New Subscription List

I heard from several people that the NotifyList link was not working properly, so now I am using Feedburner. There is a new widget off to the right to sign up for notification emails when I post new content. Give it a try; I think this one will work better. Fingers crossed!

Auld Lang Syne

So we've arrived at the last day of 2008. It is amazing to me how quickly time passes anymore. I remember being a kid, when the only things you really looked forward to were your birthday, the last day of school and Christmas and how it seemed like it took F - O - R - E - V - E - R for each of them to get here. Now it seems as if I blink and another year has passed. Birthday? POW! Anniversary? POW! Christmas? Again?! Really? POW, POW, POW!

I was musing about life in general the other day. I have never been one to have an actual five (or ten or even one) year plan for my life. I cringe when I have to answer those types of questions during job interviews. I usually end up saying something along the lines of, "I don't have a specific job or position that I envision, but I do want to be doing something that I enjoy and find challenging and exciting." Which, while it is a cop-out of sorts, is true. I have a couple of hard-charging friends from college that actually did have the next five years of their lives planned out at age 18. I admire their drive and ambition, but could never really see myself with the proverbial clipboard and ruler planning out every possible permuation. Come to think of it, though, this particular foible of my personality does seem to be a little out of character. As I believe we've established in the last year or so, I am an anal retentive, control freak but something about the "life" situation makes me just want to float along reactively taking things as they come. Ah, what a complicated lass I am! Apparently, it's all part of my particular charm.

Twenty years ago, the only things I pictured myself being were a wife and mother. I managed to achieve the former but not the latter and while there are days that I mourn the "me" that could have been, on the whole, I am probably happier than if I had had children. I've come to know myself well after some time in therapy and much soul-searching and though I could have been what we call in Texas a "fair to middlin'" parent, I would have struggled daily with my limitations. Many mothers would be perfectly fine being the proverbial "C" student of parenting. "Better than most" could be the rallying cry of great hordes of people and, really, since perfection in the raising of children is a quixotic goal, they are probably the healthiest of us all. But none of that is my style. Call it personality or genetics or personal idiom but only the loftiest of goals is good enough for me and when I cannot live up to them, mounting frustration often gets the best of me. My mother tells a story about me as a very young child that I find summarizes that characteristic of mine better than I ever could myself. When I started to talk, I started saying words. (I believe that car was the first one I said.) I was making the transition from babbling to words beautifully and then I just stopped altogether. Dead in my tracks. Nary a word was coming from my mouth. Mom was starting to really become alarmed and then I suddenly busted out with a complete sentence. She said that it was as if I knew that sentences were the next step and that I wasn't going to talk anymore until I could say them. Perfectly. And she truly suspected that I was practicing in my crib by myself so that I could unveil the first sentence in a dramatic fashion. Fast forward a year or so later when I was learning my ABCs. I would get somewhere around the dreaded L-M-N section and would lose my place. Instead of calmly starting over again, I would suffer a world-class meltdown with full on crying and carrying on and probably even some flinging of myself to the floor. And, yes, I am thirty (mumble, mumble) years older and have better control of my emotions but I still find that lack of perfection causes frustration which often threatens to boil over into anger. And I truly believe that the years of daily mounting frustration of parenthood would have turned me into a horrible, shrieking shrew.

I guess that somewhere in this end-of-year post, I fell into the justification for why we didn't pursue egg donation or adoption after our failed fertility treatments. I know that my dear, sweet friends and relatives will chime in with the "you'd be a GREAT parent" and "nobody's perfect" and "everyone thinks they are a worse parent than they really are" statements. And while they are all probably true, it wouldn't be the act of not being perfect, it would be my reaction to it that would potentially drive me over the bend. Self awareness is a beautiful thing when you're able to act on it.

And now in the worse segue of time, may you all have a happy, healthy, and safe New Year. I promise to be back to my normal, inane postings very, very soon.

Let Me (Re)Introduce Myself

Hi! I'm Inertia Girl. Nice to meet you.

You may be unaware of my horrible inertia problem -- which usually manifests itself by lack of blog posting. I seem to have been suffering from a severe case of it lately. As I've said before, I often go through phases of not having much to say and the information I do have doesn't seem to be particularly blog-worthy. (I imagine myself writing about it and then I think...does anyone really want to read this dreck?...and then I just keep on not writing anything.) Well, I don't think I've convinced myself that what I have to say is worthwhile, but I did finally decide that it's silly to have a blog and not post anything. So, here goes:

Got my official grades back and I pulled off the 4.0. Eight hours of A's, baby. I'm stoked that the whole school thing is off to a good start. Of course, this means that I'm now committed to grade perfection. No pressure there. Oh no.

I have been feeling neither "holly" nor "jolly" these days. This post gives you my general feeling about Christmas, but I seem to be particularly grinch-y this year. I'm really not sure why. Maybe it was the crush of schoolwork in early December that threw off my whole schedule. I have made absolutely no attempt to get the Christmas letter done this year. Maybe I'll shoot for a New Year's letter. (Hmmm. That has potential.) Today, I made the statement, "I wish they would just call off Christmas this year" one too many times, apparently, as TLS told me to knock it off. He pointed out that the odds of such a thing happening were infinitely small to infintesimal so I'd better just make my peace. Alrighty then. Consider my peace made.

The bright spots in my week were finding out that while a chunk of enamel fell off one of my teeth, that I didn't need any extensive (read: expensive) dental work. Score! I also got the pathology report back from a thyroid biopsy and it was benign. I'll take that as my Christmas present this year.

Merry Christmas to all!

Ta-freakin'-Da!

Well, peeps, the end of the semester is officially here and I am done with my last assignment. Ahead of schedule. And hopefully done well. Go ahead, call me an a**-kisser, brown-noser, or curve-wrecker. I can't help it, I'm just anal. And driven. And competitive. Now, where's the tequila?! Must celebrate.

An actual conversation from yesterday:

Me: So if Alabama and wins today, and depending on what happens with Oklahoma and Texas, it will be Alabama versus one of them for the national championship, right?
TLS: Yes.
Me: Well, in that case, Roll Tide.
TLS: Why?
Me: Because I refuse to cheer for either one of them. (Aside: sorry Chris!)
TLS: And go against a fellow Big 12 conference team?
Me: Phooey on OU and UT!
TLS: You know, you don't get much "phooey" anymore.
Me: I'm bringing "phooey" back.
TLS: Making "phooey" sexy. (pause) Good luck with that.

Random Roundup

I have a feeling that this post is going to be extremely disjointed. Nay, I know that this post is going to be at least somewhat disjointed. Why, you ask. Well, mostly because that is how my mind works these days...disjointedly. I think I've mentioned before about how all the fertility drugs I was taking several years ago would make me loopy, which gave rise to TLS's nicknames for me, such as Lupronia, Follistimia, and Repronexia. Apparently, as it turns out, every single hormone makes me loopy. And as I am now well into perimenopause, I am chock full of random hormones. (Really, Intertia Girl, you ask. You're not even forty, as the giant, green countdown clock likes to tell me.) Yes, perimenopause. I have the hot flashes, night sweats, moodiness, and brains-leaking-out-the-ears syndrome. Case in point: the other day I went into the garage to get in the car to go to work. I opened the backseat to put my computer bag in, shut it, and then promptly walked around the back of the car to the passenger side and OPENED THE DOOR like I was going to be chauffered around like a lady of leisure. What the...?

What was I just talking about? I'm pretty sure that I had a point when I started this whole thing, but heck if I know what it was. The whole disjointed thing sent me off into the hormone tangent and now I'm just lost.

See? Disjointed.

Oh! I got the next section of my giant semester-long project back graded and... DRUMROLL, PLEASE... got a 99. Woooo! I got my grade the other night when I had been suffering from what TLS's family likes to call stuffitis. (You know, when you're too full and you feel ill.) I opened the email with the grade and then ran immediately through the house, sliding into the kitchen where TLS was sitting at the table reading the latest Astronomy magazine. He looked up at me with this weird expression.

Me: I got a freakin' 99!!!!!!!
TLS: Oh, I'm glad. I thought for a minute that you were coming in to throw up.
(Pause)
Me: Yeah, right. Forget running into the bathroom, I'm all about vomiting in the kitchen in front of you.

That's my husband, always keeping it real.

They Shoot Horses, Don't They?

Aaaaand the cold rolls into its seventh day. I am so tired of blowing my nose and coughing and I'm pretty sure that I am single handedly keeping Kleenex, Purell, and the makers of antiseptic disinfecting wipes in business. Yes, I know, TMI. But at this point it is impossible for me to think of anything else but my own bodily functions--seeing as how they have taken over my life.

Thanksgiving confession:
It's official, I am obsessed with Facebook. Is that too 7th grade girlish to admit? I find myself checking it a couple of times a day and thinking about the next clever statement I'm going to make with my status change. I'm sure that I'll tire of it eventually, but in the meantime, it is yet another distraction. (Like I didn't have enough of those already.)

Things I Am Thankful For (Or, Alternately, Things For Which I Am Thankful...If You Are Picky About Your Grammar)

A partial list:

1. My loving husband, TLS, who (in the words of the movie Juno, which I have watched far too much of lately) is the cheese to my macaroni.
2. My friends and family. 'nuff said.
3. The good ol' US of A
4. My job (not always my favorite place to be, but it sure helps keep the heat on, the cars in gas, and food on the table)
5. My overall good health
6. Blue skies, crisp weather and the smell of wood smoke

Head cold is progressing nicely into a lovely productive cough, right on schedule. I figure that I should feel really great just about the time that my Thanksgiving holiday is over. Ah well, things could be worse and I guess there is some irony in bemoaning something so inconsequential in a thanksgiving post.

