So yesterday I was bored and I started to look up my family members online. It started with me looking up my Popop and the disease he discovered that is named after him. Then I was just putting people's names in. Well, the long and the short of it is that I found a guy and his friends who are still playing a wargame that my dad published in like 1981. I found the description of the game and everything, so I emailed him to see if he knew where I could get a copy of it and he emailed me back and told me that usually you can get it on ebay. Also, he said that he knows someone who would be interested in my dad making it available electronically, so I forwarded the email to my dad.
Then I found an interview with my brother's band from 1998 when he was touring. It even had a picture of him.
Then I found stuff on my cousin who was the national president of SADD (or on the national board of SADD or something like that..or both) and was written about in Teen People magazine.
I had a blast online and printed tons of stuff to scrapbook, but by the time my husband came to pick me up from work, I was sat here thinking of what a shlub I am. I haven't done a darned noteworthy thing. I can't even get myself to write my thesis which is probably going to be too late to turn in. I have 50 pages of a novel that I never touch. Blah Blah Blah. I can't even say I was "busy being a mom"
It sounds like I'm depressed, but I'm not. Just in one of my "life assessment" times. Finding what I like and what I want to change. You know, like New Years, just a little late this year.

Random thoughts:

I have a confession to make. Sometimes I'm disappointed in myself because I don't have the willpower to be anorexic. Isn't that sad? Cognitively I know that being anorexic would be a horrible thing. It would damage my psyche, my health and probably my family. But, sometimes, deep down, I wonder why I don't have that kind of willpower. I know its because it isn't willpower, but rather sickness--and yet I can't shake that feeling that I wish I had that kind of stick-to-it-ness. I also wish that the birth control pill had made me super skinny like it did for my cousin. Well, maybe not that skinny, but you know what I mean.

second random thought: it is interesting that we buried my grandfather on Shakespeare's birthday. My mom is a SHakespeare scholar and teaches Shakespeare. We've always celebrated his birthday (which is also the day that he died).

What is wrong with me? I love clothes. LOVE them. I love accessories, clothes, shoes, handbags, everything to do with dressing. It is a major passion, albeit a superficial one. It is fun.
I went shopping today and was depressed. I can't fit in a lot of really cute clothes because my butt, stomach and arms are too big. There is so much cuteness I miss out on. I long to wear some of those things and yet, I just don't kick my ass in gear and get in shape.
I love the clothes that I have, but I'm more limited. I would love to have NO limits on what I could wear. And, I know I'd be pretty darn good looking in them--not to sound arrogant. So why don't I DO something about it.
Right now I'm at a point in my life where I think, "what's the point" then I'll just get pregnant and have to go through it all over again. Why do I let that stop me? I don't not clean the kitchen because I'll just have to do that over again. Much of life is cyclical, like fitness, why can't I accept that about fitness and just do it.
I keep telling my husband I'd like to start taking walks. We walked so much in Spain and Portugal, especially after dinner and I really felt healthier, more energetic and happier. Yet, we don't go. He doesn't have to. He runs every few days and he's active in the yard, etc. I need to.
There are many things in my life I need to do. FItness, my master's thesis, get pregnant, and on and on. Its overwhelming sometimes.
But, anyway, my point was to say that I'm going to try some baby steps to fitness and fitting well into all of those cute summer clothes. I'm going to walk before or after dinner. I'm g oing to aim for five days a week. That's by baby step. I'll add other stuff later (like not having m&ms that sit in jars on people's desks and cutting out my caffeine addiction...especially the sodas).

