Oh Mighty Fortune Cookie, Give Us Your Wisdom

I went with some co-workers to eat Chinese at lunch today and here was my fortune cookie message:

Do not give up; the beginning is always the hardest.

How's that for validation of my new "doing things" mantra?!

A happy and safe New Year celebration to everyone!

'Twas The Blog After Christmas

...with sincerest apologies to Clement Clark Moore

The Blog After Christmas
'Twas a few days after Christmas, and all through the blog,
Not a post to be had, not even 'bout the dog.

All the readers were totally bummed,
Wishing that I would write something that hummed;

Gifts given, received and family fed,
I struggle to come up with something to be read;
Now TLS in his work duds and I in my jeans,
Have just settled down to keep working for our means;
When out on the Internet there arose such a clamor,
I sprang to google at Google to see what was the matter.
Pakistan's burning, war in Iraq;
The news just makes my forehead call out for a smack.
Won't write about death or destruction or pain,
But does anyone want to read about our holiday menu again?
What I am wishing would come through the door?
Blog topics, clever words, and funny items galore.

Oh, blogging muse, come visit again;
Don't tell me I've started this dang-fool thing in vain.
What will I write about? What will I share?
Something will come to me; I mustn't despair.

Suddenly a vision: a blinding white light;
Telling old stories and anecdotes to delight
Will keep you all laughing far into '08,
And then my alter-ego I can further create.

So from me and TLS, this poem shines bright;
Happy New Year to all and to all a good night!

How Cleaning Out the Refrigerator Can Bring On a Long, Involved Personal Blog Entry

Disclosure made in the interest of honesty: I started this entry many, many days ago. It has taken me several sessions to write it and even during the process of composing it, I kept thinking that maybe I didn't want to post it, worrying that it would be embarrassing to me and TLS (because even though he has a pseudonym in these virtual pages, 99% of the people who read them know his name - sorry hon!). But I finally decided to just put it out there. 1) Because I have always been honest about these things because ultimately that's just how I am, and 2) because there have already been things that I would have said in earlier blog entries but didn't because they wouldn't have had any context. So, if you're reading this entry, it means that I did hold my breath and hit the Publish Post button.
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I was forced to do a major fridge clean out before Thanksgiving so I could fit the huge container with the brining turkey in there. In addition to tossing the hunks of moldy cheese, half-filled condiment containers and mystery science experiments, I finally threw away something that has been lurking in the crisper drawer for the last two years.

Here's where my blog entry comes to resemble how I tell stories in person, by stopping the narrative to tell another story to finish telling the one I just started. It's all very confusing, but bear with me. There is some deep background that you need to know and while many of you know the whole story (probably much more than you ever wanted to know), not everyone is on the same page. I promise that it will all come together in the end.

As previously mentioned in my inaugural post, TLS and I are generally not in a hurry to make any major life changes--even if they are positive. TLS likes to call us The Universal Constant and I think that is an extremely funny, clever and insightful way to say that we are change resistant and not a little reactionary. (I think I briefly considered blogging as Reactionary Girl, but decided that it made me sound like I should be wearing a beret and riding with Che. But anyhoo... ) So after waiting almost three years after we met to get married, you could probably guess that we wouldn't rush into the whole parenthood thing and you'd be absolutely right.

We waited a few (translation: about 5) years and then decided to take the plunge and start trying to have a baby. Well, maybe not trying to get pregnant but to just stop preventing getting pregnant. (There is a difference in those two states of being, even if it is subtle, and that difference allowed us to take the plunge.) So there we were throwing caution to the wind and....nothing. No double pink lines on those ridiculously expensive home pregnancy tests and not even a late period. "No worries," the books and doctors and other people told us, "it can take up to a year to get pregnant." "Relax." "Take a vacation." "Buy some new clothes." And really, it wasn't like we were TRYING, we just weren't preventing so that bought us a fresh round of hope. And if I may make an observation here, my friends, there is nothing like hope to reach out with a Bruce Lee karate move to kick you in the teeth every so often.

