The comeback!

“It’s been a while”, “long time no see”, etc. etc. etc. Many a time I’ve thought about posting (or started a million different posts, but never finished), and as more time passed, the harder I felt it would be to catch up.  It’s a very viscously stressful cycle, and I don’t care much for stress, or cycling, so I took the high road and just didn’t!  Well, we’re back…hopefully.  Last time I posted I was dressed up like a giant pair of award winning breasts, and now my real breasts, albeit not quite award winning, are still pretty giant and employing a much greater purpose.  Ok, this is the part where I start to hyperventilate, leave my computer, and start another post a few weeks down the road.  Where do I start? What to post?  What not to post?  No, stay strong!  Instead of trying to play a lengthy game of catch-up, I’ll just give a quick monthly run-down- complete with pictures! 



December 2011: We cut down our own Christmas Tree (and by we I mean the men did all the work while we picked the perfect tree.)



January 2012: James completed the Tough Mudder- a 12 mile interactive course with 30 obstacles, including icecold water and electrical shocks.

February 2012:  Akward maternity photo shoot.  (Disclaimer- photographer- awesome, subjects- akward, we are not naturally picture people) p.s Did I mention I was pregnant and having a baby?

 March 2012: I was super prego and slightly freaked out that a baby was coming our way, perhaps the reasons for the lack of pictures!

April 2012- We had a baby.  We figured, why not?  Everyone else is doing it!  His name is Cohen, and we gladly traded our sleep and sanity for him! 

May 2012- We blessed Cohen, and celebrated with a little grub!

May 2012- Ethan graduated.  My parents are the proud owners of 5 high school diplomas.

June 2012- We bought and sold various car parts!

 P.S. I have compiled a list of excuses for my lack of blogging. Pick whichever one(s) suits your fancy!


1. My computer is unmanageably slow these days.
2. Blogger takes a zillion years to upload a single picture.
3. Laziness
4. I’ve become so popular that I now need to hire a professional to blog for me, still going through the application process.
5. Work
6. Pinterest has put a severe dent in my internet usage
7. It’s too hot.
8. I was in a bizarre accident which rendered my fingers incapable of blogging. Doctors expect me to make a full recovery.
9. We got a DVR.
10. I gave birth (ok, so the physical act of giving birth didn’t prohibit blogging per say, but the aftermath sucks the life right out of you)
11. Our power went out.
12.  We moved to Yemen.

A bit of an identiy crisis

I seem to have suffered from a case of mistaken identity recently. Perhaps I'm in a state of pondering some of those ethereal questions such as "who am I?","What does this all mean", you know- typical discourse for a 20-something ...either that or it's Halloween and we partied it up with multiple costumes- ahem- let me clarify, AWARD winning costumes.

Perhaps this costume wasn't much of a stretch for me, seeing as I actually do own and routinely sport my periodic table of elements socks and tee, and didn't have to purchase a single item for my nerdy get up. But to my defense, the hot pink pager and neon New Kids on the Block fanny pack are housed in the garage found in a box marked "awkward teenage phase (years 12-current).

There is very little I won't do for a delicious Chipotle burrito, and dressing up like I'm 'on the farm' ranks pretty low on the list. And, for the record, there is very little James WILL do for just about anything or anyone but me. Whatta Guy! He's "udderly" amazing!

Remember way back when, when I mentioned about James not really being a willing participant for,well, just about everything... dressing up like a half a boob and parading around a party all night ranks pretty high on that list. In fact, it's pretty much understood that this would never happen and therefore negates the obligation to even be ON the list, but, low and behold, here is proof. What a couple of boobs! Might I add, that we won a major award for this costume. (Ok, it was a Joann's gift card for most creative costume, but still...)