I am not pregnant. I know this is Too Much Information for all of you, but I just had icky pink blood staring at me. Mocking me. Telling me that I am still not allowed to be a part of that huge community of mothers who get a holiday in a week and a half.
I am sad. My mother said "Well, at least you get to have fun trying." I sucked in my breath, not wanting to lose it with my mother the week her father died so I just quietly said "I hate when people say that." I think people don't know what to say to women who've had miscarriages. Truth be told, "I'm sorry," is what's appropriate and hurts the least. Please don't give us advice or pontificate on the meaning of life or God's plan. Let us arrive at those truths on our own when we are ready.
I was just reading C's blog. She was talking about her "sisterhood" I know what she means. The TTCAM sisterhood has saved my sanity. I'm going through withdrawl today because the boards are unavailable.
Well, I am trying to think through to next month. I'm not going to be pregnant on Mother's Day, but maybe May will be my magic month. Maybe it will be the right time. If we do conceive, we'd be due in February. Our birthdays are the same day in Feb. My parents anniversary is in Feb. My brother's birthday is in Feb, and my grandfather who just died's birthday is in Feb. We'll probably pile on another family holiday in Feb. then. That's the way life works. It might be kind of cool to give birth on the birthday I share with my husband.
I just wish I had the roadmap to my life. Sure, its probably more "fun" not knowing. But sometimes not knowing can bring you to the edge of insanity because you didn't see the roadsigns, or you would have taken the other fork in the road.
Sometimes I wish I had never concieved our little Froggy because then we'd just now be thinking about getting pregnant. But Froggy will always be a part of me and of who I am. I know many of you think that I should just get over it. But, you probably aren't one of the many who has gone in for your first ultrasound and found a lifeless form instead. Once you look at that on a screen, you can't help but see that image reflected in the endless babies and pregnant bellies that surround you.
Sometimes I also wish I didn't do things the "right" way. You know, wait until I had a BA, a house, a secure and good job, the perfect man. Some of my friends from highschool have no idea how I envy their parent teacher conferences, soccer games, all nighters because the baby is crying. There is a huge hole in my life that I have no control over filling. What if I'm one of those women who will never bear live babies?

The most bizzare thing just happened. My mom stopped in to my office to eat lunch, she had exactly 8 minutes to eat before a meeting. We sat here eating while my radio played. Its on the same station it always is on. It usually plays hits from the 80s and 90s..mostly alternative. It often plays The Cure whom I adore and whose song "Just like Heaven" is "our song" for my husband and I.
Anyway, while we're sitting here in those 8 minutes, one of the two songs we played at my grandfather's funeral comes on. I've never heard it on the radio before. Its by Mercy Me and it is VERY religious, not something you'd hear on your stadard radio station. Here are some of the lyrics:

"I can only imagine what it will be like when I walk by Your side...
I can only imagine, what my eyes will see, when Your Face is befor me!
I can only imagine, I can only imagine"
"Surrounded by your Glory, what will my heart feel?
Will I dance for you Jesus? Or, in awe of you, be still?
Will I stand in Your presence, or to my knees will I fall?
Will I sing 'Hallelujah!"? WIll I be able to speak at all?
I can only imagine, I can only imagine!"

So you can see how that isn't your normal radio station song...
and to be played in the 8 minutes we were sitting here.
We both burst into tears and held hands. I could see my aunt in my head. At the funeral...or celebration of life as we called it, She had her eyes closed and sung this song under her breath with all her might as we sat there. It did my heart good to see her lose herself in the song. I tried to hold that picture in my head while I sat here sobbing in my office.
I'm still reeling from it.

From cnn.com:
At a number of strip clubs across the country, house moms do more than just help the performers get ready for the next shift. They listen when the girls need to vent and console when a customer gets abusive. They are part coach, part guidance counselor and very much a surrogate mother.

"They're good for everything," says Vye, a 26-year-old stripper from Las Vegas. "They're better than a real mom."

This article made me both sad and comforted. I can't imagine thinking that a house mother at a strip joint is better than my real mom, but then I've had the benefit of being blessed by a mother who is my cheerleader, my teacher, my guidance counseler, my coach and my friend. The article went on to talk about how these women come to the house mom's for advice about missed car payments, fights with friends or family, etc. It seems like they can't go to their own mothers about things like that. And, of course, they don't want their moms to know they're stripping. Well, I wouldn't want my mom to know either, but part of me can't help but think maybe they're stripping because they didn't have foundational family guidance when they're young. I'd like to think that even if I found myself stripping, Id still be able to keep my mom close. I know it would break her heart. So, I'm glad these girls have someone to guide them (though, I kind of wonder at the quality of the advice they get...)
It was just another reminder of how lucky I am to have a great mom. Now if I could just BE a great mom...

