Slow News Day

Wow, the internet sure is quiet today. I’ve been working literally all day, which is something I haven’t done in over a year. Unless you count, you know, caring for and rearing a child as “work” but that’s just crazy talk. Anyway, I was hoping for fun and titillating blog posts from all of you slackers, which doesn’t appear to be happening. I’m not angry. I’m just very disappointed in you all. Very disappointed.

Anyway, since you all seem to be having as dull a day as I am, I thought I’d share this completely whacked out dream I had the other night.  Any ametuer dream interpreters out there, do your worst!

So in the dream, I was in a hotel of some sort. And for some unknown reason I decided that the best course of action for me was to go to the bathtub and cut off my left leg.  So I did. And then I went about my business. Got dressed, walked around, talked to people.  Please don’t ask me how I got around on one leg mere moments after a self-amputation. And I kept wondering why no one could tell I had only one leg all of a sudden. Then I looked down and realized that my pants made it look like I still had both legs. Oh. Well of course. Duh.

Then I figured it was high time I go back and clean up the mess I had made, what with cutting off a limb in a hotel bathtub. I’m nothing if not considerate. So I went back and started rinsing out the tub, which strangely was absent of my recently separated leg, and found in the bottom of the tub after all the mess had drained away, Bridget’s bathtub book.

I woke up with much the same feeling you are probably having right now. What the fuck? And didn’t take val.ium or drink vodka before bed that night. I don’t think.

Random

I’ve been sick and very tired lately so I haven’t had the ability to cobble together a coherent post. I probably should be saving my blogging energy for NaBloPoMo anyway, since I’ll need to come up with coherent posts every day for the entire month of November. Maybe I should start writing down ideas for that.

Yesterday I discovered (or she decided yesterday, not sure which) that Bridget is terrified of the vacuum. This could be a good thing, really. How can I be expected to vacuum when it sends my little Bridgie Bear into fits of crying and screaming?  Both the screaming and crying would be tolerable since the noise of the vacuum drowns them, were it not for the face she makes. The face which we call the Puppy Face, because to us it looks like the face she might make if someone killed her puppy. It’s the face she makes when she gets shots, in that pause between the time the needle goes in and the time she can work up the scream.  I tried everything I could to reassure her that the vacuum is not scary but finally after about four tries, I had to just let her cry while I vacuumed. My allergies demanded it.  She eventually worked through it. Damn!

Running has been derailed for a bit, as both Karin and I have had allergy/sinus crap. We were set to go on Sunday morning, and I woke up feeling like hammered dog poop, when she called to say she felt horrible and couldn’t go. I was never so happy to receive a phone call at 6:30 a.m. in my life and promptly went back to bed. We are going to try to get back on track tomorrow. No pun intended.

Last night I had the craziest damn dream. I dreamed I was pregnant with a boy. That is funny for many reasons.  The chances of me being pregnant again are slim to none. We are settling our minds around only having one child and surprisingly, I am ok with that.   Plus, y’all know I didn’t want to know the gender when I was pregnant with Bridget and I probably wouldn’t if I got pregnant again. Although honestly this time I might just because I am a planner and I would want to know if I needed to buy all new stuff or if I could use what I have (and stop giving it away). But then the dream got weirder. Or it could have been a whole new dream, it’s hard to say. I dreamed that I was walking around some event, probably NASCAR related (!) with Dale Earnhardt Jr. I know, I know. It’s crazy. I don’t even follow NASCAR.  I do think Jr. is hot. He’d be hotter if he didn’t talk but still, I find him very pleasing to the eye. The weirdest thing was we were at a NASCAR event and we were not being mobbed by fans. And I wasn’t hooking up with Jr, just walking around having a friendly chat with him.  I don’t understand but whatever. Oh I think my parents were there too and I vaguely remember something about losing my purse.