Hail to the Chi...Almost

1 chi hair straightener ago (almost 9 months now) I was losing hair at a normal 20-something rate. One fatal power surge later, accompanied by a smell akin to a wet dog, my hair loss had exponentially increased. I was using my chi flat iron (obviously not to straighten my innately stick straight hair), but to give it a little curl and I heard a sizzle coming from my noggin. I looked at my chi to see what was the matter, and attached to the chi (not my noggin) was a large chunk of hair, the length of my longest layer. Then, my glance quickly turned to the tip top of my head, and there stood, on end, the half-inch remains- fried and still glowing. As upset as I was about my sudden hair loss, I was equally upset at the fact that I wasn't finished with my hair. I would have continued using my temperamental chi, had it not surged itself to death. So, now I was left with an almost bald spot, an unfinished coif and no flat iron. It was definitely not a win for anyone. To boot, I was getting ready for 2 social events that evening- a baby shower and a night out. I had to forgo the baby shower due to the fact that my red puffy eyes didn't really go with my outfit, but made it out after dusk- we were spending the evening in a dimly lit auditorium, so I figured I could pull it off.

Luckily, these hard times make us stronger and I was able to pull through. I promptly returned my chi for another one -I did have faith in my Chi! After all, this was my 2nd one, my first Chi lasted me almost 3 years. And, now that it has been almost 9 months since the incident, chi #3 is performing quite nicely and my frizzy stump is almost all grown out, I think it's finally funny now. Although, for roughly 3 months that followed, every time my little hairs got wet, the aroma of wet dog filled the room. It wasn't until a month later I realized it was me... and not my husband...or my shower.

Green Eggs and Sperm

On numerous occasions I have stared at my keyboard debating if and how to post about this particular portion of my life. At first, it was simply put- too personal. Although it began as a seemingly minute, almost inconsequential bit of life that happened to me, to us. Conversely, over the past two years it has grown into a mammoth-sized dictator that has truly consumed my every thought and action. As increasing amounts of tears stream down my face with every strike of the keyboard and mouse click, I am eager to share our journey through the antagonist in this story, known as infertility.

Just over two years ago, in late August 2009, I sat there, pants around my ankles impulsively staring at an at home pregnancy test. Seriously, $15 bucks for a pee stick? Ludicrous! I closed my eyes and waited, peeking just about every 10 seconds. There was no physical identifiers that told me I was pregnant, only the fact that I had missed my period. And my cycle, at least up until that point, was textbook regular, with a capital R! Every fourth Tuesday at noon, I could always count on that part of my menstrual cycle to welcome me to a week full of bloating and bleeding. This Tuesday was different. No bloating or bleeding, just two parallel lines indicating that I was ‘with child’. Let the tears commence.

I had always imagined myself revealing this life-changing piece of information to family and friends in a much more imaginative way, but I was acting a tad peculiar post pee-stick and James was on to me. I’m a terrible liar. I just remember sitting there, staring at each other, in a sort of daze. Of course, we were excited, but it was all very surreal as well. For a moment I almost felt unworthy to be pregnant. Shouldn’t I be beaming? The truth was, it was a bit sudden- it really only took one try. Clearly, we wouldn’t be here, if it truly only took one try, now would we? We debated about telling, not telling, when, etc, and decided to wait a few weeks, at least until I had seen an doctor. We were definitely green in the world of reproduction at this point, and we had a happy little secret between us.

In the back of my classroom, in the lab area I have a long black table. It houses lab equipment, paper towels, and on this particular Friday, about a week or two after p- day, it housed me. I felt terrible- and it wasn’t the normal “What? You don’t know what a graduated cylinder is terrible?” It was a very different terrible; a terrible that I would become quite acquainted with- more than once. My entire abdominal area was aching; I couldn’t wait for the day to end. With my pants unbutton, I sat on the lab table as much as I could, and moved as little as possibly necessary. Once I got home, I realized I was spotting, but I knew woman who spotted and still had normal pregnancies. Then again, I also knew spotting could lead to not so normal pregnancies. I told James about my day, and he being even greener about these things that I, had no perception of what this could mean; what I wouldn’t give for that worry-free expression. In his mind, women bleed every month, right?

