Bathroom!

Okay, I was going to tell the story of the painting, but there wasn't that much to it. I cleared the shit out, cleaned, taped, cut-in, painted, re-painted. There you have it. I still intend to paint the trim a brighter, cleaner white and install the lightswitch plate, but when I took the photo it was still drying (the old one was metal, and I bought a wood one and painted it white). (Edited to add that I also patched and sanded some shit. How could I leave that out?)

Before:
After :

And a few other details:




I know you didn't NEED to see my toilet, but it shows the floor tile, which was my biggest hurdle in picking a color. Finally, I decided it would represent sand and sun and I would pick a water color and it would just go becasue I said so.

Grasshopper

No, not this kind:

And not this kind:

But this kind:

Yes, that's the color of my half bathroom now. Tomorrow I think there will be pictures and story, but I want to wait until all the tape's down and the decor is back up. But I LOVE the color. It feels very cool and soothing.

Today was a good day. I read the paper, drank my coffee, then went to buy paint and supplies and our coffee. I went to Naked Coffee, the place that roasts my regular coffee, but you can buy it at the warehouse for half price AND they'll make you a complimentary Americano. Yum. I sat there and drank my coffee and read some HP and the Goblet of Fire, but it was quite sunny, so I didn't stay long. I bought my low VOC paint ("Teal Twist"), and did my stuff. Mom came over at about 12:30 and helped me out -- we went to Home Despot for some stuff (most of which we couldn't find) and got helped/harassed while we looked for a bathroom cabinet/were pressured about getting a a credit card. Mom painted some outlet covers and light switchplates -- they were weird dark brown stained wood and she painted them white. Yay!

While we were chatting, my uncle stopped by with a CD he'd recorded of our band practice. It was, you know, band practice. Some of it's better that other bits, but it was kind of cool just to have it.

This evening I made a pasta salad and now I feel done-ish.

So, I got some house stuff done, but no writing or bass playing. That's okay, I think. I don't have to do EVERYTHING every day.

If you're not interested in hearing about my Volkswagon, read no further and have a lovely day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, so my hysterosalpingogram (which Mom pronounced for me today -- the accents are on HYS and PING) is tomorrow at 11. How do I explain it? Well, let's say you wanted to make sure that the Volkswagon... had working windows. You might, you know, put a hose in through the air vent, fill it with, uh, seltzer water, and make sure the water comes out the windows to make sure they're properly rolled down. That's not working, is it?

Anyway, they're checking to make sure my fallopian tubes are open by shooting dye all up in my business. The dye's supposed to come out the ends of my fallopian tubes. Right into my abdominal cavity. Isn't that weird? It would seem like everything would be attached, a closed system, like. But it's not. No, there's a wee gap between your ovary and the fallopian tube and your eggs have to pole vault from one to the other through the open space. I think that's strange. Even sex ed diagrams make it look like there's a tube or something, but there's not. I've been instructed to take 800 milligrams of Motrin, which I don't have, so I'll take some Advil. I also have to take antibiotics so I can avoid an infection. As the nurse practitioner said "Our tools are sterile, but your vagina isn't." They gave my doxycyclene, which did a number on my stomach this afternoon, so I am going to try to take it with food for the rest of the five days.

I'm feeling good this month. I'm not over-confident, and I knows there's a really good chance that nothing will happen, but witness: there's a higher rate of pregnancy in the months right after the HSG test. I received a Peruvian fertility god figure from a friend in the mail a week ago. And last night, I received these two Chinese fortune cookie fortunes: "No obstacles will stand in the way of your success this month" and "Focus on your long-term goal. Good things will soon happen."

Okay, I think that's finally all. Bye!

Two theme songs today!!

First -- Alice Cooper's "School's Out for Summer!"

I'm checked out, I turned my keys in (well, all except the secret master key -- that I don't have), my room's all packed up for the move (my 8th in 8 years), and I spent the morning afterwards eating a cinnamon roll and reading Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets in the sunshine. (And yes, I am such a dork that I am re-reading all 6 books in anticipation of the last one.*)

The second theme some is Chariots of Fire, or the triumphant theme of your choice: I am BACK on schedule, and I was able to finally, an entire fucking SEASON later, schedule my hysterosalpingogram. (We're homies now, so you can call it by its initials, HSG). I don't think I have ever looked so forward to a doctor's appointment, especially one that I've been advised to take painkillers prior to. I even made up a little song, in which "hysterosalpingogram" rhymes with "eleven a.m."


*Plus, I got a little teary in the first book when Harry meets Ron and Hermione for the first time. Fuck off, you wouldn't understand.

John Lennon, Marilyn Manson, Aunt Flo, and a famous horticulturalist

NYC - Central Park: Strawberry Fields - Imagine Mosaic
Originally uploaded by wallyg

John Lennon: I am a Beatles fan. Anyone who knows me well knows this. And of the Beatles, I am a John girl. George is my second favorite. But as for John's solo career? Well, I like some of it. I had the album "Shaved Fish," and I like Instant Karma, Cold Turkey, and a few others. Some of the stuff with Yoko Ono is really ear-splitting, and I think little of what Lennon did without the Beatles lived up to what he did with them. But Imagine is a great song, as is War is Over (Happy Christmas). Still, I was never so much of a John-alone fan that I had more of his music, so there are great swaths o fhis music I've never heard. Well, recently they've bene playing a new Green Day song on the radio, Working Class Hero. I like Green Day all right, but this song really struck me. I was thinking to myself that it was a much better-written song than most of theirs -- sophisticated yet simple and powerful. And then I realized -- it's a John Lennon cover. He was a great songwriter, that's for damn sure.

I painted my toenails last night, and on a lark, painted them black. Then I chased my husband around the house telling him I had Marilyn Manson toes and singing "The beautiful people, the beautiful people!" This morning I sang "The Dope Show" and told him my toes were going to start dating an eighteen year old, but Sweetie didn't get it.

I suspect Aunt Flo is on her way -- she called from the airport. I have NEVER looked so forward to a visit from her in my life! She's terribly, terribly late, and not because I'm pregnant, but because things are all jacked up. But Cycle Day One means that Cycle Day Eight is coming, meaning I can get some of my tests taken! Yay!!!!

And finally, today is the last day at Famous Horticulturalist High. Another year gone by. Man, I'm getting old. Next year my sophomores will be juniors! My juniors will be wandering around being big seniors, and they won't be mine. They'll only come by to visit once in a while. Aww. Okay, whew, got a big day ahead! Bye!

So, what are your plans for the summer?

Well, I was thinking that I might catch some daytime TV. I understand Tyra Banks has her own program now. Also, I've never had much of a taste for beer, and I'm considering seeing whether I can develop a taste for it. And I might see if I can put on a few pounds.

