A (Sarcastic) Ode to Black Friday

I’ve never understood Black Friday.

Perhaps its partly because my tolerance for shopping is fairly low. I mean I’m a female and I do love shopping, but honestly after an hour or two I’m done and ready to go home. Particularly if there are a million people milling around and not paying attention to where they are walking. (When I shop I have a mission and know where I’m going – so please walk your super slow line of people in front of someone else.) And Black Friday is the worst example of shopping in my opinion. Every year I roll my eyes at the ads and commercials for the big sales. And the kicker this year? Stores started opening on Thursday night.

I’m sorry, but isn’t Thursday a holiday? The holiday where we are supposed to be thankful for what we have? But lets hurry up and eat dinner so we can stand in line for an hour outside Target before the doors open at 9:00. Geesh.

A friend of mine used to go Black Friday shopping religiously. A few years ago she talked me into going. (This was before stores opened at 9pm Thursday). After Thanksgiving dinner I took a couple hour nap and we met at the Outlet malls before they opened at midnight. Now the outlet malls weren’t so bad. Crowded yes, but since there is plenty of outside room its easy to get away from the crowds if you start to feel claustrophobic. Plus there were chick fil a booths outside – and anything selling chick fil a is a winner in my book.

Next in line was Kohls – their doors opened at 4am. If I remember correctly we got there about 330, and the line to get in the front door looked to be a quarter of a mile long. I could be exaggerating a little, but considering it took us 10 minutes of standing outside to get in, it certainly felt that way. The store was a mess. There were clothes everywhere. And by the time we were ready to check out, the line wrapped around the store. I don’t even like to wait in lines for rollercoasters.

Seriously.

Target after that was less crowded probably because it opened about the same time as Kohls and so all the crazies had already filed out. Post shopping chick fil a made it all worthwhile and I think I finally crashed at home around 6 or 7 am.

While I’ll admit that all in all the experience wasn’t bad, I’m in no hurry to repeat it. Quite frankly, its just too many people in one place – and we didn’t even go to WalMart, where you seem to hear about all the stories about tramplings and shootings. People somehow go from being thankful for their lives to total monsters willing to run over whoever they want for that $300 television. That is crazy.

So to you, Black Friday, an Ode: (limerick style)

Lord, I am so thankful you see

For all the good things you’ve given to me

Bless this food I’m about to eat

But do you think, for an extra treat?

You could hook me up on the deal for the 50″ TV?

Amen.

On Pregnancy After Infertility

I like metaphors. And I’ve used many and seen many to describe what infertility is like.

Its a marathon. It’s like being placed on hold. A rollercoaster.  A maze. (source) Like being lost in the desert without water. (source) Like trying to get your car fixed without knowing what’s wrong with it. (source) Like a tornado that destroys. (source) Ok, I used more similies there, but you get the point. I’ve said before that infertility changes you as a person. It tests your faith, your marriage and your finances.

3 years is the length of time our journey took us. Over a thousand days. A thousand days of questions without concrete answers. A thousand days of fear and hope mixed together in such a way that was often hurtful rather than helpful.

A fellow blog friend recently wrote a post about those of us who are pregnant after infertility. About the influx of pregnancies in the blogosphere lately (there have been a TON!) and how our blogs change once this happens. Because they do change. They change to reflect the change in our lives, as they should.

Pregnancy after infertility becomes its own journey. While I am always infertile, I’m not currently fighting to get pregnant. But I don’t feel as though I really belong with those who haven’t taken a path like mine – not because I’m trying to separate myself, but because the journey is simply not the same. The entire course looks different. It bothered me at first because I couldn’t figure out which “side” I belonged to. The fact of the matter, though, is that no two marathon courses are the same. No two journeys to build a family will be the same.

I’ve written about fear more times than I can remember. That we would go broke trying, or that it would destroy our marriage. The fear that I would never be a mother. That we would never be parents. Our blogs change from journey to celebration,  but with it still comes fear: a fear of loss (and I am sure this is even more so for those who have experienced a prior loss), of complications, of things like an incompetent cervix and premature labor. There is no such thing as a “normal” pregnancy after going through infertility treatments. A physically normal pregnancy sure, but not mentally. Because while we are so grateful to finally be here, we know how long it took, and how there are no guarantees that one pregnancy means another will follow. The kicker is the fact that those still in the trenches would give just about anything to be worrying about a viable pregnancy – because at if you’re worrying about that, you’re pregnant. And that our updates, even with fear laced within them, are a reminder that you are still stuck.

Being stuck sucks.