I, on the other hand, have not stopped worrying since, and will indubitably worry until all of my children about are safe and dead. If that makes any sense… Anyway, we ended up going to my parents, and told my mom our now unhappy little secret. With tears streaming down her face now, she confirmed what I had supposed- a miscarriage. The following day (Saturday), I was in more pain than before and now worried about the prospect of an ectopic pregnancy, we decided the emergency room would be a great place to spend a Saturday. I didn’t really have an OB to call, so we first tried urgent care, hoping they would have an ultra sound machine. $100 later, we found out, they do not. The moment the nurse/receptionist asked for my information the tears came. They didn’t stop the entire weekend. Looking back now, I may have been a bit hysterical. I calmed down in the car, but the tears were eagerly awaiting my arrival at the emergency room. To add insult to injury, the receptionist was a girl I went to high school with. Imagine how fun it was to tell her I was having a miscarriage. Although, I believe she was divorced, so we’ve all got our issues-not that I feel that’s any compensation or defensible, but again, remember I was not thinking clearly. I knew there would be poking, prodding and needles in my future.

With every additional nurse, doctor, and phlebotomist, the tears were right on target. I peed in various cups, had vials of blood drawn and for the first time, had a vaginal ultra sound. Wow! If you’ve never experienced one of these, it’s akin to a light saber, but in your vagina. I like to make the “vvvrehmm”, light saber noise whenever they whip it out now. We have become very dear friends since our first meeting that day. Fortunately, we found out that I was not having an ectopic pregnancy, and there was a yolk sac. We didn’t, however, know if the sac was growing.

That next Monday, (the first time I have ever called in sick) I started making some calls. I needed to find a good OB, and fast. I scoured my resources (the internet, mom, etc), and found a doctor close by who graduated for the University of Utah med school. Honest to blog, that is how I picked him. Go Utes! Alas, he was booked for the next 3 months (probably because he’s a great doctor, because of the U), but I was able to get in to see another doctor within the same building the very next day. Good news!

I think, after that Saturday, I had used up my entire reservoir of tears for a while because it was probably a solid month before I cried again. After another round of light sabers, he was able to assure me that I was still healthy; a miscarriage wasn’t my fault, but that yes, I was having a miscarriage, or a spontaneous abortion. We decided not to do a D&C, and just let it pass naturally. I was totally in favor of the option that didn’t involve more hospitals, needles and the like. The alternative, however, turned out to be 6 more weeks of bleeding, cramping and wearing pads that felt like diapers. The miscarriage groundhog had seen his arrogant shadow.

Other than immediate family no one knew. Looking back, I’m not sure why we didn’t share it, albeit very personal. My mother in law was so excited to hear that we were expecting, only saddened to hear what followed that statement. Once my doctor cleared me, he gave me some very promising expectations. With a hug and a handshake he sent me off to try, try and try some more. His parting words, were “We’ll see you right back here in a few months, pregnant!” I felt very at peace.

It took a month or so, before my cycle seemed cyclical again, and with my hormones in such disarray I started to develop another onset of acne. Seriously, not again. I struggled with facial acne as a teenager, and my parents exhausted a lot of resources (money, etc) to clear my skin. Really hormones? So not fair! And, if you’ve seen me at all in the past two years, you’ll know where acne and I currently stand. We are not on speaking terms- at all. I sometimes want to wear a disclaimer that explains my face, or a paper bag. Anyway, acne is not the main bad guy here, but it definitely plays a supporting role. For the next couple of months, per doctor’s orders, we tried, and tried and tried…. By the way, I hate that expression- trying.“How long have you been trying?” It ranks right up there with “cool beans” and “that’s so gay”.