Somewhere around this time, I got serious about getting pregnant. In addition to many of my other good qualities, I am (um, how should I put this?) a little intense and organized about things. I also like to know everything about everything (hence the Masters in Library Science aspirations). I was like a fertility researcher. I had calendars and charts and was comparing information from multiple websites. I was ON A MISSION and on top of that I was hiding all this intensity from TLS so I didn't scare him off. 'Cause you know how desirable men find women who are baby crazy. (I can guarantee that he's reading this right now going...what?!) Let's just say that I was the fertility ninja on a mission. How's that for a mental image?

And still...nothing, nada, zilch. Bupkis as all the yiddishers like to say. I was starting to get alarmed because in addition to being intense and organized, I am also paranoid. (Boy, don't you wish you were TLS? Doesn't he sound like the luckiest sucker in the world?) Oh, and around that time TLS took a consulting job with a large computer company whose logo is blue and this caused him to be out of town four days a week. It seemed as if the whole world was conspiring against us but when I went to the doctor, he didn't seem too worried. "Your husband isn't in town full-time and at 32 you're still young" (Really, doc? Not feelin' it so much). He all but said the words, "Patience, young grasshopper." So, more karate-chopping hope being flung in our direction obscured my panic at least for a while.

Flash forward another year or so. TLS has gone from working for big blue, to being laid off, to taking a job in a neighboring state. We were planning to move as soon as our house sold, but luckily TLS's "Spidey Sense" about his new employer started to tingle within a few weeks of his start date. (And with good cause, as it turned out, since about six months later the company went belly-up and he was out of a job again.) We took the house off the market, hunkered down to maintain two households separated by several hundred miles, and he started coming home on weekends. Again, not the greatest gameplan for conception, so our continued failure still didn't seem too alarming.

TLS found another job in town and throughout our house, there was much rejoicing. Now I could guarantee that he would be home for those few fertile days each month and we'd finally be able to hit the jackpot, so to speak. And again, nothing. Month after month of nothing. Long, interminable stretches of nothing. Well, you get the picture.

My doctor finally agreed that maybe it was time to start giving us a little extra help with conception and we took our first dip of many in the Infertility Pool. After TLS's "men" were tested and judged to be suitable, and I had undergone several painful and invasive tests, we were given the greenlight to try insemination. The gateway fertility drug of choice is Clomid and I swear to you it is the marijuana of fertility drugs. Those five little white pills look so innocent and innocuous but often they are just the beginning of the slide to the hardcore--Lupron and Follistim and Repronex and the like. Those Clomid were only the cost of a co-pay and went down easy. Sure, they caused some hot flashes, but there were the resulting follicles up on the ultrasound machine's screen--shining down on us like hope writ in scratchy gray and white. On the appointed day, TLS would make a trip to Collection Room #1 and forty-five minutes later we would pick up our sample encased in a Styrofoam cup that always reminded me of the containers of nightcrawlers you find in the refrigerated sections of rural gas stations. We would carry the cup upstairs to the doctor's office, I would lie on the table with TLS's hand clasped in mine, and the doctor would complete the procedure. Off we would go to commence our lives and wait. And again, nothing. Four times worth of nothing. And because hope had been hurling a bare foot or open hand into our guts, each time the disappointment would be magnified, but the desire was still there.

I wish that I had been blogging back in those days. It would have provided endless fodder for posts and I would have been able to relate many of the events and emotions that are lost to me today in the mists of time and forgetfulness.

My doctor informed us after that fourth strike, that statistically, we should have already gotten pregnant if insemination was going to work for us and that it might be time to consider consulting a reproductive endocrinologist. I chose a doctor who had been successful with a friend of Youngest's and we met to discuss our options. These consisted of attempting more inseminations using injectable fertility drugs or doing in vitro fertilization. Either way, it seemed that we were going to have to become proficient in the art of shots--the giving in the case of TLS and the receiving for me. Mostly because insemination hadn't been getting the job done, we decided to step it up a notch and begin in vitro.

