Painting Chef - Cheaper Than Therapy

Patrick has suggested that perhaps I need a project over the next couple of months. A distraction of some kind. Something that will dial down The Crazy a little while I sit a twiddle my thumbs waiting for the green light to take more fertility drugs. I have a few of said projects in mind.

First, I’m planning our garden. I want to have an actual garden this year instead of just a few random pots of tomatoes and basil that I sometimes remember to water. I have an urge to put my hands in the dirt and grow things. And no. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. But I want to grow fennel, cucumbers, squash, tomatoes, asparagus, lettuce, peppers, beans and broccoli. I want to grocery shop in my backyard. I want a herb garden overflowing with dill, basil, rosemary and thyme. And… I have NO IDEA how to do this. Do I use seeds or plants? All I know is that its going to be a raised garden because I kind of hate to crawl around on the ground.

Also? Painting. Remember when I used to paint? Like… on canvases? I think my art therapy is long overdue and I’m going to fight my way through the seventeen random chairs in our spare bedroom (known only as “The Purple Room” because we can’t figure out how to arrange it or use it at all other than a storage room and a good place to accidentally lock the cat) and work shit out.

Along the same vein… Patrick got me gift certificates for photography classes for my birthday last year and I haven’t used them yet. That is not going to be the case much longer. I love my Nikon SLR but I have to be honest… I think it does lots more tricks than I know about. And I would LOVE to learn more about them. There are so many dials! And buttons! And I don’t know what ANY of them do!

So that’s kind of the plan right now. Also possibly some dusting off of the gym membership. I’m thinking a little (gasp) exercise couldn’t hurt. My “winter” sloth has gotten the better of me AND my pants and I’m not going to have fertility drugs to blame that on for a few months…

Saturday morning(ish). Sitting on the couch watching a BEAUTIFUL and UNPRECEDENTED snow event taking place in our very own backyard. (Front yard too!!!)

“The snow is over.”

“Um… no. It’s not.”

“Look. Look at this map on my laptop. The snow is over.”

“Look. Look out the window at the actual out of doors. That snow is coming down like a mo-fo.”

“I’m just saying. That according to the Weather Channel, the snow is over and it should not still be snowing.”

“FINE. I’M JUST SAYING THAT ACCORDING TO MY EYEBALLS IN MY HEAD AND THE SNOW FALLING IN OUR YARD THAT THE SNOW IS NOT OVER.”
(and yes, I’m speaking in capital letters at this point, thank you very much.)

“Argue all you want. But that snow is over and there won’t be anymore today. I’m looking at the radar map right now and that’s just the way it is.”

“You are a nerd and I kind of want to stab you with a butter knife. I will be fixing you NO hot chocolate today.”

And then… 10 minutes later… when the snow ended… he did a little victory dance while I pointed out that the snow was over because it had STOPPED SNOWING.

“Hey man… what’s with the facial scruff? You’re kind of hairy!”

“I TOLD you on Saturday. I’m observing No-Shave November.”

“Really.”

“Well, I’m leaving my options open.”

“This should be fun. Hey… maybe I’ll observe it with you. What do you think about that? Wouldn’t that be fun and festive?”

“You ruin everything.”

“I’m your wife… it’s my job.”

Every couple has their strengths and their weaknesses. Patrick and I are no exception to this rule.

In my opinion we are good at entertaining as long as people don’t mind talking about our dogs or watching me wrestle a cat. Usually I am feeding them lots of wine and some cake so they don’t mind too much…

We are good at lake things and I’m coming dangerously close to dragging Patrick behind the boat without running him into a buoy or a wayward barge. Sometimes we even bring other people with us. And not once has anyone jumped overboard and made a break for it…

And we are pretty good at working together in the same office where we have to be here at the same time… all day in the same place. At the same job. TOGETHER. WITHOUT KILLING EACH OTHER. Did I mention all the FANFUCKINGTASTIC togetherness?

Ahem… moving on.