By the time May rolled around, I realized I had developed some less desirable personality traits. At the arrival of each period, I found myself not only disappointed, but a bit annoyed and snippy. I was much more sensitive to any comments coming in my direction, and less helpful to others. It took me a while to even pinpoint the source. James also recognized these slight yet, increasingly overbearing nuisances. Evidently, trying was not enough for us. I purchased a basal body thermometer and with my handy dandy argyle notebook I simultaneously became the scientist and the lab rat. At 5:30, every morning, I took and recorded my basal body temperature. At the end of every cycle, I made a chart and graphed the data. During each cycle, I documented the position of my cervix, new acne, tracked any abdominal pains, and inspected my cervical mucus and every other pathogen that was excreted from my body. I was using terms like flow, thickness and egg-like. Oh yeah, and we had a lot of sex. A friend of my mom’s suggested a couple of herbs that worked for her- chaste tree and wild yam. Add that to the regimen.

I was reaching a breaking point. Luckily, the Lord knows best. He puts people in our lives to help us. At mutual (currently serving in the young women’s program) one evening that summer, I was chatting with another leader, and I shared with her some information about my miscarriage. She was so empathetic and we sat there for another hour and cried. My silly little battle with infertility is nothing compared to her. After four years of, here’s that word again, of trying and still no real answers, they have two adorable twin girls. Thankfully, in vitro worked for them, but only after multiple attempts. I like to call her my life partner, or my fertility czar. She continues to be such an advocate for me, and others. She encouraged me to get back in to see a doctor and stop treating myself like a specimen.

Almost a year since my miscarriage, I lay on the same table, awaiting the light saber. Hello, old friend! I did not show up to the appointment empty handed. I brought my graphs- they were color coded. This time, we found something- larger than before. A cyst had formed in my right ovary. No word on how long it had taken up residency, or how long it was planning on sticking around. Much to my dismay, it had signed a six-month lease. Almost weekly, I went back to check up on it, and each week it began increasing in size, and soon there were two- a roommate! Then, back to one. During this time I also tried at home ovulation predictors, around $40 a pop. Bring it on- more data to document, chart and graph. By December 2010, we (doc, James, me, my fertility czar, etc) were fed up with this pesky irritant and decided to have it surgically removed; partly for health reasons, but also in hopes that this would be the solution to our fertility concerns.

The surgery was scheduled for January 2011, and went very well. While they were in the area, the also did a HSG (hysteropingogram), where they inject a dye into your tubes to see if there are any adhesions or obstructions. It sometimes acts like a pseudo Drano and can clear possible blockages. You have my permission to do whatever you need - barring I am none the wiser. I have heard the HSG is not all sunshine and unicorns sans anesthesia. I took a few days to recover (Second time I have ever used a sick day) and was back to trying again. Now, with a renewed sense of hope, but still tears and worry- some things never change.

By this time, almost a year and half into this, a little bitterness and resentment started to settle in. I was still able to be happy for those people in my life that were able to be pregnant, and have a growing family, but it was not always easy. We definitely felt a void in our lives, and knew we wanted to continue to try everything we could (in and out of the bedroom). I am very sensitive to those who seem to constantly complain about their children and/or being pregnant. Sometimes people would comment on how lucky I was that I didn’t have a little ankle-biter weighing me down, that I can work outside the home, can go wherever I want, whenever I want, take a nap on a Sunday afternoon. Some even targeted body parts- commenting on how fortunate I was to have perky breast and flat stomach. There is no denying that I was blessed with a great set of breasts, but I would gladly give them up for a pair of sore droopy boobs if it meant we could have one of heavenly fathers angels in our home.

Somewhere in there, I sort of decided I would stick it to all these adorable pregnant woman and let them be jealous. If they wanted to envy me, I would deliver and give them something to envy. I would have the flattest stomach, the perkiest rack and travel to exotic places on a whim. Unfortunately, I am a planner and actually enjoy staying home, but we have been on a few vacations; my favorite was our Caribbean cruise. I had also spent the last year and half planning my actions and activities around the looming “what if I’m pregnant by then”, and was frankly, tired of that game. I wasn’t going to play it any longer. Call me a party pooper, but so what if I was pregnant. Then, I would be pregnant in the Caribbean. Sounds like a win-win to me!