Just kidding. But everybody asks, I'm not sure how many of them really care or listen to the answer, and I've been dying to say this.

Graduation wasn't the weep-fest I thought it might be. Oh, sure I teared up a few times, but between the air-horn blowing chatters behind me and the smack-talking teachers next to me, the mood wasn't right. Three of us walked around the corner and all spotted the Slutty Pocahontas teacher at the same time and screeched to a halt like we were in Scooby Doo. She was in a strapless pink mini-dress and high heels -- basically, a hot pink tube. It was horrifying.

Once

Read about Once on IMDB.

This one's an indie film, so I don't know whether it's playing everywhere or for how long, but at the very least, go put it on your Netflix list. I LOVED this film. A guitarist working in his father's vacuum repair shop plays for change on the streets, and he meets a young woman from the Czech Republic who plays piano. They write music together and form a bond. I was really touched by the whole damn thing, and the music was awesome.

If anyone remembers The Commitments, the lead singer of the band is the lead guy here. If you're averse to musicals, I even think you might enjoy this, because it isn't just random people breaking into song; rather the music springs organically from what's happening in the plot, and even drives the plot at points.

I just can't speak highly enough about this movie.

Flying and climbing dream

I have flying dreams plenty. Usually they're kind of inferior, for example -- I ran really hard and flapped my arms and got a little height. Or a trampoline allowed me ten or twenty seconds in the air. Or I ran off a cliff and soared for a bit. But last night's was an honest-to-goodness flying dream. I flew over a sunny countryside filled with trees and grapevines and hills and streams and country houses. "You're quite right;" I remarked to someone at one point "It's very like those roller coasters that almost fling you into the branches of a tree!"

In the same dream but later, I was at a museum exhibit (inspired, no doubt, by the TWO science museums I've visited in the last month) which had imprints of hands in a light color on a dark background. It looked like an x-ray. Two handprints would be right atop one another, with one offset just half an inch. I was instructed to put my hand over the prints and unfocus my eyes until the two sets came together. As I did, I felt my hand drawn toward the wall as with magnetism. "Cool!" I exclaimed. "Yeah," the docent said, "you should see the people who really get good at it." Then he directed my attention to the two young women who were climbing the flat, vertical wall by placing their hands over the prints.

Neat.

Ain't we sweet?

80s music rules

Passing the principal, what is she wearing, computer class, and my

bird-earrings-2
Originally uploaded by desjewelry

By the way, aren't those lovely earrings? You could have them if you went to Jewelry by Des.

On the freeway on the way to school, I got stuck behind a little white Acura, the slowest car in sight. I went to pass, and saw from behind that the guy was talking on his cell phone. "Naturally," I thought. I was going to give him my patented disgusted look as I passed, but luckily realized it was my principal before he saw me. I put back my normal look and sped up a tad.

Speaking of people I work with, there's a woman... I may have mentioned her before. She was my bathroom nemesis, because she always spend like ten minutes in there at lunchtime. I'd need to go and I'd wait and wait and hear flushing and handwashing, but she'd never come out. I probably mentioned her fashion sense before, because it's so strange... she dresses like you would expect a pole dancer to. Or an escort. Like, in the winter (and most of fall and spring) she wears head-to-toe skin tight leather. Purple suede dresses, thigh high boots, leather skirts with corset-style tops... It's pretty crazy. This week for some reason it has really gone haywire. Monday, she was wearing painted-on denim shorts, platform shoes that laced around her calves, a skin-tight shirt and a shrug that came just below her boobs. Tuesday she wore what I thought THEN was the weirdest ever -- she looked like slutty Pocahontas. It was a tan suede skirt with fringe. Tan suede sandals with fringe. A tan suede purse with fringe. And a BACKLESS tan suede halter top (think the hippies at the music festivals -- just one tie to keep the thing on) with fringe. There was a thin tan shirt underneath it, but really.

Then yesterday, she was wearing a top that I am certain cannot be purchased at a store that does not also sell handcuffs. I'm not fucking around -- it was black patent leather with metal studs. It was lingerie. It was fetish lingerie. I mean... I don't even know what to say. I admit, I'm more likely than anyone to show up at work in some odd color/pattern choices or in a vintage dress. I don't have J Crew taste. But what the fuck? I mean, that's just not appropriate.

Computer class is finally over, and I'm going to brag a bit. Three times last night I thought I was in trouble. I was messing around with my PowerPoint, and the teacher leaned over and was like "What are you doing?" He had a low, serious tone. I was like "I don't know! I just made a hyperlink!" He was like "tell me more. What did you do? How did you get the arrow?" Apparently, the girl behind me could see my screen and wanted to know how I was doing something, so he came over and learned, and then taught the whole class (although he didn't really get the arrow thing). Then another assignment I turned in, he looked at it skeptically and said "You did this in Excel?" I was like "yeah." He had mentioned that some people try to do something in Word and pass it off as Excel, so I thought he thought I was cheating. I was like "I can show you the file!" He said, "No... no, it's good. It's just that no one ever thinks to put clip art in Excel." There was another one, but I'm boring you. At the end, he asked "so, did you get anything out of this class?" I had. I learned a few tricks. But I'm a fast learner, too, so when he introduced something new, I'd get it right away, so it probably looked like I already knew stuff that I didn't really know until he taught it. Mainly because the other people in the class were still, fifteen minutes later, going "how did you get there? What's that?"

And finally, I'm hiding this at the end in the hopes that you have stopped reading. I'm going to really miss my seniors. I'm trying not to get weepy over it, but they're so sweet, and they keep coming in with their yearbooks and cards and stuff. I just can't believe how grown-up they all are, the plans they have, how mature they seem... I'm so proud of them. I'm going to be a wreck at graduation.

4, 3, 2, 1 Earth below us, drifting, falling...

Day 213 - June is for reading in the hammock
Originally uploaded by Ginger_Blue

I am not one of those teachers who begins counting down when there are still 80 days to count. People ask me all the time "Are you counting down until summer?" No, usually I'm not. But as of this morning, I have packed my last lunch! 6 days, baby! As I packed my Weight Watchers Smart One (Fettucini Alfredo), I realized that tomorrow was a shortened day, so I likely won't eat lunch at school. Next week is finals, so I also won't be eating at school (I will still have work to do in the afternoon, but I'll do all I can off campus.) It hit me that this is (almost) it! I have a bunch of papers to grade still, but graduation is less than a week away, and those will be MY feet in that hammock (well, in my own hammock) just a week from tomorrow.

*All of this hammocking and eating off campus depends on my getting everything graded and packed up, so who knows if it'll go like that.

