
B. Have experienced high blood pressure at ANY TIME
C. Have had a previous miscarriage

...they don't recommend traveling. Ding ding ding on ALL THREE.

Couldn't someone just have said so...instead of all this "I just don't know what to tell you" crap? I never once asked, please look into your crystal ball and tell me what is going to happen in my pregnancy. All I wanted to know was if travel was safe. And there you go.

So we cancelled my trip and will probably go in April some time. MB still has to go see his kids, but he's leaving a week later instead and will only be gone for 4 days instead of 11 (I was afraid to be alone that long).

I know I'm nuts. I know I'm ridiculously cautious. But it's just that this particular time is really the scariest.

Oh and my first ultrasound is scheduled for Friday 1/27. When I get there...well...let's talk about that later before I get all worked up again.

And before I forget, would you like to know my approximate due date?

9/11.

Oh boy.

Aren't you looking forward to the next EIGHT months?

Joy to the world

2006-01-05T18:24:00.000-08:00

I have decided that the last (approximately) 24 hours have quite possibly been the greatest in my entire life (non-wedding related though, of course Honey).

First, we get confirmation on the whole "holy-crap-I-really-am-pregnant-and-those-8-HPTs-I-took-weren't-lying" thing. (The picture of the three I took were only the tip of the iceberg. It's a compulsion.)

And the results from my second beta today actually came in early and I was told this evening that I went from 66 at 14 DPO to 110 at 16 DPO. They even said, "That's great!". Of course, nothing prevents me from worrying anyway, but so far, so ok.

The Peanut...she is latching on. Or he. I'll take anything really. Ohpleaseohpleaseohplease.

I am supposed to talk to my doctor tomorrow morning though to go over whether or not it's a good idea for me to go to London. And they still want me to take it easy, so I apologize profusely for not getting to read everybody's blogs lately...I'll catch up, I promise. All your comments and wishes yesterday were SO NICE! THANK YOU!!!!!!!!

Now normally, all this pregnancy joy would be the topper of all toppers. BELIEVE ME. I would NEVER EVER dream of asking for more.

But it didn't end there, my friends.

Last night, Mr. Blogger and I watched the National Championship Rose Bowl, as I tried not to get TOO excited (must stay calm and relaxed for The Peanut you know...YEAH RIGHT).

AND USC LOST.

USC...the mother of all arrogant teams. USC...whose fans' belligerence knows no bounds. USC...who hadn't lost a game since SEPTEMBER 2003.

USC...WHOM I HATE WITH EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING...LOST TO TEXAS 41-38.

Mom literally called me as the game ended and said she was THIS close to running through the neighborhood banging pots and pans together.

We were CRYING, we were so happy, people! You just have no idea how pathetically immature our glee in their loss was and how we enjoyed it OH SO MUCH.

And then after I got to watch all the post-game ESPN Sports Center possible (all the better to continue reveling in the loss), Project Runway was on, which, if you're not watching, you MUST.

Oh! Oh! And today I spoke with a few banks who were all interested in me and are trying to set up interviews before I leave.

Considering how much I normally worry and stress over EVERYTHING, and how the tides can always change...I am going to grab on to this with all I got.

You do the same, Peanut.

Why I haven't been on here for a while...

2006-01-04T09:21:00.000-08:00

There are no words.

I'm freaking out.

I feel sick.

I'm a nervous wreck.

But I went to the doctor yesterday and called this morning to confirm it.

Supposedly my beta test placed me at a 66 HCG level for 14 DPO (days past ovulation). I go back in tomorrow and the numbers will need to double every 48-72 hours to show it's developing normally.

Now I have to go back to lying down 'cause they want me to stay off my feet (can you say high risk pregnancy and I'm supposed to leave for London a week from today?).

Please God...could we get it to stick this time?

Please?

Beachy keen

2005-12-30T11:17:00.000-08:00

Because the last game of the year is on in just half an hour, I don't have time to write much. Yes, the Sun Bowl is the last time you'll hear me wax rhapsodic about UCLA football...however will you manage? (Those of you new to my blog didn't get a chance to enjoy the Sunday morning celebration/furiousness throughout the season...don't worry though, 'cause here comes Basketball!)

However, I couldn't let today go by without directing you to my first real life pic on little ol' Melanhead's lovely, lovely blog.

Yes, I am Person of the Week and honestly, I couldn't be more honored! I see that some of you have already commented there and I appreciate all the compliments...and yes, Mr. Blogger is muy handsome (actually even cuter than the pic looks, but hey, I was looking for one that was good of me, RIGHT?).

Let me explain the picture...

I generally HATE pictures of me and honestly had considered just using some cartoon or likeness of a cat to represent me or something. The only reason I chose it is due to what it reminds me of, more than what it looks like.

It's from the first time I went to London in 2002 and MB and I had known each other a little over a week at this point (post-food poisoning of course). We were right in the throes of the "holy-crap-I-am-completely-falling-in-love-with-this-person-who-lives-6000-miles-from-me-and-what-am-I-going-to-do-about-it?" phase.

We had decided to go down to Brighton that day. After a day's sight-seeing, we saw that they were setting up a Summer beach party on the lovely rocky shores and that they were showing Moulin Rouge on a giant screen.

We were actually just about to go back to London, but we decided to stay and have fun. But while others were prepared, we had no blanket, no thermos of hot drinks, no nothin'. And when the sun went down it was FREEZING. Like California in the middle of Winter, frankly.

But we were determined AND stubborn! We were watching the movie, dammit! It was romantic to get all snuggly anyway. Honestly, we just couldn't stop laughing at how freakin' cold it was and what the hell were we thinking! Thank God we had jackets in the car.

When it was over, and our fingers were blue and our noses were numb, we hightailed it over to a hotel bar for hot chocolate and were still laughing. But we loved it.

My hair is now a darker brown and I was able to talk MB into getting away from the middle-part situation (you know how women love to change the hair)...but in general it looks like us. And it looks like our personalities, which I thought was most important.

I still feel the same happy, frozen-body inklings when I see it, and what's even better is that nothing has really changed one bit. We still laugh. We're still stubborn. And we still love a good party and/or film.

Mostly, we still would rather be by each other's side than anywhere else in the world. I can't ask for more than that in life...and don't think I don't know that I am a lucky, lucky woman.

Happy New Year everybody and much love to all!

(And for one last time...GO BRUINS!)

By somewhat popular demand

2005-12-29T13:43:00.000-08:00

Awww...look at all you sweetykins trying to make me feel better (and hoping against hope with me on the pregnancy thing). It's a truly beautiful thing and I am, as ever, humbled by all the kindness. Big hugs of gratitude to you all...

What I didn't have a chance to mention is that I ended up even WORSE later in the day yesterday when Dr. Phil's show was all about what makes a good wife. Some bimbo went on and on about how women simply can't have it all, and their duty to their husbands precluded them from thinking they could do the wife thing well enough, if they had the GALL to get a job as well.

Oooooo...I was MAD.

When Mr. Blogger got home last night, I was on the phone, so he read my blog and then came in the family room and gave me a BIG hug, saying "Oh my poor honey!". Yes, he hugged my non-showered, glasses-wearing, dirty-hair-in-bun self. Then he went out and got us In-N-Out Grilled Cheese sandwiches.

Take THAT lady.

But you'll be happy to know that today is a better day. I got up and showered and washed my hair and DRIED MY HAIR and put in my contacts and brushed my teeth and put on ACTUAL CLOTHES. How's THAT?! :D

I kind of had to since Mr. Grocery Delivery Man will be here this afternoon (what did I ever do before Vons.com?). The only thing I'm missing is makeup, but he'll just have to learn to refrain from screaming in fright.

This morning I also chatted with Mom (who immediately asked if I happened to be watching anything this time, so she could know if she was "interrupting"...way to work my guilt there Mamacita), Emily, Kona Girl and Ms. Fellow Bank Manager From the Company With No Soul. All that girl talk always helps to snap me out of my funk.

Commiserating in misery can also be a very cathartic thing. We ALL have our troubles this season, and as I told Em earlier, sometimes helping others can at least get you away from the wallowing in self-pity for a while.

Yes, I'm mighty good at the giving of advice...not so much on the receiving.

But, in the meantime, I thought I'd respond to a few things that some have asked for. (OK, my family members are the only ones wanting the picture, but may it at least make you laugh.)

Here is the pic that accompanies this very, very old posting where I wished KG a happy birthday and reminisced over our old high school group of little angels. No, really, we were freakin' AN...GELS.

My little face is peeking out in the middle, crouching down, to the left of the girl with the big blond curly hair. To keep everyone else's right to both privacy and avoidance of teasing over 80's styling, I won't say who else you may know. But aren't we too damn adorable?

Then, here's Mom's Sour Cream Tortilla Casserole recipe. Again, it's VERY sour-creamy, so if that's not your thing, I'd skip it. This is a direct cut and paste from the email she sent me. You must therefore love the very specific directions of the Mom...

Sour Cream Tortilla Casserole

1/2 C chopped onion; 2 T olive oil; One 1 lb. 12 oz. can crushed tomatoes; 1 pkg. Mexican rice seasoning mix (or chili sauce mix, or any such); 3 oz. can diced green chiles; 3 oz. can sliced black olives, drained (plus one more can for top garnish, if desired); 12 corn tortillas; 4-6 scallion tops, sliced; 3/4 lb. Monterey Jack cheese (or cheddar, or 1/2 each), shredded; 2 C sour cream; 1 t seasoned salt; ground pepper

Saute 1/2 C onion in 2 T oil until tender
Add tomatoes, seasoning mix, green chiles, sliced olives
Simmer 15-20 min.
Set aside

Cut tortillas into quarters, then divide into 3 equal groups [of 4 tortillas each]

Pour 1/2 C sauce in bottom of 13 x 9 x 2 baking dish
Arrange one layer of tortillas (1/4 of total) over sauce (they can overlap)
Top with 1/3 of remaining sauce, then 1/3 of scallions, then 1/3 of cheese
Repeat two more times to become, from bottom up:
1/2 C sauce
1/4 of tortillas
1/3 of (remaining) sauce
1/3 of scallions
1/3 of cheese
1/4 of tortillas
1/3 of sauce
1/3 of scallions
1/3 of cheese
1/4 of tortillas
1/3 of sauce
1/3 of scallions
1/3 of cheese

Combine sour cream and seasoned salt.
Drop by scattered spoonfuls then spread to edges of dish
Sprinkle lightly with pepper

Bake in 325 degree oven for 25 to 30 min.

Garnish with minced parsley, cilantro or sliced black olives or all three or whatever, after removing from oven
To serve, cut into squares

I served it with the sliced olives scattered on the top after I took it out of the oven and a side of sliced avocado. It's kind of like cheese enchiladas, but a lot easier and with a lot of sour cream. You could always add more cheese and cut down on the sour cream if you like. OH...and Mr. Blogger HATES scallions, so I eliminated those completely and it was just fine.

(Trust me, if I could make it, anyone can. )

I'm off to shock the crap out of my husband by performing my "wifely duties" through cooking and cleaning this place up. Frankly though, he doesn't really care.

He's much more about the other wifely duties.

Blahg

2005-12-28T14:08:00.000-08:00

Today I am hit by a very somber mood.

The sky is gray and I'm in pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt.

Amy had a miscarriage on Judging Amy, and The Notebook made me cry, AGAIN.

I've sent out resumes to numerous financial institutions and I haven't heard much. Well, I heard that they received it, but not much else. I know, it's the holidays, but I'm still worried. It's my nature.

I got mad at my Mom because she called three times in the space of an hour and I was trying to watch a movie. I feel very bad about that.

I told Mr. Blogger that it honestly hurts me to look in the mirror these days. I can't figure out when I got so unattractive. So I cried some more.

I'm aware of it being about a week to go until this month's attempt results in more wasted pregnancy tests.

I don't feel like washing my hair or cooking or doing anything in particular. Even though I had promised to make more Nuts and Bolts.

I am a slob and a lazy bum, and it bugs the crap out of me. This isn't me. Some sloth-like creature must have taken over my body. And I'm embarrassed for her to greet my husband when he gets home.

This is either one MEAN bout of PMS (in which case I'm all the more depressed) or I really am just that much of a downer. I can't decide which is worse.

Merry Un-Christmas

2005-12-27T11:48:00.000-08:00

I hope everyone had a lovely holiday and enjoyed everything the season has to offer!

Our Christmas was frankly the strangest one we've ever had. But we loved every minute of it.

Since Mr. Blogger was off from Friday through Monday, that alone was reason to celebrate. And when it got to Christmas day, we just decided, at the last minute, that we were perfectly happy together. We didn't end up going to L.A. to see my aunt and uncle and cousins and their guests, and I did feel bad about that. But when we had awakened that morning, we were both just really tired and kind of worn-out, and not up to the long drive.

I of course called them and apologized, and I thought we must be nuts to have only a two-person Christmas.

But that works for us.

I cooked a sour cream tortilla casserole that was my first attempt at Mom's recipe, but turned out very, very yummy. I made Nuts and Bolts, which is kind of like homemade Chex Mix with slightly different ingredients, but holds a much more special place for me. My Gaa made it every Christmas (before there was such a thing as bagged Chex Mix) and it always reminded me of the holidays.

I served hot cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven. I put every possible condiment, veggies, avocados and cheese on our favorite Morningstar Farms veggie burgers, with the biggest buns possible.

Basically, I fed my husband 'til he burst. And he kept asking for more.

We watched tons of movies and played Scrabble. We listened to the whole two hour replay of Ricky Gervais' Christmas Eve broadcast on BBC2...just lying in the daybed in the computer room and laughing at every word.

We had only Mom's and Kona Girl's presents to open, since we're saving everything toward our January London trip. But they were wonderful, thoughtful presents and plenty for us.

We probably won't have too many Christmases like this in our future. Hopefully they'll be filled with children and family that might actually fly out to see us for once (hint hint to the Mom and M-I-L).

But for now, we just enjoyed each other. That's enough of a present for me.

No one can have too much friendship...or cuteness

2005-12-22T10:27:00.000-08:00

I have to dash off here because the woman who waxes my brows just called and moved my appointment up two hours. Yeah, back to frivolity today.

But in regards to the comments you all wrote yesterday: it is truly amazing to see how compassionate and open-minded you are. I am awed by your words and thoughts. Who would have thought that people from all over the country...oops, world...could find each other in such a way?

It has made me like, all Christmas-spirity and stuff now.

I can't tell you enough how much I enjoy reading all of your blogs, and how my day just hasn't started until I have time to sit down and go through them. I keep wondering how I'll be able to keep this up when I go back to work.

But I'll find the time, because I NEED to. I need to write AND I need to read.

I love knowing that there are others out there with such interesting points of view and that we are lucky enough to have a forum to voice them.

TB reminded me that having a less-than-even-remotely-emotionally-available father didn't mean we couldn't break the cycle.

Ditsy Chick makes me laugh my ass off. Every day.

John is adorable and young and has so much life ahead of him. I can't wait to see what he does with it.

V-Grrrl is wise, a great mom and understands the life of an expat in Europe.

Melany is my fellow Bruin and has the most adorable little boy you'll ever see.

Tink and Jess and Wordgirl and Debbie and Amber and little sister and Mrs. Harridan and #1 dancer and Shrinking Violet (oh crap...did I forget anyone??) are all amazing and interesting and full of advice to a woman they've never even met. I love your children, your pets, your trees, your spouses and your words. I will not forget your kindness.

Lissa. Well you know how I found out about her. Or rather how she found me. And I continue to hope she stays in my life.

And Emily, who suggested the whole blog (sorry Mom, COLUMN) idea to begin with, continues to keep me going when, in her HIGHLY inimitable way, she reminds me that I was a pretty good manager and should therefore be ok in the whole job hunt nightmare.

(Mom and M-I-L? You KNOW what you are to me...may I suggest you start a blog???)

As my little Christmas gift to you all, I present to you the cutest thing EVER.

I didn't know everyone's taste and sizes.

Can you feel the love tonight?

2005-12-21T11:34:00.000-08:00

Elton John got married today and I couldn't be more thrilled for him. I am happy on so many levels...

1. Same-sex "civil unions" are now legal in the UK.
I knew there was something about those Brits I liked. Besides Mr. Blogger of course.

When we lived there, I learned first hand that they're just so much more relaxed about these things. I even saw Tony Blair being interviewed this morning and wishing Elton and David the best (!!!). Can you imagine our dear Leader of the Free World doing the same? Cough. Choke.

But I mean really, WHY WOULD YOU NOT WANT PEOPLE WHO ARE IN LOVE AND COMMITTED TO EACH OTHER TO GET MARRIED? No really. I don't get it.

2. I'm an Elton fan going way, WAY back.
The first album I ever bought on my own was Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. It's absolute genius and to this day I can pop in the CD (obviously since purchased in order to keep up with technology) and be utterly transfixed.

