I sent the letter in the last post via email to Dr. Short But Sweet. I can’t resist posting his response, although I am on a deadline for the afore mentioned “friends” project and am posting quickly-and-may-delete-laterly, as I devoutly hope he does not stumble upon this blog. Obviously I have removed real names.
Dear ArtSweet (& Pili)
You are among the lucky ones in life and we are about celebrating life
I felt it important to invite all to our celebration and not leave anyone out. I am sorry if it was considered a slight on a sensitive issue, I certainly did not mean to be insensitive. I have wrestled with this issue for some time and believe that we are all part of the same universal energy and there are many ways to find success. By including all, I believe this is the best way we are going to expand the positive energy of life and the universe.
Please accept my apologies.
Dr. Short But Sweet
I cannot believe I let this man stick sharp needles up my
Dear Dr. Short But Sweet,
Thanks for the invitation to your tenth anniversary celebration and congratulations on reaching this milestone. As Pili and I do not have any children, and this appears to be a very family-centered event, we will not be attending. In the future, I would suggest that it might be more sensitive to leave those patients who are not “success stories” off the mailing list for such events. It simply serves as one more reminder that we are not among the lucky ones.
On a totally different note: For a writing project I’m working on, I need references to songs with the word “friends” in the lyrics. I’ve got “with a little help from my friends,” “that’s what friends are for,” and “you’ve got a friend” but I need a few more. Preferably songs that would resonate with the baby boomer generation… any suggestions?
I’ve stopped counting how many online friends, real-life friends, and family members have successfully reproduced or adopted since we started down this path nigh on three and a half YEARS ago. Dozens. Probably close to fifty. Most of the time I’m fine with it. Occasionally something stings. And then there are the third degree burns.
Today Pili & I both got cards in the mail from our fertility clinic, where the four remaining embryos-of- certain-arguments-and-tears rest in their chilly freezer. The outside of the card features an adorable picture of a child in a lion-suit and invites us to “Party with the Animals!” On the inside: “Insensitive Tactless Fertility Inc. Invites You to Celebrate Ten Years With Us at the Zoo! Barbecue… Clowns… Magicians… Face Painting… FUN!”
Don’t you think they could’ve screened the mailing list to leave out us failures? Would that have been so fucking hard?
Thanks to my friend the engineer, who stopped by after work today, we now have cribbage in our living room.
It could use a fresh coat of paint, but I think it’s quite pretty.
Here are some pix of the bumper.
Now all I need is a baby to put in it… sigh.
My superstitious I-don’t-want-to-jinx-it nature is over-ruled only by the sheer joy I take in getting a really really good bargin. So when I saw a really pretty crib at the second-hand babystuff store near work – which came with a bumper with orange kitties on it – for $25 – I decided that g-d would not put such bargins in my path if s/he/it wanted to strike me down for my chutzpah. Or something like that.
Before you get all, um, art, used crib, um, safety on me, they only sell stuff that meets current safety standards. So there’s a crib in my living room. Unfortunately, I have no clue how to assemble it. And while it came with an adorable bumper – it did not come with instructions.
I got this far.
I know that the bottom part there is a foot bar that you use to raise and lower the movable side. I know that the brackets on the springy piece fit into the white brackets somehow and the crib mattress will go on top of the springs. I suspect that the little metal things that come out of the moveable side engage with the foot rail somehow. It came with a bunch of hardware, including 4 springs. I have no clue how it all fits together. Because it was on consignment, I have to return it by Thursday if I don’t want to keep it.
|Bracket on the bedspring|
|White bracket that I think bedspring backet goes into|
|Metal foot bar to raise and lower side|
|Movable side with metal thingies at bottom that I think engage somewhow with metal bar|
Both Pili and I somehow managed to avoid the lesbian DIY gene, although I can put together an ikea product with a minimum of cursing. If it weren’t for that, I think I’d be out of the lesbian-stereotype-club altogether, as my firm motto when it comes to sports involving flying objects coming at my head is stop, drop, and roll. On the other hand, we do drive a subaru.
