I love to grill out. As soon as it's warm enough, I fire up the grill and keep using it until it's so cold and dark I can't stand to be out on the deck. Once we get the chance to wash off the furniture we usually have dinner on the back porch, soaking up the vitamin D sunshine and spending some time not in front of the TV.

Before I met Brian, I had a little tabletop grill. It was the perfect size for my itty bitty, teeny tiny, two-people-and-one-shared-cigarette balcony at my apartment, and was great for camping. I actually went through two or three of them in the years before I met Brian. When we moved to our hovel old house, we put the grill in the cellar because we had no real place to grill out without stray cats stealing our meat. When we moved here to the Square, we bought a brand-new, cobweb-free tabletop grill for our deck, and it's served us very well.

That is, until I lit it on fire last year. Twice. I don't remember if I blogged about it or not, but last summer while Brian was gone for work I grilled some chicken with the skin on. Big mistake. The grill lit up like some manner of burning bush, and the flames threatened to burn down our deck. There are slight black burn marks on our deck wall (why do our decks here have walls? Anyone?) to memorialize my grilling prowess. I am deathly afraid of fire, and was completely terrified by the idea that I nearly burnt our house down. Those flames were four feet high, and the baking soda was inside the house. I finally grabbed it and put out the conflagration. The grill caught on fire again later in the summer, albeit in a much smaller manner. There was an insane amount of residual chicken grease in the bottom of the grill, and I've never really felt safe about it since.

What I didn't know was that when something catches on fire, it often rusts. Like rusts out. You can see how traumatic the fire(s) was by the fact that the top of that grill used to be red. The paint burnt off. O-F-F, ya'll. Burnt. it. off.

So, we were in need of a new grill. $40 would get us a new tabletop grill at the local Wally World.

But then! My amazing husband called! From work! Where they had received a shipment of Holy Cow Amazing How I Lust After It grills. For an insanely reasonable price and the benefit of an additional employee discount. He asked me to come out and look at it, and we brought it home to live with us forever.

**insert a choir of angels singing here*

Brian put it together last week and then helped me light it up. I love to grill, and I have never been afraid of propane or my grill. But read about that fire again...and know that I was terrified. Which disappointed and embarrassed me. Brian helped me, and I'm totally okay with it now. I just had this irrational fear of setting our deck alight. Can't imagine why.

I marinated up some chicken thighs in our favorite marinade, and tossed some asparagus with olive oil, salt, and pepper.

A few minutes of hot, searing, yum-inducing heat, and viola'! Let there be dinner!

Here's the recipe I used for the marinade. I use it pretty much weekly in the summer, and it's wonderful. I can't take a bit of credit for it, though. I got it from Recipezaar about two years ago. It's basically idiot proof. Enjoy!

California Marinade

Combine the following in a jar and shake vigorously:

1/4 cup olive oil

1/4 cup lemon juice

2 TB Worcestershire sauce

1-3 dashes of Tabasco sauce

2 TB apple cider vinegar

2 tsp. salt

2 tsp. sugar

2 cloves of crushed, minced, or pressed garlic

Marinate meat or vegetables for a few hours. Brush over meat while grilling.

Forest Fire

On our way to the alpaca farm Sunday, we noticed some smoke on the mountain ridge north of Route 259 by the West Virginia state line. Last week there were several red flag fire warnings, so we knew the possibility of forest fires was high. Seeing the mountain burn is sadly pretty common around here, but always heartbreaking. We saw some fire crews already set up by the roadside, taking ATVs back over the ridge to fight the fire. At that point, they were probably digging ditches to stem the fire's progression. There was a tent set up providing refreshment for the firefighters, and a rescue squad handy just in case.

By the time we headed back home from the farm, the fire had spread and grown much larger. As best we could tell, the fire was back behind the ridge, so we could only see the smoke.

A Visit to the Alpaca Farm!

On Sunday, I went to Lost River, West Virginia with Mama, Daddy, and Uncle Larry. Daddy has a friend with an alpaca farm and we've been meaning to get over there to see them for months. Sunday was gorgeous and none of us had plans, so we hopped in a van and took off after church.

These little animals are so fun! They're gentle and sensitive, and I was amazed to see their interactions with their owners and with each other. Here are a few pictures from our trip...

Inside the barn with the girls

Connie, who is due to have a baby any day, on the left. I'm not sure who's on the right.

Daddy feeds the boys. They ate rabbit food as treats.

Their mouths are very soft, and their upper lips are split to move independently! Daddy was spit on pretty early in the day by Lilly, and then was shunned by most of the other alpacas!

Teddy on the right. He spit a little before this. When they spit, alpacas' bottom lips are frozen open for 20-30 minutes! So Teddy's teeth were sticking out.

I don't remember this guy's name, but he was extra-sweet. He let me rub his nose and tried to eat my camera.

Naomi, who is due in September, and Manny. Manny is an award-winning show alpaca, and very sweet!