I hope everyone has a safe and happy holiday.

Ways to Know That Inertia Girl Is Off Her Game

Ways to know that Inertia Girl is off her game

1. No blog posting
2. $25 Amazon.com gift card money burning a hole in her pocket for weeks (WEEKS!) on end
3. Didn't finish reading the book club book for this month's meeting
4. Can't seem to muster any enthusiasm for composing, preparing or mailing the beloved Christmas Letter
5. Two words: HEAD COLD

I'm about a half a Kleenex box into a lovely head cold, which I can only hope doesn't head south into my chest. Mis-er-able. Ugh.

On positive side, after having two completely unrelated friends ask if I had a Facebook profile, I finally caved. Just what I needed, another way to procrastinate my schoolwork. : )

Happy Blog-iversary to Me

Well folks, it has been a year of blogging fun over here at Chez Inertia. I've certainly covered a broad (and probably uninteresting) range of topics in the last year and 119 posts. Thanks for indulging my need to put my deepest thoughts and silliest observations out there for others to enjoy. Here's to another year of fun!

Yes, You've Come to the Right Place

So instead of doing the homework I should have been doing, I've been playing with the ol' blog. First I added the countdown clock--the one that tells the world exactly how long until my 40th birthday. (I'm giving you all plenty of time to pick out just the right gift...oh, I jest!) You can't miss it, it's the big green monstrosity on the right.

Then I decided to try a new template. I'm not sure that I'm all on board with the change yet, but I can easily go back to the original one if I get the proverbial wild hair (or is it wild hare?). Feel free to comment honestly--I have no vested interest at this point.

A Post About Two Totally Unrelated Things

Unrelated thing #1:
So the day that I posted last (the date of which I could officially look up, but that would mean that I'd have to save what I've written as a draft and then go into Editing Posts mode and open that post to check the date and then close it and come back to what I have here and lord, if that doesn't seem like far too much work), I got a call from TLS that consisted of this:


TLS: I just read your blog posting.
Me: Yes?
TLS: BOOOORING!
Me: Sorry that I can't live up to your high expectations. What do you think is blog-worthy?
TLS: That my teams won both soccer games last night.
Me: I'll get right on that.


So, TLS, this one's for you. I officially announced to all five of my loyal readers (and a bunch of people all over the world that query Google for pictures of barn swallows - weird, I know) that your teams really kicked some booty. And now that I've written that entire story, I know that I posted last on Wednesday, which would be yesterday, but somehow it seemed like a much longer ago than that. (It's official; I'm losing my mind.)

Unrelated thing #2:
I got my graded project back last night. You know, the one that I spent a bazillion hours alternately writing and dejectedly rolling around on the floor moaning about. I got a 98! Wooo!
And yes, as excited as I was to get that awesome grade (which was pretty excited and involved running into the living room, yelling "I got a 98!", and flinging my arms and legs around in a spaz-tastic way) I was a teeeeny bit peeved to have lost those 2 points. Never happy, I know.

Still Not Dead or Eaten by Bears

Yes, the title to this post is accurate. I am neither dead nor eaten by bears, just haven't been in a blogging mood and haven't had much to blog about. (Believe me, as much as I don't want to write about indexing and specificity and exhaustivity, you don't want to read about them more.) I'll try to come up with something blog-worthy soon. Until then...hugs and kisses.

Second Greatest Quote Ever

Received from a friend via email today regarding my project-writing marathon last weekend:

"Just so you know, [insert name of university here] doesn't give anything higher than an "A" so why are you killing yourself?
Nevermind, I understand the quest for perfection."

Greatest Quote Ever

I spent about 25 hours last weekend (from Friday to Sunday) working on the second draft of this massive semester-long project in my Introduction to the Organization of Information class that was due on Monday. Long about 3 p.m. on Sunday, when I was almost literally lolling around on the floor in a state of writing overload and bemoaning the fact that I would *NEVER FINISH* the dang thing, TLS looks at me and says, ...

"You have a lot of words in your head. Surely you can find a few more."

I sure do love that man, but I hate it when he's right. (I did manage to get the thing written, not that anyone had any doubts. It might be complete and utter crap, but it was all on the page.)

One Weird Fact About Me

Don't ask me why this occurred to me today, but I realized that I have a weird relationship with ice in beverages. I have never been a fan of the ice-filled glass. I think that in my younger days I only saw the whole bad economic sense of it. I mean, when you buy a fountain drink that is filled to the rim with ice and then the beverage is poured in afterwards, what you're getting is less drink and more ice. I may be a capitalist pig, but I prefer more drink for my money. ("More drink, less ice" would look good on a shirt, I think.) And once you start using fewer ice cubes in your drinks, it is a short road (or at least a much shorter road) to using no ice cubes in your drinks.

Totally irrelevant aside:
Although, come to think of it, this whole topic made me nostalgic for the "chewy" ice sold at the locally owned convenience store in my home town. I know you're going to laugh hysterically, but where I grew up (Amarillo, Texas), we didn't have 7-11 or Circle K, just the Toot N Totum. There is a whole story about the name and how they beat the big boys of the convenience store world if you follow the link. But anyway, to get past the digression in my digression, they sell the best ice in the world. I have no idea why it is chewy rather than crunchy, but it.is.the.best. And as I've already established that I'm not a fan of the ice in general, that's high praise from me. I can't believe that I didn't go to one for old times sake when I was back there last year for my high school reunion.
End of totally irrelevant aside.

Back when TLS and I first bought our house, we ended up with a hand me down refrigerator without an ice machine. Since I was already well into my "I don't need ice in my drinks" phase (plus I hated filling, cracking and refilling the crappy plastic ice trays), I started opting out of ice usage in general. Even when we got the spiffy new refrigerator with the ice and water in the door, I mostly just use it when making an adult beverage with crushed ice. We also don't refrigerate our bottled water. I know, it's weird, but it's how I roll. And while I'm not averse to drinks with ice, I'm perfectly happy with my plain old, room temperature water. Go figure.

As Wholesome As Apple Pie

The set up:
There is about a five-mile stretch of our drive in to work that has a traffic light every mile or so. The powers that be do not have these lights synchronized, so it is nearly impossible to catch all of them as green. It does happen infrequently, though. When that happens, it's enough of a rarity that it's worth commenting upon.

The actual conversation this morning: **
Me: (While TLS drives through the final light) Wow! It's a Monday morning miracle!
TLS: Why?
Me: We made all the lights. They were all green.
TLS: (Looking at me strangely) We had to stop at one.
Me: No we didn't.
TLS: Yes, we did.
Me: Really?! No we didn't.
(pause)
Me: (laughing) Well, it felt like we made them all.
TLS: What are you doing there in the bathroom before I get up, (puts his index finger and thumb to his mouth and inhales) toking on your crack pipe?
Me: (hysterically laughing) You don't smoke a crack pipe like that.
TLS: (laughing) Oh yeah, how do you know?
Me: I know everything.

**Total disclaimer: Neither TLS nor I have ever done any illicit drugs. Ever. I swear. To make my point, we went to Jamaica (world capital of street-corner ganja sales) on our honeymoon and were perhaps the only people on the planet never offered drugs. We met another couple while we were there that didn't even make it out of the airport before being accosted. Apparently, our halos were too shiny! Inertia Girl and TLS, as wholesome as apple pie.

And, Yes, I Am Easily Amused

I was doing my assigned reading for my Health Sciences Information Management class this weekend and I literally giggled out loud. Just that moment, it dawned on me that I would have been reading that particular article ON MY OWN if it wasn't assigned. (I guess this means that the Medical Librarian track is really where I am supposed to be, which is good, since that's my declared specialization.)

You Can Call Me BOA

TLS and I were eating sushi at our favorite neighborhood sushi place this weekend. (And by neighborhood, I don't mean that it is in our neighborhood. We're lucky to have a gas station and a feed store in our neighborhood, so I'm figuring that the first sushi restaurant will open near us in, oh, about 2020. I simply mean to convey that it is a family-owned, non-conglomerate business. But I digress. As usual.) The sushi chef had a college football game on the TV and it happened to be between the school where TLS and I met and a local university. TLS graduated there in 1992 when I was attending my first (abortive) stint in graduate school--a story to be told for another day. Here's how the general conversation went:

Me: We should really go back for a football game this season.
TLS: Yeah, a couple of alumni like us, they must be dying to have us back.
Me: We'll, you're the alumnus. I just attended.
(pause)
TLS: They want you too; you're Bride of Alumnus

I think I might have found my new nickname.

You Know You Haven't Blogged in a While When You Can't Remember Your Password

As you might have guessed, I've been a tad busy lately--what with the school and the work and the teeny, tiny little things like sleeping and eating. I cannot believe that I let my advisor talk me into taking three classes. Three! Of course, one of them is a one hour class, but it is still eight semester hours and with working full time, I seem to be continually quite frazzled.

Not that anyone else really wants or needs to hear the rambling whining from me. ("Oooh, poor Inertia Girl. All that school must be so *taxing*!!") So feel free to click along to something else if you find this a little too much to take.