I feel so helpless. I want a baby. My mother told me today "I'm ready for a baby anytime now" when I was at my grandmother's everyone talked about how my Nana needs more great-grandchildren. It was one of those rare moments I allowed myself to think about my empty womb. About how this month I would be 5 months and I would be showing and I would know the sex of the baby. I don't usually do this. I would rather put it behind me as much as possible. I would rather be pregnant and moving on.
I would love to give everyone a baby. Most of all my husband and myself. We have only been trying two months since the miscarriage, but still it feels so hopeless. The chances, even if everything is optimal, are 20% of getting pregnant. 20%!!! How do all those accidental pregnancies happen? My goodness, talk about odds!
I'm still not sure about this month. Its quite possible that I am pregnant. I should know within a week. I've already taken 3 pregnancy tests all way too soon to have been positive anyway, but as most women who are trying to conceive a baby know, the obsession with what we call "peeing on a stick" takes over you and you can't help but do it, even though that negative test is going to devestate you.
My mom just asked me on the phone what she can do. I told her to pray. That's my only solution. I can do everything right and still only have a 20% chance. The only thing that will increase those odds is prayer.
I know I will be pregnant when the "time is right" but I'm just hoping that time is now. I'm so nervous and scared that it won't be.

I just broke my favorite lamp. I was moving things around in the living room, adding a small tea for two table and wanted my shabby chic iron lamp with crystals on it. I set it on the table and then moved the table like an idiot. It fell to the floor and broke the beautiful opalescent globe that it rests on. *sigh* I'm an IDIOT. I hate when I do stupid things like that. What was I thinking? The globe shattered. So, I took it out and I'm going to have to epoxy the rest of it together so that I can still use it. I will miss that lamp the way it was. It was beautiful. I got it on ebay, too. I don't think I could ever replace it.

I left Monday morning with my family to go to Arizona because of the death of my Popop. Just my parents and brother and I went. We left our spouses at home. I left dh home because it was too hard to figure out who would watch the house/dogs last minute (SIL can't look after them, wont go into that....). In a way I was glad to leave dh at home. It gave me the ability to be with my Nana without worrying about whether he was entertained, too. Not that he's like that. He could have happily sat there. But this way I also didn't have to worry about home. *sigh* I missed him!
While my mom and aunt did the arrangements for the funeral, etc and my uncle and dad sorted out financial stuff, I sat with my Nana, who is 86, and tried to help her be thankful for the long 58 years she spent with my Popop. They had a wonderful married life...the kind everyone dreams of...and he was full of life and fun and success. She couldn't have had it better. But, she never thought he would go first, even though he had massive heartattacks twenty years ago. I remember twenty years ago he died 11 times and was recessitated by paramedics. They worked and worked on him in the family room of her home. They even received an award for saving him. I think he's been on borrowed time since then and especially since Sept. when they called us and told us he had an hour to live. We rushed to Arizona then (my husband included) and said goodbye. Three days later, they took his machines off and he asked for something to eat!
That was the last time I saw him, though I talked to him frequently since he had a phone installed at the nusing home.
So anyway, I digress. We went through pictures and laughed at all the good times we had. I took about 80-100 pictures to Kinkos and color copied them and then made a collage on a trifold presentation board. In the middle I wrote a poem in calligraphy called The Broken Chain that she had found in a catalog of all places about how families feel when someone died. It starts "We little knew that morning that God was going to call you home" No kidding!
Some of the pictures I put a banner explaining what they were, but most I just left. It is beautiful and she just loves it.There were pictures of him with all of the grandkids in the pool (one of him jumping in the pool and we remember that his trunks fell off right after the picture was taken!), pictures of him as Santa, of them on cruises, their wedding picture, of him dressed up in a crazy wig with the hair all sticking out (three of those actually...on all years apart), of the grandparents and the grandkids at their 50th wedding renewal of the vows when we were the bridal party, pictures of him at his moutain home, etc. We had such a great life with him and I ended up feeling sad, of course, but also incredibly blessed. I hope in time she feels that, too.
The viewing was awful. My parents wouldn't go in, but I wentwith my cousins, aunt and uncle and Nana. She didn't handle that well and after she said goodbye, we took her out to my parents to greet people as they came. We had the picture collage there, so people got a good laugh looking at them (oh! I forgot, there was even one of him in a nightgown!).
We had the burial before the church service and that was good. We all squeezed into a limo and kept Nana busy with her first and only great grandchild who is 6mos old. I cried as soon as my feet hit the grass, but it was really a beautiful plot. There are nice trees, a view of the mountains and a pond with a fountain in the middle and swans!He used to take me to feed swans named Winnie and Pooh when I was a little girl. In fact, if you've been reading my blog, I described feeding winnie and pooh to my aunt on the audio letter my mom found on tape recently. He also said he liked the plot because there's a mcdonalds across the street and we could get something to eat after visiting him.
Anyway, it was a military burial since he was a Navy Captain (apparantly like a colonel..I had no idea). They played taps and folded the flag and gave it to my Nana. She bent her head and kissed it and cried into it, holding it like a child.
The ceremony at the church was better. I cried, but we told happy stories from his childhood that Nana gave us in a memory book they made for us in 1987. My father and uncle spoke as did some of his colleagues in oral-maxilliofacial surgery. It was a nice remembrance.
When I came home, I was so happy to be here. I was a little disappointed, though, as I've been waiting for my yellow rose to bloom for WEEKS and it bloomed and faded while I was gone.
Today we put up the garden arch in our yard. We walked under it for our wedding, as did all of our guests. We put it at the entrance to our yard and are training honeysuckle to grow up it.
What a week. I am exhausted.