I was so young, but I was fascinated by all the illustrations and lyrics included inside (you kids who have never known anything but CDs have really missed out on the artistic possibilities only albums can produce) and I spent hours singing along to EVERYTHING. I even mock played all the piano riffs, long before I was actually good enough to really play it.

I remember a slumber party I went to in 3rd grade where the mom was horrified to find out the actual lyrics we were all singing. She quickly confiscated the album, but thank God MY Mom was more progressive than that.

Which brings me to...

3. I have long been a supporter of gay rights, thanks to Mom.
Yup. She's cool like that.

Her best friend/my "uncle" was a huge influence in my life from a very young age. After he moved to San Francisco, we spent many a weekend road-trip going to visit him.

We spent an entire summer painting the inside of his house "Royal Robe" (I will NEVER forget the name of that paint even though I couldn't have been more than 6 or 7 at the time...it was a god-awful garish purply-red color, which I of course ADORED).

We would string together beaded necklaces and eat tuna sandwiches (which I shared with Uncle G's dog Gazella) while listening to The Beatles.

We had grown up dinner parties filled with fascinating, warm and educated people...all of whom treated me with respect and welcomed my opinions, unlike most adults I knew, who would tend to "baby" someone of my age.

And come to find out, I was in the middle of the Haight-Ashbury district in the late 60's. (Who knew I was so cool?) I LOVED it.

What I never knew, until I was far more grown-up, was that just about everyone around me was gay. And because a lot of them didn't have kids, they doted on me and nurtured me with love and affection, because frankly, I was one of the few children around. I was introduced to music and art and literature from some true connoisseurs.

All I knew was that these were good and decent people. (To those who flip out about gay teachers or coaches, or other such nonsense INFLUENCING their children, I love to say I was raised by a whole lot of gay men and look at that...I turned out just fine...AMAZING.)

And when I was getting to be the age where I started looking at colleges, Uncle G was then a Dean at UCLA and took me on a tour. That was it. Decision made.

I've marched with some friends in a Christopher Street parade while in college. I helped some come out of the closet to their families. I had MASSIVE fights with my first husband who was a Naval Pilot and VERY anti-gays in the military.

And when all the hullabaloo started over same-sex civil unions, I just didn't get it. Again, exactly HOW does this hurt anyone? Aren't people who are devoted to each other a reason to celebrate? Why should I, by virtue of my being straight, get to have some kind of monopoly on the benefits of joining my life to another's?

I generally shy away from posting anything too terribly controversial, but not in this case. If I get hate mail, so be it. Much like my feelings over animal-rights, this is something I will NEVER be afraid to defend.

So to Elton John and David Furnish: May you experience the same kind of joy I had on my wedding day to Mr. Blogger. It knows no boundaries.

And to my Mom, Uncle G, and all of his friends: Thank you for helping to teach me what love meant in the first place.

Let's hear it for the girls

2005-12-20T08:53:00.000-08:00

Trying to write this quickly and quietly, while Miss Kona sleeps. This must be a first in our friendship, however. Through all the sleepovers and slumber parties in the last 25+ years we've known each other, I don't think I have ever, EVER gotten up before she did. That's what the not-sleeping thing will do to you.

I got up with Mr. Blogger (poor guy has to go to work after all our shenanigans last night). I showered, dressed, PUT ON MAKEUP (it's shocking, really), and even went out to get fresh bagels. And still no Kona.

I've watched the Today show, commented (and added some more to my list) on all my Blog-A-Ma-Rollers...and still no Kona.

(Before I forget...THANK YOU for all your kind words yesterday while I was in my funk/frenzy. Mom called to say, "I just love what everyone wrote in response to your column today! They're all so wise!". Yes, my column. He he!)

But poor Miss K must be all tuckered out. She does have three boys, after all.

I'm so glad she came down though, 'cause we all had the best time at dinner last night. After being so down and dumpy, I had forgotten what your bestest girlfriend can do for you. We even pulled out the ol' yearbook, and although she did want to kill me, we laughed and laughed.

So, just like it says in those forwards I always get in my email, it is true, my friends, that you should NEVER forget your girlfriends. Your spouse may be your life and your love and the reason you're who you are today (and he is...BELIEVE ME), but your gal pals know who you were before, and can appreciate what you've become. They love you...no matter which incarnation, or hair color, or personality you've had.

And I've had A LOT of different hair colors.

There's a reason it's called "work"

2005-12-19T11:30:00.000-08:00

Soooo incredibly down today and there's just frankly no time for it. Kona Girl is coming from Seattle this afternoon (to stay overnight), I've been up since 4:30AM and my stomach is completely jacked.

I need to go grocery shopping, do laundry, clean the house and I feel NO motivation to get my ass in gear.

It's not that I'm not looking forward to company (she IS my BFF after all), but I think my IBS has kicked into overdrive due to my massive stress explosion last night. I am so wrapped up in the fact that I need to go back to work SOON, and I even applied for a motherfucking bank manager job on Saturday night. The money would be great, and I certainly seem qualified with the umpty-gazillion years of experience I have in the field, but it just seems like I'm, yet again...STUCK.

I knew this would happen. When I was at our bank on Saturday, as I stood in line and observed everything from a knowing perspective, I suddenly thought, this is it, isn't it? I'm stuck doing this for the rest of my life, because it's where all my experience lies. And unfortunately, seeing as how we're also trying to get pregnant (nothing like stress on top of stress), I don't have the luxury to go take some low-paying-but-at-least-in-my-desired-field kind of job.

Even though Mr. Blogger keeps me in plenty of Heinz Beanz and $70 bras needed for my mighty-mightiness...it shouldn't be all up to him anymore. I've been off long enough.

I was just now interrupted by Mom calling and telling me to calm down. She knows how I am when I'm getting all riled up and the last thing she wants is for me to go down the path that put me on disability to begin with. (Did I mention that I used to throw up EVERY SINGLE THING I ate? Not on purpose, but because my stomach was one giant pit of acid.)

She's trying to get me to break everything down, piece by piece, and handle it accordingly. But when I'm like this, it's as though each individual task is the most important issue to deal with and I have lists upon lists of what to do and I worry it won't all get done.

Man, am I coming off like a nut-job or what?

I spent most of the morning looking through more job postings and it is SLIM pickin's out there folks. Outside of the one I've already applied for, I can see maybe a couple other possibilities. The irony is that if I don't get the job, I'll be stressed and if I DO get the job, I'll be stressed. I'm worried about no one contacting me, when in fact, I'm dreading going back to the industry to begin with.

WHAT THE HELL???

I need to chill the fuck out now though. With my luck, someone will call for a phone interview when I'm in this frenzy. And won't THAT make a lovely impression.

Serenity now

2005-12-17T15:34:00.000-08:00

First off...

I've added even more of you rockin' writers to my Blog-A-Ma-Roll, so take a look. I don't know what's happened lately (don't get me wrong though...I like it!), but I've received comments from some random readers out of the blue and when I've gone to check their blogs, they seem to be of like minds. Or at least senses of humor. So thanks to all and you are now on my daily "must check" list! (I hope I haven't forgotten anyone...)

Other than that, I was in a pretty pissy mood today due to the need to battle the weekend Christmas shopping crowds, and I REALLY didn't even want to blog when I got home...I was THAT mad.

To you dear shoppers that annoyed the living shit out of me today...fucking RELAX. There will be plenty of parking spaces for us all. You do not need to run over any small children or sideswipe the Salvation Army bell-ringer in your haste to get there before me. I know you're stressed. So am I. And your incessant horn honking is NOT helping anyone.

All I wanted to do was go to the bank and the grocery store, but even those areas seem to be overrun with you freakin' morons. The tellers are moving as fast as they can (and having been their manager previously, I KNOW THIS for a fact), and the grocery clerks are doing the same. Ms. Checker cannot help the fact that the woman with all the coupons would like to argue about her toothpaste purchase and how it IS the correct size for the two-for-one deal.

If you sigh ANY louder behind me, I swear to God I'm going to drop my case of water on your toe.

A little PATIENCE...I beg of you. Or we're all gonna come armed with Uzis next year, and THAT'S not Christmas cheer now, is it?

Watered down

2005-12-16T09:24:00.000-08:00

Since everyone seems to be making confessions lately, here's my own odd and startling admission...

I HATE water. To drink, I mean. It's all Mom's fault since she hated it too. It literally made her gag.

But people can never understand this. What's to hate, they say? It doesn't taste like anything, they offer. You're insane and I cannot be friends with crazy people, they threaten.

Sorry folks. That's just the way it is.

Oh I've tried. BELIEVE ME. I drank gallons of Evian when I was anorexic. But I also drank it usually with a sugarless gum chaser and that made it seem somewhat flavored. It was more about trying to fit in with my fellow gym rats perhaps. I never did like to stand out in a crowd.

Then I used to drink lots of Crystal Light, to try to trick my body into thinking it was getting something healthy. But even that never lasted long. My addiction is carbonation and I NEEDED the Fresca calling my name (original Grapefruit flavor, thank you very much...not this newfangled Black Cherry or Peach crap).

But when we lived in London and I found out I was pregnant, I knew I had to get with the aqua-filled program. I was so determined to be healthy, that even I would give in to the need for hydration. And I found the trick!!

The UK had the greatest thing ever, which did NOT contain artificial sweeteners, and didn't just taste like water with the slightest hint of flavor. OK, it had a bit of sugar...but not much. I was desperate, people!

Volvic Touch of Fruit was my savior. I drank so much that we had to buy it by the case at Makro, which was kind of like Costco, but a little less overwhelming (would you believe the layout of the London Costco was EXACTLY the same as the one I went to/go to in San Diego?).

Of course, after I miscarried, I shouted at God through my mass consumption of Diet Dr. Pepper, but eventually I missed the watery goodness. Unfortunately, at that point we came back to the US.

Every time Mr. Blogger makes a trip to London though (which is every few months to see his kids), he brings me more six-packs of the elixir, weighing down his suitcase with an extra 10 lbs or so, but continuing his angelic, wife-supporting ways. But here's proof of the wackiness that is my superstitious mind....

I WILL NOT touch it until I get pregnant again. So we have tons of it just sitting on the shelves. I CANNOT be swayed.

(Plus I've now gotten hooked on Fruit 2 O, but that has Splenda, which I won't have in pregnancy. But at least for now...it's water. You have no idea how impressive that is for me.)

I just noticed unfortunately, that a couple of the Touch of Fruit packs have a November '05 expiration date, which makes me sad and only further reminds me of the two other miscarriages and subsequent inability to make a Brooke or Mr. Blogger junior.

So what do I do? Dig in and partake of the reminder? Choke it down through tears over the breaking of my vow? Dump it in the sink 'cause it's not good anymore (I do have more that isn't expired)?

Am I being ridiculous? Of course. But when you're trying to get pregnant, you have no idea of the deals you'll make to yourself. And to whomever may be in charge.

Then again, maybe you do.

Have Yourself a Movie Little Christmas

2005-12-15T07:50:00.000-08:00

'Tis the season for good films. But then, Christmas has always meant movie time for me.

When I was little, we had to incorporate the blended family's Christmas requirements in creative ways. We celebrated on Christmas Eve day with Mom, step-dad, step-brother, Gaa, Grandpa and me. Then on Christmas day, my brother went to his mom's and I went to my dad's (did I lose you yet?), which left Mom and step-dad free to go have fun.

They always spent it seeing the latest release in Westwood Village, which in the 80's, was THE place to go see the newest movies. You know, when they had single screens, not multiplexes. It's still where they have all the Los Angeles movie premieres. (It's also home to UCLA, but we're talking movies today.)

Mom used to joke that it was the best time to go out 'cause the lines were short and they'd often hit the best Jewish deli in town after. And they'd come home raving (or conversely, ranting) about what they'd seen. (Well, there was also the time Mom came home in hysterics after seeing Gallipoli. I beg of you not to watch that if you're already depressed.)

So a tradition was born.

Thankfully the film industry agrees and tends to put out great releases at Christmas time. There's a lot I want to see, and heaven knows when we'll get around to it, but here are just a few from my wish list (and yes, some of these have been out for a little while, but we've been lagging):

1. Brokeback Mountain
Thank heavens Mr. Blogger wouldn't be the type to freak out, but this cracked me up.

2. Capote
Mom already saw it and loved it and I trust her judgment implicitly.

3. Pride & Prejudice
I admit I'm an Austen fan...Austenite...Austenophile??

4. Memoirs of a Geisha
Although I'm afraid I won't like it as much as the book. Plus what's up with casting the three main Japanese geisha leads with Chinese actresses?

5. The Producers
I saw it on Broadway with Matthew Broderick and Nathan Lane and I'm interested to see if the hilariousness translates to film...TRULY one of the best times I have ever had in the theatre.

6. Match Point
I usually can't stand the latest Woody Allen film, but this seems VERY different.

7. Walk the Line
We need to catch up and see most of the Golden Globe nominees, although I freaked when I realized it'll be on while we're in London!

Some I'm not too sure about...

1. King Kong
I had no desire whatsoever to see this until I started reading all the positive reviews. But still...

2. Syriana
If I'm in the mood to concentrate really, really hard.

3. The Family Stone
It appears I do need a comedy to cleanse the palate, but this may be a bit too contrived.

And proof that I'm really not as big a snob as it may seem...

1. Wolf Creek
Oh how I do enjoy my horror movies...and it's BASED ON A TRUE STORY!

So what do YOU want to see???

Piece of cake

2005-12-14T04:55:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: The following was written with much love and appreciation for my husband. Honest.

After the excitement of our beans-on-toast dinner (don't laugh...it's one of my favorites and one thing I actually miss about living in London...Heinz Beanz...mmmmm...oh and I think my husband was in one of their commercials when he was a kid or something), Mr. Blogger suddenly exclaimed, "I'd like some cake!"

Where that came from, I don't know. But this was the conversation that further transpired:

"Well, if you run to the store and get me a cake mix, I'll make you one."

I was thinking of something along the lines of Duncan Hines.

"Cake mix! That's ridiculous. You just need flour and eggs and sugar. I used to make them all the time."

"Well go ahead then!"

The gauntlet has been thrown. And my pride in baking wounded, if you want to know the truth.

"OK I will! Now, where is the flour?"

"Everything's in the cupboard. Are you sure you know what you're doing? I don't want to waste all the ingredients."

"Of course!"

I'm deep into the season finale of The Amazing Race, so I let him have his fun. But part of me keeps wondering what the hell he's putting in that thing.

"Is this going to be just a plain cake? Are you frosting it or something?"

"I can whip something up. We have chocolate in there somewhere."

"Only if you plan to melt down a Cadbury Fruit and Nut."

"We have cocoa powder though, right?"

"Um, no. I think you're confusing our cupboards with the one we had in London."

The last time I had seen any cocoa to speak of.

"Aaahhhh!"

He runs out the back door. Is there a cocoa plant out there that I didn't know about? He returns with much fruit in hand.

"Lemons...I'll make it a lemon cake! See! Oh and look...did you know we have oranges?"

No. No, I didn't. But then when Mom came to visit and upon about oh, two seconds in the backyard, presented me with both fresh mint and rosemary to smell, I hadn't known we had that either.

"OK, well I used to make a really good Lemon Jello cake with a lemon glaze on the top, so I can show you how to make that part."

I have to get my expertise in there somewhere.

"Do we have a cake tin?"

"Not really. Just use the 9x13 that's in there. It should work."

After much clanging about in the kitchen, I turn around to see him pouring batter into a small, square 8x8 glass dish.

"Did you grease and flour that beforehand?"

"No. It'll be fine. Trust me."

The batter is barely enough to fill the pan.

"How much did you put in there? Did you measure the ingredients?"

The tightly-wound part of me would have found a recipe on-line and used the exact measurements. I can't handle his free-form. But he seems to be enjoying himself immensely. I need to stop criticizing.

The cake comes out of the oven. It looks...INTERESTING.

I show him how to make the lemon glaze and we pour it on. He does not wish to wait for the cooling, so we cut a slice.

He hands it to me to take a bite.

It looks and tastes just like cornbread. With a hint of lemon.

"Um. It's good. It's very, um, dense. And yet spongy. Hmmmm."

He takes a bite.

"It's not bad."

I don't know whether to feel vindicated for me or bad for him. I choose a happy marriage.

"Um Honey, did you put any oil or butter in this?"

"No. I never needed it before."

"Well, next time try that. I think that's all that's missing."

"I don't know why it turned out like this. It's always been fine when I've made a cake with these ingredients. You don't like it, do you?

"Well, it's fine."

My face apparently says otherwise.

"Here."

He hands me one of our oranges instead.

Perhaps I'm just working my way towards being on London time

2005-12-13T15:25:00.000-08:00

Man, is my sleep pattern royally screwed up. This tends to happen if given enough time, but unfortunately, today I fell asleep at 9:00AM and woke up at 3:00PM.

I blame part of that on the book I couldn't put down, but honestly, most of it is due to nightmares. (Daymares??)