One event that I committed to in January was the Ragnar relay race. For those of you who know anything about me, I am not a runner- in fact I’m the anti-runner. I don’t hate it; I’m just terrible at it. But I so desperately wanted to do something for me, something I had never done! I was committed. The race was April 15-16th, in California. I was running with 5 other fantastic girls from my neighborhood, albeit intimidating, I was so in! So, in the midst of more trying I ran.

6 days before the race I started bleeding. My cycles weren’t super regular, but this was extremely early for me. So, I took a pregnancy test. What do you know- it was positive. Although the spotting only lasted a day. Oh goody- I’m about to go run a 3 day relay and I’m pregnant. The nerve. The timing. The tears. The worry. I confided in one of my running buddies to see what she thought. She was willing to run my legs for me. Another great friend the Lord just puts in my way. My docter ok’ed me to run because I had been training for it, although that “what if?” always seems to rear its ugly head. They tested my HCG levels, and over a 48-hour period they should double. On the way to California I got the call- my HCG levels were almost depleted by the second test. Just as I figured. I made another appointment with the light saber, following the race, and was resolved to run. It was the day of the race and I was spotting, but not enough to stop me from running. Over the next 36 hours we traveled/ran a total of 200 miles. What a sense of accomplishment, and I managed to do it with no pain, bleeding or worrying. What a blessing.

The following day however, as I was in the shower, and the bloodgates (not floodgates) opened. I knew I was having another miscarriage. Again, I didn’t really want to share it with my team- mostly because we were on such a ‘runners high’ that I didn’t want to be a Debbie Downer. Unfortunately, these girls are no dummies. They were on to me, and I just lost it- commence tears. Although I was not in the comfort of my family’s arms, home or even state, I had 5 other women who knew just how to comfort me. There was no need to take a trip to the ER, this seemed old hat by now.

Since my second miscarriage and many inconclusive ovulation predictors I was nearing the end of my rope. I went back in to see my doctor and was ready to be much more aggressive. I wanted to TRY everything and was will to try anything. Before I could even get any words out, the tears spoke for me. My doctor referred me to a few fertility clinics in the area. I also asked to have my progesterone levels tested. After more light sabers and blood work, it turns out my progesterone levels are very low, but all my other hormones are right where they should be. Answers- this is awesome! My thyroid is also a little out of wack, but easily manageable. Synthroid (thyroid med) is rather annoying to take, but worth it. Prometrium (progesterone pill) seems to make me a bit sullen in the morning, but does not induce the crazy, like some reviews I read. I have also seemed to have more luck with the ovulation-predictors. If this simple regime is all it takes, sign me up!

What a difference it made to go speak with a fertility specialist. Right from the get to, she was able to provide explanations and possible reasons for our miscarriages. My short cycles and multiple early miscarriages are possible signs of low progesterone levels. Clearly though, sperm likes egg! They have fertility down to a science, as cliché as that may sound. I am so grateful to be working with both doctors in our fight for a little one to call our own. This past summer has spelled hope for us and our journey through infertility. So, I guess that cat is out of the bag- we are trying for a little one.

I don’t think I can adequately express the amount of concern and compassion I have for anyone facing this trial. My deepest empathies to you as you fight for answers. I have come to realize our brawl with this beast may never be easy, or over. And for some crazy reason, we continue to try. Are we mad? Perhaps! But is it worth it? From those who have, they all say a resounding yes. And James never seems to tire of the trying we have to do- for the baby of course.