My Popop died this morning. It is 2:58 am and I climbed out of bed because I couldn't stay there. I am restless.
Last Fall, they called us and told us that he only had a few hours to live and was in ICU. We put my mom on a plane and we hopped in the car and we drove there (they're in Arizona and we're in California). It was awful! My mom and her sister weren't taking it well and my Nana, oh! She was throwing herself on him and saying he couldn't die alone, she'd have to go with him. We prayed for time and God granted us that. Eventually, we had to put him in a nursing home because he just needed more help than my family could give him--we toyed with the at home nurse idea, but I just didn't like that, for many reasons some of which I may go into at a later time.
They found the best nursing home money can buy. Which means it wasn't great. But, it wasn't awful either--as long as my family was consistant in going he got pretty good care. I worked at a nursing home in my early days. I know what a hard, hard job it is. Its difficult to find one that is staffed well enough.
Last time my mom was there, she got a phone line installed by his bed, so we've been able to call him on a regular basis, too. I am very thankful for that. Sometimes when we'd call he was out of it. He'd think he was still a Dr. on staff rather than a patient. One time he thought he was on vacation riding a camel in the Sahara. Some of that bothered my family. It didn't bother me. Since I worked at a nursing home, I have decided that I would rather be confined to bed and totally lose my mind than be aware that I am confined to a bed. As long as he was having fun, I was happy with his delusions. Sometimes, though, he'd be perfectly aware. The itching was driving him crazy. However, Saturday I had a good talk with him. Brief, because that's all he cound stand, but he was eating dessert and enjoying it. I'm glad I called Saturday.
I am looking at a picture I have on my desk of my Nana and Popop on their 50th wedding anniversary. They renewed their vows that day and we had a full fledged wedding ceremony with my family as the bridal party. It was fun and a special day.
I have very, very fond memories of him. We spent summers at their house. He was a very commanding man. He had all kinds of stories from when he was an oral surgeon and working in the hospital--especially from when he was in the Public Health Service and worked on an Indian Reservation.
He used to yell at us to hurry up in Navajo. I can still hear his deep voice.
He used to sing "The Tattooed lady" which cracked all us kids up....and I remember one time in church discovering him singing "Watermelon, Watermelon" with full voice. Apparantly once someone told him that if you didn't know the words to the song, you can mouth watermelon over and over and it looks like you know. Mouth, Popop, NOT SING.
On my refridgerator I have a picture of my grandparents that I took last year. They are both in their jammies, in their 80s, but Nana is sitting on his lap all curled up. Its a beautiful picture. Last month was their 58th wedding anniversary. Can you imagine?
Last week my mom gave me a tape while we were standing in line at the bank. She told me to go home and listen to it. On the tape we are sending an "audio letter" to my aunt Kitzi, whom I am named after. I am two or three. My mom is younger than I am. My Nana and Popop are strong and full of life. I listed to it with joy. Popop was talking about a trip to their moutain house to play golf. Oh, how he loved to golf. Tee times seemed so early to me! I will treasure that tape always. We're hoping to put it on cd.
I thank God for our extra time with him and now I pray that He will be with Nana and my aunt and mother. I pray that he will bring them peace. I pray that He will help them to understand and accept. I pray that he will make their memories strong.
Goodbye Popop, I love you!