The last couple weeks or so, I've gone back to a horrible pattern of night terrors so bad, I'm then afraid to go to sleep. This is usually a result of upping my meds or something, but I went off of them before we started trying to get pregnant again a couple months ago, and honestly, I've really been ok. (This freaked me out. But if I feel like going back on them after any baby is born to avoid post-partum depression, you better believe, MR. CRUISE, that I'll do it. We "Brookes" have to stick together.)

Then the panic attacks returned. This is what thoughts of my old job do to me, people.

What constitutes a nightmare for me, you ask? Well usually it's people trying to kill me, with whole lot of chasing and running going on. But lately they've all been about betrayal. Strange.

I keep dreaming about these elaborate scenarios in which I'm dating some guy (who's always fairly vague and is definitely not Mr. Blogger) and he usually ends up cheating on me, hurting me and then mocking me for it. All my friends end up taking his side as well. I keep getting accused of "pushing him into it".

He usually flaunts it in front of me and I keep crying and shouting and asking how he could be so cruel. Really, it's far more disconcerting than I'm making it out to be. I even woke up the other night with tears streaming down my cheeks.

So any ideas on what this means? Mr. Blogger is somewhat horrified that I keep dreaming about this, as he's given me no reason to think he would ever do such a thing. And I know he wouldn't. Dreams aren't that clear cut.

There's some bigger message here that apparently my subconscious would like me to grapple with. Come on Mom, you're usually good at this stuff.

I'd really like to be able to go to bed and not be so panic-stricken at the thought of falling asleep.

Plus, I'm running out of books.

HTM-HELL

2005-12-12T04:52:00.000-08:00

Since I can't sleep and have nothing better to do at 4:00 in the morning, other than to continue my cycle o' denial regarding finding a job...I played around with my blog template a bit today. (John, yet again you inspired me. Still mulling over the ad idea though.)

But then I remembered how bad I suckity suck suck at HTML and I could only accomplish some SLIGHT changes. I had forgotten the nightmare of setting up this page to begin with. It's what I get for not using a Blogger-approved template though.

That's me...gotta make things difficult.

Anyway, if you look down the side bar now (or is "sidebar" one word...see, told you I sucked at this), you'll see new categories.

I have "Good Stuff", which consists of non-blog sites I pretty much check out daily. Many of these are media/pop-culture related. What can I say? I'm addicted to keeping up on the latest in entertainment. Even though I hate Paris Hilton with a passion, I seem to have to know she was voted "World's Worst Dog Owner".

It's a sickness, really.

I blame my grandmother for first getting me hooked on old movie magazines at a VERY young age. She even read People every week up until she died from cancer at the age of 84.

Fun fact about my Gaa though (long story but suffice to say I couldn't say "grandma" and it stuck)...guess who she read about and saw on TV and absolutely ADORED?

RU-FREAKIN-PAUL. Loved him, er, her! (I don't know what's PC among drag queens these days!)

Apple. Tree.

Back to the sidebar. Side bar. Whatever.

After that section, I have the "Blog-A-Ma-Roll" (named in honor of Toral's incredibly lame suggestion of "Blizzamarole" on The Apprentice). This would be a list of all the blogs I can't spend a day without. Kinda like sunshine. Only wittier.

Some are friends I know in real life (as opposed to "fake life"?). Some are people I've never actually met and couldn't pick out of a line-up, but I still consider friends. Some are people who've just recently commented on mine and I liked what I saw. Some are random sites I've just come across and now HAVE TO read.

You figure out which one you are.

(And if anyone would like me to take theirs down, please let me know. I promise not to be offended. Much.)

Then we have the slightly controversial choice to publish my new, specifically blog-related email address. We'll see if I live to regret that decision. But did my "borrowed" disclaimer help to deter the crazies? Most likely not.

If it's gone in a week, you'll know why.

So check out the sites and/or blogs. You might like what you see and then feel free to come back and blame me for getting absolutely nothing accomplished in your day.

Beats working, I suppose.

A little ass-kissing never hurt

2005-12-11T15:13:00.000-08:00

Wow...you people are NICE. (And I would hug you all if I could.)

Thanks for all the encouragement yesterday, since after perusing yet even more ads last night, I was positively ready to go be a Store Manager at Party City. No joke...that was listed.

(And if you ever wonder why I link so many items that may seem like common sense to you, more often than not, it's for my British Mother-in-Law to know what I'm talking about. Otherwise she ends up Googling things like "Aqua Net". No, really. She did.)

If the links didn't work for you yesterday (Kiwi), the job that I really wanted was as a Copy Editor at Hay House. (The old link doesn't seem to be working today.) I mean, I've read tons of Louise Hay's work, especially You Can Heal Your Life. Don't laugh...it's good stuff.

Plus we all know what an anal freak I am about punctuation, grammar and spelling (not in blogs, so chill on the pointing out of previous errors). Tell me I couldn't do that job. Well, don't, 'cause I'm sure I'll hear enough of that on my own.

Well, I could do it...except for the part where I can't type all that well, have no qualifications in the arena and have no freakin' clue what the Chicago Manual is.

But I'm pretty sure it's not a companion book to the musical.

The funny thing though, is that when Mr. Blogger was reading yesterday's entry he immediately said, "Hay House! They're one of my customers!"

REEEEEEALLY?

I may ACTUALLY type up a cover letter with much obsequiousness and begging, and attach it to a resume for him to drop off. He even said he would talk to someone if he could, although I don't hold out much hope. Maybe there's a job being a go-fer or something, and I could work my way up?

Sure. 'Cause life's just that kind. And fair. And I'm sure they'll place the greatest of trust in whom to hire from the man who meets all their first-aid needs. (But thank you for trying Honey.)

A couple weeks ago, I even wrote emails to every private eating disorder clinic/psychiatric hospital in the area to see if there were any clerical openings (again...just trying to work my way up to what I really want to do) and NO ONE WROTE ME BACK.

But after just getting off the phone with a former fellow-Branch Manager at The Company With No Soul, I KNOW I can't do that shit ANY MORE.

It's truly soul draining.

Funny how she just called out of the blue today though...hmmmm.

My Big Fat Job Hunt

2005-12-10T16:33:00.000-08:00

Lest I get too cocky and forget about exactly WHY it is that I've been on disability since September (you mean my job isn't just sitting at home all day and writing in my blog???), God likes to kick me in the ass sometimes to remind me.

Last night, the ass, she was kicked.

It's probably because I've been doing a LOT of thinking lately about how I really need to start contributing to this household's overwhelming consumption of cable television and long distance phone calls. My paycheck used to actually be the bigger one and after we get back from our trip to London in January, I need to get with the program.

Or rather, get with the unending treadmill of doom which threatens to envelop me in the uselessness of my not-really-chosen-but-accepted-by-default career.

Can you tell how excited I am to get back to banking?

So I had the full-fledged, knee-knocking, nightmare-inducing panic attack of the ages. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't breathe, and my muscles were so tight that all appendages felt as though they were being twisted like a giant's wringing out of a washcloth.

Everyone tells me I don't HAVE to go back to the bullshit of an English major's attempt at a REAL career. But it's all I got people.

When I look at the job websites, I realize I'm qualified for nothing but this kind of crap, which is all I've done for the last 17 years. (Seriously, for those who know me...I'm going to end up taking that job, aren't I?)

What I really want is this, but they aren't gonna give it to me. I HAVE NO FREAKIN' EXPERIENCE. But I could do it...I KNOW I could.

So in the meantime I have dreams where customers are lined up to berate me, and my staff all threaten to quit and my new boss hates me for no reason whatsoever...oh sorry, that wasn't a nightmare, it was my reality.

And then I physically and mentally collapse.

Help.

Because one can never have enough demi-glace in one's refrigerator

2005-12-09T14:18:00.000-08:00

Well no need to make the Baked Bean Lasagna last night (thanks V-grrrl, but you're right, it sounded gross), since we did have some pasta and spaghetti sauce in the cupboard as it turned out. We even had some Veggie Crumbles in the freezer...so Spaghetti Bolognese! And I even had some frozen cinnamon roll dough to make for dessert!

From white trash to lap of luxury in one fell swoop.

But if I've said it once, I'll say it a million times, I love my Mom. Plus she never fails to crack me up (intentionally or not).

She called all in a tizzy 'cause we had no food...a mother's worst nightmare. But that's what I get for putting it in my blog I suppose. I also may have over-dramatized a bit as it turned out.

But she made me STOP WATCHING THE APPRENTICE (sacrilege!) and immediately follow her instructions.

"I feel just AWFUL that I'm not there to help you, so here, go to your computer and look up this site."

"OK."

(Mr. Blogger is yelling in the background..."You're missing the good parts! The Outback Steakhouse guy just totally chewed out Randall!". Plus the cinnamon rolls had just come out of the oven and I was right in the middle of icing them when Mom called and THOSE ROLLS SMELL REALLY GOOD! He is not helping.)

"Are you there? It's www.homebistro.com."

Mom always has to say to full "www" part to make sure it's correct.

"Yup. I got it."

"Order some meals from there and I'll give you my credit card number to pay. There's a lovely Wild Mushroom Ravioli with Marsala Wine Sauce you may like. Or MB might want the Grilled Ahi Tuna in Asian Demi-Glace. The Chocolate Sabayon Entremet sounds wonderful for dessert."

I have no idea what she just said.

"Um, Mom, that's awfully nice of you but I think we might be better off just buying groceries if you're offering."

Mom never did lack for a gourmet's taste though.

"Oh you're right, and it wouldn't get there for a few days, so I guess that's not helping. How about you order that for a New Year's Eve dinner or something? My treat."

"Well, we might go out, but thanks. I might take you up on that."

I feel kinda guilty.

"How can we buy you groceries? I need to do SOMETHING for you."

I'm already on Vons.com.

"I can see if it'll work with your credit card when I order, but I'm not sure. They may require it to be from the person ordering."

"Well, tell them that your mother is coming to visit and had paid for the groceries, expecting them to be there when she arrived."

Way to work the "MOM EXPECTS IT" angle there, Madre.

"You don't actually talk to anyone. It's all on-line. But I'll see."

"OK, well try it and call me back if you have any problems."

After a good hour of setting up an account and shopping aisle by aisle, we're done. It actually worked. Plus we got the first time shopper's $20 discount. I'm getting more excited by the minute.

I call her back because she's called twice in the time it's taken us to shop and she WANTS TO MAKE SURE.

"OK, it worked. Our order will be here between 4:00pm and 8:00pm tomorrow."

"They deliver?! How marvelous! I thought you had to go pick it up!"

"Nope. The beauty of on-line shopping."

"Oh I feel so much better! Well, keep my credit card number just in case you run into any emergencies again. But let me know first if you're going to use it."

"No Mom, I'm going to get right on neimanmarcus.com and start ordering things without your knowledge."

"Well, I know, but I just wanted you to know you could use it."

I, of course, won't.

"Thanks though Mom. Really."

"Anytime. I wish you had called and told me."

"It's fine. Just a sticky week. We'll be FINE."

"OK, I love you."

"I love you too."

"Now go to bed. Your cold sounds worse."

Food, glorious food

2005-12-08T15:25:00.000-08:00

One of the truly sucky things about my being on disability is that money is oh-so-tight. We manage, and I won't begin to equate myself with those that are truly suffering such devastation as Katrina or the tsunami and such...it's just that this week it's tighter than tight.

Tighter than my old Dittos in 8th grade tight.

You know how right after the first of the month, you've paid the (somewhat exorbitant) rent, the bills and car payments and that leaves you enough for perhaps one movie at Blockbuster and some store brand popcorn? If you don't get "buttered"?

I know John feels my pain, at least. (Hmmm...ads on your blog, huh? How's that going?)

Part of that is my fault for going a little hog wild on Mr. Blogger's birthday. But the man works so hard for our only paycheck and did so enjoy the $150 dinner for two at Trattoria Acqua (and I don't even drink...or eat meat!). He has such lovely, albeit EXPENSIVE taste, and he deserved it.

But that, and his new cell phone that I cannot pry out of his hands...EVER...and buying all the Christmas decorations has left us with that horrible "we-don't-get-paid-for-another-week-so-whatever's-in-the-fridge-is-what-we're-having-for-dinner" dilemma.

Last night's dinner therefore left something to be desired.

Appetizer - Lucky Charms

Main course - Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches and Tater Tots

Dessert - An Orange

We are officially white trash.

I keep trying to tell myself that it could be worse, and at least all the bills are paid, we have a roof over our heads and toasty warm heat for the still-sick Mrs. Blogger. (I haven't even mentioned The Cold That Would Not Die...it gets pretty old after a while.)

So we deal.

I may need to go find something interesting to make with lasagna noodles and baked beans for tonight, though.

Any suggestions?

I may have identified a little too strongly with Pig Pen as well

2005-12-07T13:12:00.000-08:00

Last night at the Bloggers'...

"Honeeeeeeeyyyyyy hurry!"

"I'm coming!"

"But you're gonna miss the beginning!"

"WHAT?"

"It's starting!"

"I can't hear you!"

"Where are you???"

"I'M IN THE BATHROOM!!"

"Oh, ok, sorry!"

"Plus we own it on DVD anyway!"

"But it's not the same!"

"All right all right, I'm coming!"

I get a little obsessed when A Charlie Brown Christmas comes on. It just doesn't feel like Christmas without it. When we lived in London and I found out THEY DON'T SHOW IT EVERY YEAR, I just about had to go into a detox program. Thank god for DVDs.

So to celebrate the 40th anniversary of its original airing, here are some fun facts for you (gathered from many sources):

First animated Peanuts special.

The actors (all children) learned their lines phonetically, often not knowing what they meant, which led to the now familiar Peanuts delivery-style.

Linus' "the true meaning of Christmas" quote is Luke 2:8-14 from the King James translation of the Bible.

The version of the show broadcast on CBS-TV until 1997 and older video releases are edited; they leave out a scene where the gang throws snowballs at a can on a fence.

The original broadcast included some brief animated sections which included the logo of Coca-Cola, the show's original sponsor. These have been edited out of subsequent broadcasts and the video release. Right after the opening title, Linus (or Charlie Brown, sources disagree) crashed into a sign advertising Coca-Cola after being tossed by Snoopy. (Look at current versions and you'll notice that we never see where Linus lands!) The closing carol originally included the complete verse (instead of fading out) with a final on-screen "Merry Christmas from your local bottler of Coca-Cola" right after the United Feature Syndicate credit at the end.

Won an Emmy Award for "Outstanding Children's Program", and a Peabody Award for excellence in programming.

During his famed speech, Linus, who is well known to be dependent on his "Security Blanket", actually lets go of it when he recites these words: "Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy".

Broke many of the rules prevalent for animated holiday specials during the 1960s: it didn't make use of a laugh track; real children were used for the character voices instead of adult actors imitating children's voices; and Biblical references were used to illustrate the true meaning of Christmas.

Just before her remarks about Christmas being a big commercial racket, Lucy refers to Charlie Brown simply as "Charlie". This is the only time she does this in any of the TV specials; every other time it's "Charlie Brown".

Everyone loves it, but the execs at CBS thought it would be a flop!

I think it's genius. And I always will.

I love everything about it. Think about it...a children's special with a kid who has a "Psychiatric Help" booth? A little girl who wants real estate for Christmas? A dog who gets first place in a "Lights and Display Contest"?

Plus have you noticed how Schroeder was one hot piano playin' fool? (I'm glad he could never be swayed by Lucy...she's not good enough for him!)

And every time they have the Christmas play rehearsal scene, which frankly consists of nothing but them all dancing to "Linus and Lucy" (go listen to it right now...I defy you not to smile!), I have to imitate each character's unique dance. My favorite is Sally's ska-like throwdown.

Tell me you don't get choked up when Linus says that the Charlie Brown tree just needs a little love. (And whoever thought of this...although they appear to be sold out...is my kinda people!)

It just makes me HAPPY. Simple as that.

My kids will one day watch this show with me and want to know why Mommy MAKES them watch it every year. Then they'll get it. And they'll love it too.

If they don't, they're going to have to watch it anyway. Mom's rules.

THAT, my friends, is Customer Service

2005-12-06T13:31:00.000-08:00

Since Blogger was down most of the afternoon/evening last night, I'm not taking any chances here and plan to type very fast to hurry up and get this posted.

Never did find out what the problem was, but at least it's working...right now.

(And BOYS: look away...nothing to see here...)

Well, I'm not "one day pregnant" because I got my period last night, VERY surprisingly. (I have decided that the Pregnancy Goddesses have deemed it necessary for Emily, her wife and I to ALL BE ON THE SAME SCHEDULE.)

Remember how last month I had a 46 day cycle because of all the progesterone drama? Well apparently my body decided to catch up and try to get back on schedule or something, because I have now ended a 23 DAY CYCLE. Seriously, WTF???

I usually go around 30 days, so now I'm panicking because I am SERIOUSLY messed up.

