Uppercase Woman

Friday!

I have a blog entry cooking in my head but I've totally derailed it by staying up too late to finish the new Harry Potter book (that someone wonderful sent me! Thanks, Beth!). So you'll have to settle for a crappy list.

Feeling Happy About...

Sarah's last day at the awful job.

Grrl being home with her new son.

My new couch arrived and is HUGE and COMFY and almost makes up for the fact that the rest of the furniture won't come for a couple weeks. Most of the work is done in my new house and now I can sit around and relax on my big couch.

A bookstore today was selling Black Sparrow Press books, SIX for $10. Can't beat that! Charlie owns most of their stuff already, but I bought some Laura Chester, Eileen Myles, Sherril Jaffe, Diane Watkoski, and a book of essays about Charles Bukowski (Charlie's fav poet).

A new John Cusack movie has opened! I know the New York Times says it sucks, but right after the movie Say Anything came out, a law was passed requiring me to see every movie John Cusack is in. Yeah boy!

Feeling Sad About...

The Harry Potter book: egads, what an ending. I was weeping in the middle of the night about it, and Charlie rolled over while I was crying. I thought he was going to say something sweet, but he just grumbled at me and told me to turn out the light. Ah, so so so sad. Elise asked me about the writing quality, but I honestly devoured read it so quickly that I didn't even notice. What did you all think? I did like it better than the last one...

The boys. Everytime another birth happens in the blogosphere, I miss them more.

Missing my 20th high school reunion. We just can't get our shit together to go. Katie and Leah, I'm sorry! I'll come out another time, I promise. I have to show Charlie how close I lived to the train yard, so we'll definitely be there!

That's all folks! I will add this great quote I read by Anne Lamott (although I think she heard it in recovery)...

Forgiveness is all about letting go of the hope for a better past.

Suburban

We knew we were moving to the suburbs, but because the town is only a mile outside the city (and by the city I don’t mean a nice pretty edge of town neighborhood, I mean the ‘hood), and because unlike a lot of suburbs it has sidewalks and old Victorians and stuff we thought it would be city-like or city-ish. We rationalized that we weren’t really moving to the ‘burbs, it was just a neighborhood that happened to be outside of the city.

But it ain’t.

First off, everyone we’ve met asked us this after saying hello: “How many children do you have?” Seriously. Before even asking our names

I’d never realized that people don’t ask that question in the city. Maybe, after talking a while, they might ask about kids but it usually doesn’t come up until you know each other a bit. Childlessness is acceptable, possibly even the norm.

But it’s not just being asked about kids, it’s that assumption of how many. Perhaps it’s unusual for childless couples in the suburbs to own three bedroom houses, but I sure know loads of urban childless people who do. It is true that most of our block appears to be young families. And most of them have multiple children. But still, it stings a bit to be asked that question. We could, of course, transfer the uncomfortable feelings to them by answering, “Well, we had twins, but they died. Thanks for reminding us of our agony. Have a nice day!”

Otherwise, we rarely see anyone. If I hadn’t run over her porch step railing it might have taken months to meet the woman who shares our driveway—she’s a nurse that works nights. The neighbors on the other side (the other half of our twin, or duplex, for you people not on the East Coast) we only met because they happened to come home one day (and enter their home from the back) while we were standing in the backyard.

The only other two neighbors we’ve met are all moving away. It’s kind of nice that so many folks are moving in around the same time (our shared-driveway-neighbor moved in just a few weeks before we did), but it makes it hard to get a finger on the pulse of the block.

Also, everyone is terrified of Hammer, The Best Dog Ever™. Like, run-screaming-into-the-house terrified (which our other-side-of-the-twin-neighbors did as soon as they saw him. Of course, he was very happy to see them and tried to run over there to get some love and not everyone is comfortable with a hundred pounds of dog running toward them). Meanwhile, Hammer spends an inordinate amount of time in our backyard lying on his back, feet in the air, looking silly. He hasn’t so much as barked. I hope they’ll warm up eventually; it’ll probably help when we get the fence up between our yards.