The paragraph I wrote above about fear that we would never be parents – I originally wrote it in present tense without realizing it. I’m guessing partially because both consciously and unconsciously I know we aren’t out of the woods yet. While writing that paragraph, though, I was back there. I did it because we never forget. We never forget what it’s like. We never forget what we’ve been through, and we never forget about those who are still struggling through it. Infertility and its’ effects are permanently a part of us. It changes us as people, it changes our relationships.

Our future path changes, but we don’t forget the one we took.

Cupcake run? Yes Please

First, my apologies for being out of the blog loop lately. Life was really hectic early this week and my parents are here for a visit. Then we found out some potential bad news about our financial situation and this IVF we have planned, so I’ve been in a funk (more on that later) and had a bit of writers block.

However, I remain thankful for one of the things that keep me sane (and that I mention all the time): running. I found a 5k near my house and when I read the name “CF Cupcake 5k run/walk”, I was sold. Any race involving a cupcake I will happily participate in. It was also raising money to find a cure for cystic fibrosis, however I’ll admit that I was really excited about the cupcake and didn’t get the “CF” reference until later. (yes yes, shame on me)

There were cupcakes, though, and they looked yummy.

This race was held at a local elementary school; the one where the child with Cystic Fibrosis attended. Since my parents were in town, my dad decided to participate in the “walk” portion.

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The race itself was pretty nice. We ran out the school driveway, through a couple neighborhoods and back, with each mile marker cutely marked with a cupcake with a mile number on it.(If they were real, I would have eaten them)

Although I didn’t PR this race either, I was happily the 2nd female to finish, and therefore the second female to receive my cupcake ticket.

YES, cupcake!

After finishing I walked back to find my dad and walked him in the rest of the way

I was glad that he decided to walk it, because it was cool to be able to participate with him.

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As an added bonus, lunch was provided…..at 10:30am. But hey, its free, so I’ll eat it.

The best part?

  Best trophy EVER

22:35, a walk with my dad and a kick @$$ trophy – WIN

Life’s Little Annoyances (Sun Visor and Sock Monster)

I love the sun. Really.

Getting up when its dark outside makes me grumpy. Running in the dark makes me nervous. Walking around in the dark makes me stub my toe. And sometimes run into walls. Unless I have my trusty cell-phone-screen flashlight.

I start work at a slightly different time every day. And especially at this time of year, I tend to leave my house around the time the sun is still rising.  Because I wear glasses more than half the time and was too cheap to pay for transitions lenses, and because I lose and break sunglasses like its my hobby, I depend on my sun visor for glare protection.

It is absolutely useless.

Many mornings, I get into my car, back out of my driveway, drive through the neighborhood and onto the main road. After that I make a couple turns and BAM

Good morning! Your sun visor sucks! Love, the sun

See that black shadow up there? That’s my sun visor. And that super bright blinding ball? The sun. Clearly not being blocked by the visor. Sadly, I almost always drive around with it down, perhaps hoping that one day it will simply extend on its own or I’ll magically grow several inches overnight. Squinting all the way.

To the tune of Jingle Bells

Morning drive, morning drive

Squinting all the way

Oh how bright the sun is

In the first part of the day, hey!

A couple of nights ago, Bryan and I watched a particularly gruesome episode of Taboo. A Russian girl willingly underwent a a $26,000 surgery that broke both legs rendering her bedridden for 4 months, so they could slowly lengthen the bones and allow her to be slightly more than an inch taller.

That extra inch could possibly allow me to me tall enough to make the visor effective. (or maybe someone has invented an extender?) But while I hate the sun glare, I think I’ll sit on a phone book instead. I’d rather keep my leg bones intact. Plus I’d be horrible on bed rest, staring at my socks.

Mismatched ones…….

Every week I do a load or two of laundry. It’s neither my favorite nor least favorite chore. And, inevitably, with every load, are a few lonely, matchless, pairless socks.

Where do the socks go? They were there when I put them in the laundry basket. No matter how tired I am when throwing dirty laundry in the basket, I’m pretty sure I don’t forget to throw in both the socks I take off my feet. And yet somehow, inevitably, when I reach the point of my laundry-doing that I’m folding, I’m missing socks. I get that sometimes socks get separated in loads, or one gets left in the dryer when I’m pulling clothes out and gets an extra round in the dryer before finding its long lost match. Even then, though, when all the stray socks are paired, I am STILL.MISSING. SOCKS.

Missing our other half

Seriously? I’d start washing them paired in a ball if it didn’t result in half washed, still-soaked-even-out-of-the-dryer-so-I’d-have-to -separate-them-to-dry-them-anyway socks.