But what made me really mad was that The Watch said I was fertile, only DAYS ago. Huh?? SO I wrote a strongly-worded email to the customer service department. And you know how I enjoy writing my strongly-worded emails.

To Whom it May Concern:

I purchased your watch last month and even paid for overnight delivery in order to have it in time for this cycle.

My first day was November 12 and I wore it faithfully and according to directions each day. It only finally stated "Fertile Day 1" on November 27, cycle day 16. It additionally stated "OV Day 1" on December 1, cycle day 20.

This had seemed very late for someone with a normally 30 day cycle and I did contact your company by phone on November 23 as I was concerned. I put it through the test mode as instructed and all was operating properly as far as my usage.

Today I have started my period. This is only day 24 for me, so it was highly unexpected. I realize that this is not your doing, but I do have issue with the fact that only today did the watch go back to "Not Fertile"...on the first day of my period?

I had thought things were a bit off when my body felt as if it was ovulating a full week before your watch said so, but given that I spent a great deal of money on your product to read correctly, I wasn't about to go out and spend more on OV sticks.

I now believe your product is faulty and not worth the money I spent. I would like a full refund and wish to know how to go about obtaining one. If I do not hear back from you via email, I will contact you by phone, although the last time I did so, I was on hold for 10 minutes, only to find out that someone would "need to call me back".

This is unacceptable.

I intend to let people know not to purchase this as well. It is far too costly and inconvenient to be this incorrect.

I await your swift reply.

Regards,
Brooke Blogger

Reply swiftly they did. Amazingly, not even an hour after I sent this email, I received a phone call from their Marketing VP.

I should mention here that this was the same woman who called me about a week after I had purchased it to tell me that they noticed I had done so only days before they came out with a new, more sensitive model. She would therefore be sending me one FREE OF CHARGE, WITH A FREE SENSOR (you get three sensors for three months' worth of readings when you order). She in fact did, and I had planned to use that one next month as I couldn't switch in the middle.

I was impressed. But now I was mad.

So this woman had obviously retrieved my email, looked up my name as a customer and found my phone number to call me, rather than email her reply. And it had to be about 9:30PM on the East coast.

Score one more point for OV Chick.

She was very upset to hear of my situation and she read back some notes she made from our previous conversation (!!!), asking if it could possibly have anything to do with the progesterone, etc. I said that yes, it very well could have, and my being sick may have also affected getting my period so early.

What I took exception to, however, was the fact that the watch should never have read that I ovulated not even a week beforehand. She agreed. She also agreed it was unacceptable.

Additionally, she told me that their customer service line was working on faster response times, so she apologized for that as well.

Since they have a 30 day money back guarantee, I just wanted to get on with it, but she asked if I would do her one favor. Could I give the more sensitive watch that she had sent me a try, for one more month, and if I was still not satisfied, she would extend my warranty and refund me IN FULL. After using their product for TWO cycles.

I couldn't argue with that.

She told me that she just believed in the product so much, and that it had even helped her to get pregnant, so she didn't want me to give up on it. She was VERY apologetic and said if I mailed my original watch back, she would upload the data from the sensor and see if she could gather what went wrong.

(Within minutes of hanging up, she also sent me an email with an address to send it to and a FedEx account number to use so it would be free of charge. Holy moly!)

So I'll give it a shot again. Can't see the harm.

She ended the call with, "I just really want to hear you're pregnant. That's all I care about."

You and me both, lady. You and me both.

Jury Doody

2005-12-05T13:47:00.000-08:00

Apparently some are decrying my inability to "meet my responsibilities" as a Blogger, so I'm here. I'm pissed, but I'm here. I'm in mourning, but I'm here.

I'm sick as a dog and can't take any cold medicine on the OFF chance that I'm oh, about one day pregnant...BUT I'M HERE.

As far as Saturday goes, well, you must have seen the score by now and there's no point rehashing old pain, fresh in the mind as it may be.

But I would like to say this.

After paying $60 to park and then deal with the asshole Trojans who continually chanted "O-VER RA-TED" at us, I may never go to a game at the Coliseum again. The thing I really REALLY hated is that when we were fucking losing by 66-3 at one point, they STILL felt it necessary (and we're talking people only a row or so away from your face) to point and laugh at you and shake their keys and tell you it was time to go home...and then when you did finally give up and leave, they yelled "AW...where you going? Had enough? HAHAHAHA!".

They have NO FUCKING CLASS.

I can remember, not that long ago, some games where we were skunking the crap out of them, and yet our cheering was not a derision and a literal outright in-your-face attack. It was a CELEBRATION.

There's a difference, you assholes.

I give USC every prop in the world for their team. They win. A LOT. They're obviously doing something right and I can't take that away from them.

It's the fans who can go to hell.

When we were walking back to our car, I was miserably sneezy and stuffy and obviously just DONE, so I held onto Mr. Blogger's arm and had my head on his shoulder for support. We were minding our own business, when some fucker in cardinal and gold yelled at me, "Yeah, you BETTER hang on to him!".

Or WHAT?! You gonna come over here and mess us up or something...because WE LOST? Does that make any sense??? That's my point, how can people STILL be yelling at you when you are NO THREAT WHATSOEVER AND THE GAME IS OVER???

So I flipped him off.

Anyway, "Overbearing in Victory" doesn't even begin to describe it. So I ask everyone here to cheer as loud as you can for Texas in the National Championship Rose Bowl game on January 4th, so SOMEBODY knows what it's like to lose. For once. Goddammit.

Ok, I'm done. On to the Sun Bowl. Yippee.

So today both MB and I had Jury Duty. More yippee. (And, yup, on the same day.) But when the alarm went off at 5:00AM and I still couldn't breathe, I knew there was no way that was happening, for me at least.

MB headed off to fulfill his civic duties and I told him to bring my summons so he could postpone mine. He battled traffic, paid for parking, and navigated his way around downtown San Diego. He checked in, changed mine and sat for Orientation.

Then he found out that you can't serve if you're not a US citizen. Whoops.

Back home he came and back to work he went. So much for all that. But as much as we said this would work out well having it on the same day as we could carpool and keep each other company, it's a good thing I didn't go. He would have had to sit there with me until I was finished, which knowing how my last service went, wasn't until 4:30, when they finally let me go after no one wanted me.

That's what happens when the first question in voir dire is "Who in your family is in either the law, or law enforcement?"

Two FBI agents, a retired LAPD detective and a Superior Court Judge for a dad (for STARTERS) don't get you very far. And yet they keep summoning me!

Good call on inviting a British Citizen there too, oh people of the government.

You must hire a lot of USC grads.

We are sons of Westwood...and we hail the blue and gold!

2005-12-02T13:04:00.000-08:00

Shit shit shit...I woke up late because I FEEL LIKE UTTER POO, and now I barely have any time to blog before I have to shower and pack for this weekend.

Where are we going, when I have not a nostril to breathe out of, you ask?

THE BIGGEST GAME OF THE YEAR.

Seriously, if I don't have time to do anything but this, I will say to you...my friends, family and assorted wacky internet buddies...

IF YOU DO NOT CHEER FOR UCLA, I MAY NEVER CONVERSE WITH YOU AGAIN.

It's THAT serious.

What makes it TRULY horrific this year however is the fact that:

A. It's at the Coliseum (meaning it's a home game for USC...we trade off every year)

B. USC is ranked #1 in THE WHOLE COUNTRY

C. They are currently undefeated and we have only one loss, yet UCLA is being tapped to lose BY THREE TOUCHDOWNS

WHAT WHAT WHAT??????

The UCLA-USC rivalry dates waaay back and has been known to divide Los Angeles in a way that would rival the Civil War. Families have split (and yes, my first husband and father were both SC grads...does this tell you anything?), alliances broken and friendships lost forever over this particular game.

EVERYONE knows how important it is. You may scoff, but trust me, this is more than bragging rights. This is a chance to show up those snotty, no good, obnoxious Trojans...well, that or to go home bawling my eyes out.

(My sorority sister The Original MB is married to an SC grad and yet emailed me the other day to say..."OK......3 days to THE GAME!!!!! Or......"The upset of the century" as I've been saying......Hope reigns supreme.")

My Mom's favorite quote is:

USC: Overbearing in victory, surly in defeat

They make fun of us, and hang cute little bears in effigy. They tell us that powder blue is a color for babies. Their tailgate parties consist of full silver and china place settings and candelabras, which they use while wearing buttons that say "My maid went to UCLA". They remind us how it costs, oh, 80 gazillion dollars more to attend SC than UCLA...as though that was the sign of a good education.

They're just generally SO MEAN THAT I CAN'T EVEN BEAR THE THOUGHT OF WALKING THROUGH THE COLISEUM TOMORROW.

I accept that it's not exactly the greatest chance in the world that we'll win. But if we do, can you IMAGINE what a party that will be???

So I will be there DAMMIT. As Kona Girl said this morning, upon hearing my lovely, germ-infected voice, they'd pretty much have to have me strapped to a hospital bed with an IV to keep me from going (and that is, in fact, the EXACT reason I wasn't able to go to the '82 game!).

I will scream until I have no voice. I will jump up and down on bad knees that never have fully healed. I will make deals with God when it comes down to the final touchdown to win.

And when I get home, I will either not speak to anyone, or blog like there's not enough words to describe the elation that is my true-blue Bruin heart.

(Now, for your official initiation into Bruin-dom, please click below, turn on the speakers and sing along even though you don't know where to come in...)

GO BRUINS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It's not the cold and flu season...it's the cold and flu LIFETIME

2005-12-01T10:38:00.000-08:00

I knew it. I have a full fledged cold as of this morning. What a shocking turn of events.

But in the effort to quell the development to full-fledged flu/strep/bronchitis, Mom has been throwing Zicam swabs at me like they were made of some magical elixir. Perhaps they are. (Of course, she also won't come near me 'cause god forbid she catch it herself.)

Now, look at a these things, won't you.

(Oh sorry, was just interrupted by her coming in here with a Sugar Free Halls for me. Did she pack a medicine cabinet in her suitcase or something??)

Zicam is a Q-tippy kind of thing, with a blob of gooey zinc on the tip. You break them open and SWIRL THEM AROUND IN YOUR NOSTRILS. Ew ew ew ew ew. Plus, it tickles like crazy. Then again, EVERYTHING tickles me like crazy, so nothing's new with that.

But Mom swears by them, so who am I to question a mother's judgment. (Oh how the laughter engulfs her at this moment...)

So swirl away, I do. Every stinkin' four hours or so. We'll see if it works.

In the meantime, I have promised not to flake, for once, and will still take her out shopping today before she leaves tonight to see friends in L.A. I don't think she'd much appreciate me lying in bed all day.

But then again, being my Mom, she'd be used to that.

Behold the power of...THE MOM

2005-11-30T15:37:00.000-08:00

While Mom is taking a nap and Mr. Blogger is not yet home, I'm going to try to dash off a quick, and most likely boring-ass blog entry. Not feeling terribly creative on three hours sleep.

Hey, why aren't I the one napping?

MB and I stayed up until 3:00AM to get everything finished for the Madre de Cleanliness (I don't know enough Spanish to tell you what that would be). Even though she said not to worry about it...now, seriously. If it were YOUR mother's first time to visit your new home and YOU had the most fastidious, albeit newly "relaxed", mother in the world...wouldn't you stay up until all hours of the night?

We then also had to get up way WAY too early, but after I picked Mom up from the airport and we came home to drop off her things...it was ALL worth it.

MY MOTHER, ladies and gentlemen, commented on how CLEAN everything was.

WOOO HOOO!

Well, that and she loved everything. The house, our furniture, the Christmas stuff...everything.

Then we went to Souplantation and ate way too much salad (IS there such a thing?) and she hath now pooped out. (We also sat and discussed just how Mexican could we be when she's only half and I can't speak Spanish. It's a long story. Assimilation, culture, the need to define oneself. You know, typical mother/daughter talk. Maybe THAT'S what exhausted her.)

So I have her all tucked in at the moment, but she needs to be up soon for us to go see my brother's family for dinner.

You KNOW the whole reason for this trip was to see the grandbaby. No problem. I can deal with that.

Or I could just douse the place in Pine Sol

2005-11-29T10:37:00.000-08:00

We are not going to discuss the fact that I woke up with a really sore throat this morning. And that Mom gets here tomorrow. And the BIGGEST GAME OF THE YEAR is this Saturday.

Nor will I mention that my friend didn't end up coming to stay last night because he had a rotten cold, and we spent two days with him last week.

Nope. Not gonna talk about it. I prefer denial.

Anyway, moving right along. Last night we finally got Christmas decorations. We went a tad bit crazy at Michaels.

(My favorite is the lit-up polar bear that's on the front lawn. Oh my god seriously...he's the cutest thing you've ever seen. Except perhaps for pissed off cats. But I'll take a picture when we're done setting everything up. You WILL love him.)

But the most difficult decision was that of the tree...real or fake?

When I was younger, we always had a fake tree until the year my brother and I staged a revolt and insisted on real. I have always preferred the pine smell permeating the house. It just feels more Christmasy.

And Mom, I will do you the favor of not having to hear about how you had to supervise every little ornament's placing, for fear of imperfection. And the nervous wrecks my brother and I became over it. OR...of how we finally decorated all by ourselves when you were out of the house one year, AND THERE WAS NOTHING YOU COULD DO ABOUT IT. (I kid, because I LOVE...my newly-relaxed-madre!)

Good times.

So when Emily and I were chatting last week and she told me of her parents' SHOCKING decision to buy a fake tree this year, I felt her indignance. That's just not right!

But then you grow up and have to vacuum the needles yourself. You also have a somewhat neat-freak husband who just may go over the edge with the possibility of pine tar ruining the new carpet. (He didn't even like it when I sat the boxes on the carpet...THEY WERE DUSTY!)

So as we drove to the "real tree lot", we talked about the pros and cons. We stopped off at Michaels first to get lights...and made the mistake of seeing the trees they had. On sale. At low, low bargain prices. Ok, not that low. But discounted at least.

And we broke down and bought one. Emily, you may shame me.

I did protest it at first and kept talking about how I was NOT happy about this. But then we got home and poor Mr. Blogger had to put it together. It's 7 1/2 feet tall and pre-lit, so it was somewhat of a nightmare getting it right. As he lovingly arranged each, individual, single, solitary branch, I told him it didn't have to be perfect!

He looked at me with utter shock and stated, "It HAS to be perfect."

And you wonder why he and my mother get along so well.

But when he was done, at 11:30 at night, it WAS perfect. And beautiful. And HUMONGOUS. We haven't even gotten around to putting the ornaments on it yet.

OK, so it doesn't smell as good, but I'll buy some of those pine-scented tree air-fresheners you hang on your rear view mirror or something. What matters is that MB's happy and there's no mess and my mother will approve.

I'm kidding...sort of.

Power Hour

2005-11-28T10:06:00.000-08:00

Every so often, and I wouldn't call it "frequently", I get a wild organizational bug that takes over me completely. I need to clean everything and go through closets and re-arrange my entire house.

The thing though, is that I am all too aware that this feeling is going to be very fleeting. So I am in some kind of race against the clock that will tell me to just screw it...leave everything where it is.

I'm frantic, I tell you, FRANTIC.

So when I get like this, I need to get everything done RIGHT NOW...or I may never come back to it. Mr. Blogger quite enjoys it when the feeling hits me at about 3:00 in the morning.

Given the fact that I have a friend staying over tonight, then my Mom flying in on Wednesday, I knew that the place needed to be SPOTLESS. I decided to tackle all the crap in the garage (including the ten tons o' memories from the ex). But in finding room for all that, the guest bedroom closet needed to be completely reorganized. Which led me to go through every box in there to find the Christmas stuff. Which led to one pile for trash, one for Goodwill, one to give to friends and one for which to find storage space. Which led to exhaustion.

But I wasn't quitting until it was ALL done.

Apparently someone else had other ideas.

At about 5:00PM, just as it was starting to get dark, the power went out. Boom. Complete blackout. We called the electric company and they said about 500 customers were affected and they were sending technicians to work on it. They also said to expect an approximate ETA of 9:00PM.

EXCUSE ME?!? I have THINGS TO ORGANIZE.

In my frenzied state, I decided to gather every candle in the house and KEEP WORKING. MB went to go get a flashlight and came back with the teeny-tiniest thing I've ever seen.

Note to selves...next purchase... flashlight bigger than thumb.

I had no idea how long I would be dealing with this so I kept at it. Of course, I also accidentally spilled candle wax all over my books, so that slowed me down a bit. But my anal-retentive husband spent hours cleaning those (hey, we each have our idiosyncrasies), so I was covered.

We ordered Italian food and pushed some boxes together to make a table so we could eat on the floor. It was even almost romantic with the candlelight. Or rather, it would have been if I hadn't been freaking out.

Then after a couple hours, power was restored, I shouted in delight, and then saw my handiwork. Not THAT bad considering I hadn't been able to see. OK, that leather jacket probably shouldn't have been in the trash pile, but I fixed that.