It’s odd that everyone is so much more scared of him than they were in the city—where they have many more problems with dogs that resemble Hammer (let’s NOT bring up the whole Pit Bull thing again—it wore me out last time). Everyone in the city looks to the owner for cues for how they should behave toward a dog. Here, they just run. And it hurts Hammer’s feelings; he stands there, tail wagging mightily, while they all walk away—and then he just looks so sad…

I guess if everyone is going to be so scared of him it’s good we don’t see so much of our neighbors. I’m assuming most work 9-5, so it’s not a shock that I wouldn’t see them in the morning since I don’t work until 11, but they seem to come home and go into their houses and not come out again. Everyone has beautiful front porches, and no one ever sits on them (ok, it’s been really, really hot— I know). We saw some folks mowing over the weekend, but the instant they were finished, they went back in the house.

I love my house—don’t get me wrong—but I miss the warmth of my old neighborhood. Everyone hung around after work chatting, or while walking dogs. We all kept up with each other. I also miss having gay neighbors who have the best garden on the block; it just made us more—I don’t know—cool.

Sigh. I’m just never happy, right?

There is hope: this morning while I walked Hammer I came across a home a block away from us with a Pride Flag.

Thank god. Do you think they’ll be uncomfortable with the tattooed freaks with the Pit Bull hanging around their sidewalk hoping for an introduction?

Things I haven't blogged about because I'm too busy obsessive-compulsively unpacking and spending oodles of money

1. John Roberts. Is there a blander man in America? Could he possibly be any fucking whiter? I have little to say on this subject because I feel like there is absolutely nothing we can do. The best spin I can put on it is that his wife is a board member of Feminists For Life, which in the universe of anti-choice groups, only sucks a little.

2. Karl Rove. I was chortling about this whole debacle at first and enjoying watching him squirm until I realized he wasn't squirming, he's wriggling with glee because his boss will never fire him no matter what. Wonder what medal/promotion he'll get.... (and yes, I totally stole that joke from The Daily Show).

3. This. I'm so happy for Sarah and Pete I could, I don't know, plotz.

4. Speaking of plotzing, congrats Grrl!

5. Here, here, here and here (you can't really see the last one; it's the chair that at the bottom left corner of the photo) are the new pieces of furniture we bought. it's very exciting. Add in this and this and this and you'll see we could star in our own home makeover show...


Perhaps in my next entry we'll begin to examine why I forgo sleep, food, and sex (and meetings, worst yet) in order to put books on the shelves and hang the art in my new home. Is it a desperate need to make order out of chaos? A pathological hatred of boxes?

On a more ironic note, today Charlie and I realized that the wonderfully convenient racks in the basement entryway we've been using to store the broom and swiffer are actually gun racks, judging by the recent issue of "Shooter's" catalog sent to this home's previous owners.

 

Abundance

So I spent over $500 at Target yesterday.

$500.

$500!!!

And spent $400 on a TV and stereo. And $800 on a new bed.

I grew up materially deprived. My mom and I were very poor when I was a kid. No, I didn’t lack for the basics—I had food and shelter and clothing. But the food wasn’t stuff I liked, often, but it was what we could afford. The shelter was usually, well, shelter. And the clothing? The clothing wasn’t usually in style or hip and therefore was just totally wrong (at least according to the kids on the playground).

When I moved out at 17 and tried to support myself with a minimum wage job at a fast food place, things didn’t improve. I have no idea where the furniture, pots and pans, and appliances (you know, a black and white TV) came from that were in my first place of residence (I had roommates, it must have been theirs). When I moved to the East Coast a year later the houses I lived in were all old and often broken down. My furniture was all still from roommates, trash picked, or thrift store purchased. Some of my best stuff was abandoned by the previous tenant of whatever place I was renting.

Eventually I bought a few things; for instance, I have a fairly decent set of pots and pans that I purchased. Charlie and I have bought a couple of bookcases, I think, and a bed (but the bed was just a mattress and we never got around to getting a box spring or frame). But every major piece of furniture is second-hand. The dining room table (which is quite lovely) was Charlie’s parents. The couch I bought for $75 from a friend. The comfortable chair was thrown away from a bookstore—meaning customers used it for three years before I got it. We have a vanity that subs as a buffet in our dining room that friends gave us. Charlie’s work desk is an old broken drafting table that our neighbor left in their house fleeing an eviction notice—ten years ago.