When I’m feeling particularly OCD, I scour places for my missing socks. Under the bed. Behind the dryer. Around the basket. Mixed in the drawer. Sometimes, when I’m successful, I squeal a little with glee.

But I’m still missing socks.

That can only mean one thing.

A sock monster. The sock monster is stealing and eating my stray socks. Laughing while I search high and low for sock pairs. Beaming when I swear I just saw the matching sock right here.

I want to eat your socks

I think he lives in my dryer. Just beware, sock monster. One day I’m gonna get sneaky, powder my floor with baking soda, and wake up looking for footprints. Then, when I find them, I’ll be a sock monster ninja. Or maybe I’ll just pretend to wash my socks, and the next sock you eat will be a stinky, dirty, filthy sock. One day, you’ll be eating your last sock.

Or – I guess I could just buy some new ones.

Laziness 2.0 (not my fault this time)

A mere few days ago I posted about my weekend watching a full work days’ worth of TV and contemplating how I, usually is so active that I don’t sit still well, could stare at a Television for a full 8+hours, regardless of how entertaining the show might be.

This weekend again I had a plan to run my 8 miles, meet a friend for lunch and finally get the carpet cleaning done, among other things.

I had good intentions, and this time it wasn’t my fault.

Last night Bryan and I went to Applebee’s to use a gift card I had gotten for Christmas and run a couple of errands. Upon returning home, my stomach began to hurt. Great. Just Great. Hoping to sleep it off, Bryan gave me a phynergan and I went to bed.

No such luck. Something in that food didn’t agree with me, and I was up multiple times during the night. He gave me another phynergan in the morning. What I didn’t know was that it causes grogginess and drowsiness, so my view for the majority of the day looked alot like this:

(hello, back of my eyelids)

With the exception of waking up for a few minutes at a a time, I slept for 19 hours.

And I thought the TV watching was bad.

Here’s hoping I feel better for my run tomorrow. But if I don’t I’m gonna skip it. With race day 7 days away, I want to be recovered, not sick.

(Also, apologies for the horribly boring post, I’m still kinda groggy)

Don’t Let Me Write a Love Song

I’ve always been an avid music lover.

I started taking piano lessons at a young age, and violin lessons in 5th grade. In high school, I was in choir, marching band, and orchestra. I played in the pit orchestra for music theatre (also in high school). I still sing in a community choir and play Fur Elise when I can get my hands on a piano.

I love music because it can represent and express a wide range of emotions. From sadness and depression to joy, to confusion, to anger to laughter. It’s comforted me during hard times in my life and I’ve belted out the best of the love ballads, rock songs and Top 40 hits in my car and while cleaning the house. It helps me get through runs and organize my thoughts while writing the more difficult blogs.

Music rocks. (pun intended)

There isn’t much else to do in your car while driving 11 hours through the night but listen to music. Bryan was in the drivers seat and so had the controls of the radio. Luckily, we have similar taste in music so I wasn’t forced to listen to Country Music Radio (sorry Country lovers) when I was actually awake. For awhile, he was tuned to a R &B station.

Rap, while not my least favorite, is not my favorite either. Mostly because I can’t understand a darn word the guys are saying. This one particular song I remember had this weird background sound that reminded me of a squeaky shoe or dog toy. The sad part was, I could see where it could be a decent running song, but since I couldn’t understand a word and am pretty sure I’m not going to turn up a result using a search: “rap song squeaky shoe sound”, I guess I’ll have to leave that one to memory.

Then Bryan starts to laugh. What is so funny? Apparently either the song said or he interpreted the following line: “She’s so cool she gives head with her shades on”

I guess we are measuring cool differently these days. Or we are totally misinterpreting the lyrics. Like that commercial where the guy is singing “Pour Some Sugar On Me” but actually sings “Shook up Ramen” so he calls the librarian to look up the lyrics. (Thankfully we have Google for that now)

I personally enjoy an interesting mix of music. I tend to listen to alot of Top 40 type songs because they tend to have fast paces for running. Once I decide I like a song, I can play it over and over again. Oddly, most of my favorite songs I picked out because of the background music. Adele’s “Set Fire to the Rain” is a good example. I decided I liked the lyrics after the background music. I enjoy Adele  because her lyrics have meaning beyond giving head with shades on.

Some songs just crack me up. Take “I’m Sexy and I Know It” for instance. I actually thought it was serious for awhile until someone told me about the music video. Then it just became funny. Another thing I like to do is take song lyrics and mess with them. Last night in the wee hours of the morning in the car, I made my own version.