"Do you seek to enter the United States to engage in export control violations, subversive or terrorist activities, or any other unlawful purpose? Are you a member or representative of a terrorist organization as currently designated by the U.S. Secretary of State? Have you ever participated in persecutions directed by the Nazi government of Germany; or have you ever participated in genocide? (yes / no)

While a YES answer does not automatically signify ineligibility for a visa, if you answered YES you may be required to personally appear before a consular officer."

Had to let the rest of the world read this. I saw it on someone else's blog who is applying for a visa for a trip to the US. Can you believe this question? what idiot says YES to this? what is this question for? so that we can check a stupid box? So we can say "we didn't know they were going to fly into the world trade center, they said they weren't intending to"

My head hurts from that...

I was thinking today about a friend of mine. She is a great person, really nice and thoughtful and intelligent. She is an atheist. That has been her choice and I am not the one to make a judgement about that. However, her daughter has recently gotten involved in church, I'd say for the last year. Her faith is strong and God has helped her to overcome some really bad things in her life. This is really upsetting her mother. I was thinking about this today and I think if her daughter had "come out" as a homosexual that would have been much easier for her mom to take.
This got me to thinking about prejudice. A lot of my very liberal friends like to think of themselves as the most tolerant people they know. But while their tolerance covers the usual ground....multicultural, gay, transgender, Islamic and Jewish, for example, it doesn't seem to extend in the same way to Christianity. Why is that? It seems that when someone finds someone else is Christian, they automatically make assumptions about them. What are those assumptions, I wonder?
I know quite some time ago I experienced two forms of prejudice against me. Once a very close gay friend of mine found out that I am Christian and go to church regularly. She was shocked because I am so accepting of her. She automatically assumed that all Christians are anti-gay. *sigh*
Another person, upon finding out that I'm a registered republican (more of a centrist with conservative fiscal leanings really...with a modest distrust of all elected officials and potential ones for that matter, but I digress) she said "But you don't hate black people." I was shocked. Do people really think that Republicans hate African Americans?
Why do we as a society continue to make value judgements on people because of lables we associate with them? Why can't we judge what we know of people? I don't think Muslims are terrorists just because of their faith, why do people insist on making judgements about me because of mine?
My friend's daughter, for example. I told her mother that I think its great that she's in church. Not just because I am a believer, too, but because it has helped her get over some really bad and destructive behavior and set her on a positive path in life. She's getting along with her family, doing well in school, etc. Isn't that what we should "judge" if we're judging anything at all?

We had an Easter Tea at my house for the family today. I made cookies shaped like flowers and "planted" them in flower pots on tongue depresser "stems." Then I made cupcakes that looked like beehives with bees on them and a flower shaped bunt cake. We used our wedding china and crystal and some pink depression glass dessert plates and my 1847 Rogers silverware. It was very pretty and I'm happy with how the pictures of the table setting came out.
My dad said he thinks I do this just to have a reason to set the table. He's right. I love setting the table. I love anything about entertaining at the table; that's why I need a bigger dining room! I love table linens, glassware, centerpieces, napkin rings (I love napkin rings!!), dishes, serving pieces,etc.
Today I used my new cake plate for the first time. I got this white cake plate for my birthday that looks like it has a lace edge and a green ribbon is threaded through it. I just love it. I also used my pink bird napkin rings that I got 6 for $1 at an antique store.
The other day in Vegas I told my husband that my greatest desires in the world right now are a baby and a bigger dining room. I think I would be close to perfectly happy with those two things. I love for my family to get together and to dress up the dining room, but its so small we can hardly squeeze in there.
Tomorrow I'm getting up at 5:00am to go to sunrise service. We have to bring a flower an a chair. A bunch of churches are holding the service at the city park. I think we'll probably cover the cross with the flowers...we've done that before.
We planted two more rose bushes inthe front garden. Now there are six that line the picket fence and one against the house. I can't wait to see what color three of them are. We dug them up from the church's memorial rose garden because they're adding on and had to remove the roses, so we all got to come get some. I planted them when they were bare this winter, so I've no idea what color they are. The ones we purchased are purple, orange and a pale pink. The ones on the house are a climber and they're red and yellow. I can't wait until the rose bushes are big and poke through the picket fence.
The trees we planted are doing well. I am looking forward to more shade. It seemed so hot today, but I think that's because I was baking and we don't have the cooler on yet. that will probably be next weekend's job if D. is home.