You get the picture.

At Target we bought things like a new set of knifes, a quite lovely TV table (waaaaaaay easier to put together, by the way, than Ikea), a cabinet for the bathroom, new towels, a new shower curtain—we even splurged on expensive but pretty shower curtain hooks. We also got a cover for the old crappy bookstore chair, new lampshades and a new lamp, and about a million other small things that we needed.

Then we bought a new 27” TV—which I feel is HUGE!—and a cute little 5-CD stereo. Admittedly, the TV was an “open” item, which meant that we brought it home all hillbilly without a box, but it was also half price! The 19” TV we had before got all weird about a year ago; you couldn’t read the bottom of the screen if you were watching CNN and the left edge of the picture was missing. The new TV is apparently a high-definition one because I can now count Jon Stewart’s nose hairs.

AND we bought a new bed. A really good firm bed—mattress AND box spring (delivered today! I’m going to bed as soon as I get home!).

I spent the whole day filled with such an intense feeling of abundance. It was truly wonderful. Our new house is filled with new things and the place looks absolutely fucking magical.

Charlie and I keep wandering around the house worrying that someone is going to call us up and tell us that we have to give it all back—the new TV, the new shower head, the house—everything. Charlie keeps saying things like, “Repeat after me: L-I-N-E-N C-L-O-S-E-T. C-O-A-C-H L-I-G-H-T. F-A-C-E T-O-W-E-L. M-A-T-C-H-I-N-G D-I-S-H-E-S.” These things are all new to us, new to this house.

And the house itself? Ah…the house. I've been shooting out of bed early every morning like it's Christmas just so I can go unpack and set up more. We only have Charlie's office and the library (ha! THE LIBRARY) left to do. I couldn’t possibly be happier with it. Sitting in my new living room is just a joy--there is something to be said for higher ceilings and wider rooms; it feels, you know, like home.

AND WE HAVEN’T EVEN BOUGHT THE NEW FURNITURE YET!!!

If this is a dream, don’t wake me up. M’kay?

In!

We're in the house. I'm very tired. Here are the highlights so far:

1. First settlement scheduled at 10am; didn't go through until 3pm (bank wouldn't send the money until they got another day of interest--fuckers). Second settlement scheduled at 12:30, didn't go through until 4pm. The folks we bought the house from? Currently homeless since we couldn't get them the money.

2. Driving the 26' truck, which turned out to be a stick shift, so I had to drive it. Guess what? I'm not qualified.

3. One of our movers hurt his hand so badly that he passed out and an ambulance had to be called.

4. I ran over our neighbors porch bannister with the truck and DEMOLISHED it. They were very nice about it.

5. Our cable/internet guy made a race-based comment to the same neighbor.

6. Frankie peed on a wall within twenty seconds of being in the house.

That's it so far! More to come, I'm sure.

So...fucking...tired...

What the fuck?

I was just going to hop on the computer and type a quick entry but when I turned on the computer...

The screen is green and flicker-y.

I don't know if we got a power surge or what (the computer was off but we just had some bad weather go through here), but it's clearly an issue of the monitor trying to die.

No big deal, right? Just get a new one, right?

Wrong. We have a Mac. An Emac, to be exact (basically a souped up version of those colored iMacs that came out a couple of years ago). So the hard drive and monitor are one and the same.

This is just what we needed right before we move! Especially since the following also happened today:

--The conveyance officer sent a confirmation nation notice for our settlement. Unfortunately, we're apparently selling a house up the block because the address was wrong.

--Our agent claims he was desperately trying to get in touch with us on Friday to ask us if we can push our settlement from 10am to 3pm. Which would be fine, as long as the people at our 12:30 settlement don't mind that we don't have the fucking money to buy their house (we did get this straightened out, thank god).

--I overexerted myself carrying boxes up from the basement (instead of allowing the movers to do it tomorrow because I'm embarrassed by our basement cause of the cats and oh yeah I'M FUCKING INSANE) and had to drink a quart of Gatorade and sit in the air conditioning for an hour.