Queer as Chautauqua

James Dean
Originally uploaded by A u r u s

My character and scene classes are doing Chautauquas... They research a famous person, then bring them to life in a monologue. I'm giving credit for costumes and attempting to use accents and vocal styles, etc. It's had mixed success. There have also been some interesting moments. For example, I did say that if a person did not speak English, the kids should speak in English, but with the appropriate accent. Which led to a student doing Li Bai, speaking in horribly broken English! Yikes! I didn't want to interrupt her, but holy god, how un-PC! Does it make it better that she herself is Chinese? I don't really think so. It was like "I born in China. I write poem." It could only have been worse if she swapped Rs for Ls.

Another student did Edna St. Vincent Millay (okay, I suggested her). I'm not sure I ever knew Millay was bisexual - I've read lots of her poetry, but never read much about her life. But apparently that fact rather JUMPED out to the student, whose presentation began. "My Chautaqua is on Edna St. Vincent Millay. She was a poet, and she was bisexual." And then the performance itself began "I am Edna St. Vincent Millay. I am bisexual." In her introduction, she also pointed out that she didn't "agree with that lifestyle," but that she admired Millay for being herself and not conforming to society. I really wanted to lash out over the "not agreeing" thing, 'cause really, who cares whether you agree with anyone's lifestyle? But I liked that other message, about respecting her anyway for her independence, that I let it go. That sounds to me like step one on the journey of a thousand steps to enlightenment. She is only a sophomore, after all.

Speaking of bisexuals... another student chose James Dean because his father has some pictures of him in the garage. He's never seen a movie or anything, but liked the way the guy looked. He read that Dean was from Ohio, so naturally, gave him a thick, drawling southern accent. Yeah. When doing his research, this student came across evidence that Dean might have been bisexual. He was fascinated, showed me his research, mentioned it several times and to several people, but when it came time to do his Chautauqua, it didn't come up at all. Interesting. I wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that this kid is TOTALLY closeted.

I'm really bummed this week because I can't find my flash drive. Everything that was on it is also on my computer at home (well, except for my homework for that computer class), but it was so damn handy!! I need to go buy a new one. Also, I think I'm going to have to e-mail myself a PowerPoint presentation in order to do tomorrow night's classwork. Actually, I may just have to buy myself a new one. Grr. Of course, the minute I buy one, I'll find the old one.

Alarm!

Alarms
Originally uploaded by Leo Reynolds

We had an exciting moment last night. Sweetie was asleep and I was reading in bed, and I heard a high-pitched tone. I didn't think much of it, but then the alarm went off! Sweetie LEAPT out of bed and before I could even turn over, he was in the hallway screaming "YOU'RE DEAD! RRRRAAAAAWWWWW!!" By the time I got my robe on and made it out to the living room, he had the alarm off and was wielding a weapon, stalking around all the doors checking for intruders.

There were none. There was also no smoke or anything else. The only thing we can think of was that the garage door might not have latched perfectly and blew open a little bit because of last night's wind. We proved to each other that, given the exact right circumstances, it was possible to think you had deadbolted the door but to not actually have done so.

Sweetie went into the front and back yards, checked all the windows and doors, and then we both went to bed (although he got up once more to re-check the windows). Still, that sucker is LOUD and my adrenaline spiked. But not, apparently, as much as my hero and protector.

RAAAAWWWRR!!! YOU'RE DEAD!!! AAAARRRRGGHHH!

By popular request

Okay, two of you asked to see the hutch with my Alice stuff on it. Here ya go. This is a teeny fraction what I have, but I like the way it looks.

One of those you-learn-something-new-every-day days

That thing in the title? With all the hyphens? That's called a Teutonic, or a Germanic. Who knew? I'm still reading that "Spunk and Bite" book, and that's the chapter I read last night. I abuse those, but I never knew they had a name. Isn't it nice to know?

Bah!

The next three posts are out of order, so if you want to read chronologically, start with Friday and read your way up the page. Sorry!

46 hours in the City -- Saturday evening & Sunday morning

I finally made the executive decision that we would go to New Ganges Indian cuisine, near Golden Gate Park (across the street, actually). Our motel info recommended it. We fought for parking, then went in. There were four other people there, two of whom quickly received their to-go order and left. Another was an older Indian woman who sat perfectly still in my peripheral vision all evening. The fourth was Aftab, the proprietor. He was a trip. He was very proud to announce that everything was fresh -- no frozen! He was a hard sell on the appetizers. "Okay, what appetizers?" "Samosas." "Okay, samosas AAAANNNDD...??" "Uh, pakoras." "Very good please. Samosas and pakoras AAANNNNNDD...??" We ordered our food (aloo gobi and mushroom muttar -- later he also pushed a whole-wheat chapati on us), and when he came back with the samosas, there was a whole performance that went with it. I reacher for my fork, and he said "Ah, may I offer a bit of life advice, please? He who eats with his fingers will never get burned." So I picked up my samosa with my hands, and he said "You like sauces?" There was a mango sauce and a mint sauce on the table, and they were delicious. I nodded. He made some noise about "allow me," and then poured a bit of mint sauce on the corner of my samosa. I took a bite and raised my eyes and mmm-ed appreciatively. He then spooned some mango sauce on it. I bit and mmm-ed again. He said "You give me a bite?" Uhhh... "You would give me a bite, please?" "Um, okay." "Which can I have, a small bite or a big bite?" "Uh, a small bite, I guess. It's so good, I want to keep it all to myself." I didn't know how to play this game! He instructed me to turn the bitten end upright. Then he spooned in mint and mango sauce and said "This is my bite?" "Sure." "I can have this bite?" "Uh, yeah." "Take my bite for me." Oh, thank god. I did, and it was very good. He then proceeded to do the same for Sweetie, minus the "my bite" gag. I was concerned fro a while that he would stand over us and spoon sauces onto our individual bites all night!

Then a creepy lady walked in. He offered her a seat by the window, but she said "Oh, no thanks, I'll just sit right over here!" and sat right next to us. She then made a big production out of having met him before, but she couldn't remember his name, she met him at a vegetarian society event, does he know Jim, blah blah... When she sat down, she was like "Hi guys!" Then she asked if there was a discount for vegetarian society members. She had her card! (Sweetie pointed out that it's a little fucked-up to ask for a discount in a deserted restaurant.) When we finally left, we laughed our asses off. It was so strange! We were really tired, so we just went back to the motel and watched strange subtitled-in-Korean Chinese TV. Or vice-versa.
Sweetie took this artsy shot from our window.

This morning we got up early, dropped off the keys to the room, and went to the Ferry Building.
I had had this fantastic idea where we would get some cheese from Cowgirl Creamery, some Acme bread, some Peet's coffee, and maybe some fresh fruit and sit and watch the water. Well, that would have worked better if the place was open. A few stores did open shortly after we got there, and we got our bread and coffee, and some cheddar from Golden Gate Meat Company.

Then we took a last picture of some creepy outdoor art and headed for the freeway.