I got EVERYTHING done. We still need to actually put out all the Christmas stuff, but for now it's all in a neat pile of boxes in the living room. All I need to do now is buy a tree and decorate everything before my Mom gets here at 11:00AM on Wednesday.

Oh and clean the whole house, wash her sheets and towels and otherwise get everything ready for her white glove test.

I was talking to a friend on the phone last night who told me not to stress so much since surely, "she can't be THAT neat". Or, "I'm SURE there were times when you were growing up that HER home wasn't perfect".

Once the hysterical laughter died down, there was only one thing to say...

"YOU WERE OBVIOUSLY NEVER THERE."

"Watching" and waiting

2005-11-27T14:39:00.000-08:00

I told you before of the OV-Watch I purchased this month. Remember, it's ridiculously expensive? Yup...I THOUGHT that would ring a bell.

Well, we programmed it correctly, started it on the right day, and I've been wearing it faithfully, ever night, for the requisite amount of time. And yet, every stinkin' day it says this:

Nothing like looking at your wrist every day, only to be reminded that YOU SUCK...you stupid non-baby-making loser!

As I was now on Cycle Day 12, I started to worry that there was still no sign of impending ovulation (the watch notifies you when you get to the four "fertile days" leading up to the big O, so to speak, and I still didn't even see anything saying THAT was coming).

I also remembered that I royally screwed up my cycle by taking the progesterone too early last month, so god only knows what my body's doing these days. I was starting to think my uterus may have gone on vacation. It's pretty stressed out and wanted to lay out on the beach with a good book and a Virgin Piña Colada. But I told it there was no time for such laziness.

I called the company and they said they would have a "product expert" call me right back. Yeah, right. At 4:00PM on the day before Thanksgiving. Oh wait, make that 7:00PM...they're on the East Coast.

But someone actually did. And she answered all my questions, and had me put it through a test mode, which showed that everything was working properly. Again, I'm not sure that made me feel any better though, since that meant it was my body malfunctioning, not the watch.

What a surprise.

So as we were watching Saturday Night Live last night, the watch switched itself to the new cycle day at midnight. And lo and behold...
Woo hooooooooo!

Now we may or may not actually get pregnant this time, but at least I know I'm not some kind of non-ovulating freak.

My uterus is thankful for the relief.

Thanksgiving-and-taking

2005-11-26T13:09:00.000-08:00

It's not my fault.

I haven't been able to get on the damn computer because SOMEBODY got a new cell phone for his birthday and has decided to employ every bell and whistle on the Windows capabilities. I finally had to kick him off today, or else he would be editing wav files to make his custom ring tone...UNTIL THE END OF TIME.

But then, I gave it to him. Maybe it is my fault.

Thanksgiving was good...although our UnTurkey was looked at somewhat dubiously. My cousin was the only one brave enough to try it and I applaud her courage. The day was also a lesson in what exactly constitutes "vegetarian". Cooking in chicken broth, for example, does not. (They may ban us from attending next year.)

Honestly though, we had a great time and as far as I know, no one passed out or had any eyeball injuries. Although we did leave fairly early. Who knows what shenanigans may have transpired after.

Yesterday I had the somewhat challenging task of having to go to my ex's house to get all the crap I've been storing in his garage for oh...THREE YEARS. He was nice enough to keep a lot of my stuff when I moved to London and I honestly kept forgetting to go get it. But since we were both free on the day after Thanksgiving, that was to be the day...yippee!

Yeah, that was fun. But I made the grievous error of thinking I was only there to get some boxes and go. Nope.

Apparently this was also to be the time that he wanted to divide up more of "our things" that I guess we never got around to. You try going through tons of boxes, going through EVERY SINGLE INDIVIDUALLY WRAPPED CHRISTMAS ORNAMENT, and deciding who gets what. I swear to god, it was like splitting up all over again. And he SOOO enjoyed that the first time.

The BEST part? Dividing up pictures!

"This wedding pic has mostly your family, so YOU take it."

Can you imagine the awkwardness? It was hot and dusty and I must have sneezed twenty times in there. Add to that "the laying out of the stuffed animals and quibbling over who gets the stuffed panda" and you have the day of sheer hell.

He's a good and decent man, my ex...it's just a horrific task no matter how you look at it. Especially when you consider that I left him, and although we're perfectly cordial to each other, I don't think he ever really forgave me. I still feel guilty knowing I "ruined" someone's life, even though it really was the best thing to be done.

You know how I do so enjoy people hating me.

Oh! I forgot! I also got to see MY cats, whom I picked out and bonded with and loved as my children...but had to give up when I moved...AND THEY RAN AWAY FROM ME.

The hits just kept on coming.

After HOURS of this, I came home filthy and my wonderful husband suggested we get out, go to dinner and take a breather. Thank god. Nothing like some chips and guacamole to wash away the day's challenges.

But now I'm going to need to go through all that crap and find places in the house to put it in storage. Can't tell you how glad I'll be when it's all over.

In the meantime though, I think it can all sit for a while. Well, except for Cartman...he needs to be free.

Didn't you love to put all the olives on your fingers and eat them off one by one?

2005-11-23T12:48:00.000-08:00

Well I didn't think I'd have time to write, given my full and somewhat hectic list of activities scheduled for today. Ooooo...I just feel so needed...

Then the door knob, decorative plate, bolt lock and all, decided to completely fall out of the front door and everything went out the window. Or rather, door.

The locksmith just left after 2 1/2 hours of trying to first fix it, and then having to buy another that doesn't even match the other door. Whatever, the owner's paying and when and if we buy this house ourselves (Zee Medical van hassles notwithstanding), we'll redo the whole thing to our taste anyway. But now I'm stuck between what I was supposed to do this morning and where I'm going tonight. Screw it...I'll just do laundry.

Such an exciting life I lead. Although at this point, if I'm not puking, then it's all vegetarian gravy.

But at some point this evening, after meeting up with Emily for dinner, I need to get home and make the UnTurkey. Since of course, no one else in the world will want some, I only need to make sure it's good enough to feed Mr. Blogger and myself. We're heading up to family in L.A. and will bring it with us. Have fake meat, will travel.

Between getting everything done for MB's birthday and being somewhat bedridden, I had almost forgotten about all the Thanksgiving hoopla. But considering how many Thanksgivings I've missed due to illness, injury and poked out eyeballs...it's never been my favorite of holidays.

My grandmother (Mom's mom) used to go to so much trouble and cook EVERYTHING (I think we brought a can of olives every year) for about 13 of us. The year of the aforementioned poked out eyeball, she had been coming to see me, by bus, every single day of my six week hospitalization.

When I got out just in time for the holiday, she still had to pull everything together. But just as we finally all sat down to eat (and say grace, being the good Catholics that we were...emphasis on WERE), she PASSED OUT.

Literally..."OK, let's all be thankful that Brooke is here, eyepatch and all, and dig in everybody..." BAM! She had reached her limit. That woman was one tough cookie and was worse than I am in admitting defeat or fatigue when it comes to GETTING THE JOB DONE. But se finito.

My uncle immediately scooped her up, took her to bed and there she stayed for the rest of the day. We didn't see her again. But DAMNED if she didn't pull off the usual amazing feast before she collapsed. (And when we were all calmed down and assured that she was in fact, perfectly fine, just exhausted...MAN did we laugh our asses off!)

I'm telling you...between both my mother AND father's sides of the family...there is no room for WIMPS!

I'm doomed.

On the day that you were born, the angels got together...

2005-11-22T12:06:00.000-08:00

(Never thought I'd reference a Carpenters tune now, did ya'?)

Well, it's just that kind of day...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MR. BLOGGER!

To my husband who is...

THE KINDEST
THE SWEETEST
THE MOST PATIENT
THE MOST LOVING
THE CUTEST
THE SEXIEST
THE FUNNIEST (IN A GOOD WAY)
THE MOST ADORABLE
THE MOST HANDY TO HAVE AROUND IN MEDICAL EMERGENCIES
THE BEST AT GETTING ME TO LAUGH WHEN I'M CRABBY
THE BEST NATURED

...(I could go on and on) HUSBAND IN THE WHOLE WORLD!!!!!!!!

Now don't be telling me all about how, no, YOUR husband is (although I applaud that and am glad you found him).

This is the day we celebrate MB...a man who has been my best friend, my partner, my doctor, my shrink, my LOVE...frankly, my EVERYTHING for the past three years.

I don't know how I was so lucky to have found you. I tend to question it every day. Am I deserving? Am I good enough? Am I the same in return?

But then I learned that you just THANK YOUR LUCKY FREAKIN' STARS and go with it.

I'm pretty sure everyone knows this story, but it bears repeating.

When I first went to London on vacation, I had known quite a few friends, friends-of-friends, acquaintances etc, who lived there and had offered to be my tour guides and show me all the native's ins-and-outs. MB was one of those people.

I had promised so many that I would be in touch when I arrived, and we would then meet up. It was just chance that the first person I reached on my first day there was MB.

Now, I'm not stupid. He did sound cute. And we had conversed previously, but this "first time ever to the UK" trip had meant so much to a girl that had been an Anglophile as long as she could remember (and you should have seen my pages-long list of things to do and see I brought with me...MB still teases me about it).

I would of course enjoy a handsome British dinner date, but that wasn't why I was there. So we met up that evening.

Holy moly was he cute! He took me for Thai food (and got even cuter when we discovered we both were veggies) and walked me all around. I kept remarking that the whole place looked like a movie set...it was all so unreal. Well, that may have been the jet lag talking, but you get my drift.

He then suggested Sugar Reef to go dancing and when the gorgeous girl bartender came from behind the bar to give him a big hug and kiss, well, WHO THE HELL WAS SHE?! Turned out she was his brother's ex-girlfriend, but what the heck was up with my sudden pang of jealousy?

So after dancing up a storm (a GUY who liked to dance...what, did you custom order this one for me or something, God?), we sat on the couches and talked. Or tried to talk, given the volume.

I was starting to fall for this man...I knew it. I have never been one to hide my feelings either, so I thought what the hell and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Since I still couldn't completely read his feelings yet, it seemed the safe and semi-cute thing to do.

His face lit up with a HUGE smile and that was it...MAKE OUT CITY.

What an American hussy.

So the next day he took me EVERYWHERE. I have never walked so much in my life, nor been so incredibly exhausted at the end of a day. It was so great to have someone who was a native Londoner as your guide though, 'cause there was no end to the interesting stories, and short cuts, and off-the-beaten-path places to go. One of these included a boat restaurant on the Thames where we had lunch.

Pay attention...that last part will be VERY important.

When he took me back to my hotel, he asked if I would like to accompany him to a party his brother was having that evening (brother number three, not brother number four who had the bartender girlfriend...MB's the eldest of five boys...it took me forever to memorize them all).

But I begged off because I was so freakin' tired and jet lagged and had just reached my max for the day. I told him to have fun and he promised to come by in the morning for more sightseeing.

I went to bed at some ridiculously early hour and hoped I would be refreshed when I awoke. A cute boy would be arriving to take me more places and I was pretty excited about that.

But NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...when I awoke, it was TO VOMIT MORE THAN I HAD EVER THOUGHT HUMANLY POSSIBLE. I was up from about 1:00AM until he got there around 9:00am...only to see me in the bathroom...cuddled up in a blanket...lying on the floor, because it had become just too difficult to run back and forth from my bed.

THAT %#&^$&*(^&@# Stilton and mushroom salad I had for lunch ended up giving me the worst food poisoning I have ever had in MY ENTIRE LIFE.

On only the second day of my 10 day trip.

ARE WE SURPRISED?!?!?!

I would now like to state that there is perhaps no more embarrassing illness to have in front of someone who is:

A. Essentially a stranger

B. Cute

C. Someone you had hoped to impress...not repulse

But in the FIVE DAYS it took me to get over this most disgusting of ailments, guess who came to my room and took care of me EVERY SINGLE DAY?

He called the hospital, he called my insurance in the US for me to see how I'd be covered, he brought me crackers, he CALLED MY MOM...well, he did everything.

I know part of that was the EMT in him that kicked in and wouldn't let someone in that much suffering go it alone. But what he did was truly beyond the call of duty. I mean really, can YOU imagine doing that for someone you just met?

When I finally got better, I was so upset that all my plans had been cut short, so I called the airline and extended my trip for two weeks.

We never left each other's side in that entire time.

I never called any of my other friends to meet up.

And we fell in love.

Around a month later, he came to see me in San Diego and proposed...about two hours after his plane landed.

There was NO DOUBT IN MY MIND WHATSOEVER that he was the one. And that he would love me and take care of me and be with me through whatever we would encounter. (Including all the immigration hassles entailed in wanting to marry someone from another country...that alone could have broken the closest of couples.)

I now call it the "True Love Through Food Poisoning" test. How could you let go of someone who had passed with such flying colors? (Little did he know it was just the start of many, many, MANY illnesses to come.)

But he's never made me doubt my decision to say yes. Not once.

So on this anniversary day of Mr. Blogger's entrance into the world, I would like to say first, THANK YOU M-I-L, and secondly, thank you to the man who taught me from just about the first day we met, what it means to have true, solid, all-encompassing love...

I LOVE YOU MORE THAN I COULD EVER SAY.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!

I may be toasting the occasion with that liquid crap they give you for a barium x-ray

2005-11-21T10:43:00.000-08:00

Well! I think we can all see who everyone loves on THIS blog! (That's ok, really...it's the same way in real life...the man can do no wrong.)

But as much as I still want to puke my guts out and as badly as it hurts to be sitting up straight...I can't take not blogging ANY MORE!!

I am so bored, and in so much pain and this just really really sucks beyond all suckitude.

Do you remember the part in Boogie Nights where Scotty tries to kiss Dirk Diggler, but then is made to feel so foolish that he just sits in his car and says "Fucking idiot!" to himself, like, nine times or something? No? You don't? Ok, well if you did, that's how I feel. Except for the kissing part.

I just want to curse the living crap out of myself for doing this AGAIN. I missed EVERY SINGLE THING we were supposed to do this weekend.

On Friday, as I was getting my hair and waxing done, I noticed that my stomach was hurting particularly badly, but I thought it was just cramps or my IBS or something and tried to ignore it.

But by the time I was supposed to be driving to the nail salon, I had to go home 'cause something was definitely NOT RIGHT. I rescheduled the mani/pedi for today but...we'll see.

I'm supposed to go pick up the cake today and do other birthday-type preparations (again, not the place to be telling you quite yet but I can't wait to tell you the nightmare of trying to get MB's gift...can I just say that the EXTRA MONEY I paid to make sure it was here in time for the big day, resulted in its delivery to the WRONG FUCKING ADDRESS this morning? If I hadn't tracked it, then Mr. G Abramovich who signed for it would just be having a SWELL ol' time! Oh, but they're sending the driver to go pick it back up...yeah, can't wait to see how that pans out.).

And we have reservations tonight for dinner. His birthday is tomorrow, people. I HAVE to pull it together.

My temp is still hovering around 100, and that's not the end of the world, right? We've been on ER watch all weekend, waiting to see if it got so bad that I'd need to go. The nurse I spoke to there told me everything to keep track of, and my biggest fear will be that just as we're sitting down to his lovely, romantic, birthday dinner...CALL THE PARAMEDICS!

It wouldn't surprise me though. The real bummer? It wouldn't surprise Mr. Blogger either. I'm just that kind of girl.

Two days without a blog!

2005-11-20T16:47:00.000-08:00

Well.... Brooke is sick, so this is MB writing a guest blog.

Firstly; No Emily, she is not dead... there is no need to send flowers. I know that because she writes her blog every day and usually in the morning, that as soon as a couple of days pass with...NO BLOG!...people immediately assume the worst!

Secondly; I'm sorry this is so late. (See above comment).

She called Urgent Care yesterday, (while I was at lunch with her step-dad, her brother, his wife and their seven month old daughter),and described the symptoms to them. They said that it sounded like pancreatitis! She has been resting and we have been checking her temperature regularly. I am ready to take her to the hospital if her temperature goes any higher or the pain gets worse.

So, in keeping with tradition, Brooke was unable to come to lunch with her step-dad to celebrate his birthday, (and mine), because she was sick. We also missed the Depeche Mode concert. She did tell me to go without her, but I wasn't going to leave her at home alone all evening when she was sick while I went to the concert! I did however go down to the sports arena last night and sell our tickets; I haggled with a couple of people and managed to get $120 for our tickets :-) I then went to DZ Akins , (a jewish deli not far from there), and got food for the "patient", (if she wasn't vegetarian I could have got her that old favorite "food for the sick", chicken soup!)

Some (small) consolation though: Not going to the concert did enable us to watch the USC vs Fresno State game last night. Both Brooke's brother and her sister-in-law went to Fresno State so we were cheering for them... (not quite as much as we might otherwise have been, as it occurred to us that if USC lost this game they would probably be much more fired up to win in their next game which is against UCLA!) Although USC won...again!... at least it was nice to see THEM have to come from behind for a change.