--When I called to confirm our Uhaul truck (we have to have movers load a truck we're renting today and then come back and unload it tomorrow--fun!) they told us that we have to pick it up at the office ten miles away instead of the one around the corner. When I protested, the woman said, "Well, it was your preferred location!" And I said, "Uh, NO, it wasn't!" and she got all huffy. So now I have to drive a 26-foot truck ten miles to our house, then five miles to the new house, and then Monday night I have to drive it all 15 miles back. Now, I drove a 20-foot truck about 150 miles once SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO so I shouldn't be worried, right? Well, I am. I'm making poor Sarah get up at near-dawn on a weekend to ride with me (so Charlie can drive the car home from the Uhaul place).

So it's been a fun day. Since both Charlie and I struggle with having a persecution complex, we're not having a really happy day. Yeeeee-fucking---HA!

So we'll be off line for a while. At least until Tuesday, possibly longer. But I'll try to check in while we're at Sarah's on Sunday night... I hope you all have a great week. Send us good moving vibes, will ya?

Mush

I haven’t been blogging because my brain is complete mush. I’m in crisis mode, where I just move forward and don’t think. I will be like this until the settlement is over on Monday. If that goes smoothly, I will then just have to actually unpack, and that part is fun.

I did return to the RE’s office today, to do blood work (we’re checking to see if I’ve become insulin resistant) and get my cultures repeated, but there’s some mumbo jumbo with my insurance (We’re in network! No, only the other office is in network! Wait, yes we are! Aetna won’t cover you anyway!), so I left without getting the cultures done. But that’s ok; I can wait a bit longer before I spend more time with the speculum anyway.

Meanwhile, Charlie and I spend a couple of hours a day packing, and things are moving along quite briskly in that area. We’re both really good at moving, although Charlie likes to pack in ways that drive me batty—like using garbage bags to pack clothes (we have tons of boxes, why not use them? Besides, we already have tons of bags of trash around, what if we throw out the clothes?) and wanting to toss things into boxes before checking to see if we actually need them. Although I did concede on the boxes of miscellaneous papers that have living in our basement for five years unopened—those are coming with us in case they might contain something “important.” Someday I’ll go through them all and devise a brilliant filing system that all will envy.

So, while my brain is on empty, I will leave you with this survey I got tagged with…

10 Years Ago: Ah. I was just sliding into the using of substances that required a needled delivery system. Ha! Drug use was escalating. I got fired from my job, began working as a $5 an hour clerk at a balloon store, and spending all my time trying to kill myself. Good times!

5 Years Ago: Charlie and I were getting into camping after spending a couple of years of being avid day-hikers. I was working at an art center, and going to school part time at a community college (which I loved—if I could get paid for school, I’d spend all my time there). I was at a thinner stage, and actively practicing “abstinence” around food (eating regimented meals and no sugar or white flour). I was also at a pleasant point in sobriety, right before I began to realize I needed to work on my control issues…

1 Year Ago: Can we not talk about it? Ug. I was pregnant. And having horrendous morning sickness. I wrote this post.

Yesterday: I got up and did some packing, went to work, worked really hard on my store inventory at work, walked to my meeting, went to the meeting, went to the diner afterwards with Sarah and Charlie and a couple of other friends. Then I drove home like a lunatic to catch The Daily Show and went to bed.

Today: I woke up early to go get my tests done at the RE. Then I came back home and ate breakfast and waited for the electrician to come fix a minor problem that came up on our home inspection. He took a little while, so I packed. Then instead of going straight to work, I went to another meeting at noon. Then I waited in the heat for the best falafel platter ever (made by a street vendor). Then I finally dragged my ass to work. Tonight? More packing.

Tomorrow: Probably go to work early and not take a lunch break so I can leave early and pack some more. Maybe go see a movie or something so I don’t feel like my whole life is packing, packing, packing although I’m a little scarred from the back-to-back suckiness of The Fantastic Four and Bewitched.

5 Snacks I enjoy: Movie popcorn (nearly six months without it!), ruffles and onion dip (drooling just thinking about it), sugar-free Popsicles (I LIVE on those in the summer), anything combining chocolate and caramel, and ice cream sandwiches (have you tried those little mini ones? OH MY GOD).