Confessions of a 20-Something School Teacher

T-minus 3 days until I have to go back and work for the next 180 (luckily not 180 days straight). Oh where or where has my “summer “ gone? And I do use the term “summer” very loosely considering a) summer is technically longer than 2 months, and 2) normally summer’s end means cooler temps and that is certainly not the case in my neck of the woods (or armpit/crotch of the U.S- as AZ has been aptly named). Furthermore, summer usually means more time, which equates to more blog posts, also not the case this go ‘round. Since our last meeting here, I have been able to check a few things off my list, but a few still remain. James graduated, we took a trip to Durango with our BFF’s; conquered another year of girls camp, Shua (the brother formally known as Joshua, or Josh to family) completed his mission and returned home safe and sound, got my teeth cleaned, had a pap smear (you know, the annual summer events) spent a week with the Jensen family at Imperial Beach, attended a funeral for our dear friend Lana, painted and did a little more sprucing around the house. Although, there seems to be a strong link between sprucing and chaos- sprucing inevitably leads to more sprucing. I have come to the conclusion that we are excellent at starting the spruce, and terrible at the follow through. Every project in our house is somewhere between 95-99% completed. Every. Single. One.

As I mentally prepare to blog and actually put phalange to keyboard, a rush of anxiety and stress overwhelms my brain. Where to I begin? How do I play catch-up? Or is it Ketchup? Hmmm….Do I cut my losses and post about the present? Do I pick up from where I left off? Do I tie up my loose ends, or start anew? Does it really even matter? I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who actually reads these. P.S- am I the only one who rereads their own posts? Boy, do I sound self-absorbed.

By nature, I am a fairly very organized person- by marriage I am not. In my efforts to create a sensible congruent post accented with a few pictures I went to locate some photos. Naturally, I went to our external hard drive- opened “my pictures”- opened the “2011” folder and searched for the desired folders, which are labeled by month, year, followed by the event name. Much to my dismay, my 2011 folder was missing a huge chunk of the year. I also noticed a few new folders on our desktop “stuff from new camera” ,“more pics” and unavoidably, an “other” folder. I start to hyperventilate. Not only are pictures stored in these obscure folders strewn about the cyber world , we also have some on our external hard drive AND on James’ laptop, not to mention presumably the memory cards for BOTH digital cameras and our camcorder. It’s almost too much for me to take. An hour later James found me rocking back and forth in the corner of our closet humming nursery rhymes. As I got up to make my way back to finish a task I have to step over our unpacked luggage from our last trip, past our unfinished baseboards in our bathroom, our untextured and unpainted wall patch from our flood (over a year ago), beyond our broken entertainment console and into our office area, where I have to play leap frog as to avoid screws, open cans of wood stain and our unfinished coffee table; by design I avoid our piles of laundered and unlaundered clothing that have now seemed to merge and are forming a coup against me. Wow, I am a hot mess. That’s my conclusion- I am one hot mess. I think part of the reason I haven’t blogged is directly coupled with the fact my “hot mess” meter is through the roof, I don’t even know where to begin, so I don’t.

So, what have I even accomplished over the last two months? I did spend the better part of last night trying to sort through the massive digital picture confusion, but not without a few casualties. I organized and emptied every picture I could locate on every digital device we have into their proper place, but I can’t seem to find pictures of James’s graduation and party, as well as a shower I threw for a friend, and unavoidably any event that was flanked by the two. I have also sustained a successful workout regime that will inevitably fall apart once school starts again, but that is entirely beside the point. We did finish the actual painting part of our living room, hallway and office area, however there are still outlets missing outlet covers and we did suffer one casualty with our coffee table turned media console. James is currently working on building a more suitable replacement. I also broke out my sewing machine (that frankly intimidates me) sewed a few simple projects and then broke my needle. In addition, I joined pinterest and facebook. And before I jinx it, I hope I can say I finished another blog post. I apologize for the lack of pictures, I know there was some promised picture hype, but I just didn't like they way they were, or rather, weren't organized.

It’s Kinda like Maslow’s hierarchy of needs

I don’t know how many of you are familiar with psychologist Abraham Maslow, or, really, how many of you are still out there, but he proposed that we must first meet our basic needs of health and survival before moving on to more subsidiary needs such as creativity, morality, or in this case, blogging per say. Well, lately, blogging is nearing the top of my proverbial pyramid, along with purging my email inbox and organizing all of our computer cords.