Ok, I guess that's it for me. Just wanted to let everyone know why you had not seen a new blog here for a couple of days and that I am taking good care of the patient.

"Normal service will resume as soon as possible".

MB

They say it's your birthday!

2005-11-18T09:46:00.000-08:00

I have to run pretty soon here because today is my Day of Beauty. Haven't had one since my birthday and it's time for maintenance. In other words hair, waxing, mani/pedi...woo hoo! (It was getting a little scary over here...)

But I need to get gussied up because, speaking of birthdays, Mr. Blogger's is on Tuesday, the 22nd and keeping in line with the "Birthday Week" tradition, the celebrations start tomorrow.

Just about everyone I know seems to have a birthday coming up. It's ridiculous. But we figured it out....it's from all those people whooping it up on Valentine's Day! (Don't lie now M-I-L...we've cracked the code!)

After DoB, I need to go get cards and/or presents for SIX people! (Including both ex-husbands...yes we're friendly, and would you believe that every guy I've married has had a birthday in the same two week window?)

So tomorrow we're getting together with my step-dad (I HATE saying step, but you may get confused otherwise), step-brother (ditto on the step thing), his wife, their baby, his wife's dad and MB and me. We have three b-days to toast at lunch.

Then it's off to the Depeche Mode concert...where I plan to personally ask Dave Gahan to lead the crowd in a raucous rendition of "Happy Birthday". OK, maybe not. But I wish I could.

I have some other stuff planned for MB, but this would be a pretty stupid place to say it. Especially now that he sits down and reads EVERYONE'S blogs when he gets home from work. And list just keeps getting longer...

So even though my husband thinks I'm beautiful no matter what (and I think he happens to be blind in love, but that's ok), it's time to crank it up a notch. Or do the best I can anyway. OK, at LEAST cover the new gray.

And definitely THIS nail polish.

Here he comes to save the daaaaaaaay!

2005-11-17T09:21:00.000-08:00

Well Mr. Blogger had an interesting conversation with a neighbor this morning as he walked out to The Van (which henceforth shall be capitalized as it seems to have taken on GREAT SIGNIFICANCE). I will now replay, with quotes completely based on hearsay.

"Hey, is that your van?"

"Yeah." (Sheepishly wonders...what now?)

"Well I was at the Homeowners Association meeting and I heard them bring it up. Are they giving you trouble about it?"

"Unfortunately yes."

"We had the same problem with a truck I used to have. Some old guy kept writing letters. I'm not sure which house he lives in, but he would NOT let it go. We finally just got a cover for the truck and that seemed to appease him. Something about the wording on the side bothered him." (Ah ha! Mr. Blogger notes to self that he will call Brooke and say he was right about it being old people with nothing better to do!)

"You have to be kidding!"

"Nope. Hope it works out for you."

"Thanks."

So now we have to get a cover??? Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, may I present to you the oh-so-offensive van in question.

Does this look like some blight on the state of our peaceful, well-kept neighborhood? Is it an eyesore along the lines of a moving advertisement for something to which our women and children should not be exposed? Is it an offensive sore thumb, sticking out among the perfectly manicured other fingers on the road?

NO IT IS NOT! I daresay it provides a valuable service to all mankind. And when YOU, Oldie Von Oldstrom, are in need of a defibrillator with which to restart your FREAKIN' EVIL HEART, guess what?

MY HUSBAND HAS A GAJILLION OF 'EM! And he WILL be the one you call. Because HE is the one who trains others how to use them! And he was an EMT in London, so he knows LOTS and LOTS of stuff! Ask his wife and mother-in-law...they tend to go to him before any doctors nowadays!

And he's JUST THAT NICE A GUY, that he'll forget about how you made his life and his livelihood hell for a while. His wife however, well, she may remember.

And you really, REALLY don't want to mess with her.

P.S. "F" off and die

2005-11-16T11:38:00.000-08:00

I am NOT in the mood for this shit, but here is the exact letter we received yesterday (all bold, caps and italics are theirs, not mine):

Blah Blah Recreation Association

November 10, 2005

Joe and Jane Smith
12345 Main Street
San Diego CA 12345

RE: DRIVEWAY / STREET PARKING - Hearing
12345 Main Street

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Smith:

It has been brought to the attention of the Board of Directors that you or your tenants are continuing to park a commercial Zee Medical service truck in the driveway despite our earlier notice of violation. Please be reminded that Section 12 of the CC&R's states:

"No commercial truck, camper, trailer, boat of any kind or other single or multi-purpose engine-powered vehicle, other than a standard automobile or an approved golf cart, shall be parked on any Lot except temporarily and solely for the purpose of loading or unloading unless parked within the garage."

We are hereby requesting that you discontinue parking this vehicle in the driveway immediately to avoid fines and possible legal action.

As this is your third (3rd) notice, you are hereby called to a hearing before the Board of Directors on Wednesday, January 18, 2006, at 3:30 p.m. in the clubhouse located at 54321 Main Street. The hearing will be held immediately after the meeting. If you wish to be heard in Open Session, you may do so or if you wish for a private audience with the Board in Executive Session, you will need to wait until all business has been completed. Failure to appear or to submit a written response to the Board, in care of the management company at least 24 hours in advance of the hearing may result in fines being imposed or other enforcement actions, per the Association's fine enforcement policy.

If you have questions or require further assistance, please do not hesitate to contact Management via any of the contact information provided in the heading of this letter.

Thank you in advance for your anticipated cooperation.

Sincerely,
Blah Blah Board of Directors

Of course I called AGAIN this morning to ask where exactly they're getting this misinformation. It was apparently due to a "letter of complaint". I swear to god, I'm going to start blanketing the neighborhood with letters saying 'WHO HERE HAS NOTHING BETTER TO DO THAN CAUSE US TROUBLE?"

When I commented that a hearing ON A WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON was not exactly the most convenient time for NORMAL PEOPLE WHO WORK ON WEEKDAYS, I was told that oh goody, there happens to be a meeting today and if I could email something very quickly, she would make sure it was submitted.

My response:

To Whom it May Concern:

Regarding the letter to 12345 Main Street, dated November 10, we would like to refute and/or state the following:

1. This letter is addressed to Joe and Jane Smith. I don't know the exact date, but am aware that our current landlord, Jody Jones purchased this home almost a year ago. As the tenants, we have sent any letters addressed to the Smiths as "Return to Sender" or "Not at This Address".

2. We therefore have possibly received more than one other notice, but to our recollection, this is only the second. After acknowledging the previous letter of approximately one month ago, I immediately contacted Ms. Snootypants at the Association and told her that our neighbors had in fact told us to STOP PARKING ON THE STREET, as it was in violation of association rules, and we followed their advice to ONLY PARK IN THE DRIVEWAY. This declaration was given to us in the form of an anonymously typed note left on the van's windshield.

3. We had now been told by the association that this was quite the opposite of the rules. We IMMEDIATELY abided by what Snootypants informed me, and have parked the Zee Medical van (my husband's company car which he drives back and forth to work) on the street ever since.

4. As a matter of fact, our next door neighbor (Nosy McNoserson) came over to complain of it being parked on the street and was quite shocked when we told her of your letter informing us she was incorrect.

5. Our two personal vehicles are parked in the garage and the van can therefore not be stowed there.

6. If it has been in the driveway AT ALL, it has only been for loading and unloading purposes, as my husband needs to do so with supplies. Overnight, it has WITHOUT FAIL been parked on the street.

7. After Mrs. McNoserson complained of it blocking her view, we have even taken the trouble to park it across the street, not in front of ANYONE'S home, so as not to disturb or inconvenience anyone any further.

8. As we have done anything and everything to attempt to make all parties satisfied, we feel any complaint which resulted in your letter is of little to no validity.

We therefore wish to respectfully state that the information resulting in the proposed hearing is false. Any fines imposed would be without merit and vigorously opposed.

If you wish to discuss this with us further, we would be happy to do so at a convenient time for all.

Sincerely,
Brooke and Mr. Blogger
123-456-7890

I CANNOT WAIT to see what happens next. I'm telling you though, if they even TRY to fine us, I'm installing a video camera to show where the van is parked EVERY FREAKING NIGHT.

They soooo do not want me at that hearing. TRUST ME.

Now that would be a good idea...tomorrow, in Spanish!

2005-11-15T13:01:00.000-08:00

Because I too want to be a part of the current list-mania taking over everyone's blogs, I have decided to foist one of my own upon you.

But I am going to do one in SUCH a dorky fashion, that I am therefore assured no one will be copying the likes of little ol' me.

Ready?

A-Z of Brooke's Obsessions, Past and Present

A - Apples
But you already knew that. When they were the mainstay of my anorexic diet, it would take me over an HOUR to eat just one. Hey, when that's all you get, you better learn to make it last.

B - "Bugger!"
Such an awesome British swear word that I have learned to use it all the time. The best part is that Americans have no clue just how dirty it is.

C - Cats
Again, a given. This is currently one of the few times in my life that I don't have one. MB wants one of these (he had two in the UK before he met me). Of course they're something like $1000 a piece. I want to rescue one from the shelter. We have obviously not yet found a way to compromise.

D - Driving
When we go somewhere, I almost always have to drive. I have some weird post-traumatic stress disorder over previous accidents I've been in, when I was the passenger and I WAS THE ONLY ONE HURT. And when poor Mr. Blogger does finally get to drive, I freak out at every little thing. He hates it with a passion.

E - Eau de Toilette / Parfum
(I'm really reaching on that one, I know.) My signature scent for the last year has been Pink Sugar and I think it has something to do with the fact that MB likes anything that smells edible. Seriously, it smells like I covered myself in cotton candy. He also likes me in Angel 'cause that smells like chocolate. Interesting...

F - "Friends"
I must watch this on average of three to four times a day. When you factor in UPN 13 in San Diego and TBS...last night alone, I saw SIX episodes in one day. Mr. Blogger does the same, so blame us both. I think I want this for Christmas.

G - Gervais, Ricky
BRILLIANT, brilliant man. MB and I watched "The Office" when we lived in the UK...RELIGIOUSLY. We even unknowingly bought each other the DVD for Christmas (the exact same DVD set of both seasons plus the Christmas special, mind you...we think so much alike!). It may take some getting used to for anyone used to a laugh track or in-your-face humor, but give it a chance. Oh, and now we're caught up in "Extras" on HBO. Ricky, we shall be the co-presidents of your fan club.

H - HBO
See above and below. Still one of the best places for our favorite shows. And MB likes the fact that, like the BBC, it doesn't have commercials.

I - Izzard, Eddie
I fell in love with this crazy, British, "Executive Transvestite" comedian the first time I saw "Dress To Kill" on HBO, many years ago. Buy it. Rent it. Borrow it from Mr. Blogger and me (we also have other DVDs of his, should you be interested). You WILL thank me. Clever, smart and freakin' hilarious...he just happens to perform in a dress.

J - Japan
Sorry, not the country, the group. You've never heard of them, so don't pretend you have. Well, unless you're British. (I'm sensing a theme here.) By the time I had discovered them in '83, they'd already broken up. But front man David Sylvian still puts out CDs. And when I was watching TV recently and noticed a VERY DISTINCTIVE voice singing a TIAA-CREF commercial...I FLIPPED OUT. That's a true fan.

K - Kids
Both the constant quest to have one of ours, as well as the wish to get to know MB's better. I won't bore you any further with my quest for progeny, but I will say this of the two precious British children to whom I talk on the phone every weekend: I adore them as if they were my own and still feel an immense sense of pride when they ask to speak to me specifically. Little kids speaking in British accents are quite possibly the cutest thing in the entire world. And MB's son and daughter are 10 times that.

L - London
Still one of my favorite cities in the world even though it became ridiculously expensive to continue to live there. Theatre, history, shopping, architecture, royalty...who wouldn't love it?

Became obsessed from the age of five when I watched The Double Deckers and announced I would soon be moving. I even carried my Double Deckers lunch box proudly, even though NO OTHER KID I KNEW watched this show. When I grew up and would ask anyone my age if they remembered it, no one had any idea what I was talking about. Until MB. Kismet people, kismet.

M - Mr. Blogger
(DUH!) The reason I live and love and appreciate all that is good. I STILL can't figure out how I got so lucky.

N - New York
See London. But again, a great place to visit although I'd never be able to afford to live there. MB begs to go on a monthly basis.

O - OV Watch
I recently bought this ridiculously expensive contraption, but I NEEDED something to tell me when I ovulate so I don't keep making the same mistake of taking the freakin' progesterone too early. Please keep all lecturing to a minimum.

P - Pizza
I think we could probably eat this every single day (mushrooms, black olives and extra cheese) and not get sick of it. But we don't. Honest. Just every few days.

Q - Queens, Specifically the Wives of Henry VIII
Again, a childhood-induced fascination, thanks to PBS and most specifically Masterpiece Theatre. It wasn't until years later that I realized just about everything we watched was a BBC show first. I therefore trace my first steps toward being an Anglophile to Mom making me sit down every Sunday night and watch more British mini-series than I can count.

R - Red
My favorite color since, well, forever. Surprise, surprise, it's MB's too.

S - Subscriptions to Magazines
I have more than I know what to do with, yet I just get so dang excited when one comes in the mail! MB just surprised me with a year's worth of Marie Claire for my birthday, so I can finally stop buying that one at the newsstand.

T - Travel
We don't do nearly enough, but I am finally going to accompany MB to London in January (haven't been in almost a year-and-a-half now, although he goes every few months to see the kids). Yes, I realize it will be winter. In London. And I hate being cold.

U - UCLA
(Like you EVEN had to ask?) My alma mater and the cause of my apoplexy over sports teams. You thought I'd be ok when football season was over? Nope.

V - Victor Jr.
It was to be my name, since everyone just knew for sure that I was a boy. I have felt the cause of their disappointment ever since.

W - Wax
Turns out that my hearing loss IS because of that, so no ear infection as far as I can tell. Yay!

X - X
A GREAT L.A. punk band that I saw perform a number of times. And if "Los Angeles" is ever on the radio, it WILL be turned up to full volume and I WILL dance. In the car or not.

Y - Yoga
Seems as though I only do it when I kick into exercise mode and/or am pregnant, but I really do enjoy it. Trying to think of a "Y" just reminded me of that. I should go pull out my DVD.

Z - Zirconia, Cubic
ALMOST as good as the real thing and who needs to know? When MB and I were in Vegas and had just gotten engaged, we bought a "joke" CZ ring that looked just like a 2 carat solitaire...and everyone kept complimenting me on it! I was too embarrassed to correct them. My actual ring now is an heirloom from my grandmother and is gorgeous in its own right, but we keep saying we're going to get the fake one made with a diamond...SOME DAY.

Ok, looking at the clock, and allowing for a couple telephone calls received in between writing...that took me THREE AND A HALF hours to write. Never doing that again. It's too hard.

How do you people do this? Of course, when I was done, I thought of a hundred other things I should have written about.

Part II tomorrow?

At least I'm not in the hospital this year...YET

2005-11-14T08:50:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning with the inability to hear ANYTHING out of my left ear. It is completely blocked and it hurts like a mother! Therefore I can't say I'll be writing much today, since it hurts to even be sitting up straight. (Excuses, excuses...)

But it's not unheard of for me to have this (unHEARD of...he he...get it? Ugh.). I have a habit of having very waxy ears and from time to time have to get it unblocked. Before you take off now because this topic is so UNBELIEVABLY BORING, stay with me...this will go somewhere better. I promise.

The only bummer is that sometimes the blocked ears are a precursor and a warning that I'm about to come down with something. That just CANNOT be.

My Mom always said that she could tell I was about to get sick as a kid, 'cause I would get REALLY REALLY grumpy. It was also often accompanied by the ANGRY FACE. Mr. Blogger knows this well. Serious furrowing of the brow, downturned mouth, crossed arms...the whole bit.

Not Pouty Face though...that's for specific "I'm-NOT-getting-my-way!" usage. There's a difference.

So yesterday, EVERY LITTLE THING MB did was driving me nuts. He meant well, but it was just one of those days where I was so put out with the slightest annoyance, I had to literally leave the room. He is such a little puppy though, that when I get like this, his solution is to chase me down, hold me and tell me he loves me. That only annoys me more.

Come on now...you must have those days too. I'm feeling pretty guilty here.

I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me, with the exception of assuming it was SERIOUS PMS. He's used to that. He can handle it. And best of all, he forgives me for it.

So Honey, I'm sorry for being such a grump yesterday. You don't deserve that, but well, you knew what you were getting a long time ago. That doesn't excuse it though. And I owe you a BIG hug and smooch when you get home.

But now that I can't hear, I have a TERRIBLE feeling.

And it IS my step-dad's birthday today...uh oh.

Since MB got to see my embarrassing high school pics...here are more from his child modeling days

2005-11-13T08:24:00.000-08:00

I didn't always think it so, and often on those very dark days I sometimes forget, but I am a very, very lucky person.

