Big Red Monster


We’re visiting my parents – my mom has been wonderful, but my dad has definitely lost a lot since I last saw him. He can’t remember things day to day – often moment to moment is a real struggle. And he is suspicious; possesive of people and things. 

I’m pissed off at him. He’s been rude to Worf; suspicious of his movements, and ready to tear into him. 

There is a lot I can handle from my dad – even before he was sick, he could be a completely unreasonable asshole sometimes, and I often stood by him anyway. But if he is rude to my sweetheart, we are going to have some real problems. 

I’m pretty sure the anger is just a stage of grief, but in my defense, this big, red, suspicious monster is a real ass. 

Finally, A Non-Answer

 Diagnosis: unexplained infertility. My numbers are excellent. He gave us a few options, but he recommends IVF.

I’m sitting in the lobby, not quite ready to go home. Shell shocked, and not entirely sure that I won’t start crying, though that feeling is subsiding. 

I expected more, somehow, and I don’t know what to make of that. 


In Which My Husband Grants my General Conference Wish


This weekend was the first weekend in April, which meant Mormons from all over the world gathered together (usually virtually, via the Internet) to listen to messages from our leaders. It involves several hours of talks on religious subjects, as well as beautiful music, and many Mormons have family traditions associated with the two-day semi-annual event. 

On Saturday night, I tweeted in rapid succession: 





I wish this had happened, but it didn’t. And then a family member (whom I both love and respect) gave both the Klingon and I the impression that she did not feel morally comfortable with one of the choices we may have before us. 

I was feeling pretty down by the end of last night’s final session, and convinced the Klingon to take a walk with me around the lake near our home. Walking is good for the soul, and it makes it easier to talk about difficult things. 

Somewhere along the way, he mentioned that he had been thinking about Eve, in the Garden of Eden, how she must have felt a weight knowing she would be the mother of all living, but she had no children and no idea how to make it happen. We Mormons revere her for making the decision of eating the fruit, affecting the fall, but we don’t often think of the weight she must have carried that must have factored heavily into her decision.

“And then I was thinking about you, Mae. Nobody has tried harder or been more diligent in building our family than you. And if someone told you there was a fruit that would make it so you could have children, you couldn’t get it from them fast enough.

Maybe, he said, maybe infertility was the first challenge ever. 

And just like that, my sweet, stalwart Klingon of a husband provided the healing balm I’d been seeking. I love you, Worf.


In Which I Microblog a Quick Update


School starts again tomorrow, and k would do almost anything to have another week. Probably because I know that I have a LOT of work to do. And frankly, I would rather be binge- watching The West Wing. I do love witty banter and political intrigue.

Also, to be filed under “Possibly TMI”, I’m supposed to be going in to get blood tests on day 3 of my cycle, and I’m in kind of this weird place where I started spotting 4 or 5 days ago, needed a hygiene product for only one day, then went back to spotting. So I’m not sure what’s going on… Shouldn’t this part be simpler? I’ve been going through menstruation pretty regularly for like… 15 (?!?) years now with pretty little confusion. Just when I think I’ve gotten regular again … Sigh.

In other news, I decided to do a 5k this summer (hopefully the color run- it looks like a blast), so I started off with Week 1 of the Couch to 5k running plan. Boy, am I out of shape!! Glad I’m doing it, but I felt like throwing up near the end, and it wasn’t even close to being an intense run. I used to skip that week when I started training! My, how things have changed.  

So that’s what’s happening here: school starting again, divining the mystical workings of my uterus, and trying to get in shape so I won’t be embarrassed at the color run this summer. 

What are you up to? 


That moment you realize that it wasn’t a cure for either your cramping soul or your bloated abdomen.

And yet, there’s still a third of your husband’s disgusting raspberry-flavored chocolate orange sitting vulnerably in your lap.

Ah…. What the hell.