Girl look at that body

Girl look at that body

Girl look at that body

I eat out

When I walk in McDonalds

This is what I see

Everybody stops and stares at me

I got a fat roll in my pants and I aint afraid to show it (show it, show it)

I’m a fatty and I know it

Eat your heart out, Weird Al.

Then there are the love songs. If you really listen to the lyrics of some of them it tends to point to an unhealthy relationship. I really like Bruno Mars’ new song “It Will Rain”, (which by the way, we heard 6 times on the trip) and Ill totally blast it out along to the radio, but the idea of sunlight and blue sky being dependent on the presence of another person is  bit scary. (I say this knowing that losing someone can feel akin to that….I’m just reading it more literally for comedic value). Don’t get me wrong, I love the song, and I’m betting that my version won’t hit the Top 40 charts anytime soon:

If you ever leave me baby

I’ll wave goodbye from my front door

Cuz even though I want you I don’t need you

Even though I’ll be sad I don’t have you anymore

I guess his lyrics are a bit more heartfelt and effective.

No, I won’t be quitting my day job anytime soon.

Internet Search Violation

*warning – foul language*

One of the things I really like about WordPress is the “Dashboard” section. It allows you to keep track of how many people have viewed your blog that day, which posts were the most popular, what links have been clicked, and (and the topic of today’s post) what internet search terms were used to find your blog.

This has a tendency to be amusing.

Alot of the search terms make sense:

• Kids say the darndest things – since I wrote a post with that exact title
• Infertility blog
• Various pregnancy related searches
• Pinterest, thanks to Ode to Pinterest

A few seem a little strange:

• Encrypted_Search_Terms: what is this? The CIA searching for my blog? You can’t tell me what the search was?
• Brain to mouth filter: I guess I’m not the only one to coin the term. But still somewhat makes sense since I wrote a post about it
• Marriage finish line: this one amuses me because I’m wondering the reasoning behind this particular search. Is someone wondering if there is an end to marriage? If so, “finish line” is not the search you’re searching for. Try: divorce
• Siri will you have sex with me?/How to hide a dead body Siri: makes sense because of my post on Siri, and I’m assuming whomever was looking was probably just looking up funny responses Siri has given to questions, but still a slightly creepy search
• Woman peeing into a glass: I can only guess this is some sort of weird fetish. My brain can’t wrap itself around any other reason
• Tell me about yourself journey: just strangely worded
• Oddly shaped boobs: I’m pretty sure I’ve never talked about my boobs…..
• Oral steroids marathon training: someone is cheating!

A few days ago, though, while glancing at obsessing over my stats, I glanced down at the “search engine terms” section and found this:

I feel a little violated.

I’m pretty sure my blog is mostly about infertility and running, with some humor and ranting in between. So unless I sleep-blogged some sort of p0rn (I had to use a zero for the o, so no one could find me using THAT search), which I’m pretty sure I would have found out about, I have NO IDEA how this particular search led to my blog!

I hope they found what they were looking for.

An Ode to the Cell Phone (i.e. Death by Blackberry)

Once upon a time, there lived a world without cell phones. A time when we went to the mall and had to plan a meeting time and place to go our separate ways. A time when we had to pay for long distance calls.  A time when we needed the computer to get on the internet. A time when we were forced to stand in grocery lines and read magazines or stare into space. A time when killing time meant thinking, or talking.

Now its an extra freaking  limb.

I got my first cell phone the end of my senior year of high school before heading off to college.

Ok. It wasn’t that bad. (and seriously? that is not a cell phone, it is a brick with a keypad). Mine was pretty small, had a bottom part that flipped open, and a nifty green glow and a handful of MIDI ringers. My next one was cooler because it glowed BLUE, had a couple black and white pixeled screen savers and even the worm game. (weeeee). The next one had a COLOR SCREEN! And a fun kangaroo screen saver. This was also about the time I started texting (sometime 2005-2006), but had to connect to the “internet” that took literally 5 minutes to load so therefore wasn’t used much. I had two more after that (I had a tendency to wash things that don’t belong in the washer) but really had no interest in a phone that allowed me to get on the internet and check email because, wasn’t that what computers were for? Plus, I was a total T9word text master.

Then one day, a friend of mine went with me to pick up the dog I had decided to adopt. She had a blackberry. I sat in the car and played a game, saying aloud that while it was cool, I didn’t really see the point. (total lie)

A few days later, I popped on ebay and bought myself my very own Blackberry Pearl.