Believe me, I can dwell on the negative and curse my wretched existence with the best of 'em, but today is not the time. Along with therapy, books, and far too much self-examination, this shall be part of my new protocol.

Positivity! (Yeah, even I'm gagging a little bit, but indulge me...)

One of the unfortunate outcomes of not speaking to my father for so long, was that I also didn't keep in touch with any of his relatives. My Mom's side has always been the one I considered "my" family, and although I knew none of Daddy's many brothers and sisters were really anything like him, it was a little difficult to justify a relationship with them, without having to go through him.

Well, there was the time my UCLA sorority was invited for a Pajama Party to a USC fraternity (a girl from my house was dating a guy from their house so I guess they thought they'd throw us all together and see what came out of it) and I ACCIDENTALLY WAS HIT ON BY MY UNCLE WHO HADN'T SEEN ME IN 6 YEARS...but I digress. (Shivers....)

But now that we're all in touch again, I couldn't be more thrilled. Mr. Blogger and I went to stay at my aunt and uncle's home in LA on Friday night (no not THAT uncle!) and we were treated with such hospitality, it felt as though we were their own kids. My aunt was especially killing me at how much she doted on MB...EVERYONE loves that man, I'm telling you. And you can keep feeding him and feeding him...he never says no. What mother doesn't love that? (He also never gains weight. Grrr.)

They were just so warm and inviting and I almost felt guilty that we were really only there so as to not have to drive up at the crack of dawn from San Diego on Saturday morning, for all our activities that day. We're going there for Thanksgiving now, which is nice considering it was going to just be MB and I sitting alone with our Tofurky. I shall be thankful.

From there we drove to a friend's home for brunch. We've known each other over 25 years (she's part of the high school friends' super-girl group) and hadn't seen each other since my 40th birthday bash last year.

Getty Girl is quirky and interesting and brilliant and lives in a 1920's home in the Melrose area. It's perfect for her artistic sensibilities. Nothing cookie-cutter for her.

She and her boyfriend made us an incredible (and incredibly healthy) meal and then...the old high school yearbook came out! Mine is still in storage, so MB had never seen it.

Oh the fun he had looking at Cheerleader Brooke and Student Council Brooke and Editor-in-Chief Brooke...all with out-of-control curly hair that would NOT behave into a Farrah feathered do and a weight that fluctuated from severely anorexic (Getty Girl remarked..."Oh yeah, that was the year Brooke ate an apple for breakfast, an apple for lunch and an apple for dinner. She was possessed.") to cutely chubby. (It irks me to no end how "fat" I thought I was, when I would now go back in time just to tell that girl that "YOU'RE FINE!").

We laughed at how cute she and I were and of course again spoke of what unfathomable angelic perfection all of us maintained. We were having so much fun, in fact, that I lost track of time and we had to then hightail it to Pasadena for the football game.

And M-I-L, she's going to try to scan some pics for you to see, so you don't even have to ask. ;)

I knew my old boss was going to be at the game as well this week, and we emailed that we'd try to look out for each other, but given that 80,000 some people were in the Rose Bowl as well, it didn't seem too likely.

So as I waited for MB to exit the restroom when we got there, I sat on a low rock wall and dialed Boss Man's cell phone. It's usually so loud that I knew he'd be lucky to even hear it. Now keep in mind, did you SEE the size of that stadium? There are probably 30 different restrooms alone.

"Hey there!"

"Hi...where are you?"

"I'm standing near where the band marches in." (His son is in the UCLA marching band and Boss Man's family was waiting to see him. But I wasn't entirely sure where that was.)

"Is that near Gate A?"

"Ummmm...I think? Where are you?"

"We're at the restrooms near Gate A."

"Hmmm...I think that's near us." (Really, I swear, we're both very intelligent people.)

"Well do you see me? I'll stand up."

"HEY! There you are!"

We were no more than 20 feet away from each other. How crazy is that?

It was SOOO good to see him. He was such a great boss, but then, as he says, The Company With No Soul bought us out and wheels came off. So we didn't get to work together that long, but it was long enough for me to appreciate that men like him don't come around every day.

He's funny as hell and smart as a whip. He was an empathetic and caring VP, and went to bat for us when needed. He didn't take shit from anybody, and expected you to do your best, but no one was more thrilled when you excelled.

And when I called him from my doctor's appointment, crying my eyes out after finding I had miscarried again, he didn't make me feel ashamed or embarrassed for showing emotions. He just told me to go home, not worry about my office, and take it easy. He really truly cared about all of us.

Then when he was diagnosed with prostate cancer, we all lost it. You never saw so many co-workers pulling for a man they cared about so deeply; it went far beyond employee loyalty. We loved (LOVE) that man.

He came through with grace and humor, and I would have expected no less. He's been through so much, and continues to heal, and I am so in awe of his determination.

But when he announced he was leaving the bank, well, that was just too much. Thus, the mass exodus in the following months. No one could take his place. NO ONE.

So at the game, we hugged and introduced our spouses, and just generally caught up. His wife is exactly what I expected...adorable, warm and friendly. We lamented the loss of the old days, and complained of the way the new bank just had no appreciation for their employees, and wondered how those few who did stay on were managing.

He also told me he reads my blog every day, and I immediately worried that now that he knew me so well (I don't hide MUCH on this site), perhaps his view of me had changed. I'm embarrassed that I'm not back to work and sometimes feel whiny and wimpy.

But no, he called me brave. And an excellent writer. He sure knows how to compliment a girl.

With the game about to start, we again hugged, parted and vowed to stay in touch. We email all the time, so I don't worry. Plus, he offered to write another Letter of Recommendation. I'm DEFINITELY going to need that.

I haven't done this much socializing in ages. The whole weekend just reminded me again what joy and beauty I have in my life. As I said at the top...I'm a lucky, lucky woman.

Oh, and I forgot to mention...UCLA won. The cherry on the sundae.

In praise of emotional women

2005-11-11T07:04:00.000-08:00

Is it POSSIBLE to get through an entire episode of Oprah these days, WITHOUT CRYING?!?! I ask because I'm looking for verification that I'm not a pitiable and pathetic blubbering fool, just your average Oprah-watcher. Perhaps I'm both.

But to make things worse, I even cry now at Ellen! Lately she's given away a car to a needy mom of five, a full set of new kitchen appliances to a little 10-year-old chef, etc. etc. etc. I don't know why I find this tear-worthy, but I can't help it! (Can you imagine what I'll be like when I'm pregnant...I'll just be banned from watching daytime TV in general!)

Thank god Ellen makes me laugh though, or I'd just give up. (And I just noticed that I have already used FIVE exclamation points, and I'm only on my third paragraph. When did I become such a CHICK?)

Yesterday alone, I bawled through almost the entire episode of Oprah. I swear, if anyone on the show starts crying, THAT'S IT. I'm gone. I not only lost it over the family that got a new house, I was whimpering while watching the first grade class at Disneyland.

"Oh they just look so haaaaaaappppyyyyyyy...." sob sob sob.

Is there something intrinsically wrong with me? Yes, yes there is.

My name is Brooke and I am an emotionaholic. (Hi Brooke....)

I once had a boyfriend who used to get SO MAD at me if I ever dared cry, he literally told me I was a freak. Of course, that only served to make me more upset, which led to the waterworks, which led to more fights...

Thank you dear friends, for telling me to dump his ass.

Unfortunately though, that relationship scarred me somewhat to the point where I was deathly afraid of ever being anything less than peppy around most men. Then I realized that's hard to maintain. ESPECIALLY for me.

Mr. Blogger loves me just the way I am though. But then again, he's a "feeler" himself. (You should have seen us watching The Notebook.) We are sooo going to be the old couple still madly in love with each other in the old folks home.

I know I'm not the only woman who gets choked up at both the joy of the new baby panda (and if you don't think that is the cutest thing you've ever seen, well, then I don't know what is), or the tragedy of the Jordanian bomb killing the fathers at a wedding. It's ALL difficult for me to deal with at times.

I don't judge anyone who isn't emotional, far from it. I often wished I could be so. Sometimes it's a pretty huge burden to wonder exactly when you're going to erupt. You read too much into EVERYTHING, you second guess yourself often, and you are so conscious of the feelings of those around you that if anyone ELSE is upset, you feel you somehow caused it.

Every time I blog, I even wonder if I've offended anyone or if anything I've said could be misconstrued. It's a freakin' nightmare at times, people!

But then I realize that there are many women in my life who are the same...M-I-L, Kona Girl, sometimes my Mom (although she's toughened up a bit... in a good way), and probably just about all the Hispanic women on both sides of my family. Except my late grandmother...ooo boy...was she ever NOT mushy-gushy. Except with her animals.

And I'm often reminding Kona Girl especially, that being emotional means not only being weepy, or sensitive, but loyal and loving.

We aren't all bad. Emotional women are capable of writing books reminding others to be kind. Emotional women are excellent mothers. Emotional women can change the world.

Just look at Oprah.

P.S. We're going out of town tonight to stay with family, meet a friend for brunch and then go to the UCLA game Saturday afternoon. (Woo hoo...stuff to do!) We'll be back pretty late Saturday night, so I may not have a chance to blog. Try to contain your emotions.

Daddy's girl

2005-11-10T07:22:00.000-08:00

Last night, after Emily, Gary, Mr. Blogger and I went to see Kiwi and Mina in the hospital, we headed out to dinner 'cause we were all starving. Well, some of us were starving and envious of having beautiful babies.

The topic of course turned to blogging and I told them how on some days, I just SIT here thinking, what the HELL am I going to write about today?

Today is one of those days.

See, my life just isn't all that interesting. Not that I could talk about work even if I wanted to (see "Dooced"), but being home on disability doesn't allow for many ooo-weee-don't-you-wish-you-had-my-mile-a-minute-existence tales of glee. (This would also explain why I often write about my husband, because he is often the only person I see on a regular basis. Ok, he's also ridiculously cute and quirky.)

So instead I often reminisce. Or as Emily asked, "Are we to assume that when you tell a story, it means you couldn't think of anything else to write?".

Yes, Emily, assume away.

I think I have avoided talking much about my Dad for a while now. And for a good reason. We just never had much of a relationship. My parents divorced when I was very young, and frankly, my step-dad was more of my father figure. But the ways in which my father affected my life, and my self-esteem especially, are still being felt today. It's amazing to realize just how much a parent can influence a very small child. It's even more amazing to see how 30-odd years later, that child still wonders what she did wrong.

Before my Dad died last year from cancer, I tried to make sure we at least were COMMUNICATING (for us...quite a feat, considering that we didn't speak for 12 years at one point). I did the best I could, but there was no great moment of closure. I just hoped he died in peace. I never wanted any more from him than that.

I'm very aware that there are a couple relatives from his side that may be reading this, but I think they know me well enough to realize I'm only telling the truth.

But when my Mom mentioned in her comments to yesterday's entry that my Dad didn't believe I made my own birthday cake, I had to laugh. See, my Dad often didn't believe me.

It's weird but true. He told me it was due to the fact that he was a judge, and that was simply his nature. He had to be dubious in order to thoughtfully question the "truth". From there he would be able to best make an informed decision.

But helloooooo? I was a kid, not a district attorney arguing my case before his court. I was a GOOD kid who never really got into trouble. Why not believe me? Come on...take a chance!

My Mom was a teacher all my life, so naturally she used those skills in raising me. I therefore knew how to read at a very, very young age. When I was about 1 1/ 2, my Dad came home from work (I used to get SO EXCITED when I saw him coming up the path!) and scooped me up in his arms.

I grabbed his tie and turned it over.

"Jaaaaaay. Ceeeeee. Penney."

"What?!"

"Jaaaaaay. Ceeeeee. Penney!"

"(Brooke's Mom's name)!!!"

"Yes?"

"I think the child can read."

"I know. I taught her."

"Well that's not possible."

Of course it wasn't. I had apparently memorized which ties were from that particular store. And Mom and I were in cahoots to pull one over on him. Oh the hijinks my Mom and I came up with!

Yes, Daddy. I could read. I also equally freaked out my grandmother by reading the cans of food on her shelves, but at least she knew I wasn't put up to it.

And my nursery school teachers also accused me of memorizing books when they saw me reading to all the other 3-year-olds...until they kept giving me book after book to test me. What always makes me giggle about the nursery school incident though, is that all the kids had figured out my abilities way before that. They just kept bringing me tome upon tome to read to them. No judging, just "Here! Read this one!".

When I was in seventh grade, I was Snoopy in our school's performance of "You're a Good Man Charlie Brown". On a break to reset the lights during a dress rehearsal, all us kids went outside to play. Why we decided to play "keep away" on the cement amphitheater steps is beyond me. Of course I fell. Of course I fell face first without putting my hands out to break my fall. Of course that resulted in one IMPRESSIVE shiner.

It was a black eye to rival Rocky's. Not like me to do something half way! (Now THAT I got from my Dad!) But not to worry, the show must go on...I squinted my way through all the performances. The pictures of me in that show are a flippin' riot.

When I went to see him on our usual Sunday visit, I guess it was a little hard to hide the multicolored puff ball that was my eye.

"Who hit you?"

"NO ONE HIT ME! I fell."

"You can't fall without naturally putting your hands in front of you. Impossible...it's reflex. So who hit you?"

"Oh my god...NOBODY! I just fell in a weird way and didn't even realize it until I was down. There was no time to break my fall."

"Impossible. Must have been your mother. You're obviously covering for her."

"MY MOTHER DID NOT HIT ME!!! Why won't you believe me?"

"Your step-dad then."

I guess Daddy didn't get that ours was not a household in which disagreements were solved through title bouts. I gave up.

Many years later, after the 12 year intermission, I was now an adult woman with a career and a husband and RESPONSIBILITIES. I could hold my own, right? Nope.

We went out to dinner and he ordered a drink.

"Are you going to have anything?"

"Oh, no thanks. I don't drink."

"Are you an alcoholic?"

"No Daddy, I'm not an alcoholic." (Exasperated sigh that NOTHING HAS CHANGED in all that time we didn't speak.)

"So what's the problem?"

"I just don't drink. It's no big deal. I never have."

"Never?"

"Nope. Never even tasted alcohol. Just never appealed to me."

"Right."

"You don't believe me."

"Well, surely you've had something. For some reason you don't feel comfortable telling me why you've stopped."

I would love to tell him that his obsessive control issues were unfortunately handed down to me. I'm literally AFRAID of ever being in a position where I am not in absolute control of my faculties. I have done no drug, smoked no cigarette, taken not one sip of spirits...even through the college years when I had to hold many a friend's hair back as she puked up all the jello shots.

Look, I know it wasn't ALL bad. I look EXACTLY like his side of the family and they are lovely, lovely, warm and wonderful people. I got his voice and love of performing. And as much as I joke about being an English Major in the womb (having come from both a mother and father who valued a good book above all else), the truth is that the man used to read me A Child's Christmas in Wales every single holiday season.

I will also never forget the time that he literally choked up telling me how much it meant to him that I told him I loved him.

I am my father's daughter in more ways than he probably ever realized. I hope he watches over me and is proud of the person I've become. And I really hope he BELIEVES ME when I say that I will get through this particular rough patch in my life right now.

But of course I will. He would expect no less.

I think I've been blogging to procrastinate on the cleaning though

2005-11-09T07:54:00.000-08:00

First off...

WELCOME NEW BABY GIRL MINA!!!

Born to Kiwi and hubby on November 8, 2005 at 9:33 PM.

Kiwi was induced yesterday morning and we waited all day to see if we'd be able to visit the anticipated new arrival, but visiting hours came and went. I guess Mina has already established that she will be doing things in her OWN TIME, thank you very much.

But the flowers and "It's A Girl!" balloon are still in fine shape and will be brought to the happy family today instead. I couldn't be more thrilled for them and to Mina: I wish you a life of much love, health and happiness!!

So until Mr. Blogger comes home and we meet up with Gary, Emily and the wife and others to all bombard the poor child, I have some big SuperWife plans for today.

First, I'm going to clean the house. My mother will attest to the fact that I usually only do this under threat of taking away all privileges and imminent grounding because "I have HAD it with this pig sty, YOUNG LADY!!!"

It's not that I was dirty as a kid, so much as messy. As a matter of fact, my room always smelled of shampoo and bubble gum, so it wasn't necessarily a bad place to be, just full of clothes and books and albums (yes, ALBUMS, you young 'uns) ALL OVER THE FLOOR.

And it made my neat-freak, SERIOUSLY anal-retentive mother INSANE.

She's lightened up a bit since, well, either that or I got neater...maybe a combination of the two.

I have to admit that we do have a housekeeper who comes every couple weeks (feel free to call me a brat, but MB and I both HATE cleaning), but he isn't scheduled until Sunday and I have people coming over tonight!

Hmmm...maybe Mom did have an influence after all.

Then after all that domesticity...ha...it doesn't end there! I am going to make THIS. Yes, I, the Queen of Not Cooking, am going to sit and peel and core and chop apples and it's going to take FOREVER.