I hope to regale you in the future with some of the stories from those days, because really, we did manage to find humor in the most odd places. Not the least of which was that the nurse assigned to us for our time utilizing the Assisted Reproduction department was completely without humor. A nice enough and competent enough person, I'll grant you, but nary a laugh to be had from Caroline. And here she was matched with two people that have yet to find a subject for which we cannot find a joke. It was quite the mis-match.

Suffice it to say that after two rounds of in vitro (totaling hundreds of injections and five figures of payments), it all came to naught. We had invested time, money and emotions to be left without a positive outcome. And it was painful. Most painful of all was to sit across from my dear, wise doctor and have to hear that based on my body's response to the medications and the (lackluster) condition of the few embryos that we did create, his medical opinion was that for whatever reason, I was running out of eggs and the ones that I did have weren't good. Whew. That'll take the wind right out of your sails. We talked about how our options from here were to adopt, utilize egg donation, or be childless. And at that moment I realized that hope had brutalized me one too many times. I was through with experiencing the kind of disappointment over which I had some control. Ultimately, in this situation, inertia was the least painful option. And it has been the one that we have pursued, if pursued is the right word to use in this instance.

I tell you all of this not to make you feel sorry for me, because despite the infertility and the disappointment, I am a very lucky person. I have a wonderful and loving spouse who is possibly the best thing to ever happen to me. I have a happy marriage. I am gainfully employed and have a cozy house in which to live and a snazzy car in which to drive to and from it each day. I have money to buy the things I need and those I just want. I really can't complain too much about anything. I lead a full and happy life. But I will always have what amounts to an emotional scar. A psychic hole that has been filled with whatever happened to be at hand. Most of the time, it's virtually invisible, but every so often it will "itch" and make its presence known and then I have to deal with it. Mostly, this means I have to remind myself of all the things I've already listed in this paragraph, but I don't kid myself that it will ever totally go away.

So you're saying to yourself, this is all well and good but what does it have to do with your refrigerator? Well, after all that toil and disappointment, I had one vial of medication left after our second in vitro attempt. Those medications have to be kept cold, which means that they are kept in the fridge. I didn't move that box (little bigger than a deck of cards) at first because I couldn't bear to look at it and then because I thought that I might have a friend that could use it.
Every so often, when it seemed that hope wanted to give me yet another jab, I would take the box out and check the expiration date, but I could never bring myself to throw it away. But the Thanksgiving clean out frenzy caused me to do more than give it a glance and put it back in. I set it out on the counter and really pondered the reasons I was keeping it. And decided that it had come to represent the chance (however infintesimal) that I had to keep trying. And then I realized that I didn't need or want that anymore. I was ready to give up the illusion and send it away. Into the contractor grade Hefty bag it went and I have slept better since then.

Taking a deep breath and pushing the button...

To Add Insult To Injury

So what's the lead story in the news today? Sixteen year old Jamie Lynn Spears, sister of that bastion of morals Britney Spears, is pregnant. Heaven help us all. Of course, TLS had a witty quote in response to the news: "I guess those Spears girls are singlehandedly taking it upon themselves to guarantee the continuation of the species." Heh!

I'm Still Seething...

This article was the lead story on the news this morning in my area. Go out and read it; I'll wait. (Just to warn you, when you return, I'm going to climb up on my soapbox and start ranting. I totally understand if that's not your cup of tea, so I'm giving you permission to bow out gracefully.)

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Where do I start on the things that angered me about this incident?
Let's see, could it be the 17 year old mother of a three year old and a 22-month old?
How about having those two children riding around in a vehicle after midnight instead of home asleep?
In a van driven by your drunken cousin?
NOT STRAPPED IN?!?!
A tragic accident? Yes, but totally avoidable.

Don't think me a hard-hearted b***h. I will channel some holiday forgiveness and goodwill toward the mother who just lost her oldest child, but not before I marinate a little longer in my righteous indignation.