After we spent a few hours playing with the alpacas, we headed to Lost River Grill for a late lunch and then home. We're hoping to go back soon to see either Connie or Naomi's babies, so I'm sure there'll be more pictures. Needless to say, this trip only fueled my desire to have a little alpaca herd of my own someday!

Good Friday!

I don't really have anything amazing to write today. No big, philosophical post about Good Friday and what that means to me. Simply put, Easter Sunday is the most important day in the Christian year. Sure, Jesus' birth was a big deal. But we are not saved by His birth, but rather by the grace given us through His death. And that death is commemorated today with Good Friday. That's a huge, huge deal. So I'll leave it at that.

Last night we attended the Maundy Thursday service at our new church. We loved it! The fellowship and emphasis on service and Christ were amazing, and we met so many new people. We're really liking this new church and I look forward to the Easter service there this Sunday!

Monday, Take 1

It's officially the first Monday of the year. According to my mama, it's one of the best days to start a diet. The only thing better is that magical occurrence every seven years: a Monday that is also January 1. As for me, I'll just consider this the day to start having something other than cookies for breakfast.

This was an interesting weekend. Friday was a holiday, of course, so I had no children. I also had no ability to move, as I woke up with a sore back. Apparently I either pulled or strained a muscle....in my sleep. I don't know, don't ask me. All I know is that it hurts to move at all. Getting dressed Friday and Saturday ended in tears, so I just didn't bother yesterday. Today is moderately better, so maybe I'll accomplish something today after all! Saturday was spent hanging out with VA, The Bean, and Mama at what became a three and a half hour lunch. Then off to my cousin's house for Hill Christmas. It had been rescheduled because all the parking was covered in a foot of snow. We had a great time and I discovered that a few strawberry daquaris, while not totally intoxicating me, will dull the pain in a pulled back very nicely. Good to know. There is no photographic evidence of the debauchery. Sunday was spent hanging around the house, watching a lot of TV and sewing. I'll post pictures after I gift the items.

Today it's back to the grindstone, sort of. Only two kiddos in care, and only one lesson tonight. Brian is off and we'll get to spend some time together before he goes back to work tomorrow. Meanwhile, simple things are amusing the heck out of me. Like the fact that Little Miss A's hair is standing completely on end courtesy of all the static in our house. And that Little Mister A has learned how to say "tickletickletickle". Funniest thing ever to come out of a 15 month old's mouth!

Earlier this morning I made a terrifying phone call -- to our reproductive guru. To see what needs to be done to TRY again. Holy cats. This is hopefully going to be our first (hopefully hopefully our only) attempt at IUI. Why on earth was I nervous making that phone call!? I left a message and am waiting for a return call, but it was nerve wracking. I keep expecting them to say "You've been gone eight months! You can't come back here! You're on your own!". I may just die if that's the case! Pray on it, folks.

And now....nap time!! Enjoy your Mondays and stay warm.

Dickenson Christmas 2009

Every year, we gather with Mama's family on Christmas Eve to exchange gifts and eat entirely too much yummy food. This tradition predates all of us -- Mama's family did this when they were only children. They would go from house to house of their father's family members seeing decorations, exchanging gifts, and eating. We did this through our entire childhood, and I remember very fondly driving home at midnight from one uncle or another's house very tired but ready for more Christmas the next day. I'm sure it wasn't snowy every year, but that's always how I remember it: snow and a full moon. I'm so glad we have these traditions to keep us anchored to our family, and that Brian shares in them as well. Hopefully soon we'll be able to honor his family's Thanksgiving tradition, as well, since that's a huge holiday for them!

Our family has grown from two uncles and mama with their spouses, to include five cousins. As we've all married, it's grown to include four more spouses and two younger cousins. As of Wednesday night, we're getting a new family member -- Annie is engaged! When you're used to the ginormous Hill family, the Dickensons are a much smaller and more intimate group of 18, counting Annie's fiance (that's also counting Uncle Carroll; his presence is still with us and is very much felt at each gathering). All growth now will be of the little, giggly types.

Here are a few pictures from Dickenson Christmas 2009. If you're one of my family reading this blog and want your picture removed, email me and let me know. Mama, you'll notice there are no pictures of you. You owe me money for that. Otherwise, here they are.....