And, I know, I know, we’ve been here many a time before- lapses in blogging, blah, blah, blah. Moreover, what’s worse is that I actually have more of a surplus of post worthy events than a deficit. I’m totally not complaining, just defending my position. My plate is chock-full of fantastic courses, it’s really more about finding the time to blog. So, here’s my pecking order (pun intended) for what’s been on my proverbial plate since we last blogged. Some I have conquered, completed or barely squeaked by, others are still on the schedule.

Cruise around the Caribbean my man: Oh so many more details to follow! This endeavor warrants its own post! Expected date of completion: Mid-March 2011

Training for and conquering SoCal Ragnar relay: Expected date of completion: Mid-April 2011

Planning and executing ward Easter Egg Hunt activity: The beehives were in charge of coming up with and manning the craft table. Try and come up with a craft for 200 plus kiddos that spans 2-12 years of age- Impossible! Although, if I may be so bold, I think our little chickies came out super cute! Expected date of completion: Late April 2011

Prom/End of school year shenanigans (endless amounts of grading, faculty dodge ball tournaments, awards ceremonies, pep assemblies, graduation night) I knew I was only a chaperone, but still, those same feelings of self-doubt and high school insecurities rushed over me as I was standing alone on the dance floor. I guess it's to be expected when I'm the one waving the gaudy flashlight in your face preventing you from 'gettin' jiggy wit it' on the dance floor:Expected date of completion: April-May 2011

James’ last semester and graduation tomfoolery (late night study sessions, invitations to be made and mailed, menu to plan) Expected date of completion: January-May 2011

Baby shower for a friend- She’s due in June, baby shower’s in May (invites, menu, favors, decorations) Don’t be surprised if the shower menu bears a similar resemblance to graduation party menu. Hmm… Expected date of completion: Late May 2011

Mother’s day card’s and photos taken and printed (my mom has been asking for a current pic of the two of us for some time now, seemed like such a simple idea, we’re just terrible at the planning and executing part, shout out to Walgreen's photo department for letting us print pics at 9:55pm : Expected date of completion: Early May 2011

Girls camp ( theme to be chosen, t-shirts to be designed & ordered, pillowcases to be made, skits to plan, campsite to decorate, needless sundries to make for their pillows each night) Expected date of completion: Early June 2011

Operation: Knock me up (for a while there I thought I could cross this action item off my list, but it turns out, it’s back on the docket…again. Expected date of completion:??

So there you have it bloggers and blogettes! Here’s to hoping that blogging keeps edging its way higher on my priority list, life stays interesting enough to bog about; and now with Bin Laden eradicated that’s one less item I have to worry about! It’s really a win-win!

From Pumpkins to Presidents, and a few P's In Between

Perhaps, I stayed true to my demands in my last (seems like eons ago) post; when I vowed no new posts until my students’ labs were graded. Well, that semester ended, and spring semester is well underway and I find myself again grading labs. We won’t disclose exactly what happened to those other labs though- that’s an animal of an entirely different color and species. Today, though, I finish grading and I post! Risky undertaking? Perhaps. But, I’ve just spent the last 3 days laid up confined to the couch getting my year’s worth of small screen entertainment. Heaven in theory, but my brain is itching for more stimulation than my 2-D 42incher can offer. Perhaps if we had 52" 3-D 1080P HD… but, I digress.

Pumpkins:
Well, last time we did the blogging we were gearing up for our annual All Hollow’s eve party. It’s our 3rd go round, so I feel we earned the rights to “annual”. What say ye? Anyway, it was kind of a success, if I do say so myself. Our entire street was packed with cars! We had to make multiple ice runs (yes, you heard that right, ice runs- not beer runs, we’re so cool like that!) In fact, I feel we came off victorious from Halloween, in general. We attended another annual party, we were newbie’s at this party, and yet we walked away runner-up for best couples costume and a gift card. The Victor’s were Jan Brewer and Terry Goddard- very topical.