Siblings, Welcome Back Kotter, and Feuds Averted

I was talking with TLS's youngest sister last weekend. She and I are good friends--although had things been a little different, our first meeting could have been the start of a feud. Let me 'splain.


TLS and Youngest were always thick as thieves during their formative years. They were the self-proclaimed Sweathogs (can you tell we all grew up during the 70's?!) and Middle was left to be, well, the Middle. Back when I met him as a college-aged adult, they had outgrown the Sweathogs club, but were still much closer to each other than to Middle. TLS and I met at a university on one side of Texas and Youngest was attending one on the other side. When TLS brought me home for the first time--for his birthday celebration--everyone converged. Youngest came home from East Texas, Middle and her fiance (who is now her husband) from the suburbs, and his grandparents who lived down the street joined his parents to pack around the table to witness the first girl that TLS had ever brought home from school. It was just a teeny bit nerve-wracking, but luckily, my in-laws are very welcoming and I survived intact.

As a side note, after we got back to school from the visit, TLS came over to my apartment to "study" and found me writing a note at the kitchen table. TLS: "Whatcha doin?" Me: "Writing your parents a thank you note for my visit." TLS: "Ooh...you are so in with my mom." And so it was, since I'm still around sixteen years later. Moral of that story is that thank you notes can often win you extra points.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, had I not been there, Youngest and TLS would have hung out together the entire weekend. My presence definitely put a damper on the sibling togetherness. At one point TLS asked me if I wanted to go out on the boat, I said yes, and off we went. I heard later that the scene back in the living room went something like this:
Youngest standing at the picture windows watching TLS and I zoom away from the shore in the boat: "I can't believe it."
Their Mom: "Believe what?"
Youngest: "He didn't even ask me if I wanted to go."
Their Mom: "I know, honey, but it looks like your brother has found someone he really likes and he just wants to impress her."
Youngest: Sigh.

So, in short, we had the makings of an all-out cat fight--a close relationship being changed by an interloping girlfriend. Luckily for everyone involved, Youngest and I are more alike than different and we genuinely liked being around each other so that we could share the super-fantastic TLS instead of fighting over him.

So, thanks Youngest, for not making me feel like I was stealing your brother (even if that's what you might have been feeling at one point) and for giving me the experience of having a sister!

If The Shoe Fits...

Received from one of my blog reading public...

Too true, Scott. Too true.

(This comic is from the strip, Pearls Before Swine, and it always makes me laugh.)

I'm In Triple Digits

Just checked the site meter and I've had over 100 site visits. Woo! Just a few million more to be an official internet sensation...

My Favorite Things

Oprah has a show every year where she reveals some of her favorite products and then gives them out to her studio audience. And while I'm not a billionaire TV talkshow host, and I won't be able to give out samples, I thought you might be interested in a few of Inertia Girl's favorite things. (In no particular order)

1. 5 Gum: Flare This is a new cinnamon gum made by Wrigley's and it lasts forever. I have yet to be able to outlast the flavor. If you've got to have your gum spicy, try this out. Plus, it has cool black packaging.
2. Neutrogena Norwegian Formula Hand Creme The. Best. Lotion. Evah. My hands used to get so dry in the winter that they would crack and bleed. Doesn't happen anymore with one application a day. I don't know what those Norwegians put in it, by jiminy, but it works!
3. Satsuma Mandarin Oranges It's true that I have never been a big fan of citrus, but one hit of this Vitamin C-filled edible crack made me a believer. These are easy to peel and so sweet! Unfortunately, they are only available mid-October through early December. It's going to be a long ten months until next year's crop. (Sigh.)
4. iPod and iTunes The first step is admitting that you have a problem. "I'm Inertia Girl and I am a music downloading addict."

Looking over my list, it's quite plain that I'm a cheap date. TLS must have known what he was doing when he married me!