If you think you can talk me through this, or you have instructions for a similar crib you could fax or scan for me (the brand is Nod-a-Way), please, please… let me know. There will be some sort of Guatemalan goodie in it for the helper… along with my undying gratitude.
In other news: I think we’ve found a house in MUCDTR. My desire not to spend every weekend shlepping back and forth is at war with my essential indecision factor. I don’t love this house the way I loved our house here and our condo in Flat City. But it’s down the street from the library, on a block with lots of kids and liberal looking families (although not so great as far as ethnic diversity), it has a huge back yard with a sandbox and a small guest house for our friends who are allergic to cats, and I think I could learn to love it. The owners are friends of a friend, and they are happy to split the difference not selling through a realtor with us. This is really happening. This is really happening. Holy Crap.
On the plus side – it’s finally, finally spring. And these are from my garden.
I may do a few password protected posts in the near future… adoption related stuff (nothing to worry about, just wanting to whine and feeling the need to do it a little more privately). If you’d like the password, email me at artsweets AT gmail DOT com or leave a comment on this post that includes your email address (it will only be visible to my eyes). If you haven’t commented before, or I don’t know you in real life, please tell me a little bit about yourself so that I feel comfortable spilling my guts to you!
I got a letter in the mail today officially offering me the position in more-urban-city-down-the-road (MUCDTR) that has been in the works since november.
I am thrilled. I am panicking, big time.
Homes in MUCDTR are twice as expensive as our house here. There is actually more than one neighborhood where we’d consider living. We need to find a home. Very very soon. Mortgage. House selling. House buying. Movers. Aaaaaaaaaack. [sandbox, head, insert, deeply]
We will be moving. I will be starting a new job. And possibly hopefully bringing home our boy. All right around the same time, if g-d and pgn* cooperate. Aaaaaaaack. [deep breath of sand]
Pili will be commuting a loooong way to her job and staying over a few nights a week while school is in session. I will be single momming it a few nights a week while school is in session. [Daycare. Add to list of Things. To. Figure. Out. Very large breath of sand.]
House. Daycare. Car. Two-door tin-can. Want to replace with car that does not require advanced yoga skills in order to get car seat in/out before boy comes home. Buy house. Buy car. Sell house. Sell car? Finish Big Projects at Current Job. Start New Job. Bring home baby? Move. And Still Leave time for Pili to Write Book.
Plus: As much as I gripe about the city with only three thai restaurants, we’ve made some really wonderful friends here. We have a beautiful house here. Now that this possible job is becoming Real, I find myself clutching onto the familiar and wondering whether I could have overlooked some way – in all my trying – that I could have made this place work for me professionally.
I know this is the right move. I think I know this is the right move. I’m so so freakin’ scared.
*This is assuming we are actually in PGN. Because this is a HAPPY albeit panicky post, I am not going to get into my current irritation with GAL today.
I really think I need this:
The possibilities… are… enticing…
(The closer you get… the slowwwwwer I drive)
Unfortunately, Pili thinks the possibilities would most likely get me run off the road.
(What are you over-compensating for with that Hummer?)
She’s probably right, but I still fantasize about it as I’m driving home and trying to escape the soothing clutches of John Tesh.
1. This is some truly truly scary crap. And why is the NPR station always in the middle of a really good story right when I hit the stretch of highway where the only radio stations that come in are Christian or country? No offense friends, but not my listening material of choice.
2. Along the same lines: It’s a little frightening to stop the radio on a station playing “American Pie,” start singing along, and then realize that you’re listening to this.
3. Not even remotely along the same lines: Shouldn’t it be: “Don’ cha wish your girlfriend were hot like
me I am?”
4. And finally: If I listen to John Tesh every night will I really live to be a hundred? And more to the point, is there any radio station in my listening area that doesn’t have the John Tesh show on?