But MB got all excited when I showed him the recipe (which I found through John, who linked to Millie, who then brought me to Mrs. DoF). He couldn't let me off with the EASIER recipe for apple crisp...nooooo. He wanted the apple cake dammit.

I have to admit though, that as much as I hate to cook, I have always liked to bake. (Shhhh...don't tell anyone or I'll be forced to prove it with Christmas care packages or something equally against my nature.)

I made my first birthday cake at four-years-old and was forever hooked. I'll never forget: it was cherry cake with pink frosting. Sounds somewhat putrid now, doesn't it? What can I say...I was in love with sugar...and the color pink.

My feeling is that regular food never brings the ooohs and aaahs that desserts do, so if I'm going to even remotely be bothered, it better be for something appreciated!

With the exception of cookies and brownies and the occasional cinnamon roll, I haven't baked anything in ages. Now, however, who am I to deny my husband when he is working so hard these days...making up for the fact that I continue to sit on my lazy ass every day, waiting for the time when the thought of going back to work-related stress doesn't send me into an anxiety-riddled tailspin.

But if it turns out horribly, I'm blaming his not choosing the apple crisp.

The not-so-friendly skies

2005-11-08T05:22:00.000-08:00

Oh my friends...the rich ARE different from you and me.

VERY different. So different in fact, that it apparently doesn't occur to them that they're making the rest of us feel like schmucks.

(Yes, I'm very far from poor, and I DO appreciate that...but wait 'til you see this. THEN, you'll understand.)

I SOOO wanted to like all bloggers. In my previous entry I applauded their right to tell us all about what floated their respective boats, and by all means to detail it in their own inimitable ways. I waved the white flag proudly (I was not ALWAYS so kind) and was determined to appreciate everyone's right to put their lives' minutiae any way they wished. It might not be MY way, but what would the world be without a little flavor?

Then ALL that sticky-sweet goodwill came to a dramatically screeching halt when I read THIS.

(Go ahead...go read it. In DETAIL. I'll wait.)

I am fairly certain this woman has a blogging trackback feature that has now allowed her to notice my blog linking to hers. And she's probably all excited. And now she's here. I am SOOO going to get the nasty comment back. Oh well...

Doryn, I would like to tell you this. First, I will give you that you did say the word "fortunate" in that post. You also have a link to donate to breast cancer (waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay down at the bottom) and that is very kind of you. You obviously have a talent for web design and are quite prodigious, given that you have three sites out there. Additionally, many of your posts are things that I, an admitted girly-girl AND previous Londoner, can appreciate.

But that particular detailing of the ways in which I will NEVER fly...that was too much. Sure I'm envious; that's a given. And yes, I have flown first class in my time (what is with the bullshit of Virgin calling it "upper" class anyway...as opposed to those of us in LOWER class??).

However, given that my Brit husband Mr. Blogger and I OFTEN fly back and forth from San Diego (or L.A.) to Heathrow, I would like to tell you of our general experience. And I think I may crib a bit here to make my point...

Hubby is headed back to London and he couldn't be looking forward to his 11 hour flight on American Airlines LESS!

He has flown MANY times this year and he HATES it (this most often has to do with the fact that I usually cannot accompany him due to our budget). We are unfortunate that his company doesn't pay for his flights home, so he gets to go Coach on American!

Sometimes, when he has racked up enough frequent flyer miles, he gets to go BUSINESS!

With your ticket, your wife drives you to the airport. Usually, she has to drive 2 1/2 hours to LA since that's the only way to go non-stop. When you get to LAX, the wife's car pulls up to the parking garage, where a homeless man is often waiting to greet you!

YOU check yourself in and take your luggage, ALL the while the parking garage charges you an arm and a leg!! When you get to the terminal, you have a special line to go through because you have spent so much money with American and are now a Gold Member, but you still have to wait for security. Yay for special lines!

Then you go through the interminable X-ray lines until you get to the gate, and sit and wait with the bottle of water you just bought for $5.00. In addition, they have bathrooms, in case there are certain bodily functions you want done or if you want to wash your hands while you wait for your flight....and the wet floor sign is always up, but at least it's clean!!

On board, each seat is crammed in so that you cannot move your legs. You obviously have your own television and a scratchy blanket! There are sometimes a pitcher of water and plastic cups in the back near the bathrooms that you can walk up to if you'd like a drink, or you are served at your seat...when they finally get there!

After your meal, which was not the vegetarian one you asked for and therefore prevented you from eating any more than iceberg lettuce and chocolate cake, the freak in the seat next to you asks if you would like a hand or scalp massage and continues to annoy you throughout the flight!

You can eat when they serve you, and won't get anything again until about an hour before you land! Yes, 11 hours of no cell phones, no email, no food, with crap movies and a permanent stiff neck...how often does one person get to have this time alone? It's Hell!

Next time Doryn, I will know enough not to read your site, as it only makes me feel bad about the fact that I will never have Frette sheets, and that my husband, whose exquisite taste would lead us to bankruptcy if I weren't so tight with his spending, will be INSANELY jealous after he reads this.

But he would like to know...what company DOES your husband work for???

From now on, NO ONE is allowed to answer the door

2005-11-07T05:00:00.000-08:00

Mr. Blogger and I were completely lazy on Sunday, until the point where we realized that we had ABSOLUTELY NO FOOD in the house. That will always motivate us right out the door.

So about 2:30 in the afternoon, after watching his Father Ted marathon on BBC America, MB finally went to go take a shower. I was still lounging about in my sweats and t-shirt, unwashed hair thrown into a bun and too-lazy-to-put-my-contacts-in so I'm wearing my glasses ensemble, completing the hobo librarian effect I was going for.

Kona Girl called to tell me all about her weekend in Vegas and we were JUST getting to the juicy part where her girlfriend decided to chat up The Sopranos at the next table when...the doorbell rang. No one ever rings our doorbell. Well, except the hoodlums.

I tried just ignoring it, although since our doorbell is as loud as Big Ben (AND plays the exact same tune), it's a little difficult. I was even whispering to KG in the hopes that the nuisance would think no one was home.

Nope. It rang AGAIN.

Not only was MB in the shower and unable to help me, but I was looking like a NIGHTMARE of laziness. Plus...HELLOOO...I'm on the phone! Then the pain in the ass at the door knocked as well. As though we would hear THAT better than the clanging chimes.

I gave up and just decided to answer it. Surely there was a fire in the neighborhood, or at the very least Ed Mc Mahon was appearing to hand me the million dollar check. It had better be THAT IMPORTANT.

Imagine my joy at just a little old lady. And extremely PUSHY little old lady.

"Well HELLLOOOOO! You must be Brooke. I met (Mr. Blogger) a few weeks ago when I was standing on the street waiting for my ride. I'm Nosy, your next door neighbor. I just feel so un-neighborly for not coming over to say hello sooner!"

I was holding the phone in my hand as I stood at the door. I mean really, can you NOT get the hint? Apparently not. I had to rudely hang up with KG (which really pissed me off because I felt SO BAD about that) because this lady was all smiles and ready to chat.

This whole thing reminded me of the witch and warlock couple who lived next door to Rosemary in Rosemary's Baby. You know how the old lady is incredibly annoying and eventually just barges in with such regularity that Rosemary's husband is forced to AGREE TO GIVE THEIR UNBORN CHILD TO SATAN.

Yeah, it was like that. But without the Satan part. As far as I know.

(Oh, and the next time, if ever, you happen to catch that movie, notice the calendar in the kitchen marking the best days for them to conceive. But they happen to have a big fight on the Big Night though, so the hubby drugs Rosemary and she ends up thinking she hallucinated the whole "having sex with a demon" thing. The day she conceives through devil insemination? October 4, 1965. That was my first birthday. Rosemary had sex with Beelzebub ON MY BIRTHDAY. Lovely.)

So Nosy proceeds to COME INTO MY HOUSE, because of course she is still friends with the previous owners and wants to point out things such as the fact that I have an herb garden in my backyard that I never knew about. And the tile on the windowsills is specific to our house since the owners' grandson did it. And he's some kind of tile whiz, don't you know? Well, THAT, in addition to being a Harvard grad.

Lady. I look like shit. I feel like shit. I was enjoying my conversation with my best friend and you interrupted it. I'm highly aware of the fact that my husband may accidentally come strolling in here in his underwear. WOULD YOU PLEASE LEAVE?

But we all know I'm a big fat chicken who was raised to be polite and social, so I let her go on. And on. And so forth.

Then she asked to speak to MB. Um, ok, let me go get him.

He was in the middle of shaving but quickly dressed and came out to say hello.

The REAL reason for this pop in...

"Hello (Mr. Blogger)! Listen, don't park your van on the street. I can't see when I have to back out." (Notice, no "please", no "could you", no "I would appreciate it if...".

Ah ha! So SHE'S the one who left the anonymously typed note on his windshield months ago, asking him to park it in the driveway, because he was in violation of the Homeowners' Association rules. And sure enough, after doing so to meet HER needs, we get a letter in the mail FROM the Homeowners' Association saying to park it on the street. NOT the driveway. Or else we'll be in violation of blah blah blah.

It's his freakin' company car lady. He drives it back and forth every day to work. It's only the size of a regular van, not some behemoth tractor trailer or something. Since YOU don't want it on the street...and THE ASSOCIATION doesn't want it in the driveway...and his company would prefer he not leave it in some abandoned parking lot...what would you recommend?

She was JUST SHOCKED to hear about the letter we got saying it could not be parked in the driveway. I even told Miss Nosy how I called to clear this up since SOMEONE had written us a note telling us the exact opposite. So she told him to park it across the street. Sure, in front of SOMEONE ELSE'S house.

We smiled and nodded and MB said he'd do his best. But come on! Telling someone not to park their vehicle in front of their home because it inconveniences you in some manner?? I should probably also point out that there is so little traffic on our street, I can't imagine who it is she's "not seeing" when she backs out.

If anyone has some mammoth motor home or something and would like to help me be petty...give me a shout. I have a the perfect parking space for you.

"We have NO IDEA where it came from! It's not ours."

If I knew how to download the sound effect of someone having a temper tantrum, I would make THAT my headline

2005-11-06T02:23:00.000-08:00

I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.

I don't want to hear, "It's only a game."

I don't want to be consoled over the fact that "at least we had an undefeated season for an awfully long time".

I don't want to hear about how we weren't the only previously undefeated team to lose today.

I. AM. PISSED. OFF.

Look, I'm not a lunatic. I KNOW that the world does not begin and end with UCLA football. I know there is poverty and famine and suffering in the world. I know that this is not, in the scheme of things, of the utmost importance in my life (little things like battling anxiety and depression while trying to make a baby would take that title).

But I can't help it.

Aren't we all allowed to have something that we're passionate about? Emily was equally upset when they killed Xena, wasn't she? Lissa cursed the powers-that-be when they took Dr. Pepper off the shelves in Australia, right? And if anybody ever dared to tell Gary that Hurley stopped making clothing, what would he have left to wear?

So I am wallowing in my disappointment right now and trying desperately not to make Mr. Blogger pay the price. He's a smart man though; he knows that we will NOT MENTION THIS for the rest of the week. He is also to keep all sports pages away from me, lest we AWAKEN THE SLEEPING DEMON OF ANGER.

The one bright spot today? John named me to his list. Thank you Mr. Boston College Kid Whom I Don't Even Know. You are a riot...keep blogging. (And I do reminisce A LOT, don't I? I should watch that.)

Next Saturday is a home game and I will be there to cheer on my team. That's one thing I learned from sports...you never give up. And you don't stop supporting someone (some team?) just 'cause they had ONE LOUSY DAY.

A REALLY REALLY HORRIFICALLY EMBARRASSING, LOUSY LOUSY DAY.

Love Bug

2005-11-05T05:42:00.000-08:00

Can't sleep, yet again, so I figured it was time to get up and blog.

And poor Mr. Blogger hasn't been getting much sleep either since I looked up at the ceiling and saw a GIANT CREATURE (later determined to be a cricket), and woke him up to get it. I had been lying in bed reading and suddenly saw something out of the corner of my eye...can you imagine that thing dropping on your head while you slept?

But rest assured we almost NEVER kill bugs around here and generally just trap them in a glass and set them free outside. See? My love of all beings even extends to the creepy-crawly ones. OK, except ants; I draw the line at those. But spiders are beneficial. Spiders EAT ants.

The circle of life.

So this whole saga reminded me of my old "cricket story" (the judgmental and/or TMI-squeamish should probably look away).

But the way I look at it, this is MY blog, with stories about ME. I've shared everything with MB so rest assured, he doesn't care. And I won't be DETAILED for crissakes, but let he who goeth without sin blah blah blah. It's a pretty funny story as bug stories go.

(I've probably built it up so much by now though, that it shall be HIGHLY disappointing.)

A gazillion years ago, while separated from husband number one, I was sent to a management conference in Palm Springs. It was my first time to go, and I was oh-so-excited at spending the whole weekend discussing "TEAMWORK!"...yes, in all capitals, and yes, with an exclamation point.

All the managers from my company were sent and most brought spouses and/or boyfriends/girlfriends since it was all on the company's dime. Not to mention they had put us up in this all-suite (condos, really) complex that was very very cool. I didn't have anyone to bring at the time, so I had this big living room/kitchen/bedroom set-up all to myself.

When not spending the whole day in meetings, we all went out and had a pretty raucous time. Who knew bank managers could let loose? But get a little liquor in 'em and let me tell you, their employees would have never believed it. (That's what pictures and blackmail are for.)

Being the teetotaler that I am, I just danced and danced, and then made sure everyone made it back to their rooms ok. I had a GREAT time though, so don't feel too sorry for me. And for those who do know me...since when did I need alcohol to be uninhibited?

Afterwards, at around 4:00 in the morning, I sat up in bed in my flannel jammies, reading a book and just generally trying to relax. Right then something ENORMOUS whizzed past my head. Book flying through the air and blankets now thrown about 5 feet away, I slammed the bedroom door behind me and ran out into the living room.

"Front desk, may I help you?"

"I have a giant bug in my room and I was wondering if anyone could come do something about it."

"A what?"

"A giant bug of some sort. I don't know exactly. But I've trapped it in my room and I'm not going back in there."

"So you'd like us to do something about this bug?"

"Well, if you can. Maybe someone has a can of Raid or something? If you just bring that up, I can deal with it."

"Let me see what I can do and I'll call you back. But we're a little short handed right now due to the hour, so it might take a while."

"OK, sorry. I can always sleep on the couch. Don't worry about it." (I was starting to feel like an idiot for even asking.)

A few minutes later...

"Hello?"

"Hello ma'am, we have someone who is going to come up and help you with the bug situation." (I'm getting the feeling they all just had a good laugh about it downstairs and then drew straws.)

"OK great."

"But he's just getting off of his shift so don't be alarmed if someone knocks on your door and he's not in uniform." (Who else is going to be knocking at almost 5:00AM?)

So Mr. Bug Killer appeared. And he was really tall. And really cute. And I was in flannel jammies with a washed face and therefore not exactly at my most alluring.

He went in the bedroom to do bug battle, while I sat in the living room and listened to furniture flying and the bed being turned upside down.

He finally got it...just a dumbass cricket.

When he told me that, I was so embarrassed for being such a typical chick, and I thanked him profusely.

HE SAT NEXT TO ME ON THE COUCH.

"What are you reading?"

"OH, um, well, John Irving. I love his work. Really, just anything he writes. Do you read much? I mean, is there anyone you like in particular?" (I babble when I'm flummoxed.)

"I'm actually in college right now, so I don't have a whole lot of time to read for pleasure. Plus working here as well, there isn't much time for anything really." (I'm calculating the age difference as we speak.)

"I had just gotten back from going out with my friends and thought I'd read a little before going to sleep. Just trying to wind down you know...he he." (VERY nervous laughter 'cause I still can't figure out what Mr. Cute Hotel Man is doing sitting next to me.)

"I should probably let you get some sleep then. Unless you want to talk? Are you tired?"

STUNNED SILENCE.

So we talked....for hours. IN THE LIVING ROOM. Really. He turned out to be a very sweet guy. And a gentleman.

But you can't help but stop and think...there is a strange man in my hotel room and the sun just came up. No one is ever going to believe this. About ME.

Theeeeeennnnnnnnnn...we did a little smoochin'. (That's ALL I'm saying. You guys freaked out when I talked about making up with my husband...wouldn't want you to have an aneurysm at this. OH GOD...the comments I'm going to get...)

And he drove out to see me in San Diego the next weekend.

In the end, he was too young, and we were too far away from each other, but for a while we had fun. It was also a relief to know that leaving my husband didn't mean I would forever be alone. And in a strange way, I think Mr. Bug-Killing Hotel Man was put there, long ago, to help me to realize that something better was out there for me.

So as Mr. Blogger caught tonight's cricket, and I applauded my hero, I thought again about how lucky I was to have him.

But he isn't just my "something better". Frankly, there is NOTHING better.