Good Friday.
The Blood Of Christ.
We saw the passion of the christ today. Before I begin, let me say that I know some of you, dear readers, are snickering to yourselves right now. That's ok. I have been you, too. I don't know why, but I have always thought religion was beautiful and sacred. I love seeing how devout some Muslims and Jews are to their faiths and envied their commitment. I have somehow been afraid to show that same enthusiasm, to see that same beauty in my own faith. For fear of persecution, for fear of looking silly. Well, that time has passed.
Today we saw the Passion of the Christ. You always hear those words "the blood of Christ spilled for you and for many" but somehow it doesn't touch you to the depth of your soul, how much love it must have taken to SUFFER like that. But, there on the screen you are forced to see what suffering means. Forced to see what a beating He took and what he did for love of us. For the forgiveness of our sins.
I was watching and thinking "for me? are you kidding me?"
I kept thinking, if that were my mother or father who agreed to take that beating for me, would I feel how real that love is?
And I kept thinking I have been Peter and denied Christ, I have been Judas and betrayed him, I have been Chaiaphas and nailed him to a cross. And yet he loves me. He knew we would all do this, and loved us enough to take that beating for us anyway.
The blood of Christ, spilled and dripping. For me. For you. For all of us.
I cannot let things of this world seperate me from the love of my God. Least of all the fear that you think I'm ridiculous. My faith is beautiful and sacred. God's blood was spilled for me.That is no small matter.
I cried through Good Friday services tonight. As we went through the service and the readings, I saw him there laying under the cross, unable to carry it any further. Bleeding, tired, suffering and yet willing to do this. I hope that I am strong enough to keep that in my mind's eye. To remember. And to serve.

Back from Vegas. I *so* enjoyed our trip. We did what we always do. Hang out in the pool and laying in the sun for several hours, eat at the buffet and then spend the rest of the time walking from hotel to hotel. They are amazing. The amount of detail shown in each themed hotel is astonishing. We were in the NYNY today for lunch and D and I walked around checking out all the windows of the fake buildings. Every window that should have been an apartment looked like it was. You could see little snippets of lives that don't even exist.
And, of course, the Bellagio is something to see. The fountains are so fun to watch. We watched three of them. Then, we went inside to see the conservatory. It had a spring theme with butterflies. There were giant topiary type ducks, butterflies that seemed to have come off of a rose parade float and then, the grecian gazebo type thing was netted in and had been turned into an aviary for live butterflies. It was quite neat.
When we got home I went to Seder with my parents at our church. That was very interesting. I've only attended a seder once when I was dating a Jewish guy.
We've got some work to do tomorrow.Lorelei broke a window in the dining room while we were gone (i'm sure it was her as she stands there for hours wanting to get at a cat that she hates(Lorelei is our Basset Hound))
We're also going to see the Passion of the Christ. Good Friday seemed like an appropriate time for that.

Vegas Baby, Vegas!
D and I are headed off to Vegas tomorrow am. We go rather frequently as it close, relatively inexpensive and there is a lot to do.
I'm not a gambling type and neither is D, so we aren't going to win. But, I love casinos for some reason. I love the excited air, the sounds of the machines and people, the distant sound of entertainment, the smell of too much smoke and booze in one area. I don't know why. I love it.
The weather will be good, so we'll get some swimming in. Walk around. People watch.
This habit of going away once a month is really helpful. Last month we had a three day cruise. It was so fun! We salsa danced. We ate dinner in the dining room and then went to the buffet for more. We watched all the shows and paid for all the overpriced portraits.
It is, however, making me very backlogged with my scrapbooks.
I was thinking of how many pictures that I need to develop and it made me sick to my stomach. I will never catch up. Our honeymoon is like 195 alone. Fortunately, I'm going to upload those to walmart.com a few at a time. But I've got Thanksgiving, Christmas, wedding, honeymoon, mardi gras, our birthday in Monterrey, the cruise, Knotts Berry Farm and now Vegas (as well as a few other random photos like our dog Lucy wearing my surgical cap after my D&C).
Nothing more to say, really.