There was some confusion as to how to actually get on the freeway, since all the signs said "take the detour!!! Right now! Detour!!" And then the detour signs ran into a chain link fence. Then we found some more signs and we followed them, but they stopped without ever putting us on the freeway. Then we found some more signs, but they ran us into a bunch of those folding barriers in front of a closed on-ramp, and then we found some more signs, and they ran us into a bunch of construction rubble and an unmarked, one-lane tiny scary tunnel, but that actually put us on the Bay Bridge. And then we were home! Yay, home!

I think a lot of my love for S.F. is nostalgic. Like, when I was a kid, those people selling jewelry on the street near Pier 39 were practically magical. The kids breakdancing by Ghiradelli square were unparalleled. Each block held a new surprise -- a man painted silver and pretending to be a robot! A Peruvian pan flute band playing El Condor Pasa! People flying Chinese box kites! Steel drums, bongos, a fiddler, a guitarist, a crazy person! It was all so cool! And as an adult, I can see how it is a bunch of shit-peddlers, panhandlers, and crazy people. But behind it all is still something magical, whereas for Sweetie, I recognize that's not there. I still want to show him the Sutro baths, the Zoo, Golden Gate Park, the planetarium and aquarium, maybe the Japanese Tea Gardens. But I realize that in my mind, things like the Tea Gardens will always be bigger and more mysterious than they are in real life. And in real life, the buses are late, the on-ramps are poorly labeled, and the crazy people carry specimen bottles full of loogies on the bus (no, for real. My stomach turned.). I just wish I could share some of that magic with Sweetie. I know my California will never live up to his Oregon, just as his Oregon will never live up to my California. It makes me a little sad.

46 hours in the City -- Saturday morning and afternoon

In the morning, we walked to the Bashful Bull Too, which was about three blocks from the hotel.

We just had eggs and toast and potatoes and coffee, but for the record, they also had avocado shakes. It was an oddly decorated place -- sort of a Chinese Mel's Diner with a bull head. But I liked it.
Then we headed out for the day. I wanted to drive, but Sweetie wanted to take transit. I think we was scared from the day before -- in S.F., people are sort of scary, aggressive drivers anyway, and when you mix them with the tourists who don't know where they're going, streetcars that barrel down the center lanes, massively steep hills, and (let's face it) many elderly Chinese people, you're just asking for trouble. Anyway, we walked catty-corner from the motel, where there is supposed to be an "L" streetcar that goes straight downtown. But the streetcar wasn't going this weekend, so there was a bus instead. We got off on Castro and walked around there for a while. It has really good shopping, but we were there before most of the stores opened. Sweetie thought it was a little "too out" for him, probably because it is the gay district in a gay town, and most of the store windows featured male mannequins in underpants that were stuffed with who-knows-what. Funny.

Then we walked to the Haight area. This proved more fruitful, for though it was still early (a few minutes before 11), most of the stores were beginning to open, including Giant Robot. We bought lots of toys.

We went in a few more shops, then stopped for a cold drink (those Izze sodas are yummy!). Then we walked a few blocks to a bus that would take us to Market street. This was the first long wait for a bus that day, but it was an omen. We got off about a block south of Market, in the Tenderloin, and even that was a little too much color for me. Between the drunk who literally fell off the curb and did a somersault, to the dead, brain-leaking pigeon on the same corner, we were a little full of the South of Market area. It was lunchtime, and we were looking for our favorite Thai restaurant, but got sidetracked several times by shopping excursions. Sweetie bought a new backpack and a polo shirt that he swore me to secrecy as to the price of. I spent the same amount on a skirt, dress and pants at H&M. Heh heh. We also went to the Tintin store, where Sweetie got two pieces of art (very cool ones) and a new book, and had his picture taken with Herge.

By then, we were like "Eh, screw eating down here, let's go to Pier 39." So we did. We took a bus that went through Chinatown (which was absolutely bustling with activity) and North Beach, which wasn't. Here is me with Coit Tower growing out of my shoulder.

We got off in North Beach and walked a few blocks to the Pier. It was overrun with tourists (which we were, too, I know), and Sweetie made about a two minute dash through the entire thing, declared it "a bunch of shit-peddlers" and we got a soft pretzel and sat down and ate. There were probably hundreds of sea lions sunning by the pier, from which you can see Alcatraz.


We were debating what to do next. I wanted to go to Ghiradelli Square, but we were both a little tired. We decided to go ahead and go, and on the way, saw people on a Segway tour and a very odd bicycle.

I bought lots of chocolate at Ghiradelli Square (they have a new line of "Intense Dark" bars) and the most delicious chocolate-covered strawberry ever.

Then we walked back to the stop where the "F" streetcar is supposed to pick us up. There is a helpful LED sign that tells when the streetcar is coming. Only 4 minutes, and the one after that in 9 minutes. We wait about two minutes. The times now say 7 and 11 minutes. We wait another two minutes. The sign says "arriving" and 14 minutes. No streetcar arrives. We wait. Finally a streetcar goes by, but it is full and doesn't stop. We got there at 3:45, and at 4:10, we leave. We decide to walk to the 19, which will also take us to Market street (Market is kind of the hub -- you can go anywhere from there). It is on Polk. Well, we were in a bit of a hurry, and mistook one bus line for another. Polk was 6 blocks away, not the expected 2. In the meantime, we got turned around on Columbus, which cuts diagonally across the other streets, and end up walking a total of 14 blocks to the bus stop. On the way, we pass bus 19 -- getting towed. I would like to state for the record that 14 blocks is nothing, if your shoe isn't broken and you aren't going up and down hills like this.

So we were both cranky and tired when we finally (at 5) got to Market. Needless to say, we'd have appreciated it if the signs there at the bus stop were labeled correctly. For example, we waited for 20 minutes for an "L", and we were waiting under a sign that said "L", but we actually had to take another bus four blocks down to actually catch the "L", which we only found out because I accosted the driver of the second "N" to roll by. At 6:15, we reached the motel. So yes, we spent 2 1/2 hours of our 46 hours in San Francisco waiting for, walking to, or on Muni. It sucked. It sucked so much that by the time we got back to the motel, Sweetie didn't even seem enthused about going out to eat, and it was WAY later than usual dinnertime, and we'd only had a soft pretzel since breakfast at 7-something.

46 hours in the City -- Friday

On Friday morning, we left for Berkeley at about 9:30. We arrived at 11 and parked near People's Park, a couple blocks from Telegraph. The first place we went was our favorite noodle house, Slurp, where we had Pad Thai and watermelon juice.

We walked up and down Telegraph a bit, but didn't really go in any stores, even Amoeba Records, which we normally do. We got back in the car and headed to the Claremont area to Dark Carnival books, which is always fun. Then finally to Ohmega Salvage, where I looked for medicine cabinets, but didn't find any I liked as much as the one I saw last time, which I should have just bought then. Oh, there was also a very creepy picture for sale. I thought about my friend Gynagirl, but she's more into velvet.

