Love him.

When I was in grade school we had this contest; every kid designed a container that would protect a raw egg from breaking when thrown from the top of a ladder.  I thought long and hard and failed a few times before I came up with a design that worked.  I encased the egg in raw bread dough wrapped in Styrofoam and wrapped in duct tape, safely protected in the “shock absorbing container” my egg withstood several at home trial runs.  On the day of the contest I brought my egg to school and I volunteered to be one of the first ones to go, confident in my design.  The plan was, everyone would toss their eggs off the ladder, and then we’d sit around in a big circle and open our eggs at the same time.  I knew from my at-home testing that the egg was intact, and I even un-wrapped it a little to check, and… success!  So I got a little cocky.  I spent the next hour or so throwing my egg at the ground as hard as I could until I threw it one time too many, and the egg cracked before we all unveiled our successful designs.

So, summer huh?  I sort of wasted it this year, wallowing in self pity.  Kind of a shame actually.

With fall just around the corner I have just a hint of summer left to enjoy.

I will…

Try my best to stop bitching about the heat.

Enjoy living on the beach while I still can.

Take the dogs t the dog beach so they can play.

Hit the farmers market for late summer produce

Wear flip flops and sundresses before it’s too cold.

Take lots of pictures and enjoy the sunshine.

I spent a too short weekend in DC.  I say too short, because I was feeling crummy and came home early, but I had a great time visiting my friend Lexa. 

My visit happened to fall on the same weekend as Glenn Beck’s “Restoring Honor” rally, so I was able to see the throngs of fanny-pack wearing rednecks up close, in DC and especially at the airport Sunday morning.  They were everywhere.  And they are so proud of themselves and their thinly veiled racism. 

For my part, I was going for bemused detachment.  Earphones, a good book… the last thing I need is to get my blood pressure up over that nonsense.

This weekend I had a BLT, and it made me homesick. 

Little things like that sometimes do.

I took one bite, closed my eyes, and I was sitting at my parents kitchen table eating a BLT made with fresh tomatoes from the garden and Lays potato chips.

I could feel the ceiling fan spinning above me, could see my dad jump up to start the dishes before my mom and I even finished lunch, I could feel the texture of the place mats that have been on my parent’s table for at least the past 15 years. 

And I want to go home.

Four pounds of organic Roma tomatoes from the garden

Two pounds Organic Gypsy peppers from the garden

One paring knife

Two pots of boiling water

One big bowl of ice

Lemon Juice

Garlic

Twelve regular mason jars

Twelve regular lids

…

…

…

…

Twelve wide mouth rings

Son of a bitch

Last month Josh and I found out that we were going to be homeless at the end of August, and it was the icing on the cake considering how the last few months have been going. 

We made plans to put our stuff in storage, take the dogs to my folks’ house and our friend Byron agreed to allow us to sublet his vacant apartment for a month.  Family and friends to the rescue!

It would have been expensive, stressful, and confusing for the pets, but it would have worked.  Nonetheless, we breathed a HUGE sigh of relief when our landlady changed her mind and agreed to let us stay until the end of September. 

How will things will work out after that?  Still up in the air, but at least we can sleep in our own dog-hair covered bed for a little while longer.

First things first, thanks to everyone who was so supportive about my post on APW yesterday. I always think it’s good to follow up a big, soul-bearing, emotional post with a little more perspective.

You guys were around when I was first diagnosed with infertility; I didn’t say it outright, but a lot of you read between the lines and knew what was up. Many of you emailed me privately with well wishes and encouragement, and although I never responded to any of you, I hope you know how much it meant to me.

My original diagnosis was incredibly vague, but because I don’t have any of the physical markers my doctor initially ruled out PCOS as the cause of my infertility. Many tests later he came back with the right diagnosis. We were incredibly relieved because although PCOS has no cure, the odds are about 50% that fertility treatments will work and result in a pregnancy.

I was in dark days when I wrote the post that was published on APW yesterday, and I kept it unpublished for months in my drafts folder. I knew I’d never publish it on my blog, even though it’s one of the most personal things I’ve ever written, and one of my favorites. Just writing it helped me process and work through a lot of my grief. One day when Meg asked for about what married life is like after the wedding I decided to just send to her, and let her make the call.

I think that too often we’re tempted to share the shiny parts of our lives, and keep the ugly parts under wraps. But for me, there is no separating the two, especially lately when I’ve been so singularly obsessed with questions of fertility, and disappointment and sadness. I feel like by letting go of my ugly, by lifting it up and sharing it with you the burden of grief is lifted up too, at least a little. I am humbled by the support and encouragement that I felt yesterday.

I am in a much better place than I was when I wrote that post, I’m feeling hopeful and optimistic, and I can’t wait for the day when I share some good news with you guys, whatever kind of good news it might be.

Most nights Josh and I sit in the living room and watch our television shows, Josh works on his computer and I work on my knitting.

Lately Tiberius has been pretty keen on helping.

I’m over at A Practical Wedding today, kind of a downer, but, hey, what are you going to do?  A little discalimer, I wrote this post a few months ago, and have since been diagnosed with PCOS, a much more hopeful diagnosis than my doctor originally thought.  Still not good news, but better news, I guess.