Blech.
I am having a rotten day, so let me share the rottenness with all of you!
(I know. I AM such a giver. Thanks for noticing.)
Anyhoosers, I think part of it is coming back to work after a delightful week off, part of it is the crummy weather, part of it is trying to schedule the 50 frillion blood tests I still have to do, despite my less than stellar performance the last time I had blood drawn.
Let’s focus on something a little cheerier, shall we?
Our anniversary trip was great!
We stayed in a beautiful hotel, had gorgeous, warm Southern California weather and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.
After a long drive down Interstate 5, we checked into the hotel and went for a swim. As you may have heard, I am now an experienced swimmer (*cough cough*) and decided to rock the for-Chrissakes-why-can’t-you-be-MORE-slimming-black-suit-and-goggles look.
"Snort, gargle, gasp…HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH," I hear coming from BeBop’s pie hole as he emerges from the deep end.
"Why the HELL are you wearing THOSE?" he shouts across the pool, obviously referring to my goggles.
"So I can SWIM dickweed honey, so I can open my eyes under the water when I have my contacts in," I explain.
I don’t think he hears me because he is laughing so hard.
"Oh..my…GOD [snort, cough], you look soooo funny! Do you really want to be looking like THAT when Reese Witherspoon* swims by?" he asked.
"Like what?" I ask. Not defensively. AT. ALL.
"Like a turtle!" he responds. "Like a turtle with a thyroid problem!! HAHAHAHA…" he adds helpfully, practically drowning himself with his amusing observational humor.
I suppose he was referring to the bugged-out, googly-eye effect the goggles have on me. It is not flattering, I will admit to that. The combination of the goggles and the black hideously-unflattering sporty bathing suit do not make for a fashion statement, but what can I say?
I have very little shame.
Other than that humiliation, the vacation was great. We sat by a pool overlooking the Pacific Ocean and ate our meals outside and walked along the beach and had drinks for dinner one night in the piano lounge and talked about why we like being married.
What could be better?
Not having Thanksgiving with my family could be better, as it turns out.
It wasn’t terrible, just a few comments by The Mom ("Oh…there’s TWO of you not drinking this Thanksgiving!" she exclaimed at dinner, referring to my sister and her Mormon husband. This was followed by an awkward silence as everyone looked sideways at me, watching me refill my wine glass. Again.).
There was a loud argument with said brother-in-law followed by me changing clothes and going for a run, the entire time praying "please God, let me not shove a turkey neck up his ass," and "please Lord, give me the patience to listen to his Orange County, bastion of right-wing, neo-conservatism blather and not want to take the leftover stuffing and stick it in his craw" and "sorry for the use of the word ‘ass’ in my earlier prayer."
After my run I actually did feel a lot better and we managed to avoid each other for the rest of our stay.
Ahhhh…family.
Got. To. Love. It.
Before I left for Southern California, the effervescent Zee and I e-mailed about how our lady parts seemed to be on similar schedules and how much we hoped that we would both 1) ovulate 2) on vacation 3) get pregnant and 4) have lengthly on-line discussions about hemorrhoids over the next nine months.
Is that too much to hope for?!?
Evidently.
I was sure I would ovulate right smack in the middle of my vacation, but my lady parts had other ideas. I guess while I was trying to avoid Reese Witherspoon** in the pool, my ovaries took a short detour down to Tijuana. It’s only about a two hour drive from our hotel, and my best guess is that they grew tired of lolling about the pool and wanted more action.
Why skanky, VD-infested strip clubs and tequila bars seem more attractive than Laguna Beach I will never know, but that’s what happened. There is gum to buy*** and serapes to bargain for, and I guess the peace and quiet was just too lame and way uncool for the girls. Snots. I knew those cell phones with rollover minutes were a bad idea. And all those clothes from Forever 21. Ingrates!
Anyway, the appointed Day 17 came and went, and there was nary an ovulation to be had.
Hmmmmm…I thought. Head scratching ensued. This means we must continue having the sexy–time, I thought in a strange, Borat-like accent.
We kept having the sexy time, and surprisingly it was more enjoyable without the dog flailing around at the end of the bed and the thermometer and the clipboard and the alarm clock.
(P.S. Why didn’t any of you tell me?!?)
Eventually, I ran out of OPKs and decided to be patient and wait for the girl bits to get over their hangover and come on home.
Once we got home, the OPK finally turned positive and lo and behold, I think I finally ovulated on CD20. (Plus, I had the distinct sensation of carrying a leather pouch with a bunch of rocks in it around my mid-section. Delightful.)
So who knows?
I was pretty relaxed on this vacation and everyone keeps saying once I relax I’ll for sure get pregnant, so maybe this will be our month.
Hey! Stop laughing.
That’s just rude.
*We did not see Reese Witherspoon. We were staying at a resort frequented by celebrities, and before you get all, oh no she di’int on me, my sister’s best friend works there and we got a great deal. So we were living in the lap of luxury without having to pay for it. Posers? Party of two??
**We still haven’t seen Reese Witherspoon. But I’m sure if she had swum by, I would have remarked on how sorry I was about her marriage breaking up with SUCH sympathy and warmth that she would have completely ignored the wet otter look I was sporting at the time. In fact, I’m quite sure we’d be BFFs by now.
***This would be funny if you’ve ever been to Tijuana. If you’ve never been, just trust me on this one.****
****I guess it’s not too bright to include a location joke that would only be amusing to one, maybe two, of you, huh??*****
*****But I bet Reese would think it’s hysterical!!!
Recent Comments