You're A Mean One, Mr. Grinch

So here's the deal with me and Christmas. It's not that I don't enjoy the giving and receiving of gifts and I do love a good rendition of O Holy Night as much as the next person and I adore sending and receiving Christmas cards with letters and pictures, but I just don't get into the whole decoration aspect. It's completely lost on me. I have no desire to put up the tree (or trees!), climb on the roof to string the Christmas lights, or blanket the house with red and green decorations. To be truthful, it seems fairly pointless, but again--that's just me. I can appreciate the beauty of other people's Christmas style and I bow to their industriousness with all that the decoration process entails. It's just not going to happen at Chez Inertia. Does this make me a Scrooge or a Grinch? Possibly. But I bet when you open your world-famous Inertia Girl Christmas letter, you'll know that deep down, I really do have some Christmas in my heart.

It's The Little Things In Life...

Let me just go on record right now and say that I am very easily amused.

Background for my story:
Through work, I volunteer by reading to preschool kids once a month. It isn't always easy to keep the 3 -4 year olds entertained with Goodnight Moon or The Cat In The Hat (and let me tell you from experience that if you try to read a Curious George book to a preschooler whose primary language spoken at home is Spanish, then you're in for a very long, uncomfortable five to ten minutes), but they are such a ginormous bundle of cute that I can hardly stand it. Adorably cute to me, I'm sure, because I only have to be there for about 30 minutes. But when they all yell "Hello Miss!" when I come in and act genuinely happy to see me, well then, I just melt.

When I'm at work, I park in the garage that is attached to the Dallas Symphony Center.

On to the story...
I was leaving the garage the other day to go read to the kids. Unbeknownst to me, some of the area schools were having field trips to the symphony, so once I was on the ramp going out, I ran into a couple of cops directing buses around the entrance. Naturally, I had to stop and wait and this put my car right at the level of a walkway filled with kids about third grade age. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see them frantically waving at me, so I turn and give them my best pageant contestant wave. They start getting excited and I can see them saying, "She waved!" to each other. Pretty soon I can see one kid doing the international "honk your horn" gesture. (The one we used to give truckers on the highway when we were kids). I turn to them and shake my head with a big "NOOOOO" but now all the other kids have started to chant, "HONK YOUR HORN! HONK YOUR HORN!"

Normally, I don't have any problem playing along with these kinds of things, but I was directly in front of about four of Dallas' finest and I really didn't want a ticket. I started shaking my head, but the chanting just got louder. "HONK YOUR HORN! HONK YOUR HORN!" Well, what was I going to do about that? As the cop in front of me finally motioned me out into traffic, I gave the horn a couple of short beeps and the kids went bonkers. They started jumping up and down, high fiving each other and pumping their little fists in the air. It was fantastic. You'd have thought that I was Oprah giving away cars based on their excitement level.

I giggled all the way to the school and then when the kids all greeted me and started inching close to my chair while I was reading, I felt like the coolest person on the planet. (Or at least like Sally Field at the Oscars years ago. "You like me. You really like me.")

I grinned like an idiot the rest of the day. Nothing bad could touch me--not idiotic requests, not bad drivers, nothing. If we could all keep a real cheering section handy, I guarantee the world would be a much happier place.

Winter or Summer, Customer Service Run Around, and Other Random Thoughts

I don't know whether it is due to global warming or not, but to say the least it has been a mild autumn into winter here in North Texas. It was 81 degrees yesterday and is supposed to be in the 70's today. I could probably have gotten away with wearing a short-sleeved shirt today but figured I'd try to think my way to cooler weather by dressing the part by wearing a kicky red scoop-neck sweater with a plaid wool just-above-the-knee length skirt, tights and boots. A fetching ensemble, if I do say so myself.

It's a good thing that I had the feel-good vibes from my outfit, since I spent some time in customer service limbo this morning. TLS ordered me a shirt on November 15th. The company said it shipped on the 19th and gave a tracking number. All well and good, except that the tracking information has said that it entered the "sortation center" on the 19th and then...big fat nothing. I called FedEx this morning and was told that despite the online tracking, they never got the package from the company and to contact them. Greaaaaat. They don't have a phone number so I had to send an email and hope for the best. I predict that I will have to send at least one more email before I get any action. Arghhhhh.