We are NOT good at traveling. We are BAD travelers. I overpack and Patrick overplans. I consider vacation the wrong time to fret over what we are spending and that makes Patrick want to stab me in the throat. I like to meander and Patrick wants to get there. He’s a planner. I’m a… well there’s no word for it really, I’m just damn lazy. I can lie on a beach and do nothing all day quite nicely thank you very much. Patrick cannot and that makes me sad for him. I feel as though his inner sloth never fully developed and despite all my fine work of teaching by example things just aren’t changing in that area any time soon.

This all conspires to make us BAD at vacation. (Are you crying inside? It’s okay… I am too.) And so because of this we have taken precious few vacations that don’t involve traveling WITH or TO someone related to us.

But soon that will all change because we? Are going on a CRUISE! I am so very excited about this trip. We are going on a cruise with some friends in about 2 weeks.

2 weeks? But Susannah! (you say) Isn’t that about how long it will be until you now if your latest round of stabby needles and angry pills and turkey basters had any effect whatsoever on your still barren and cobweb-riddled uterus?

Why yes. Thanks for asking. Exactly three days after finding out this bit of news I shall be boarding a very large boat for the Caribbean where I will either drown my sorrows in many fine, fine rum concoctions or I will nourish my GLEE (do you watch that show? do you love it?) with many many tropical fruit items and virgin strawberry daiquiris. WITH WHIPPED CREAM.

But regardless of my emotional state when we board the boat, it is going to be a well-needed vacation where neither of us have to think or plan beyond sunscreen and a deck chair.

The past 6 months have been very hard on us. I haven’t wanted to get into it on here lest this become the “all infertility all the time” network but “The Plan”? She isn’t cooperating. Things aren’t going the way I thought they would. Every cycle brings about a baby step in the right direction but at this pace… well… they probably don’t have Labor and Delivery in the nursing homes, do they?

The stress is getting to me. I find my mind wandering, my work slipping, I’m not sleeping well. My life is lived between pills and injections and IUI’s. I gauge my calendar by doctor’s appointments, blood work and ultrasounds. This trip couldn’t be coming at a better time.

We need to be good at this.

Ten years ago today, I was trying to figure out a way to sneak out of work early. I was checking and re-checking the bag of goodies I’d carefully assembled over the past few days. Tequila. Triple Sec. Limes. Killer Dress.

Ten years ago today, I was calling Amanda once every hour to make sure she remembered that we were having our “regular” Margarita Tuesday that had never before existed because until just a couple of months ago, we’d been too stoned on the days that ended in “Y” to know how to operate a blender.

Ten years ago today, I was trying to start my life over. I was leaving behind nearly all the people in my past, my addictions and my shortcomings. I was convincing myself that I could dare to be someone different.

Ten years ago today I was 21 and nervous about a first date. I knew him. I’d known him forever. But I was crossing my fingers and yes, even praying, that he didn’t know me. I was hanging my hopes on him not having heard anything about me in the past 5 years. He was a NICE boy. I didn’t want to scare him off.

Ten years ago today I was changing behind a bush in front of Amanda’s apartment because she was running late. I was having my nervous forehead sweat. I was breaking a buckle on the perfect shoes and ending up wearing flip flops. I was gathering a motley crew of friends of friends and bribing them not to smoke pot in front of him. I was nervously pacing and peeking around the corner watching for a VERY distinctive car to pull in the parking lot.

Ten years ago today I was harassing him for spending his mother’s birthday with ME while secretly hoping that was a sign that this might be the beginning of something.

Ten years ago today I was sitting cross legged on the floor, drinking a truly awful margarita (I’ve since perfected my recipe) and having an amazing conversation with this fascinating guy I’d known my whole life, the adorable brown eyed boy whom I’d once thought was about to kiss me when a strangely electrifying moment crept up on us one summer back in high school.

Ten years ago today I started falling in love.

Ten years ago today, I jumped him in the parking lot as soon as he said he remembered that moment back in high school and he’s always wondered what would have happened if he’d kissed me.

Ten years ago today, my life started over. My life with HIM began and I’ve never looked back.