Finally we headed into San Francisco, where we took 101 south to 280 East to the area that borders Daly City, right next to the zoo. We drove through some of the nicest houses I've ever seen. Our motel was built in 1937, and is very Art Deco. It's about two blocks from the ocean and you could pitch a rock at the zoo from it.

Then we drove to the Exploratorium. Well, there was a little accidental detour almost onto the Golden Gate Bridge first, but THEN we got to the Exploratorium, which is housed at the Palace of Fine Arts.

This building was built for the 1915 World's Fair, if I'm not mistaken, and was meant to be temporary. It's absolutely stunning. But the best part is the Exploratorium. We got there around 3 and ran around touching stuff until 5, when we had tickets to the Tactile Dome. I could have spent at least another hour looking at exhibits, though. It is the coolest place. It's like any museum, I guess, in that its purpose is to educate and collect stuff, but you can touch and play with everything there. It's designed to be completely interactive. This is us inside a model of a prism.

And here is Sweetie in a mask (this exhibit is designed to show how much of others' mood we take from their facial expression).

Next, we went into the Tactile Dome. It's a Bucky ball (geodesic dome) with a number of pathways that have slides, stairs, rope ladders, bouncing air-filled jump-house thingies, pits full of styrofoam, etc. Along the walls are keys, stuffed toys, bubble wrap, shoes, fur, etc. And it's all pitch black, so you have to feel your way around to get anywhere. It's so fun we went through three times, even though it meant sitting in the tiny feet-stinky waiting room with a VERY EXCITED little league team ("I wanna go with Miles." "No, it's me, Miles, Mason, and Finn." "But! But me and Mason haven't gotten to go yet!" "Guys, I know the way! Let me be first!"). The guy in charge of the room was a 24-ish year old guy named Jesse who was, against all odds, trying to reason with them instead of just telling them to shut up. ("If you were in there and you called for help, wouldn't you want me to be able to hear you?") Poor Jesse. He looked so harried. This is what we walked through on the way back to the car. Pretty, huh?


Then we left, and it was getting late. We were hungry. We headed back to the Sunset District and ate at a place I had been once before, Taraval Okazu Ya.

Sweetie was starving, so he ordered three rolls and beef terikayi and miso soup. I ordered four rolls. Of course, he was expecting that what he ordered would be much, much smaller, and even though he ate himself into oh-god-I'm-so-full-ness, he still had leftovers. I, on the other hand... well, I still got really full, but my rolls were smaller. I am officially in love with the umeboshi, shiso leaf and cucumber roll. MMM.

The last thing we did on Friday was walk to the beach. The sand was oddly black, like oil-spill black, and we found it creepy, so we didn't walk around. Then we lolled around saying "I ate too much" until it was time to go to sleep.

Spunk and Bite

spunkbite
Originally uploaded by countmockula

I picked this book up in Santa Cruz, and while I'm enjoying it to an extent, I prefer my writers' guides to be, well, better-written. The author encourages writers to fill their texts with neologisms, colorful adverbs, fresh metaphors... all of which can be beneficial if used sparingly, like salt in food. But his own writing is more than sprinkled with these devices; it is literally so full of them that one imagines one could soak a string in them overnight and pull out a solid, crystallized chunk of the stuff.

These metaphors are not just tortured, but left alone in a room with Geoffrey Rush's Marquis de Sade, fecophilic and bruised. The text is swimming with turgidly constructed adverbs and foreign words that obstruct the wabi sabi of the whole. There is good information floating in there, but the reader must swim to it through sentences thick and sweet as condensed milk, the extended metaphors providing informational flotation devices as useful as those vibrantly unhelpful pool noodles. This writer feels that while there is nothing wrong with occasionally gilding the lily, it is overkill to then bedazzle it, hot-glue on rhinestones, and cover the whole roccocco mess with spray adhesive and mica powder until the shape of the lily is lost underneath. The plash and splatter of onomatopoetic syllables stress th syntax (not to mention the synapses), inducing a sort of synaesthesia that obfuscates understanding. Even as you note that the author is winking at you, you find the references to pop culture more tiresome than Carrot Top's prop schtick.

Oh my god, I think it's contagious.

Senior trip

Natural Bridge(s)
Originally uploaded by Andy Frazer

Saturday morning we left early for Santa Cruz. We stopped just once, at a Carl's Junior, and got to Natural Bridges State Park in Santa Cruz a little after noon. We hung around for a couple hours, the kids taking walks, wading out to that stone formation in the picture, taking pictures of anenomes, getting their feet (and jeans) wet, and in the case of one young lady, talking on the phone. It was cold, so after a little running in the surf, I went up the beach towards the trail and did some writing. It was still to early to go to the hostel, so I suggested downtown Santa Cruz, which was fun, although our trip leader was a little less... fastidious about making sure people knew when and where to meet than I'd have preferred.

Then we went to the hostel, which was in Saratoga (I've never been there before). You drive through a big city, then a wine-country-style small town, then through some forest, and finally you arrive at the hostel, which was SO COOL! I've now stayed in 4 hostels, and this one was the nicest. I mean, the sleeping arrangements were spartan, but the common area was absolutely beautiful. There was Mission-style furniture, a record player and large record collection, a guitar and piano, several long wood tables, couches, a fireplace... In the kitchen were three vintage stoves! We spent several hours in the hostel common room on both days and it was perfectly pleasant.
That night, the girls made spaghetti and we stayed up late, but at about 11:30, someone tentatively said "Should we be quiet now?" I answered "Yes, I think it's time." Within about 2 minutes, there was deep breathing and snores all around! It was like they were telling horror stories because they thought it was de rigeur, and once they had permission to go to sleep, they conked out!

On Sunday, the boys made pancakes and eggs, then we went to Great America. Last year, I thought there was a chance I was preggo, so I sat out all the rides. The benefit of my current state is that I rode the rides all day this time! I went on Top Gun twice (my favorite part was that I sat next to a student who, through the duration of the ride, was screaming for dear life, like AUUUGGGGHHHH!" I laughed my ass off). Then I went on Delirium, Survivor (which was really fun), Drop Zone, Rip Roaring Rapids (twice), the Grizzly, Orbit, another water ride, some yellow thing that went forwards and backwards, and the Vortex, which was the only one I didn't like. You sit on a bicycle seat and it bangs your head from side to side against the hard plastic headrest. I have no idea what else happened during that ride because I was distracted by having my ears boxed. I also had a caramel apple and didn't get TOO sunburned, so it was a good day. Oh, and we played "Slug-Mullet," and I saw the most ghetto-unfabulous woman I may have ever seen. She was large, and was wearing a huge purple t-shirt which she had cut from the collar all the way down the sleeves and safety pinned back together. It was a large t-shirt, but not a tunic dress or anything, so I was rather surprised to find that she was NOT WEARING PANTS. No, just tights. Opaque-ish tights, but the kind that come on a wee hanger with cardboard in the leg. Tights that go under skirts. They were purple and black striped, and afforded me an unwanted view of her underpants. It was SCARY.