I've been wigging out over school and work alternately, and sometimes school and work simultaneously. I'm guessing that it's been quite a hoot for my BFF, Pam and, of course, the mostly underrated TLS. Pam was talking me off the ledge the other day (by reminding me that it is only my rampant over-achieving that is making me insane and that I might want to take it down a notch--good advice for me no matter what's going on in my life) and I realized that it truly will take a village to get me through grad school. (So thanks to all my fellow villagers. You know who you are!)

And on a completely unrelated note, is it unhealthy to be checking the weather sites about once an hour for updated Ike tracking?! Such a weather nerd. (Or nerd in general.)

What To Title a Post When You Can't Seem To Think of Anything Witty (or Even Pseudo-Witty)

Brain...is...in...overload...right...now.

I just finished writing a discussion posting about U.S. Health Care and Medical Information for my SLIS 5365 class and I think I've managed to use up all the words in my brain. While my three paragraphs were, I'm sure, scintillating, I seem to have overloaded the ol' neural circuits. However, being the dedicated blogger I am, I thought I'd at least give you all something to read. (Really, no thanks are necessary. Just send money. Oh! I jest!)

A vacation story for your general amusement:

We drove from our cabin in Idaho to visit Yellowstone National Park the Thursday of our vacation. (Climbing on my soapbox to add: I think everyone should see Yellowstone before they die. It is a seriously beautiful place that is unique in all the world. End of soapbox rant. You may continue with your enjoyable reading.) We came in through the west entrance which meant that we passed through West Yellowstone, Montana. After our hour and a half drive, we needed to use the facilities there and maybe buy a sweet snack or two to get us through until we could eat our picnic lunch. (Did anyone else just think "pic-a-nic basket" in Yoggi Bear's voice? No? Must be just me, then.) Anyway, TLS purchased a Sunkist orange soda and drank about half of it before we entered the park. He replaced the cap to the soda bottle and we proceeded to start enjoying our Yellowstone adventure. (Question for another post: Why do generally intelligent people lose their minds when they see wildlife?)

We ended up at the Old Faithful area around lunch so we retired to the car to open our pic-a-nic basket (Gotcha this time, didn't I?!). TLS started to open his soda bottle and--in the spirit of the park--the orange liquid formed its own violent geyser and spewed all over TLS's lap, the steering wheel and the car seat. ("Oh, Avis? Sorry about the sticky stain. I hope you have a steam cleaner handy.") TLS's shorts took the brunt of the eruption so until it dried it looked as if he had suffered an orange soda bathroom mishap. Come to think of it, even after it dried, it looked as if he had suffered an orange soda bathroom mishap, but he was a good sport and we managed to have a great day anyway.

We never did figure out why it acted that way. I've never seen that happen before and I hope never to see it again.

Bullet Points Are Going To Have To Suffice

Hola, blog-reading public, such that you are! Greetings from the Land of Total Insanity.

I came back from vacation to several projects at work that hadn't miraculously finished themselves while I was gone and graduate school looming. The projects are still in process, but I am thankfully making some progress with them. D-Day for G-School arrived bright and early (8 a.m.) last Saturday morning. It was an eight hour day packed full of educational goodness and has ushered in a new era in the life of Inertia Girl. I am calling this the Era of Anxiety. I thought at one point yesterday that my head was going to explode (or as TLS so aptly described it "experience cranial detonation") due to the number and variety of things on my to-do list. Luckly, I didn't suffer the destruction of any of my body parts and I've vowed to take a few minutes each day to get away from the grind. This will include blog posting. Hooray for you guys!

Highlights from vacation and the first day of school (with full description...coming soon):

• TLS's bottle of orange soda creating its own geyser while at Yellowstone
• Description (and photo or photos) of our glider rides in front of the Tetons
• Why we believe that it must be mandatory for people to leave their brains at the park entrance to Yellowstone
• An estimate of the number of potato plants we saw in Idaho
• Description of my first class, complete with dorky name badge and new spiral notebook
• How I managed to find my new BFF*, who is in two of my classes, a discussion group and a work group with me

*BFF=Best Friend Forever

How To Know Your First Day Back At Work Is Not Going Well

...when you discover you've forgotten your keycard while on your way into the building. Oops!

But the rest of the day has been okay. I actually got a compliment from the one extremely difficult person I work with. I almost fell off my chair. It was like a post-vacation miracle! (Did you hear the angels singing?!)

I promise to have a vacation post up soon. So many stories to tell and pictures to share.

Sayonara (For a Week or So)

We are leaving in the morning for Jackson, Wyoming. I'll be out of touch until the 19th, but hopefully I will come back with many more entertaining stories and some beautiful pictures.

Later taters!!

Misshapen Homemade Pizza or the State of Texas? You Decide.

I got a hankering last weekend for some homemade pizza, so I whipped up some pizza dough likety split, grabbed some toppings and a jar of spaghetti sauce and lo...this!

While it started out generally rectangular, during the baking process it came to resemble a misshapen state of Texas outline. (Or at least that's what TLS and I thought. You be the judge.)

The actual state of Texas

P.S. Those are home grown tomato and eggplant slices as pizza toppings. Yum!

Seriously Inertia Girl, You Are One Weird Cookie.

I must preface this post with the disclaimer that I do not have any children so that anything I say herein may be complete and utter crap or alternately something that everyone with children will read and then exclaim something along the lines of, "Well...duh!" (And now I immediately have to write what you are all thinking, which is "Yes, Inertia Girl. We get it already. You.Do.Not.Have.Children. Get over yourself!") Isn't it nice to know that I apparently don't even need people to read my blog? I can have the whole experience all by myself.

When is it that children physically morph from being cute and cuddly and so adorable that you literally want to just eat them up into little adults? Seriously, is there an actual moment when this change happens? And really, there's nothing wrong with having people who look like little adults running around. It's true; we're all changing on a daily basis. We all go from newborn to infant to child to adult to the grave. (Wow! That certainly got morbid all of a sudden, didn't it?)

I guess it is a weird question to ask, but having four nephews and a niece, ranging in age from almost 15 (fifteen!) to 7, I've seen the transformation take place but never been able to put my finger on the specifics of it. Or place exactly what makes them stop looking like a child and more like an adult. (I've almost convinced myself that it has to do with the arms and legs--long and skinny and no longer pudgy.)

Unfortunately for those of you who are looking for some sense of cohesion or a point to the post, I'm afraid that I really don't have one. I just saw a picture today of someone's daughter that I hadn't seen in a while and somewhere in between this photo and the last, she went from child to little adult. It came as such a shock that I was moved to write a blog post to ponder the question.

Reading Roundup

I read Gob's Grief by Chris Adrian over the weekend. Loved it. (Of course, I must admit that I'm never adverse to stories that are somewhat off-kilter.) This is the story of twin eleven-year-old brothers, George Washington Woodhull - "Gob" and Thomas Jefferson Woodhull - "Tomo", from a small town in Ohio during the height of the Civil War. Tomo runs away to join the war only to die during battle. Gob, wracked by grief, spends the rest of his life trying to find a way to bring back Tomo and all the others who've died. Adrian brings together real people (Walt Whitman, Abraham Lincoln, and proto-feminist Victoria Woodhull) with a cast of characters straight out of his vivid imagination. Each page is filled with the enormity of the sorrow and grief felt by the nation during the war between the states. I look forward to reading Chris Adrian's two other books.

To Do List - Part 1

Things to do before leaving on vacation (a work in progress):

1. Charge phones, iPods and camera. (Be sure and bring chargers for all!)
2. Pack the U.S. atlas
3. Decide on books to bring for plane rides
4. Prepare checklist for feeding and care of animals to give to neighbors
5. Set out of office agent for work email
6. Change outgoing work voicemail message
7. Pack the nerdy manila folder full of Important Vacation Information (including, but not limited to, rental car confirmation, directions to rental cabin and necessary phone numbers)

Countdown to vacation departure: 5 days, 13 hours, 5 minutes. But who's counting, right?!

"Are You Alright? Are You Okay? You, Call 911!"

Last Friday, I did what I hadn't done since ... oh, about 1984, which was to take a CPR class. Our office hosts them about twice a year and even though I'd always managed to find a reason not to take it, something about that invitation in my email box kept calling to me. I've found it mostly advantageous to listen to subconsious girl when she's sending me messages. I just hope that it isn't an omen that I'll have to use my newly re-found skills anytime soon. (God forbid!)

CPR has really changed since I had to be certified in my ninth grade health class way back at Crockett Junior High school. (Not the least of which is that you are no longer CPR certified, but now you are CPR qualified. Apparently, the certification tag is only for people who get paid to render aid. Who knew?) There are many more compressions than before (30 compressions to 2 breaths now versus 5 to 1 before if my memory serves me), but the one thing I remembered was the title of the post and that hasn't changed at all.

New Leaf Turning and All That Jazz

After my horrible blogging record for the month of July, I've made a promise to myself to blog more during the month of August. Of course, now that I've typed out those words, I realized that I'll be on vacation for eight days during the month (and presumably completely off the web, since we'll be staying in a rental cabin in the ginormous metropolis of Driggs, Idaho) as well as starting my grad school coursework. What can I say, people? I'll do the best I can with the resources I've got. If I can log onto a web connection during the ol' va-cay, I will. And I suspect that I'll be willing to take any excuse to take a break from the new studying routine, so it's probable that I will blog more.

In the meantime, some housekeeping...