I think I'm still a bit angry at my mom. The other day when I was so depressed about the abortion girl, I was talking about it with my mom when we went out for pizza. She basically told me to get over it. I told her that was easy for her to say. She said if it was easy for her to say, then she'd say it again. She did, over and over again.
I burst into tears in the middle of the pizza place.
I couldn't believe that when she saw that my mother did nothing to comfort me. She turned her head away. I don't know what that meant. Usually my mom is a very comforting woman. She always says that feelings are never right or wrong, they just are.
So why does she expect me to be over this?
Yes, this happens to a LOT of women. It is much more common than I ever knew. And, for the most part, I am accepting of what has happened. I can look at it both objectively and theologically. I believe and trust in God.
That doesnt' mean it doesn't hurt and it doesnt' mean I'm not sad and it doesn't mean I'm over it.
My husband moved on quickly, too. He is so flexible, a roll with the punches kind of guy. He figures we'll have a baby when its time. He doesn't understand when I prop my legs up in the air after sex to help his swimmers out.
Everyone says we should just enjoy being newlyweds. We are, by the way, ttc doesn't change that. BUT, coming home from my honeymoon pregnant change my life and the course of my life, too. I am not trying to replace the one we lost (we call 'him' froggy....we conceived in Salamanca Spain where the mascot is aparantly a frog). But, I have been put on the path of motherhood and that baby awaked a deeper yearning than I knew I had. And we're in our 30s...we can't put it off forever.
Lately I think I am angrier than I have ever been. I am angry at my family for not feeling the same way I do, I am angry with God for letting abortion girl get pregnant with a healthy fetus, I am angry at my body for not being a good enough womb (I can't help but feel inadequate, especially when I see these women around me who so effortlessly conceive and carry). I am sad and scared that I have been mad at God this week, especially since the week of my miscarriage I felt God's presence as I never have before. I felt a peace I cannot describe. I felt cared for and loved. Why should abortion girl change it (that's a mean name to call her, but it takes so long to say "the girl who is having the abortion).
I think deep down I expected to conceive quickly after the miscarriage. I think that's why I dealt with it better than I am now (and, to be fair, it has only been three months...that is NOTHING compared to how long it is taking others which only makes me feel selfish and greedy and adds to my anger at myself...) Now, when I realise that I'm just like all the other people trying to conceive and it might be years until I see my Big Fat Positive, I am so, so sad. I can't help but feel close to despair when I think about it. But, I can't do that to myself. I can't live in that place. I have to force myself to be positive and think positively.
I can't be mad at abortion girl, either. We all have our own personal crosses to bear.

*whew*
I'm done with the fantasy baseball draft! D had to work at Vandenberg, AFB this weekend, so I had to do his fantasy baseball draft. I know NOTHING about baseball. He left me three pages of notes and his prerankings, but I got confused during the live draft and it took me a bit to get into the swing of things (the rankings list kept changing from all positions to one position without me noticing). I hope his team is ok. I started to cry in the middle of it, because it was causing so much stress. His friends from college were teasing me. I'd pick someone and they'd say "Are you going solo?" "Are you sure his list is OK?" or "he's going to be MAD" and I didn't know enough to know whether they were teasing me or serious.
When I started crying, I tried to pinpoint the cause, its just fantasy baseball for Goodness sake....
I think its because I love him so much and he really enjoys fantasy baseball and I wanted to do a good job for him.
I'm going to send him to the mall to buy me shoes!
I told his buddies that, they thought that was mean.
I hope he doesn't kill me.