And my last random tidbit is that I made another Applesauce Spice cake, only this time I made it in a 9×13 pyrex pan because when I made it as a bundt cake last time, it broke. This turned out just as well, but I can’t remember how long I ended up baking it, unfortunately. I know I started checking it at about 28 minutes going by the baking instructions on the back of the cake mix box. Maybe I baked it for a total of 40 minutes? Sorry, I’ll have to bake another and note the time. Also I want to try it again with unsweetened applesauce, as I think the cake is still a bit too sweet. I iced it this time with cream cheese frosting (sort of like a carrot cake) but I thought it was way over the top  with the sweetness. I still  contend it’s better plain or with powdered sugar dusted over the top. I’ll keep you posted.

What Do You Suppose This Meant?

I had the most fucked up dream last night. Since it was all over the place, here are some highlights:

• driving in my car very fast down Greenville Avenue
• Greenville Avenue suddenly turning into train tracks
• then the train tracks were like a roller coaster
• suddenly at Zilker Park in Austin (because you can obviously get there via Greenville Avenue)
• suddenly no longer in a car, but riding in a stroller. No one is pushing this stroller, but I am sitting in it and using my legs to move around
• Zilker Park suddenly full of Macaroni penguins like this:

• one of the penguins began chasing me because she (don’t know how I knew it was a she…) wanted my watch, which she kept biting at

Strangely, when I woke up, my wrist hurt as though I had actually had a penguin nibbling on it.

I am sure it had nothing at all to do with the vic.odin I took before bed for my shoulder pain. Nooooo…. surely not!

Blog? What Blog?

OK, OK, so it’s been a while since I posted. It’s nothing against all of you fine people, just not a lot of interest going on and I’ve been really busy at work.

I do want to share one tidbit from an otherwise completely boring weekend. I had my first terrible pregnancy dream about the baby. I was having whacked dreams back in the first trimester, but none of them really had anything whatsoever to do with the baby, and the ones that did, were all nice dreams. But Saturday night, I had a really bad one.

I dreamed that we brought the baby home (it was a girl) and she wouldn’t nurse. So I just didn’t bother feeding her. I would say, “I will need to call the lactation consultant, but I’ll do that tomorrow,” and before I knew it, we’d been home four days and the baby hadn’t eaten. I kept forgetting to change her diaper (of course if she wasn’t eating she probably wasn’t messing up too many diapers, was she?) so she was only getting changed like twice a day. And then to top it all off, I left her laying on our big, high, king size bed, and she rolled off. The worst part about all of this? The baby never made a sound. She was awake and aware and alive, just never cried, like this was how she was supposed to be treated.

I know, I know, it’s just a silly dream and very unrealistic. I know that a) I would never do that to a baby, and b) a baby would never be quiet through no feeding and no diaper changes. But you know how when you have a dream that disturbs you, no matter how stupid it seems in the light of day, it just sort of sticks with you and you can’t shake it.

I think this signals the official beginning of my freak-outs over being a good mom. And I anticipate this will continue for the next, oh, thirty years or so.

Strange Day

First, my weird dream du jour was that Jake asked me to speak at a multi-media conference in his place (that alone is weird, but stick with me because it gets weirder) and so I went to the hotel where the event was being held, but there were so many conferences going on, I couldn’t find mine. It was very stressful. Somehow, I ended up sitting in the hotel bar with George Clooney (this is the really weird part) discussing his acting career and film roles. I remember telling him I loved him in O Brother, Where Art Thou? and that the funniest part to me was when his character talked about being a Dapper Dan man. Now, I think George Clooney is ok, but he’s definitely not one of my favorites, and certainly not someone I would expect to pop up in my dreams.

Second, my damn underwear are getting a bit too tight for comfort today. I am going to have to buy either maternity underwear or just a bigger size. Damn! I know I’m gaining weight for a good cause, but it’s a bit damaging to one’s self esteem to have to buy big girl underpants. And I’ll bet they aren’t cute.