Books I've read during The Great Blog Blackout of 2008:
The Wentworths by Katie Arnoldi (a bookclub selection) I guess my reaction to this one would have to be a resounding "meh"*. Arnoldi has crafted a satire of Southern California culture using one wealthy family as a stand-in for the entirety of a rich, vacuous, lost society. Reviewers praised its laugh out loud humor, but it must have been lost on my unsophisticated middle-American outlook. It wasn't badly written, just ultimately unsatisfying. Reading it was a little like eating a meal consisting entirely of marshmallows. It starts out great but leaves you feeling bloated and irritable.

Origin: A Novel by Diana Abu-Jaber loved it! I couldn't put this one down. It was a loaner from a friend of mine and I ripped right through it in about a day. The author said that she set out to write a "literary" mystery/suspense genre novel and I think she succeeded. What could have been another overwrought forensic whodunnit (babies have been dying from what might be muder or simply SIDS) was made fresh with the inclusion of an intriguing main character and an amazing subplot. Kept me guessing until the very end.

* Meh (according to the Urban Dictionary) - a word that conveys "indifference; to be used when one simply does not care" or "the verbal equivalent of a shrug of the shoulders".

Don't let it be said that I'm not teaching you all things!

Neither Eaten by Bears Nor Fallen in a Well

Sorry to drop out of sight yet again, but this time (as opposed to the last time) it had more to do with feeling like I had nothing to say. Maybe I just had blog performance anxiety. I'd think about blogging and then say, "Nahhhh. That's not interesting/funny/erudite enough." And the longer I went without posting, the more I felt that I had to come back with the proverbial "bang" and I couldn't seem to find any "bang-worthy" subject matter. [Stop snickering you one-track-minders!!] So, as a result, this is the post that you're getting. A post about nothing. (Seems like it could have been an episode of Seinfeld, if the blogging had been around in the Seinfeld era.)

And while the not-eaten-by-bears title is true for now, there is a slight possibility that I could be eaten by bears in a week or so when we go to Wyoming, Idaho and Montana for vacation. We're planning on going to Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks, rafting on the Snake River and other sundry educational and fun activities. I have to admit that I'm looking forward to days with highs in the upper 70s-low 80s, since here in Texas we've gone from scorching hot to positively hellish. (Can't you almost hear me sweating?!)

More Pondering of the Absurd

There are certain times that I realize once again how differently my brain works from normal other people's. The reason that I bring this up now is that I somehow managed to make a mental connection between hurricanes and infertility. I know. I know. Only a weird and twisted mind could bring such two disparate topics together. Let me 'splain, if I can:

I was listening to the news this morning about Hurricane Dolly coming ashore near Brownsville, Texas. Being a category 1 (or possibly a low category 2, depending on how much it managed to strengthen before hitting the coast), it wasn't supposed to do too much damage. It is; however, supposed to bring between 15 to 20 inches of rain to the coastal area. Now I'm sure we can all agree that no place needs 15 to 20 inches in a matter of hours, what with the flooding and all it will bring, so it occurred to me (not for the first time) that it's too bad that we can't find a way to portion all that rain out to places that really need it. So far, so normal in the thinking category, but bear with me for the stretching of the brain cells.

Later, I was reading one of the blogs from my blog roll, Anne Nahm, who has just found out that she's pregant with her second child. Now ol' Anne obviously doesn't suffer from infertility, since all it took was a single interlude with her husband to put her in this delicate condition. And while all signs point to this being a fully desired pregnancy since she's been talking about trying for a some time now, my mind went to the number of times that I (ahem) urinated on one of those dastardly sticks. There were times earlier in my life that I was chanting "no second line, no second line" but mostly I used all my brainpower to will the second line to appear. I would hold the thing up to the window and move the angle trying to divine the slightest hint of a second line and I never managed to get that view. I know there are people out there who don't want the line and get it and those that desperately want it and never see it appear. As with my equity-of-the-rain wish, I want everyone to get the pregnancy test result they want.

See? I told you. Completely weird logic.

Oh, You Remember That Grad School Thing, Right?

Even though it is at a glacial pace, I am working on moving my inertia-bound self on to grad school. I was able to register for my classes this week. Now I just have to get over the sticker shock of the tuition and fees. (Those are due by the 29th. Yikes!)

August 23, 2008 (first day of class) is coming, whether I'm mentally prepared or not. I can almost hear the theme from Jaws in my dreams: dun-nun, dun-nun, dun-nun...dudle dun dun!

An Open Letter of Apology to My Auntie Donna

Dear Auntie Donna.

I know I have been a bad niece, what with the promises of anecdotes untold and the non-posting and such, but I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me. My only real excuse is that I've been absolutely slammed with a huge project at work and after spending eight to nine hours a day at the computer, I can't seem to muster any enthusiasm for sitting down in front of it at home. And until they figure out a way to get the thoughts directly from my brain and into the blog (which would be totally awesome, by the way), the computer is the only way to go.

I suppose the only thing I can do to try and get back in your good graces is to give you a long, satisfying blog entry. So, where were we on the teasers?

Numero Dos: I read Netherland by Joseph O'Neill on the plane. Liked it to possibly loved it. Which I realize is a weird answer and I'll do my best to attempt to explain it. It was one of those books that doesn't translate well to a two or three sentence synopsis but I shall try. It's a book about post-9/11 New York, the immigrant experience, and cricket--not necessarily in that order. I know. It sounds odd and unpalatable, but there's something about O'Neill's main character, Hans van der Broek, that is supremely likeable. Even when he's being a total heel, you can't help but root for him. Recommended.

Numero Tres: Ah yes, how people responded to the news that TLS and I have been married for fourteen years. (Even while I was writing the bullet point in my teaser post, I was having second thoughts about this one.) Being that our anniversary had been earlier in the week, I had many opportunities to tell people how many years I've been married. When it is someone that I've just met, they always have the same expression on their face. It's one that isn't easily described, but it goes something like "disbelief" crossed with "confusion" and I can almost see the wheels turning in their heads. I usually say something like, "I know what your next question is going to be. How old are you? Right?" There is much nodding and then I say thirty-nine and they always express astonishment and say, "I thought you were only about thirty!" I know it is wrong to be vain, but I always get a little bit of a thrill during this shock and awe portion of the conversation. But I don't kid myself, someday my appearance age is going to catch up with my chronological age and then my entire mental house of cards is going to come crashing down. Until then, though, I'm going to eat it up!

Numero Quatro: The Mother of the Bride (M.O.B.), or my Aunt Debbie, is a total crack-up. Here is a transcript of a couple of her fantastic quotes for your reading pleasure.

At the rehearsal dinner, where the restaurant was serving absolutely monster portions...
Me: I am so full, I can hardly stand it!
M.O.B.: Me too. Good thing I put on my elastic waistband pants today!

In the bride's room prior to the ceremony, with much complaining about the discomfort of her shoes...
M.O.B.: I guess if Christ can hang and die on the cross, I can wear these shoes for one afternoon!

Numero Cinco: I tend to be the classic over-packer. I'm not sure if it's an over-active survival instinct, but much like a squirrel hoarding nuts for the winter, I start packing for a two day trip and am soon acting like I'm leaving on a major polar expedition. As a result of much ribbing from TLS over the years, I start out throwing in everything but the kitchen sink and then start winnowing the pile to a manageable level. Most of the time, this strategy works out just fine, but occasionally I throw back something I should have kept in. This time it was my cell phone charger. About 2:30 a.m. Sunday (during one of the fourteen times I was awake -- I don't sleep well away from home in hotels at all), the cell phone started to do the ominous low battery beeping. Now, I'll be the first person to admit that we can all survive just fine without a cell phone. Heck, I survived the first twenty-five years of my life without one and lived to tell the tale. But when you're trying to coordinate getting multiple people from Point A to Point B and in between, needing to call the airline to confirm that your flight is still on time and what gate/terminal it is leaving from, and making sure that TLS has your arrival information, a phone starts to look much of a necessity than a luxury. I spent a few minutes trying to decide on a course of action and finally decided that I had time upon getting up to run to the neighborhood discount store and buy a new charger. While getting it would be irritating, since I already have two of them at home, it was the only way I knew to solve the problem. Luckily for me, I ran into the Father of the Groom (F.O.G.) in the lobby on my way to the store. I told him my tale of woe and, get this, he had the exact charger I needed for my phone! What are the odds of that, my friends? It was nothing short of a wedding weekend miracle, I tell you.

Numero Seis: During the rehearsal dinner, the table full of bridesmaids asked for a bottle of ketchup for someone's french fries. A bottle was brought and was opened. Apparently, a ketchup pressure bomb had been brewing in there and ketchup flew about fifteen feet in all directions. It was our very own ketchup Vesuvius. My cousin, the bride, remarked that this is what her wedding would eventually be known for and I have to agree.

I'm sure that after a couple of weeks of breathless anticipation, that this wasn't quite up to expectations, but it's better than nothing.

Hugs and kisses,
Inertia Girl

Oh Mighty Fortune Cookie, Give Us Your Wisdom - Part 5

From my Pei Wei fortune cookie at lunch:

Keep your feet on the ground even through friends flatter you.

Oh, fortune cookie, how could you know that people were complimentary during my family wedding experience? Truly you are mighty and wise.

Ohhhh, You Thought I Meant LAST Friday.

Yes, yes, I know. I have been very neglectful of the blog of late. I suppose I could give you the full dog-ate-my-homework story, but it's probably best just to say that I have been busy with work (including a full-on, three hanky meltdown one day last week), garden maintenance (I didn't tell you all about our summer gardening? Shame on me.), and sundry things around the house.