5 Bands I know the lyrics of MOST of their songs: (that is bad grammer I can’t stand it) The Beatles, natch; Peter, Paul, & Mary; Cyndi Lauper (yeah? got something to say about that?); The Rolling Stones; and Fiona Apple.

5 Things I would do with $100,000,000: All the things everyone else says (pay off debt, buy friends houses, that sort of thing); start a Political Action Committee and cause some trouble; start a foundation that funds writers that have NOT gone to any writing programs (writing programs are ze devil—unless, of course, you went to one and blossomed as a writer and didn’t come out sounding like your teachers and read this blog); buy a house where I can have horses and lots of dogs; travel, travel, travel—I would go everywhere so I could have coffee with all of you.

5 Locations I’d like to run away to: I don’t want to run anywhere. I like where I am. Besides, the people I love are here (most of them, anyway).

5 Bad Habits I have: picking my nose (I know, I know, but I have allergies and it gets crowded up there); eating too much fucking food; watching too much fucking TV; telling people what to do; not being nice to my old annoying cats.

5 Things I Like Doing: Swimming; building/managing a camp fire; reading; sex with my husband (I would have put that first, but none of you would have believed me); walking.

5 Things I would Never Wear: A shirt that shows my belly; a headband; anything pastel; a political t-shirt depicting a humiliating sex act (heh heh, Sarah); necklaces (they make me look decapitated).

5 TV Shows I like: Medium; ER; Law & Order SVU (that dude is HOT); almost everything on HBO; The 4400.

5 Movies I like: Roadhouse (ha!); Sense & Sensibility (the version with Emma Thompson); It’s A Wonderful Life; The Fifth Element; an old movie no one saw called Mr. North.

5 Famous People I’d Like To Meet: Well, there are two lists. To shake their hands? Gloria Steinem; Ani DeFranco; Janeane Garafelo; Tom Waits; Nelson Mandela. To kick in the balls? Fred Phelps; Jerry Falwell; Donald Rumsfeld; Robert Novak; the guy who invented "punditry".

5 Biggest Joys at the Moment: Sarah’s wedding; my new kitchen; The Best Dog Ever™, the fact that the air conditioning is back on here after being off all day; fireflies.

5 Favorite Toys: the internet; my cool laser level; my car; HBO on demand; my library card.

Shit, that was long. Enjoy. I should tag someone else, but I’m too tired now.

Hope

Thanks so much for all your encouraging words about my doctor's appointment.

I'm not sure what I was hoping for, perhaps for my doctor to embrace me, offer me cookies and reassurance, then pat me on the head and tell me all will be well?

Well, that's not what I got. He told me I'm the first patient in his near thirty years of working in reproductive medicine that he's seen develop early preeclampsia and have to terminate a pregnancy so late (yeah for being special!).

When I told him I wanted to do a natural frozen embryo transfer, because who knows what role playing with hormones has in the whole preeclampsia thing, he got alarmed. He started giving us statistics, and I finally just said, "LOOK! The hormones make me sick and I want to try it without them, OK?" and he agreed.

Then he had us redo our blood work, and sent us on our way.

We'll probably try in September.

I'm scared, but not like I was before. It really, really helped to hear from all of you who've had losses and gone forward anyway. Your strength has emboldened me, made me feel braver.

But for now, I'm just going to focus on moving and packing and buying new furniture.

Thanks for the support. Again, Typepad is still being silly with the comments, so I haven't been able to respond to everyone and I'm sorry for that. I read every word, though, I promise.

Terror

I have an appointment with my RE today. I don’t want to go.

I know you have all told me over and over again that I am brave and strong. But I’m really not. I’m fucking terrified.

I’m terrified it won’t work. That the pregnancy that nearly killed me has in fact broken my body, and now things won’t work right, and I won’t be able to get pregnant again. The idea of starting the monitoring and the testing all over again to see where I am (and I’m very conveniently on cycle day four, so I know the RE will want to do all the tests) scares me nearly to death because I just know that something is going to be really, really wrong.

I’m terrified it will work. That I’ll get pregnant again right away, like I did on my first embryo transfer. That I’ll stay pregnant again just long enough to believe it can happen, only to have my life put back on the line and my hopes and dreams murdered once again.