Police:
2 weeks before Christmas I was home organizing my button collection by hue (normal people stuff, right?), and James had just arrived home. Moments after his arrival, there was a pounding at our front door. My thoughts turned to slightly impatient neighbors bearing Christmas goodies; boy was I mistaken. We opened the door, and there stood 3 of the Town’s finest officers, with less than cheerful expressions on their mugs. They were not here to spread Christmas cheer. They immediately separated us, James outside with 2 officers, 1 officer inside with me. He started bombarding me with questions about me, James, our house, our lives, my menstrual cycle, my great grandfather’s scholastic achievements and medical history, etc. Ironically, I was most humiliated when he poked his head down our hallway and into our “everything” room, and walked through our muddled laundry room. Amidst all the confusion, I thought about the blockbuster classic-Home Alone when Joe Pesci comes to the McCallister home disguised as a policeman. That is so what was happening, right? Eventually, we all make it outside and one of our vehicles comes into question. They asked me to describe exactly what was in the car and trunk. I proceeded to tell them, my mom’s hand-painted nativity set from her mom, a shark steam mop and a picture of Jesus that I was going to use for mutual the next night. Turns out, someone had stolen our license plate, placed it on their car, and proceeded to loot a bunch of Coach Purses from a mall nearby. The police originally believed James to be the perp, especially considering when he arrived home he was seen inserting a bagged unidentified object into his backpack. Turns out, it was a Christmas present for moi, which he legally bought and paid for! After they realized we weren’t dim-witted coach purse stealing crack addicts that use their own vehicle as a get-a-way and their own house as a rendezvous point, they complimented us on our Christmas decorations and went on their way. We ordered new plates, and are looking into stronger bolts.

Now onto paradise:
There is no real legitimate value in this little tid-bit of information. It’s not particularly inspirational or moving. It’s not a tear-jerker nor does it contain any side-splitting comedic value; Nonetheless, It starts with a “P” and I’d like to take this opportunity to let you know that we BOOKED a CRUISE! Signed, sealed, delivered, I am yours, Paradise! Why, you ask? Wedding? Funeral? Family reunion? Big work promotion? The answer is E, none of the above, my comrades. We are cruising because we CAN and WANT to! Plenty of details and pics to follow, for sure!

Procedures:
Those of you that know me, may be aware that normally between the hours of ugh and anguish I am enriching the lives of 160 young minds. Now, between the months of sigh and relief (June & July) all bets are off, however, we are smack dab in the middle of ugh, with a low pressure eekk system in the forecast. So how is it possible that I am posting? Did I pull a Ferris Bueller’s Day off? Heavens, no, I am much to chicken for that! I had to take a few days off to have a small laparoscopic procedure done. I had a pesky cyst on my left ovary that had taken residence for well over 6 months. It simply had to go! Luckily, my fabulous doc was able to save all my lady parts! Now, even though my ovary is not accepting applications for new tenants, there is talk of a lit vacancy sign in the neighborhood.
Recovering from anesthesia is the worst. I hate having no control over my eyelids and body movement. I love the warm blankets though; no amount of I.V. or needles are worth it. I did not faint, but perhaps a few tears were shed. I had an epiphany from my extensive (6 hour) hospital stint. I was not built for hospitals. I am a wimp, and wanted to go home as soon as I could. Once home, I watched…er intermittently slept through the following: 2 episodes of American Idol, 17 again, Easy A, Red, Dinner For Shmucks, Bride Wars, Leap Year, Extraordinary Measures, Saturday Night Live, The Today Show, Knight and Day, 3 Men and a Baby, Valentine’s Day and possibly more but can’t really recollect-thanks to the drugs. Next on the docket (if necessary) are Gilmore Girls, Juno and Across the Universe. By the way, thank you drugs, family and friends for nursing me back to health. I heart you…mostly the drugs though.

And finally, Presidents:
In an effort to curb your enthusiasm for my blog posts, and if per chance it’s a while till we meet again, I am going to give you a forecast, at least until president’s day. That is my next day off. From now until then, my time will be spent with the following: (My newest nephew-Matthew, my new design toy and my 2011 venture- the Ragnar relay).