Completely random thought:
Does anyone else obsess over new music? You know--listening to it over, and over, and over, and over? ... No one? Really? Well, alrighty then. I just downloaded the song Save Your Best by Steve Reynolds on iTunes and I just played it four times in a row. (Obsess much, Inertia Girl? You betcha!)

So where was I? Oh, my tease from last week. I'd love to give you stories for each of the bullet points, but it is currently 10:00 p.m. CDT and tomorrow is a work day and I'm plumb tuckered from a long day, which (probably only interestingly to me) included an eye doctor's visit where I got to see pictures of my retinas. Love, love, love all things medical so this was right up my alley. Everything looked great (I appreciate your concern)--my maculas were maculating in beautiful pink maculation with veins and arteries in all the right places. Perfecto!

I think all I'm up for this evening is my promised TLS story, so here goes:

I'm not sure if I ever old you that TLS plays four indoor soccer games a week--two games on Tuesday nights and two on Friday nights. Crazy you say? Well, probably a little bit, but as his doctor likes to point out TLS is the only forty-plus year old patient of his that doesn't need to lose any weight or reduce his cholesterol count. And, as a plus for me, it keeps him fit, trim and handsome. (Rawr!) When I left town on the 20th, TLS had both of his scheduled Friday night games. The first game went just fine but during the second one, someone ran into him when he was running full speed. He lost his balance and fell over, catching himself by putting out his right hand. A loud pop ensued and the hand began to swell. He iced it over the weekend and nursed it along. When I got home I started calling it his Incredible Hulk Hand, since it was about twice its normal size and faintly green from the bruising. It was tres, tres sexy, I can tell you right now. He ended up calling his aforementioned doctor and getting in to see him Monday morning. Dr. G. didn't see any fractures on x-ray, but got him in to see a hand specialist on Tuesday morning. Ten x-rays later, TLS was pronounced with three fractures, two to bones in the middle of his hand and one to the radius bone in his arm and was fitted with a fetching royal blue cast. I go out of town and apparently his body decides to rebel. Ah...true love!

Sometimes I'm Just a Big Tease

People have been clamoring (O.K., maybe just one person, but still...) for an update to my wedding weekend in Illinois. I have been busy at work and at home since I returned, but I promise to have a full update by Friday night. I'll provide you with a major market teaser to tide you over until then.

You will learn:

• How an out of town trip for me ended up necessitating a trip to two doctors for TLS
• Which book I read on the plane trip and whether I enjoyed it
• How people responded to the news that I've been married for 14 years
• Quotable quotes from the M.O.B. (Mother of the Bride)
• How the F.O.G. (Father of the Groom) came to my rescue
• Why the participants will always associate ketchup with this wedding

Are you adequately teased?

I've Topped 1,000!

The day finally came, people. I've had over 1,000 visitors to my blog. Of course, that isn't 1,000 different people, just 1,000 times that someone accessed it. I'd say that a good quarter of my blog readership is made up of my relatives (either in-law or by blood), so hat's off to all of you. The special 1,000th reader was from London , England and got to my blog by Googling "Richard K. Morgan" -- from my Readin', Readin', Readin' post. Congratulations Mr. (or Ms.) Random English Dude (or Dudette). This honor gets you exactly nothing but my undying gratitude. TLS tried very hard to be the magical visitor as he was both Mr. 999 and Mr. 1,001. Sorry, hon. In the interest of fairness, I was going to call TLS and ask what his view count was on his two YouTube videos, but I didn't want to depress myself too much.

I thought I'd also show you the world map from my Sitemeter account showing where the last 100 visitors were from. I've gone global!

P.S. In case anyone is interested, TLS and I had a fabulous anniversary dinner last night. We were so stuffed by the time we left the restaurant, but I have a doggie bag full of my entree that has my name written all over it for dinner tonight.

Also, I will be in blog blackout until Monday (or more likely Tuesday) of next week. I leave tomorrow morning for my cousin Brittany's wedding in Illinois. Hopefully I'll have some good stories to tell (and I promise to change the names to protect the innocent if it comes to that).

Later, taters!

Happy Anniversary, TLS!

So, much like my Valentine's Day post, this one isn't really for anyone else but my dear, sweet TLS. To borrow my disclaimer from the last time, there shall be no eye-rolling here today. If you sense an eye roll coming on, feel free to whip on over to CNN or your local news organization's website for some extremely non-mushy fare.

Fourteen years ago today, TLS and I promised to love, honor and cherish each other til death do us part. And with the exception of his "I do-ing" when he should have "I will-ed" and vice versa, the day went off without a hitch* and things have been pretty wonderful since then as well. Can't complain.

TLS, thanks for being the ol' spousal unit! I can't wait to see what the next fourteen years have in store for us.

* Very funny wedding related story that I love to tell. We got married in my hometown, which was not the town that we were living in at the time (or come to think of it the town in which we've ever lived together). We knew that based on the lateness of our ceremony and reception that we'd have to spend the night in a local hotel before heading out of town the next morning. About a month before the big day, I picked out the hotel nearest the airport, a Radisson (for no apparent reason, since we were driving rather than flying back home), gave TLS the phone number, and watched him make the reservation.

Flash forward to the day of the wedding. TLS called me that morning and said that he wanted to go ahead and check in with our stuff, so he was going to call over and confirm that he could do that in the next couple of hours. We also made plans for me to leave my suitcase in the front foyer of my mom's house with the door unlocked so we wouldn't jinx things by seeing each other before the wedding. I offered to get him the number for the hotel, but he said he had it under control. He called back about 10 minutes later and he was FURIOUS! Fury is not an emotion that I get to see often on my husband. He is generally a calm and patient man. Mostly I'm the one losing my mind and he's the one placidly standing by to make sure I don't zing off into the stratosphere. So this little develoment was somewhat unsettling. I asked what he was so upset about and he said something along these lines, "I. cannot. believe. they. LOST. OUR. RESERVATION!!!!!" There was also much talk about how someone, somewhere had his credit card number and what were they going to do about it. I made sympathetic noises and he said that they had assured him that they had a room for us and that he could check in immediately.

Flash ahead to the post-ceremony photography session. We planted ourselved at the front of the altar and everyone else came and went according to which shot was being taken at the time. During one of the down moments when we were waiting for the next set of relatives to "come on down", I said to TLS , "I can't believe the Radisson lost our reservation." He turned to me with an odd expression and said, "The Radisson, we're staying at The Harvey!"

Readin', Readin', Readin'

I finished re-reading Altered Carbon by Richard K. Morgan last weekend. It's a cyber-punk noir novel set in a distant future where a human's consciousness is stored in a carbon "stack" at the base of his or her neck that can be downloaded into different bodies. Liked it (as you might have surmised from the re-reading portion of the opening sentence). Sue me. I like sci-fi, as you might have guessed from the nerd quiz I did a few months back. I had some other books that I haven't read yet, but couldn't seem to muster much enthusiasm for them on Saturday and it had been long enough since I'd read this the first time that it was like it was new again.

I also started I Was Told There'd Be Cake by Sloane Crosley. It's a book of essays about Sloane's life in her mid-twenties told with (as Publisher's Weekly says) "sardonic wit". If you like David Sedaris or Sarah Vowell, you'll like this one. Liking it so far.

I just got another shipment from Amazon today. (Don't worry, TLS, I used an Amazon gift certificate.) I got The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga and Netherland by Joseph O'Neill. I also have When A Crocodile Eats The Sun by Peter Godwin in the queue ready to go along with one that a co-worker loaned me today, Philistines at the Hedgerow by Steven Gaines. I'm going to have a plethora of options to take with me on my trip to Illinois at the end of the week.

Can Anybody Hum The Theme To Wild Kingdom?

The other day when we got home from work we were greeted by this visitor on our front porch:



Based on my research (and who knew there was a website solely devoted to turtles native to Texas?), I believe this is a beautiful specimen of a Red Eared Slider (Trachemys scripta elegans). I'm not sure I've ever seen a turtle this pristine with such amazing shell patterns.

Since he, or more likely she based on her (somewhat large) size, wasn't going anywhere since she'd walked herself right into a corner. Like the great humanitarian TLS is, he picked the turtle up and transfered it across the street to a large field. Of course, that sentence made it seem much easier than it really was. Normally when you pick up a turtle, the head and all four legs get tucked into the shell. You might get a hissing noise if old turtley is in a particularly foul mood (or if you're particularly unlucky, you might get peed on), but our porch visitor stuck out her neck and started "swimming" as soon as TLS picked her up, causing him to put her quickly back down since he was getting raked by those sharp little claws. Luckily, the work gloves were close at hand and she was on her way.

Safe travels, little reptile!

Hey Inertia Girl, Do You Know How To Work The Internet? Apparently Not All The Time.

The post I wrote the other day about our idea for "classic Father's Day gifts" was meant to be an open dialog with my numerous readers; however, apparently when I posted the entry, I did not include the ability to enter comments. How I did this, I'm still not sure. Maybe I should have my internet blogging license revoked.

Of course, I did finally figure out how to do this: strikethrough. I can't adequately describe how excited that one, simple application of HTML code made me. I kept reading other people's blogs and seeing them do it, but Blogger doesn't have a "strikethrough button" which meant that I had to go in search of instructions and that I'd have to face the scary "Edit Html" tab in the publishing section. But I did it. Hooray for me!

Oh Mighty Fortune Cookie, Give Us Your Wisdom - Part 4

Friday night's chinese food run resulted in this fortune:

Patience is a key to joy.