Third, my grandmother passed away this morning. I guess it’s a bit crass that I discuss a dream and my tight underwear before I mention this. However, in my defense, we were not brought up near our grandparents and really have never had a close relationship with any of them. I am sad, of course, that she is gone, but she went peacefully in her sleep at the ripe old age of 85 and did not suffer. I know my dad is sad, but her dementia had progressed to the point where she didn’t know who he was, so he couldn’t call to talk to her on the phone and when he would visit, she was polite, as she would be to any stranger she met, but obviously didn’t know he was her son. So in his mind, she’s been gone for a while now. I won’t say this is a blessing, but it’s certainly not tragic. I won’t be going to Ohio for the funeral, at my dad’s insistence. For my part, I am sad, but mainly sad because I lost another grandparent and didn’t have a real relationship with her. I have one grandparent left who is a miserable person, and then they’ll all be gone. This is why I am dead set that Curtainrod will have a good relationship with all of his grandparents. I will do what I can to make sure of that.

I Don’t Need to Ask Where This One Came From

I have said before that I have been plagued with some very strange dreams since I’ve been pregnant. Some completely inappropriate, some funny, some scary, others just plain odd. I am not sure which of those categories this one falls into, but it’s obvious why I dreamed it.

Saturday night, I dreamed that Jake and I were at a U2 concert. After the show, Jake was talking to some friends, when Bono strolled by. I boldly walked up to him to tell him how much I enjoyed the show, and also how much I respect his work to raise awareness and get something done in Africa. As we were talking a group of screaming girls approached. Bono grabbed my hand and we ran off to elude the groupies. We were running through tunnels at whatever large venue the concert was at, up stairs, down stairs, through doors, it was madness. Finally we thought we were caught, but I cleverly told Bono, my new BFF, to stay where he was behind two double doors, and told the girls that they didn’t want to go in there, because my friend that I was with was in there throwing up because she drank too much. They bought my story and went on in search of Bono. After we were free of the girls, Bono and I went back to his hotel room, which strangely looked like my bedroom in my first apartment in College Station, where he started kissing me. But I had to stop him. What was wrong, he wanted to know. I told him that I was married and although my husband I each have Lists (five celebrities you are allowed to sleep with, no questions asked, no marital consequences) and Bono is on my list, I wasn’t sure if The List was real and how Jake would really feel about it if I did indeed sleep with Bono. The dream ended with me still looking for loopholes in my marriage vows. I didn’t even get to do it with Bono. Damn. What kind of rock star crush sex dream ends with no sex with said rock star crush?

Do you want to know what Jake’s response was the next morning when I told him about my dream? “You bet your ass if Kate Beckinsale wanted to sleep with me, I’d do it!”

So there you have it, for the record. I am definitely allowed to sleep with Bono next time he asks.

How Did THAT Happen?

Last night, I went to bed wearing pajama pants. When I woke up this morning, the pants were balled up under my head.

Now, I did have a dream about Bono, but it wasn’t that kind of dream. At least not the parts I remember. Maybe my subconscious had a better time in that dream than I did.

Friday Again

Isn’t it amazing that no matter how far away Friday seems on Monday morning, it always makes its way back around?

I am really hating this day and want it to be over. Work is stupid. I even got a raise today and it still is stupid. That’s pretty bad. My raise is just a company-wide merit, and I’m not even entitled to the whole thing since I haven’t been here a year. But it’s better than a sharp stick in the eye.

Tomorrow I have to go for another ultrasound and then I have a bikini wax appointment. It sort of seems like those two things should be reversed, since the sonographer has to look at my hoo-hoo. But it’ll be in no mood to be trifled with after a wax, so it seemed best to get the wax after. I also need to do a little shopping, I wanted to replant some shrubs to replace the dead and dying ones, and I’m supposed to have dinner with my family and see a movie with Karin. It’s going to be a fast busy weekend. Oh, and my niece has soccer games on Saturday, but I think all my plans have just killed any chance that I’ll get to go to any of them.