As difficult as this limbo period has been, it’s been easier than I realized. When Charlie and I spoke about this last night, he said, “Well, we could always adopt instead.” But as we’ve seen from women like Karen, adopting is no less fraught with anxiety and fear and hopelessness (although it probably wouldn’t threaten my life).

I’ve seized on my weight as the center point of my fear. After all, it’s been nearly nine months since I lost my sons (oh, god, today I miss them so fucking much)—shouldn’t I have lost some weight since then? Shouldn’t I have gotten into better shape? Of course I’m in better shape than I was when I lost the boys. Of course I’ve lost a bit of weight, although it’s very little. But the idea of getting pregnant at this weight again—of being so sick and toxic and heavy—disgusts me.

But waiting any longer also seems impossibly foolish. I’m 37 (although those embryos we plan to transfer are from 35-year-old eggs—retrieved two weeks before my 36^th birthday) and I don’t think it’s a good idea to test my uterus. Besides, as the last nine months show, there’s a good chance I won’t lose any weight at all.

I think about Grrl and Tertia and Julia and I have to wonder. How did they do it? How do they pick themselves up after the horrors and start again? How did they let Hope back in?

Oh, god, I’m so fucking scared.

Update

There are a million things I’ve been meaning to tell you. But first, I need to say something about my last post.

I said (or meant to say) don’t ACT like “crazed, judgmental bitches.” I didn’t say anyone actually is a “crazed, judgmental bitch.” And I know it’s an issue when women call each other bitches. I’m comfortable with it, and in fact know I’m a bitch quite frequently (just ask Charlie). For me, I guess, it’s similar to the way I’m comfortable with calling myself “fat” or a “drunk.” I’m sorry if it hurt anyone; that wasn’t my intention.

It WAS my intention to call attention to the ridiculousness of mothers fighting among themselves. I think that I would fall into the CIO group myself (although I’m willing to wait and see what works best for the kid)—but Sarah, my very bestest friend, is most definitely what you would call an “attachment” parent (although I’m not sure she knew the term when she started parenting) whose daughter slept with her for many years. But she would never dream of telling me how to parent my (mythical) child, anymore than I would tell her how to raise her daughter.

I understand that many feel very passionate on this subject. But I don’t believe that there is no one right way, and I do think it’s wrong to say there is. But I love all of you—attachment parents and CIO parents alike. I just want you to love each other too!

*getting teary*

So here is the rest of what’s happening:

--I haven’t responded to everyone’s comments and I’m sorry. Typepad is now bundling them in a weird way that makes it hard for me to reply to them individually. I’m working on it, I promise.

--We got the mortgage papers at 4:10pm on Thursday, signed ‘em, and sent ‘em back by 4:30pm. We got to our campsite by 8pm and had enough daylight left to set up.

--We have finally—FINALLY—gotten our mortgage commitment. All is well. I have forgiven the bank people, but I will never use them again. In fact, we’ll never buy another house unless we have the money to buy it outright. So I guess we’ll die in this house.

--We collected boxes from Sarah (who thoughtfully saved them for us a year ago, because she’s totally psychic and knew we’d be moving even though we didn’t) and Elise, and starting packing last night. We packed three sets of bookshelves in less than an hour. Tonight, I’m going to start in the kitchen.

--Camping over the weekend was so wonderful that Charlie and I stayed an extra day and didn’t come back until Tuesday. We canoed successfully, enjoying the river immensely. I have a light tan now and feel free to wear only mascara and lipstick for makeup. And I look fabulous.

--We move on July 18. The actual act of moving isn’t so overwhelming to me. I’m good at moving. In fact, this house, where we’ve lived for five years is the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere my whole life.

--However, we do have to do that funky vacate the premises thing—before we can move into the new house. So we’ll fill the truck on Sunday, leave it at the house, and then unload it at the new house on Monday. We have movers, though, that will come each day. And Sarah is putting us (and all the damn pets) up for the night we’ll be homeless.

--Thanks for all the furniture tips. And I love you guys, but there is no way I’m going all the way to North Carolina for furniture. Cheap it may be, but it feels too much like work to me.

I can’t remember if there is anything else. Any other questions I haven’t answered? Let me know.