Hmmm. Patience is not normally one of my virtues, so maybe that's why I'm not often joyful.

You Call It June. I Call It Buying an Entire Mountain of Presents.

Does anybody else have a month where it seems as if every holiday/event/celebration falls? Ours is June.

On our celebration itinerary for this June:
Father's Day (an oldie but goodie)
The birthday of Youngest's youngest, Kidzilla
TLS's parent's anniversary
Our anniversary (numero 14, thanks for asking)
My cousin B's wedding
Middle's 40th birthday

I am officially in gift buying fatigue. We did come up with a great idea for a Father's Day gift for TLS's dad. We want to get together a gift basket of all the cliched Father's Day gifts from our childhood days, but I need some more suggestions. So far we've gotten: Old Spice, a tie, and soap on a rope. (And yes, you can still buy soap on a rope. In fact, there is an entire website, http://www.soaponarope.com/ - natch, where it seems there is every permutation of S.O.A.R. known to man.) Does anybody else have any 1970's era memories of buying your dad some cheesy gift?

What Says Summer More Than Homemade Ice Cream? - EDITED TO INCLUDE PHOTO AND RECIPE

So the other day in this post, I told you about our exciting, oh-so-cosmopolitan life and the berry picking therein. I kept thinking that there must be another way to use those plump, juicy, beautiful blackberries and finally decided that I'd make a simple blackberry syrup (basically pureed blackberries and a little sugar strained through a sieve) and swirl it in a recipe for homemade peach ice cream (with peach chunks!) that I made for the first time last year. Well, actually, it is technically a frozen custard rather than ice cream, but you get the gist. I tried making it the weekend before last and I don't think that I simmered the custard base long enough since even after more than an hour in the ice cream maker, it never froze. Not to be daunted, I tried again last night and, finally, success. Of course, I must give credit where credit is due and say that even though I wasn't sure it was going to gel, TLS always believed and helped coach that custard base into gorgeous, creamy ice cream. I'm going to try and post a photo of it tonight along with the recipe.

Fresh Peach Ice Cream with Blackberry Swirl

For blackberry swirl:
1/2 cup fresh blackberries
sugar to taste

place blackberries in food processor and puree until almost smooth. Place puree in a sieve placed over a mixing cup and and strain, pressing with rubber spatula to extract as much pulp and juice as possible. Sweeten to taste.

For ice cream:
1 cup sugar
3 large egg yolks
1 cup heavy whipping cream
1 cup whole milk
2 1/2 cups mashed pitted very ripe unpeeled peaches
3 tablespoons light corn syrup

Whisk sugar and egg yolks in medium bowl. Bring cream and milk to simmer in large saucepan; gradually whisk into yolk mixture. Return to same pan. Stir over medium-low heat until custard thickens enough to leave path on back of spoon when finger is drawn across, about 6 minutes (do not boil). Pour into large bowl; mix in peaches and corn syrup. Chill uncovered until cold, at least 1 hour.

Process custard in ice cream maker according to manufacturer's instructions. Pour blackberry puree in at the very end of the freezing process. Transfer to container; cover. Freeze.

That's Me, The Reading Machine

Started and finished Waiting for Daisy by Peggy Orenstein last night. Yes, I truly am a reading machine. It's a sickness, but one that I have to say I enjoy. (TLS keeps saying that our house is going to sink to the center of the earth due to the weight of all the books in it, but I think he's just being cranky.) Liked it. It was one woman's journey through infertility and ultimately becoming a mother. I have a feeling that I connected to this book in much the same way that one of my friends connected with Eat, Pray, Love, which I liked but didn't particularly "get". I'd been in Peggy Orenstein's shoes, thought her thoughts, and felt her emotions. Of course, she managed to snag the holy grail of fertility. And me? Not so much. Maybe there's a place out there for a book with my observations. Hmmmm.

I Should Have Thought Of This Before

I have often tried to conjure up the names of books I've read in the past--with varying levels of success. Being the college educated person I am, I finally came up with the completely obvious brilliant idea to put the titles of the books I've read in the blog. I doubt I am going to do much, if any, literary criticism, as I'm not really good at breaking a book down into things like themes and such. You'll probably only get a liked it/didn't like it blurb and a one sentence idea of why/why not.

Finished today:
A Thousand Splendid Suns ** by Khaled Hosseini (author of The Kite Runner) - Liked it. It made me glad that I lived here, with TLS, rather than in Afghanistan during the 90's to the present. (It truly sucks to be a woman in much of the world.) A one-hanky read; have one handy.

** Current month's bookclub book

Group Hugs and Barely Controlled Chaos

Today is a bittersweet day as it was my last day to read to the preschoolers before they are out of school. We read Green Eggs and Ham, Five Little Monkeys, and (my mom will be so proud) Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

The kids were literally all over the place. (I had one trying to climb in my lap, one little boy poking a little girl in the leg with his index finger, and one girl trying to show me--repeatedly--her new Disney Princess watch. It was pretty much chaos. Nothing controlled about it, but it was also wonderful to get the expected giant group hug and the chanted "Thank you, miss!"

It's going to be a loooong summer, I'm afraid.

A Belated Mother's Day Homage

I needed a blank notecard a few weeks ago. I don't remember exactly why but there was some occasion that necessitated a blank space to write a quick "thank you" or a "hope you are well". So off I went to the shelf of random useful stuff. In addition to a small sewing kit and a silver plated ice bucket (Hey, you never know when you might have a champagne chilling emergency!), it contains a box of random cards. I have Hallmark cards I've bought without a specific use just because they made me laugh. I have a whole slew of animal-themed cards. (You know, one of those packs of twenty-five cards that have a few birthday cards with pictures of zoo animals, a few get well soons with a picture of a particularly mournful turtle and ones with blank insides. They are exceedingly cheesy, but have saved my bacon on more than one occasion when I hadn't planned well enough in advance for a birthday.) While rummaging in the deep, dark recesses of the box, I pulled out a ziplock baggie with a few cards of the 3x5 variety. Inside the bag was a note from my maternal grandmother--just a simple greeting in her distinctive handwriting--telling me that she found these cards with drawings of cats on them and decided to send them to me. (I am a great lover of cats, whether of the live or decorative variety, which anyone who knows me well can attest.) It was almost as if I'd stumbled upon a tiny little time machine--a way back to an era when my grandma was alive and well and sending me little gifts for no reason at all. You see, my grandma passed away in April of 2003 from a recurrance of breast cancer. I miss her dearly still.

Oh sure, I don't think about her every day, but certain items or events will bring her back to me with a startling clarity--a certain phrase of music, the scent of the perfume Shalimar, a piece of her jewelry, or even handwriting that resembles hers. It's then that I miss her with an almost physical pain, this petite dynamo, this fierce proponent of her (intelligent and multi-talented) children and grandchildren, this volunteer deluxe. I had a brief moment, sitting with the the note in my hand and the plastic sack full of cat cards in my lap, where I wondered if it really was a message from her. If she had somehow sent me on a course toward it, knowing that I'd find a welcoming presence there. I don't claim to know the intricacies of the universe, but I do know that the whole thing left me in a warm, sweet, blissful state, so I guess it doesn't matter one way or another exactly how I arrived there.

I was reminded of this serendipity on Mother's Day. This is a day, of course, where we think about and honor our mothers and grandmothers, but it is also a day that brings with it some pretty heavy baggage for an infertile person. It is one of those days when it is glaringly obvious that you don't have a descendent to call your own. That someday, when your own mother is gone (God forbid), there won't be a reason to celebrate at all and no one to celebrate you. The whole event has a tendency to take on a none too maudlin aspect so it was good this year to spend time with each of our mothers as well as to remember all four of our grandmothers, who have passed on before us. And I was able to think of the children in our lives (niece, nephews, and those children of friends who call us "aunt" and "uncle") and while I may not be related to them by blood, I am fairly sure that I am (and will continue to be) a positive, welcome influence in their lives. I can only hope that someday, in the far, far future, that one of them might find a distantly written note of mine and think of me fondly and wish I were still around.

R.I.P. Pete

Sorry for the blog blackout the last week or so. I didn't really have much to say at the end of last week and then had a busy weekend making the rounds of our mothers' houses to celebrate Mother's Day. Monday and Tuesday brought the workload slam and then on Wednesday we had some tragedy with one of our dogs and yesterday I was pretty much out of commission mentally. (I am still planning on doing a much belated Mother's Day post but it will have to be at a later date. Stay tuned.)

I won't go into any of the gory details but we came home on Wednesday after work to one of our neighbors waiting in our driveway. She explained that Pete had been injured and that another neighbor had taken him to the vet. We were, as you might imagine, stunned and went inside to listen to the messages from the police (who had been called out to our house because of Pete) and the vet's office. (The one from the vet's office really irritated the bejeezus out of me because it was basically, call us back asap so we can start emergency treatment. Hello! This is the home number on a Wednesday, WE'RE AT WORK AND WON'T BE HOME UNTIL AFTER 6.) By the time we got home, the vet's office was closed. We tried the emergency pager number but couldn't get anyone to call us back (don't EVEN get me started on this) so we spent the evening and much of a sleepless night with images of our neighbor's description of the situation bouncing around in our heads, bumping up against the worry about the possibilities about the reality of the situation. We had a discussion about what our next step should be and decided that based on our understanding of the severity of his injuries, we would probably have to make the call to have him euthanized. When I say "we" I really mean TLS, because he truly is The Doer of Dirty Deeds around our house. I think I'm fairly good to have around in a crisis, but when the actual crisis is past (as it was from the very first minute we arrived), I am a blubbering wreck. I went off to work yesterday morning leaving TLS as the official decision maker. (Thank God that he had to make the phone call to the vet and not me, because as I said earlier: me=blubbering wreck.) Needless to say, euthanization was the right, but difficult, call. Afterward, TLS brought him home and buried him under the huge sycamore tree in our front yard next to our first cat, Boo. He has his own stone marker and is hopefully enjoying his time racing over the rainbow bridge and barking at motorcyclists to his heart's content.