I cannot believe a jury found that Texas mother not guilty of murder. She bludgeoned her children to death with rocks. Ok, yeah, maybe she's crazy. That doesn't mean she's not guilty. And, yes, she'll probably spent the rest of her life in an insane asylum. That doesn't mean she's not guilty. I don't necessarily think she has to go to prison. A lifetime in an asylum is fine with me. She is still guilty. She killed her children. Brutally.
Do you know how many people ache for a child?

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,115817,00.html
I just read this story and it made my heart swell with pride. Americans really are, for the most part, good people. We care about each other. When the chips are down, we band together. This story reminded me in a way of the days and months post September 11. Those times when more homes than not displayed the flag. I remember the mad dash to get those car flags. You know, they went on your window. Some cars had two and three. I bought mine on a corner. I had to wait in a very long line of cars, maybe 30 or more to get the flags. Anyway, those car flags, and the flag at my house made me feel connected with total strangers. It was a time when we were all friendlier. You didn't pass people without looking at them or acting like they didn't exist.
Anyway, the above story is actually about Audrey Seiler's home town. About how the people there comforted one another and looked for Audrey. During a candelight vigil they discovered Audrey was alive and Dominos Pizza sent over free pizza and the fire department came and hoisted an American Flag over the crowd.
I guess it doesn't matter that Audrey faked the whole thing. What matters is that all of those people did the right thing.They were there for one another. They showed love and compassion to people they might not know. That's what being American is about.

Breaking news.
A psychologist in Texas just affirmed that the woman who stoned her two children to death is insane.
Duh.
Do SANE mothers stone their children to death because God told them to?
I don't get why we have psychologists confirm that people are crazy when they do these unspeakably horrible things. Like Dahmer for example. Do we need a psychologist to declare he is/was sane? Uhm...I'm pretty sure if you are killing people and eating them YOU ARE NOT IN YOUR RIGHT MIND.
I don't think we should just be letting these people get away with murder, either. And, please, spare me the "they didn't know right from wrong" because I don't care. Those people are dangerous and shouldn't be around the rest of us.

I just read the news story about how the missing Audrey faked her disappearance. I was feeling really guilty because yesterday I had started to doubt her story. It just seemed odd. I felt badly that I was beginning to doubt her.
Well, I guess my instincts are pretty good. Bah. What a horrible thing to do. I can't imagine the pain she put her loved ones through.
And it is a slap in the face to those people who have had loved ones kindapped and harmed or, worse, murdered.

I went to Walmart and had some wedding photos enlarged today. I enlarged my favorite one, the one of Dave and I leaving down the aisle. I love it-its so more in the moment than the posed pictures. I got an 8X10. Its a great picture of my dress. My dress is antique (1911) and we got it on ebay. My mom had to rebuild it for two reasons: 1. to make it bigger (Edwardian women were TINY) and 2. the underdress that was beaded was just too fragile. She took the center of the beaded part and sewed it onto an entirely new underdress that she sewed.
I don't know why I held the boquet so high. In all the pictures I'm holding it level with my chin.
The other picture I enlarged was taken by my friend Andrea. Its of David and I at the bridal table at the reception. we're leaning together. I love pictures like that because David always presses his head against mine. When he does that I feel like he genuinely likes taking photos with me and I feel very, very loved because he also rubs my back at the same time.
*gush*
anyway, I got some more enlargements of the same picture and did a scrapbook page with two of them of the same pic. One of black and white and one color.
I'd like to get some photo tinting pens and tint parts of a black and white picture for the scrapbook...it looks so great when other people do that.
I need to start keeping a list of things I want to do in my scrapbooks. I'm branching out and trying some cool stuff rather than just doing the same old thing. Its really fun and a great creative outlet.

no political or religious rants today. I'm too busy being all gushy about my new husband. He's gone for the weekend.

Thank you notes are one of the greatest things in the world. I did the last of my four guest lectures in a Human Developement class today. At the end, the Instructor passed me a stack of thankyou notes from the class. It was so sweet and put me in a good mood for the whole day. It is even better than the ones you get when you present at conferences--those people are all colleagues, they ALL think study skills and learning are important. But, getting thank-yous that say "I have applied these techniques in my History class and improved my grades" (etc) makes you feel like you've done something worthwhile. I especially loved the one that said "I enjoyed every minute of your time" awwww. shucks...