Archive for September, 2006

Published by PaintingChef on 29 Sep 2006

Parenthetically documented, occasion- appropriate spinning. And shoes, obviously.

Ah yes. This coming weekend. Travel. In-laws. Wedding. More fun than one seriously whacked out Crazy Psycho Clomid Wife could possibly handle. And yet? There is the one thing that makes it all a little okay because there is a new dress! With a fun and flirty full skirt that swirls around me just perfectly when I spin around. And as there will most likely be little opportunity for spinning at appropriate times, I will make it my mission to choose the most random times to spin around. Mid-conversation, I think.

“If there is anyone who objects to the union of these people, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

(Jump up, SPIN! SPIN! SPIN! Sit down.)

“Its so good to see you Susannah! How are things in the armpit of the world where you make your home with that very patient man who tolerates both your Clomid-induced, raw chicken throwing fits AND conversations in which you make statements like ‘ugly cancels out ugly’ and ‘I’d rather be pretty than smart’ both within a 30 second span?”

(Cue spinning like a drunken top on acid)

“Great! I have shriveled punk ass ovaries that enjoy double shots of tequila and long walks in the park and we have a hole in our backyard!” (spin, spin, spin)

“How is your painting going? Have you done anything new recently?”

“No, as a matter of fact I haven’t! Since I became the president of the Artists Guild, my creative energy has been sucked dry like a second grade classroom with a substitute teacher harboring vampire tendencies! And yet deadlines for somewhat prominent paintings loom over me! Thanks for asking! Now excuse me while I find a bathtub in which to curl up into the fetal position and quiver for an hour or so.”

(And again with the spinning until I collapse into a quivering, fertility drug laden heap on the floor, or maybe the bathtub if I don’t get too dizzy first. Also? Probably drunk because there will be ample drinking at this wedding, these people know how to put on a soiree.)

(So now that I think about it, there will probably be ample opportunity for situation-appropriate spinning because with lots of drinking and celebration naturally comes dancing and spinning, no?)

(Also the outdoor nature of the event makes me die a little inside because it means that my perfect black Manolo Mary Janes that I treated myself to years ago and sometimes wear around the house and then put in the bed next to me at night and I may or may not tell them sweet dreams when Patrick is out of town won’t be making the trip. And they cried a little.)

(The End.).

Published by PaintingChef on 28 Sep 2006

Lessons of the past 24 hours.

1. Just because YOU think your husband should be relieved that the bag of raw chicken (that was meant to be dinner as it sat minding its own business in sesame ginger marinade) buzzing alarmingly close to his head at a high rate of speed WAS NOT FROZEN doesn’t mean that he is going to see this as the positive that you do. Also? He didn’t really buy it when I blamed Brenda Walsh.

2. The silent treatment is losing its edge and is now, regrettably, seen as a good thing because it means that I’ve finally shut my damn mouth if only for a few precious moments.

3. Yesterday’s mantra is quickly losing its calming effect.

4. Sometimes reverting to childhood snacks is oddly comforting.

Handi-snacks...remember these?

5. A care package containing chocolate brownies, a bag of peppermint tea, and a tube of white bath salts WILL make it to across the country overnight and not land anyone in jail in spite of its shocking resemblance of a box of brownies, pot, and large amounts of cocaine. So take THAT Patrick!

6. Clomid is the devil.

7. Clomid on an empty stomach because you were to pissed off to cook said chicken and just went to bed and pouted even though all dinner involved was you making a damn salad while Patrick grilled the chicken is an really. bad. idea.

Published by PaintingChef on 27 Sep 2006

This is either a handbook for dealing with Clomid or a recipe for a fat ass.

Sleep twenty minutes late.

Spend another ten minutes in bed contemplating the validity of “calling in infertile” as you feel Clomid coursing through your veins.

Drag ass out of bed realize that you have exactly 12 and a half minutes to shower, get dressed, fix breakfast, pack lunch and get out the door.

Immediately delete shower, breakfast, and lunch from schedule, lay out clothes and crawl back into bed for another six minutes.

Get dressed, hug dog and cat, instantly regretting fulfilling need for furry animal loving goodness while wearing black shirt.

Leave.

Damn.

Go back inside and take chicken out of freezer to defrost and announce to cat that this was your one productive act of the day.

Leave again.

Decide on daily mantra of “Fuck It” while pulling out of neighborhood and immediately swing into Starbucks for venti (VENTI? Hell yes motherfucker) caramel macchiato and pastry. Repeat mantra to ass as it begins to grow at the very sight of pastry.

Pull into work 10 minutes late. Repeat mantra.

Look at in box. Repeat mantra.

Abandon all hope of productivity at 11 am and head out for grease-laden lunch and to price tattoo of mantra directly onto ass so it will stop with the protests when you decide to just hook up an IV and mainline cream cheese frosting for dinner.

Remember with relief that chicken breasts are happily defrosting in sink and wonder how they would taste stuffed with Oreos and basted with cream cheese frosting.

Throw up in mouth a little.

Receive email from irritating art guild treasurer, reaffirm mantra and type blog entry.

Realize that you are painfully delinquent in sharing bitchy advice with the world and risk excommunication from the triumvirate. Feel a surge of fertility drugs coming on and head over to unleash the bitchiness.

Published by PaintingChef on 26 Sep 2006

Now how could THIS possibly go wrong?

It all started with this…

here-comes-trouble.JPG

Then there was…

second-career.JPG

Then right about here the beer drinking began…

neighborhood-boys.jpg

Then the fun REALLY began…

then-there-was-a-chainsaw.jpg

Really? You need MORE evidence? Fine.


Photo Sharing – Upload Video – Video Sharing


Photo Sharing – Upload Video – Video Sharing


Photo Sharing – Upload Video – Video Sharing

Published by PaintingChef on 25 Sep 2006

Countdown to total insanity.

I took the first of 10 Clomid pills about 30 minutes ago. I should remain quasi-normal until Wednesday. I will then be absolutely psychotic until Sunday. This is very bad for several reasons.

Reason the first–We are going to a wedding on Saturday.
Reason the second–This wedding requires Patrick and I to be trapped in a car for 5 hours
Reason the third–Our destination is his parents house.

This timing leads to another inconvenient scheduling conflict.

(too much information warning…)

I will be ovulating right about when both his parents AND mine show up on our doorstep to help us build this new deck (and really…tell me…WHOSE idea was a 750 square foot deck? Oh…mine? Huh…sorry).

This is the LAST attempt at the Clomid route. I am almost willing to admit that more drastic measures are going to be necessary to provide me a take home baby. And because I’m quite scared of the Clomid that I bought online from Thailand that is sitting on my dresser.

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