Rest in peace, Pete. We will miss you.

Bats in the Belfry? No, Birds in the Fireplace.

When we bought our house we inherited an Earth Stove, which is basically a self-contained fireplace insert. It has a front door with yellow glass panels and is kinda cool since you can have a fire and not worry about sparks flying out and burning the whole house down. The other thing that we inherited (and have been too inertia-bound to ever do anything about) was barn swallows nesting in the chimney. Everytime winter rolls around we tell each other that we "really need to get a chimney sweep to come out to clean everything out and then install a chimney cap" and every year it doesn't happen somehow and every spring through summer we get to hear multiple new crops of baby barn swallows cheep and scrabble around in there. The first few times I heard the scrabbling noise, I thought for sure that one of them had fallen down into the fireplace but TLS assured me that with the damper closed that was impossible. This continued to be the case until last night. (And it is still impossible with the damper closed, but just guess which position the damper lever was in when all this happened.)

TLS was at his indoor soccer game and wouldn't be home until almost midnight. (Why is it that all the crazy things happen when he isn't around? Don't answer. That was a rhetorical question, really.) I was sitting there catching up on all the shows recorded on the DVR when I heard some noises emanating from the fireplace that didn't sound quite right. I finally got up and looked through the tinted glass and saw a barn swallow staring back at me. The poor thing kept fluttering around in there and flinging itself against the glass. I suppose since the only source of light was coming through there. The cat was going bananas pawing at the front and I was completely stymied. I briefly considered getting a pillow case and trying to open the door and catch him in it, but because of the width of the door, I figured it was much more likely that he'd escape into the house and then I'd really have a problem on my hands, since our ceilings are ten feet and there's no way to shut the living room off from much of the rest of the house. My plan of attack was turn off all the living room lights, go into the bedroom and wait for the cavalry to arrive.

I managed to be awake when TLS got home and told him about the errant bird. He said there wasn't much use at this point in doing anything about it in the dead of night and that it would wait until morning. Morning broke with the bird still stuck in there. (Couldn't have been easy with him magically flying back up the chimney, oh no.) TLS opened the door and tried to grab him with a towel, but birdie decided to try an escape but only managed to fly into the front window. He stunned himself momentarily, but TLS was able to keep the cat from pouncing on it, picked him up, took him outside and released him. Everyone will be happy to know that said bird flew away under his own power and is hopefully living it up flying around the neighborhood. Now, where's the number for that chimney sweep?

Nerd, Nerd, Trend-Setter

On the nerd front...

I spent ten hours over five days watching the documentary, Carrier, on PBS last week. In case you weren't nurturing your inner nerd and managed to miss them, you can watch full episodes online using the link above. Quick summary: A documentary crew spent six months on deployment with the U.S.S. Nimitz filming every aspect of their experiences and opinions. It was fascinating (I thought). Even though TLS declared that he didn't have time in his schedule for that kind of commitment, he did drop in for several of the episodes. I think his favorite was the one when the pilots had to try and land on the pitching deck of the carrier in the midst of a huge storm in the Indian Ocean. Check it out.


And in more news of my nerditude...

What did TLS and I spend last Sunday afternoon doing? You know us--two wild, crazy hipsters. I'm sure you might guess partying like rock stars, but you'd be wrong. We were ... wait for it ... berry picking. (I know everyone wants to hang with us now; I'm currently taking names for the waiting list.) There is a long fence row across the street from our house that has a ton of wild blackberry vines. We managed to pick seven cups of berries--enough for the blackberry cobbler I made last night. Deelish!


I labelled this one as Trend-Setter for lack of a better word. You be the judge.

Just about the time I pulled into the parking garage today, the rain started coming down in buckets. It was a deluge of biblical proportions, if you will. I took the stairs up to the exit door so I could walk the two blocks (with two street crossings) to my office building. As I got to the vestibule at the top of the stairwell, I came across about eight guys standing around with umbrellas in their hands. I paused and was about to ask why everyone was just milling around aimlessly, when someone opened the door to reveal the torrents of rain. I knew from looking at the radar before I left home (yet another NERD ALERT!) that it wouldn't be ending anytime soon, so I wondered why all these big, strapping guys were afraid of a little water. It wasn't as if they were all green and gnarly like the Wicked Witch of the West and would be mellllltinng when the rain hit them. I waited about 30 seconds and then clutching my umbrella like a baton, I strode past them saying, "No time like the present!" I wanted to fling a "You big weenies!" on the end but decided better of it. Of course, the bottom of my pants (up to about knee level) was damp until about 2 o'clock this afternoon, but I felt I held the moral high-ground.

And From The (Awfully Small) Good News File...

I have to say that I was mightily irritated more than one time during the commute in this morning. People were driving like total idiots--tailgating , DART buses coming over into my lane like the big yellow bullies they are, and people driving the wrong way in the parking garage just so they wouldn't have to go 20 seconds out of their way. I figured that making me believe in the goodness of mankind today was an impossible task. However, it turns out that I was wrong. All it took was reading one article in The New York Times.

During a college softball game between Western Oregon and Central Washington, one of the Western Oregon players hit the very first homerun in her entire life. It should have been a three-run over-the-fence homer, but after failing to touch first base, she had to return to touch the bag. During her turn, her leg buckled underneath her due to a probable torn ACL, and she crawled to the bag in tears. None of her teammates could touch her since that would mean she wouldn't be able to legally advance to the next base. The umpires huddled and determined that the two other runners on base would score but if she was unable to continue, she would only be credited with a single. At that moment, the Central Washington first basemen (baseperson?) asked if it would be alright if she and another Washington teammate carried the other player around and she touched the bases. More conferring from the umpires and it was determined that it was legal. The two Washington players cradled the Oregon player around the bases to score her homerun. Western Oregon won that game and also the next game in the doubleheader, but something tells me that everyone who witnessed that game was the true winner. So classy.

Snakes Are Our Friends

I promised a picture of the escaped (or more likely dumped) python that I saw a few years ago. And after looking at every. single. photo. in our collection, I finally found it -- hooray!


Here's the story in case anyone is interested. We only live a few miles from the Trinity River and often use "the back roads" to get out to the highway. One of the roads runs about parallel to the river about 100 yards from it. There are soybean fields on one side of the road and the woods next to the Trinity on the other and one lone farmhouse. One balmy May day, I was driving home from work and drove up on something lying on the edge of the road. After saying, "What the hell is THAT?" I realized that it was a very large snake. I just happened to have the 35 mm camera in the car, so I stopped, reversed and rolled down my window to take a photo. All this time, Mr. (or Ms.) Snake hadn't moved so I got out, walked carefully to about ten feet from it and took the shot attached above. Then I decided to go around in front of him since he still hadn't moved. (I was careful, Mom, I swear.) About the time I walked in front of him (still about ten feet away), he slowly raised his head, gave me a baleful stare as if to say "you had to go and ruin the good thing I had going here, didn't you" and slithered off back into the trees and presumably down to the river.

I told that story many times after the fact and the most common question I was asked was, "Did you run it over?" To which I would always say, "No, I wouldn't have dreamed of doing that." It was a beautiful snake and I figured he had as much right to be alive as I did. Everyone repeat after me: Snakes are our friends. They eat vermin. I shall not kill them unless they are poisonous and about to bite me.

Dogs and Kabobs

We had some friends over for dinner last Saturday since it was a particularly spectacular spring day here in North Texas. The weather was a little bit like the story of the three bears--not too hot, not too cold. It was juuuust right. But I digress. Already. Which, I guess, doesn't really bode well for the cohesiveness of this post, but then again I suppose that people don't read my blog for its triumph of organization. (Query: I wonder why it is that people DO read my blog. Probable Answer: Mostly because they are related to me in some way.)

But to get back on subject, such that it is, I talked with my friend Janet about what we were having for dinner and at her suggestion of "something easy" we decided on hot dogs. We divvied up the buying the provisions, so I went to the store. In addition to the hot dogs and stuff to make my world-famous salsa and pico de gallo, I ended up getting the ingredients to make a couple of other dishes. When TLS was helping me get the groceries out of the car I asked him if he'd tell me whether I had created an odd combination. My potentially odd combo? Hot dogs and vegetable kabobs. TLS thought for a moment and then said, "Dogs and kabobs. I like it." And I have to admit that it has a certain flair for the rhyme even if it is a little schizophrenic in the nutritional area. I also got the stuff to make some yummy cheese bread (using Aloutte cheese spread and thinly sliced zucchini and red onion). When our friends stopped at the store, in addition to the picnic friendly potato salad and cole slaw, they were drawn to the shrimp in the seafood case. After a consultation with the lady manning the seafood counter, they decided to use some foil to cook them on the grilltop.