That night the boys made quesadillas and nachos. By the way, have you noticed yet that there are no vegetables and fruits on this trip? We hung out playing cards and talking more, and went to bed right on time.

Monday morning the girls made pancakes and eggs, and then we went to the Tech Museum in San Jose. On the way there, we passed the Convention Center, where there was a "Fanimecon" going on. In other words, some exceptionally good people watching. I saw a stormtrooper and at least 20 people dressed as animated characters. Fascinating.

The Tech was cool -- we stood outside for about ten minutes looking at a Rube Goldberg device that dropped billiard balls in different formations. Inside, I had a robot spell my name in blocks, gave a virtual speech to congress, had a 3D head scan, saw my body in heat imaging, played Whack-a-spam, looked at an exhibit on green living, "programmed" a Mr. Potatohead toy, watched wistfully as other people got to ride a Segway (they put it away after two people tried it), and saw two Imax movies (I had never been before).

The movies were neat. The first was Greece: Secrets of the Ancient World. Not only was it interesting (focusing mainly on the Athena temple and Santorini Island), but the Imax thing made it feel like you were on a helicopter zooming over the islands. The second one wasn't as good. It was "The Human Body," and I knew pretty much everything in it, although it's always cool to see those electron microscope images of the inside of your ear (WHOOP! WHOOP! NERD ALERT!). They stayed away from anything too gross; once your food leaves your stomach, it apparently turns into white whisps in a dreamy pink fairy world. There was also a sucker-punch of a storyline about a pregnant lady (punctuated by a sperm-swimming sequence set to the tune of "Let's Get It On," and I'm not making that up) that never seemed to end, and had about twenty straight minutes of the woman patting her belly and looking wistfully into the midlde distance, talking about how now the baby comes first, blah blah.

Finally, we headed home. I was glad to see my husband and my house, and I wished I had another day off. But all in all, it was a good trip.

I survived the senior trip

which included Santa Cruz, Great America, and the Tech Museum. I will fill in more details later, and possible write a snarky review of a book I'm reading. Now I've got to go to bed. Take care,
The Countess

Indian assembly and small mercies

Salwar Kameez
Originally uploaded by indian_treasure_01

Today was the Indian assembly. It was fun -- very heavy on the dancing. There's one girl who was in almost every number -- she was fantastic. I think I need to find the album that has "Salaam Namaste" on it, because it was rockin'. They sang "Salaam namaste-oh-ee-oh," like Morris Day and the Time. I also need to get myself a salwar kameez (like the outfit to the right).

I'm at school today until 10:30, and have to be back at 8am tomorrow. I'll get home from the field trip Monday at 6. Fuckin'-A, man. I must be dedicated or something.

The small mercy I had today was that I had to go fill a prescription that I didn't want to get at all. I got to the pharmacy and there was a CRAZY LONG ASS line. I thought to myself, "Great, I have to wait for an hour for something I don't even want." But as it turned out, the line for turning in prescriptions was super-short, and when I got to the counter, she juse had to dig through a box to get mine. I didn't have to wait after all.

Okay, I'm outtie. I think I'll take my laptop on the trip, but I'm not sure. If there's no wireless, the only reason would be to work on The Brilliant Idea, which I'm not sure is a good enough reason to take it. Have a good Memorial Day weekend. Memorialize somebody.

Choose your own adventure (vote for my choice)

How many of me can I fit in here?
Originally uploaded by Sam Blackman

Okay, I'm SO frustrated, so I'm going to vent. Please don't feel obligated to read this.

For reference, clowns=endometrial lining, Volkswagon=cooter, circus=cycle, elephant=ovum.

Okay, so normally, during every circus, at the very beginning, a whole bunch of clowns come out of a Volkswagon. Then they stop and they hide backstage while the rest of the circus goes on. They don't come back out until the next circus.

In the last 6 weeks, here is how things have all gone Bozo:

The circus was well underway, and the elephant had even made his appearance, when suddenly the clowns started slowly appearing. It was not time for the next circus yet at all, but they just kept coming!

Then the next circus started, signalled by an enormous wave of clowns, but they never stopped. For the rest of the circus, they just kept coming out of the Volkswagon! Oh, sure, they slowed down, but there were always more clowns exiting the Volkswagon. The elephant didn't show, because he was spooked. Finally, a few days before one circus was scheduled to end and another to begin, the clowns stopped. But apparently now they're on strike, and another circus cannot begin without them! Come back, clowns! (Even though I'm rather tired of clowns, I'd like to know that a new circus is starting. This current circus is 32 days old!)

I called the infertility clinic this afternoon, and I'm embarassed to admit that my voice was shaking. I just don't know what to do. My choices are as follows -- go on birth control (to "re-set" my circus) or wait and hope.

Birth control -- Pro: I know for sure what's going on and when. No clowns for 21 days, clowns for 4-5. Then I can go in early July and get my tests done. The tests are required before I can actually SEE anyone in the infertility clinic.

Birth control -- Con: Early July! That's so far away! Oh my gosh, it would take until late July to get all the tests done, and then who knows how long after that before I could actually schedule my first appointment, and I was kind of hoping to get on the fertility train during summer, when, you know, I'm off work and NOT STRESSED. Plus, it makes the next month an absolute write-off. Taking birth control while trying to conceive is... well among other things, it's depressing.

No pill -- Pro: The new circus could theoretically start any minute. And then no June write-off, no waiting until July for tests, summer could be baby-making time, and we could all sing and dance. This is the dawning of the age of aquarius...

No pill -- Con: But what if it DOESN'T start? Then I have to take the pill anyway, but a week or two weeks or whatever later. And the cons of the birth control are multiplied, because everything is a week or two or whatever LATER.

So from what I can tell, the "no pill" option has a better pro but a worse con.

If you have actually read this, I would genuinely appreciate any opinions you could give. I don't have the foggiest idea what to do.

New furniture and bat-shit crazy

IMG_0628
Originally uploaded by countmockula.

Yesterday Mom and Boompah went to Rio Vista to pick up some things from Boompah's dad's house. They got a new cedar chest, and I took mom's old one. They also picked up a hutch for me. I really love the new hutch, and yesterday I spent some time putting stuff into it. Finally I have my Alice stuff displayed! Not all of it, as there's so much that it doesn't even fit in those three Rubbermaid containers which, if you can't read, are marked "insanely fragile." But quite a bit of it. I'm trying to get myself used to the idea that I can display some of it, then rotate and put different stuff out later.