I had a weird dream last night that my marriage to Jake was not valid because I all of a sudden remembered that I married Scott, the guy I was dating when I met Jake. How does someone forget they got married? And in the dream, Scott was just sad that I’d been avoiding him for the past six years. Weird. Quick, someone look up bigamy in the dream book and tell me what it means. I’m stumped.

One hour and twenty minutes until I’m free for two days. A very long hour and twenty minutes. Hope everyone has a great weekend.

Anyone Got a Lunesta?

Because I think I need to take a sleep aid. I had another of my crazy dreams last night. At least this one was just plain odd, rather than scary or disturbing.

I dreamed I was on the Texas A&M campus again after all of these years, and I walked into the post office where I had my PO box my freshman and sophomore years. And I still had the key to the box! So I tried it and all this mail poured out from the past twelve years. (Good god, has it been twelve years?) Picture a slot machine paying off in letters rather than coins. And it was good mail too! Letters and cards from people. Not bills and credit card solicitations. What made it really strange is that I had a package from my old (long distance) boyfriend John. Strange in that when I knew him, I was not living on campus so I NEVER got mail from him at my PO box. And even more strange because as soon as I saw the package, he came walking up to me, like he’d been waiting there for me. We had a fight about how if I would have checked my mail once in a while, I would never have gotten mad and broken up with him. I kept trying to use reason on him and explain that we did not break up over mail, and that we mutually agreed to put an end to things. But he was having none of it. So he walked off. Back to Philadelphia, I assume? That’s a mighty long walk from College Station, but hey, it was a dream.

At least with this one, I woke up scratching my head rather than in a cold sweat. What is wrong with my brain lately????

The Next Steps

Aunt Flo has arrived and for the first time in my life, that’s good news. That means that Friday I’ll begin my first (and hopefully last) infertility treatment.

Friday, I’ll go in for a baseline ultrasound and a lesson on how to inject myself. I will also start another round of Clomid.

Sunday I’ll start to inject myself with some stuff, and continue to do that every night until Thursday night. Next Friday morning I’ll go in for another ultrasound to see if my folicle is mature (don’t I sound like I know what I’m talking about?) and if it is, then that night I’ll inject myself with some other heavy-duty hormone. Then it’s time for doin’ it - actually within 12 hours or so. If the folicle is not mature, then I get to keep up with the other stuff and go in for more ultrasounds until the time is right. What a hassle. Oh, and did I mention the post-coital test? That’s where we do it and then go in within an hour or two so they can test my cervical mucus to make sure my body isn’t killing Jake’s boys. This is so damn romantic. I know you all wish you were me.

I’ll be glad to get started on this process. I’m not sure if it’s related but I’ve had the weirdest, most fucked up and vivid dreams lately. Last night, I was reading before bed and something in my book made me think of my friend Heather who died in 2000. I thought to myself “I haven’t had a dream about Heather in a long time. I wonder if I’ll dream about her now after reading this.” And sure enough I had a dream about her. I don’t recall ever having been able to choose what I dreamed about before. Most of the dream was very similar to other ones I’ve had about her, that she is alive and sick, but doing ok. This dream she was alive and admitted to faking her death. I was so happy to be able to see her and hug her. But then the dream took a really horrendous turn that I can’t even talk about here. Not only is it upsetting, but it sounds stupid when you think about it with your conscious brain. So there’s no point in sharing it here. But one thing I thought was interesting when I woke up in a cold sweat at 5:45 a.m. from that dream was that it was strange that Heather died from ovarian cancer, and I am currently having issues with my slack-ass ovaries. I’m sure it’s all related in my crazy hormonal, emotional brain. I swear, if Jake weren’t getting home at 11 p.m. tonight, I’d take a Tylenol PM so I could get a break from these dreams.

Send me fertile thoughts, will ya? I could use them!