And it was all over. (Apparently, once you go black, you never go back). Since then, my cell phone has been glued to my side  like the Epi Pen of a bee keeper allergic to bees. Email on my phone? yes please. Internet at my fingertips? Heck yeah! $30 a month more on my phone bill? Sign me up! Once upon a time I could leave my phone unattended for hours. Now? If I don’t feel the familiar heaviness in my pocket, panic sets in. (OMG! I might have missed a Facebook notification!) It’s probably the only true contender to my husband’s affection. In fact, I even sometimes get this “phantom vibration”, where I SWEAR I felt my phone vibrate, but go to check it and…..nothing. Crap. But that’s ok, because it’s my turn on Words With Friends.

I do have to admit, there are so many handy apps now though. It’s really cool to be able to find restaurants near where you are, see what movies are playing without having to listen to the recording of the name of every movie and every time it’s playing that day. And really? who needs a map anymore.

So to you, extra limb cell phone, an Ode:

I think I lost my cell phone

The world is coming to an end

Has someone seen my cell phone?

My one and only friend

Yeah I see you standing there

With nothing else to do

But it’s my turn on Words With Friends

So I’m ignoring you

I hear you telling me about

Your weekend, yeah it’s great

I didn’t do much either

Oops, I felt my phone vibrate

My husband planned a great date

Just the two of us alone

We can spend some time connecting

Well, once I check my phone

Some things you might not know about me

A big thanks to Cease and Decyst AND Scrambled Eggs for

And the cool thing is it’s my 40th post so seems like cool coincidence.

Let’s break down the rules:

1. Thank the person who awarded you.
2. List 7 things people may not know about you.
3. Pass it on to 15 (!) other bloggers and don’t forget to notify them.

I’m still a bit new to blog world and am not even sure I follow 15 blogs, many of which already have this award. So I’m going to list 7 since, in my brain, that fits better with listing 7 things about yourself anyway. If you already got the award and I wasn’t aware well, then you get it twice. WOO HOO! Also, if you don’t feel like following along, no biggie. But since you’re all following me, I’m counting on you to find yourself

First, my 7 things:

1. I am named after my grandmother (my mother’s mother…..my dad’s mother’s name was Awilda….I love her, but no) and my middle name was after my aunt. Unfortunately, I never got to meet either. They both died before I was born.

2. My interest in running started in college as a way to deal with stress. In high school, I thought running was stupid. (Though in high school, everything is stupid). Even after I started, I thought marathon runners? Were crazy.

3. I have 3 addictions: my cell phone, chap stick and q-tips. (to clean my ears, and yes I know its not the best idea). I will make a special trip or a special stop if I discover I don’t have a chap stick. And not just any chap stick, its gotta be the medicated kind. Preferably Burts Bees.

4. I was born with straight hair. It always had a little body, but it was straight. In 7th grade, I got a perm. Probably the most permanent perm I’ve ever heard of, because last time I checked, my hair is still curly.

5. I walked into the car dealership to buy my car by myself, with my hair in pigtails.

6. My itunes playlist has quite the interesting mix of things. I’ll listen to everything from heavy metal to Enya, depending on what I feel like

7. In 9th grade, I befriended a foreign exchange student who was unhappy with her current placement. Shortly thereafter, I talked my parents into hosting her. We hosted 2 students while I was in high school (Finland and Germany) and my parents hosted 2 more after that (Norway and Japan). My mom still volunteers for the organization. I’d like to host an exchange student myself one day. I still keep in fairly consistent touch with the first student. It was a really cool experience.

And now for my list!

1. Still Counting Stars

2. Running in Mommyland

3. Daydreaming in Progress

4. Relaxed No More

5. Glass Half Full

6. Mommy Odyssey

7. The Stork Diaries

Ho Ho Humbug

I love holidays usually. And birthdays. My birthday typically involves my running around reminding everyone that my birthday is coming up and asking people to do things for me because its my “birthday week”.  I love buying Christmas presents (though I’m horrible at wrapping them) and the big dinners and parties and cookies.

Not this year. I am not into the holidays at all.

                                                                 (Thanks Pinterest)

I’m looking forward to seeing my family and visiting with friends I haven’t seen in awhile, but I don’t feel like decorating, I don’t care to make cookies, and parties? No thanks.

My Christmas spirit seems to have run away. Probably with my patience.

I feel like a Scrooge.

I guess it’s because, no matter how good I’ve been this year, Santa is probably not carrying a baby in his sleigh.

Bryan gets his results from his 4th SA on Wednesday. Hopefully Santa can at least bring me some good news.