I'm so excited to have the cedar chest. It's... It's like a big wooden box of nostalgia! It lived in my mom's house since before I was born, and I spent SO MANY evenings lying on the living room floor absently playing with the key. To add to the nostalgia, mom brought over some baby clothes of mine, including a size 00 pair of Levi's 501s and a pair of overalls from each year of my life!

Now for the bat-shit crazy, which is a different topic. I was reading this blog about a woman's infertility, and every time she mentions the possibility of adoption, some commenters jump on with "Baby-stealer! Adoption is immoral!!" And I'm like... "what now?" I was seriously dumbfounded.

But I try to keep an open mind and I wanted to know what IS it that makes it immoral? What is these folks' point of view? So I found a couple web sites (which I will not link to here, because I don't want the bat-shit crazies finding links from my site and coming over here) about it, and discovered their stance: Only nature can create a family, and a child should never be taken from its family. Abuse? Give the parents counseling so they can stop abusing. Parents die? Give the kids to extended family, like grandparents. Parents who don't want the kid? Give them support so they can raise the kid. Everybody in the family and extended family dies in a fiery train wreck? Give the kid to a couple, but call them "guardians," don't change the birth certificate or the kid's last name, don't call those guardians mom and dad, and make sure the kid understands that they are not his parents, because that would be disrespectful to the birth parents. Oh, and "birthmother" is an insulting and derogatory term.

Well, now I know. BAT. SHIT. CRAZY.

Oh my gosh, I did it!!

Chicago, here I come!

I've been talking a lot of bullshit lately about how I might go to Chicago this summer, how I was thinking about going to the BlogHer conference, how I thought it would be really fun... but I hadn't actually committed. This morning, I registered for the conference and bought my plane tickets! I'm really doing it!

Now, I have to admit that the reason this is an accomplishment instead of just another check on the to-do list is that I am a big rube. It sometimes seems like all my friends are jet-setters who've been to Europe, the Mediterranean, India, all over the states, lived in Hungary, blah blah blah. I've never done any of that traveling.* In fact, I only got my passport a couple years ago, when I went to New York and the Caribbean with my mom. It was my first plane ride within memory (I had been to Iowa as a kid). I've never been on a trip by myself to anywhere farther than a 3-hour car ride (the wine country and Santa Cruz, mostly). I've certainly never been on a plane or navigated an airport by myself. In fact, just thinking of how I've gotten through airports before, trailing behind my husband or mom, makes me a little nervous. I've never, for example, figured out by myself where my gate is or how to get there. I just jog after my fast-walking husband to the conveyor thing and whiz through the PDX airport. And getting the right shuttle or bus in a strange city? Okay, I admit; I'm a little nervous!

I'm excited as hell, though. I am seeing Suzanne, whom I've met twice before and whose company I enjoy. I will get to meet for the first time Des, whom I believe might be my evil twin (or my good twin, you never know). And I get to meet Alex Elliot whose name, I realize, is not actually Alex Elliot, but I don't think she posts her real name, so I'll keep it on the DL. Anyway, if I could pick a roomful of women upon whose floor to sleep, that would be them, I'm pretty sure!

The conference sounded really fun last year, from what I read on Suzanne's page.

Thanks to Mom for helping both monetarily and with moral support. Thanks to Sweetie for the same! Thanks to Suzanne for the invite/suggestion, and to all three ladies for letting me sleep on their floor!

*It was a trade-off. I wasn't just being a couch potato; I got three college degrees and started my career all in my mid-twenties, and my jet-setting friends are just finishing school, starting careers, or even starting school now. So I'm not saying I feel gypped, and I'm glad I did it the way I did. But, yeah, I've done less travelling.

Hey, what's new

Busy Bee!
Originally uploaded by mr3wan.

Well, I had my fourth-to-last computer class last night. I learned how to do two cool things in three hours, and in the meantime did some writing and some playing around and some being bored and some homework.

This weekend won't be too crazy, as I only have papers to grade and not much else. Next weekend is set to be insane. I have a banquet to chaperone on Friday night, then a trip to chaperone all weekend starting Saturday morning. I have papers to grade that weekend, too, so I hope we get some down time.

I have several things weighing on me -- I bought my step-mom a Mother's Day card last week before the big day, but haven't been by to see her to give it to her! Now, lord knows she's not as important to me as my mom, but I really should have at least called by now. It's just rude not to. But on a couple of the days I might have dropped by on my way home from work, I've been taking light rail. The days I drove, it was because I was in a hurry, so didn't have time to stop by. Now I feel like an ass.

Also, I have to pack up my classroom because we're moving at the end of the year. I can't do too much packing right now, because of course we're still using everything. But I'm trying to sort and reduce so that it's not such an overwhelming job when it does roll around.

And I haven't made reservations for either my Sweetie's and my vacation or for my Chicago trip, both of which I'm aware I really, really need to do.

I'm beginning to get a little nervous that I won't get to have my HSG test this month either, because between field trips and vacations, there might just be only a three-day window in which I could get it, and Kaiser was, well, not that helpful last time.

Well, I have a thousand things to do here, too, so... bye!

Commuting again

Star Jasmine Flower
Originally uploaded by E_Journeys.

Well, the benefits of my alternative transportation continue to add up:
It's lovely weather (right now, anyway).
I still remember all the words to "Paul Revere" by the Beastie Boys.*
I can grade and read on the train.
I get exercise (not much, but some).

But so do the drawbacks:
It actually costs me more money.**
It takes a lot longer, so I have less getting-ready-for school time.
I also still remember a lot of "Bennie and the Jets."*
No drinking coffee on the train, so I had to slug it back quickly.
When I said a chipper "good morning" to a co-worker I saw at the station, he looked at me like I was a psycho.

*I won't take my iPod to work because I've just had too much stuff stolen, but the music in my head never stops.

** A round trip saves me 1/20th of a tank of gas and costs me $4. A tank of gas costs $35. 1/20th of a tank of gas is $1.75. Yes, there's insurance to factor in, but I have to pay that anyway because I have to drive other places. Sweetie volunteered that he offsets my carbon footprint because he doesn't drive at all. Sounds good to me.

WHEW! Good to know!

(I MUST STOP GOOGLING!)


A woman with constant bleeding came to the Prophet (May Allah bless him and give him peace) and asked him, "I
am a woman with constant bleeding problems so I do not ever become fully pure. Should I leave off praying
altogether?" The Prophet (May Allah bless him and give him peace) replied, No your bleeding is from a vein and
that isn't menstrual blood. So when your [real] menstrual bleeding is approaching, leave off praying and when your
[real] menstrual bleeding goes away, wash off the blood from yourself [by taking a bath for purification] and then
pray the formal prayer. Then, perform ablution for every [wajib] formal prayer until that time [for your real
menstrual bleeding] comes again."