Let me say, ladies and gentlemen, that we started eating chips and hot sauce at about 6 p.m. and finished eating our strawberry shortcake desert at 10 p.m. Here was the extent of our multicourse meal:

Course One:
chips with homemade salsa and guacamole
Course Two:
cheese bread
Course Three:
shrimp
Course Four:
vegetable kabobs
Course Five:
hotdogs with homemade pico de gallo
Course Six:
strawberry shortcake

In the meantime, we sat around the picnic table in the driveway and enjoyed the evening, good friends and an adult beverage or two. Good times.

Oh Fortune Cookie, Give Us Your Wisdom (Version 3)

It's Friday so I must have gotten some chinese food at Pei Wei.

"An unexpected relationship will become permanent."

Huh. I'm stumped on this one, fortune cookie, but I'll be on the lookout.

The Next Person I Have to Mow Down in My Conquest of the Internet

Said person turns out to be my husband, TLS. "Oh," you ask, "How is he a bigger Internet sensation than you?" Well, it turns out that he is a YouTube rising star. Granted, he's not in the LonelyGirl or Obama Girl stratosphere, but he has a more than respectable view count (6,440, combined) for his two short videos on how to make a potato battery. Especially since they were really only intended for Youngest's oldest kid--codename River Rat--and the completion of his science fair project. While over here at Blogger, I, dear reader, have less than 750 hits for my blog. Not that this is a contest between the two of us. Nooooo. Never. There is absolutely no taunting or not-so-subtle reminders being bandied about the house. How could there possibly be room for competition within the bonds of matrimony? (Whatever. Bring it on, big guy!)

I am not going to link or embed his videos, because, really, I am not in the business of helping my esteemed opponent--no matter how cute he may be.

Chick-O-What?

Many of you know that I no longer eat chocolate, which is a pity, I know. Believe me, no one would love to eat it more than I do, but it would be BAD NEWS of the very, very bad variety if I did, so I don't. Why? You very understandably ask. Well, that's an exceedingly long story that I usually boil down to the simple phrase, "I have a chronic pain condition that I keep under control with diet." Most of the time, people (read: men) infer that the mysterious condition of which I speak is of the dreaded female variety and ... voila! end. of. story. It has been over ten years since my last taste of chocolate and actually, if I were forced to confess, it hasn't been too bad. Granted, I do sometimes ask TLS if I can smell (really! just smell!) the fantastically chocolatey thing he's eating. And, come to think of it, I did have dreams right after I went on zero chocolate lock-down where I was cramming an entire slice of chocolate cake into my mouth. That being said, though, probably the hardest thing has been to find candy or dessert options that don't have chocolate in them. (This is hardly a a tragedy of epic proportions, I realize. Just trying to give a little background. Really.)

One of the non-chocolate candies that I have recently re-discovered is the humble Chick-O-Stick. It's made in (relatively) nearby Lufkin, Texas -- a fact I didn't realize until I went looking for a link for this post -- and it warms the little Texan cockles of my heart to know that I'm supporting a local business. For those of you who don't follow the link above, a Chick-O-Stick is basically a cylindrical Butterfinger ... only better. I hadn't had one in years (literally years since I think it was during that far-off land of junior high the last time I ate one) and bought one on a whim several months ago. "Ooh!" I thought to myself, "I really like this candy," and mentioned it to TLS. Flash forward to a month or so ago when he was headed to the local convenience store/gas station/local old geezer hang-out. He asked if I wanted anything and I was non-committal so he promised to bring me back a surprise (or a "sussie" if you live at our house). You guessed it, he came back with a handful of Chick-O-Stick (There will be no judging; they are only about half an inch in diameter and about three inches long so it wasn't like I was eating four or five of those king sized candy bars.) and an addiction was born. When I get more than one I swear that I'm only going to eat one and save the rest for later--make them last--and then dang if I don't eat them all within the first 30 minutes. I cannot tell a lie; I am truly weak.

Earlier this week after stopping at the convenience store/gas station/local old geezer hang-out, TLS came out with another handful and as I munched my way through them before we could even get home, I had this brilliant thought, "I bet TLS buys me the world's largest Chick-O-Stick for my 40th birthday." (A birthday that is still eleven months off, I must remind everyone. I am but a mere spring chicken.) I turned and shared this momentous idea with him and watched his eyes almost bug out of his head. Apparently, he had been having the exact same thought. Freaky, I know. I think it is official. We are now sharing a single warped brain. Go figure.

We Now Interrupt This Blog for Sports

Conversation on the ride home last night while listening to the Texas Rangers double-header on the radio:

TLS: They better hope they win both of these games or they are going to be in a situation they won't get out of -- in week two of the season.
Me: And how is this different than any other Rangers season?
TLS: Boo-bird!* I'm going to put you out at the boo-bird bus stop over there.
Me: What?! No one wants them to win more than me!
TLS: Oh yeah. I haven't seen you blog about them yet. ... I guess that's because it's not a sports blog. (putting up air quotes)

So here it is TLS, my Texas Rangers post.

MEMO
To: The Deity or higher power who governs baseball
From: Inertia Girl

re: The Texas Rangers

It's probably too much to ask, but could you please give the Rangers a decent season this year? I know that we can never field a decent pitching staff and that we spend too much money for marquis players at positions that don't add to the bottom line. But we try, Lord, oh how we try. You saw fit to give the Red Sox a world championship, so I know that you are benevolent. (Although I'm not sure what you still have against the Cubs, but that's a request for another day, I suppose.) While I'd love to see the boys win the whole shebang this year, I'm not greedy. I'd just like to see them get to the second round of the playoffs (while beating the pants off the dreaded Yankees if you could throw that in) would be great.


* Boo-bird - (noun) A fan who denigrates his or her own team's chances for the season.

Wild Kingdom, Part Two

TLS reminded me of several insects/animals that I forgot in my Wild Kingdom post. Such as:

• coyotes
• swarm of honeybees (moving from one hive to another - see picture below)
  

In more luna moth news (since I know everyone hasn't been able to sleep just waiting to hear the latest), #3 has emerged. We discovered this one at a much earlier stage than the other two. After doing some internet research the other day, we found out that when they come out of the pupa the wings are brown and very tiny. The moth then starts pushing fluid into the wings and they get larger and turn green. The picture below is a few minutes into the process.

The video, which is probably only slightly more interesting to people who aren't us than watching paint dry, is about two minutes long and shows the wings slowly engorging. You can also hear me and TLS making inane comments, as a bonus. Enjoy!

Why You're Not Going to Read the Post I Started Yesterday

I started to write a post yesterday that was depressing and maudlin. (I've literally had to fight the urge to go look up the dictionary definitions of both of those words to confirm that instead of giving you a couple of nuanced adjectives I wasn't being just plain old redundant. But I digress...) I have been in a sort of mini-funk the last few days for no apparent reason. Seriously, nothing has changed in my life (Still have the supportive, wonderful husband? Check. Still gainfully employed? Check. Still got my health - such that it is? Check, check and check.) but I couldn't seem to shake the free-floating anxiety. I had a good cry over a novel I finished Tuesday night, Hangover Soup by Louise Redd, which I thoroughly enjoyed despite the tears. But I couldn't decide whether the book made me cry strictly on its own merits or whether the funk "made me do it", so to speak. Why doesn't someone else read the book and let me know the answer to that one? So, anyway, the abortive post was pretty much a study in self-pity, self-indulgence and any other self related word you can think of. Thankfully, I didn't get very far before I hit the *save as draft* button and closed the blog right out. When I opened it up today (obviously in at least a somewhat better frame of mind), I gleefully deleted everything I wrote and vowed to start afresh. Although, now that I think about it, I've really just indulged the funk by explaining what the gist of the post was. I guess that instead of Why You're Not Going to Read the Post I Started Yesterday, I probably should have called it The Reader's Digest Condensed Version of the Post I Was Going to Publish Yesterday. Bring on the pity party, please, because apparently I can't seem to avoid it.

As a side note, I've been reading over all the material from the advising department from the library school about the classes I'm going to take in the fall. I have to say that I've feeling very "out of the loop" on this whole school thing. I will have one actual in-class course and the other two will be web-based after one meeting. I'm not so sure how I'm going to feel about the whole web-based phenomenon, but it's the way that this program is structured, so I'd better get happy about it, I suppose. I was very excited, though, that I was able to figure out my new .edu email address and how to log on. (I am so easily amused.)

This Post Brought to You by Mutual of Omaha

I have referenced the fact that it can seem like Wild Kingdom around the old homestead. Here is a list of animals that we have seen around or near our community over the last several years:

• roadrunners
• possums
• skunks
• armadillos
• red-tailed hawks (The one I saw on Saturday had just swooped down and carried off a snake for his morning snack. Too. cool.)
• wild pigs
• an escaped (or released) six-foot python (I have the pictures to prove it somewhere.)
• a bobcat
• yellow garden spiders (That we usually name Charlotte and that TLS feeds grasshoppers.)

In a related note, Luna moth #2 made her appearance yesterday. Based on the width of the antennas, the first was a male, which fits with the reading I've done that the males normally leave the pupa first. Now let the egg-laying begin!

Odd Omens

Day before yesterday (which, I guess would be Tuesday, if you want to get technical), I was driving past a neighbors house just in time for their American flag to be blown off the pole and onto the ground. I mean, it happened at the exact moment I passed by. It kind of wigged me out. I wasn't sure what the etiquette was for such a situation. I remembered from back in my Girl Scout days that the flag should never be allowed to touch the ground, but what could/should I do since 1) it wasn't my flag and 2) it had already touched the ground. I kept on driving but I kept thinking that it was a bad omen for the day.