I do wonder if the Prophet would have felt differently if it was endometrial lining? Does it make a difference if it is not from a vein? How does one know? And by the way, what open vein would be hanging out in there anyway?

I was trying to see what the world record is, and may I just suggest NOT Googling the following terms?

longest dysfunctional uterine bleeding
record dysfunctional uterine bleeding
world record bleeding
world record blood
world record menstruation
world record menstrual bleeding
Guiness record menstruation
longest uterine bleeding
world record longest bleeding


I'm sorry if this is all getting a little TMI for you guys, but I have to take it out on someone! I'm going fucking nuts! I believe this is day 31. (I know lots of people have had more than 31 days of it - just ask someone who had a bad experience with Norplant or Depo-Provera -- but I reserve the right to be a drama queen about this!)

Oh yeah, and I'm already GOING to hell, so I don't think this little bit of blasphemy is going to push me over the edge. Allahu akbar, though, just in case, right?

Co-worker and drummer

Dumb Face
Originally uploaded by mlusby.

Sheesh, what a day was Monday! I was participating in Alternative Transportation Week, so I walked to light rail. There's a lot of jasmine blooming, and it was a pleasant walk and ride. But of course, it's a longer trip than driving.

That afternoon was my meeting with co-worker, Mega. Well, I was figuring it would be about an hour, but it was an hour and a half. We yelled at each other for about 75 minutes, then talked calmly for another 15 and shook hands on the way out. The crux of it is that we just have VERY different modes of communication. I mean, we have some different philosophies and stuff, too, but the main thing is that neither of us was communicating in the way the other wanted or expected. (He's still crazy, but at least I have a heads-up now on how best to deal with him.)

Anyway, I got home at about 6, then had to rush out to band practice.

We worked up several new songs, so it would have been a really good practice, but for the fact that the drummer... couldn't drum if he was sitting on John Bonham's lap and in charge of just the high hat. I swear to god, we'd be MUCH, MUCH better off without a drummer at all, since we're fighting against whatever he's doing most of the time. I asked him a couple weeks ago (in a VERY NICE tone, I swear) "So, J, do you count when you're drumming?" And he said no. That's like.... not pedaling when you bike!!!! Maybe it's more like not measuring when you cook -- if you're REALLY good and have a lot of practice, you can manage it, but not as a novice.

Anyway, last night he was so all over the place that one of the other guys and I were suggesting that he not even use his arms and just hit the bass drum on 1 and 4. But we couldn't get him to count, no matter how much snapping, clapping, gesturing, or counting-out-loud we did. He just, like, FEELS the drums, and it's like the whole time he's drumming it's just a long, random, no-counting space jam. A big, messy, drum-solo forever and ever. It's driving me nuts.

I got home at about ten to ten. Long, long, dumb day.

My incompetence leads to a happy budget discovery!

4/7/07, CD21--Answer brand OPK
Originally uploaded by peeonastick.

By the way, that is not my pee on that stick. Not that you can see the pee.

So I buy the ClearBlue Easy Ovulation Predictor thingies. The nurse at Kaiser said the regular ones were fine, but the digital ones were easier to read -- they have a happy face. I'm at Walgreens looking at the different packages, and the digital ones are ten bucks more (almost $40!!!). But, I am obsessive and nervous, and have a hard time reading the two-lines version. See, that picture at the right? That's not a positive. The line on the left has to be as dark as or darker than the one on the right. So I was using something like that and spending god-knows-how-many minutes going "Is it darker? Should that count? Would you consider it as dark as...?" I took them into other rooms to look at them in different light and everything. I figure the ten bucks (about $1.25 more per stick) was worth it for clarity. I pay for them and go on my way.

Well, when it first is time to use them, a week or so later, it was my camping trip. I pack two with me in my little toiletries bag, but do not read the instructions, because I believe that they are probably "pee on the stick." On that Saturday I go into the pit toilet with no light, unwrap the foil thing, and pee in the only spot that appears to be pee-accepting.* It turns out to be the window. I only realize it after I pull off the pink cap with the absorbent end. Duh. Anyway, that one's wasted.

Sunday, I take another one and actually pee on the correct end. I then put the little lid back on and wait. Does a happy face come up? No, a LINE comes up!! I paid ten extra bucks, and I get a line?! I was enraged! I assumed someone must have wanted the expensive ones as much as I did, and switched the cheap ones into the expensive box, then bought the expensive ones in the cheap box! Trashy bastard! When I got home, I hunted up my receipt and decided I would take that box right back to Walgreens and demand an exchange. If they gave me shit for having used two of them already, I would say "Hey, I'm obviously dealing with fertility issues. Do you really want to fuck with me?"

I grabbed the receipt, picked up the box, looked at the little foil packets to see if the number on them matched the number on the box... and it did. I opened the directions. It said to put the stick you pee on into the digital reader. The what now? I look in the box, and tucked into a fold of cardboard in the corner of the box is a digital thing that sort of looks like a thermometer. Oh. So, you put the stick inside the reader, and THEN you get the happy face (or the finger, I think).

Abashed, I put the receipt and the box away. I was a little mad at myself for having been so dumb. But then I had a thought -- if the sticks are just the garden variety two-lines ones, then next time I'd buy the cheap ones and stick THEM in the digital reader! Hah! ClearBlue Easy, I just figured out how NOT to give you ten dollars!

That's... a really tiny little victory, considering, but I'll take it.

*I have been using OPKs, but little chemistry-class type paper strips that don't have fancy absorbent tips, which is why I didn't know...

Happpy Mother's Day!

I love Mother's Day, because I pretty much hit the Mom jackpot. Today we're having brunch (with Bloody Marys!), then going on a garden tour.

My mom raised me about 99% by herself. She always accepted me for who I was (which was sometimes a green-haired lip-ringed punk-rocker, so this is no small feat), while pushing me to be my best (she DIDN'T accept the school-skipping math-flunker, which was good). I always knew she loved me, even when she was really, really mad at me (always deserved). We laughed a lot, we sang Patsy Cline and the Beatles a lot, we cooked and baked a lot, we played a lot, we watched old movies a lot. As I established independence, she helped me an enormous amount (I cannot count the number of times she took me grocery shopping when I was 19 and making minimum wage and at the checkout line she would wave me away and pay for my groceries -- okay, let's face it, that lasted a lot longer than just when I was 20!). She still helps me an enormous amount -- I've come home recently to find that she's cut my grass or pruned my overgrown backyard! (Not to mention the full-time work she put in helping me get the last house ready to sell.) My mom is my rock, and I know the only way I can every pay her back is to be that good to my own child someday. She set the bar really high, though, so wish me luck.

Plus, she's almost 60 -- doesn't she look fantastic!!!???