Whirlwind

Wow. It's finally 2010. I am so happy to be done with 2009 I almost cannot express it. I just read back over my last post from December 7, when Aunt Margie was struggling for her life. So much has happened since then! If you had seen Aunt Margie on Christmas Day, at her rehab center, laughing and joking and sneaking the deer bologna we brought her when her nurse left, you'd swear I'd jumped the gun by posting that. She is doing great. Is she healed completely? No. Do her lungs work? Nope. Never will again, but that's not new. But she's survived and she's ready to bust right out of that rehab center. After my post on December 7, Aunt Margie suffered a heart attack. She had a fever so high she was packed in ice. There was an obvious infection, and she was diagnosed with sepsis. Finally, the doctors uncovered four different areas of infection in her body and said that if she was able to be stabilized, then surgery would be necessary as one of those places was a heart valve, according to the Hill Grapevine. A few days later, she was responding well to antibiotics, was moved from CICU, and was discharged about a week later to a rehab facility here in town to receive eight more weeks of IV antibiotics. She has good days and bad days, but she's doing so much better than anyone anticipated. At one point, she told us that she remembers waking up and seeing her whole family standing around her bed, crying. She said that she realized at that point that something was bad-wrong, and that she must be in a bad way, and that she better get better right away. She's strong, I'll give her that.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, 2009 continued. And continued to suck. The week before Christmas, my great-uncle Billy passed away. He was Mama's maternal uncle and the only remaining sibling of my grandma. We lost his sisters last year, three weeks apart. Uncle Billy had cancer and was recently admitted to the same rehab center where Aunt Margie is hanging out. His death came as a blessing to him, but a blow to us. While it was expected, we're sad to lose the last of an entire generation.

The following week, Uncle Billy's brother in law, Mama's uncle Ray died. He was Aunt Ruby's widower, and had suffered from dementia for a few years. He took such good care of Aunt Ruby during her struggle with Alzheimer's, and we think the strain eventually took its toll on him. He was a sweet man, always smiling, and dearly loved. At his funeral on the last Sunday in 09, we all remembered how much he loved life and his family. He will be sorely missed, but his family knows he is better now.

This has been a horrid year. We've seen Cousin Mike, The Bum, and The Godson move too far away, lost an uncle, two great uncles, nearly lost another uncle and an aunt, saw Mama through major surgery, a minor but scary surgery for Brian's sister, dire financial straits for us (and many others in our close circle of friends), a hospitalization for Brian, and so many little personal tragedies that I never even posted about because it was too depressing. I am so glad it's over. Already 2010 has a brighter gleam to it, and is full of so much promise.

I was actually getting on here to post pictures of Christmas and of some of the craftiness that occurred around here in preparation for the holiday. I'll set those up to publish later tonight or tomorrow, because later tonight I'll be watching the recorded version of the WVU Bowl Game with Brian tonight. Please do not tell us what happens, we prefer to watch it!!

Instead, here's a quick Thank God...It's Friday because I just realized it's Friday. I love holidays....

Praises

• Aunt Margie's doing well!
• 2010 is here!
• One of my little guys from daycare has become a big brother Wednesday. I don't post their names, so suffice it to say that Big P welcomed Little P and everyone is doing well.
• Mama may have found out why her legs have been swelling, causing her a lot of pain. The culprit? Country ham. Hopefully now she can continue to heal and run around like a crazy woman (seriously, she ran the other day) once she gets rid of all that salt-induced fluid.

Requests

• Brian needs a new job. I am so not kidding.
• I think I've pulled a muscle in my back. I'm used to my back hurting in the morning, but it hasn't stopped today and it's in a different place than usual. It hurts a bunch, so I'm taking it easy today in hopes that it heals up fast!
• We're hoping to go to West Virginia in a few weeks. We pray that trip will go off without a hitch, as we've had plenty of hitches in the last few times we planned to go. We miss Brian's family, The Bum/Godson/Cousin Mike, and all Brian's friends that we only see a few times a year.
• We're hoping to start IUI this month. I'm nervous and there are a million details to iron out, but we're praying it all goes smoothly. And is successful!!

Three Years?!?!

Three very quick years ago today I married the most amazing man. He's the sweetest, most gentle, most even-keeled man I've ever met, and he makes me a whole person. Marrying him was the smartest thing I've ever done, and our wedding day was the best day of my life to date. I love him more every day and I can't wait to see what the next hundred years hold!

Happy Anniversary, Brian!

Monday, Monday....again

Ugh. Yet another Monday? Where do these things come from? We had a great weekend, and I hoped to go into the week well-rested and at great peace with the world. Unfortunately, when I was still laying awake (lying? laid? Whatever - prostrate in bed, ya'll) last night at 2 AM....well, all that flew out the window. I couldn't shut my brain off and I couldn't stop Brian's freight train-esque snoring (more on that in a minute). And a couple random men were talking outside (it's two AM!!). So today I feel like I've been hit by a truck.

Saturday was lovely, as I spent the day with Mama at a bluegrass festival nearby. We saw several great bands, ate yummy food, talked a lot, and generally hung out. The weather was gorgeous and we were home in time to get ready for the next day's reunion.

Sunday was the Hill Reunion. My cousin and I organize the whole thing, and it's a ball. The weather was just as lovely, the food twice as good, and the people entertaining as always. I'll be posting some pictures here and on our reunion website hopefully later tonight or tomorrow, so be sure to check them out.

Other than all that, I don't have a lot to write about. We're just working, trying to get a few big projects around here taken care of (like rebuilding a bookshelf, done last weekend!), and thinking about Fall and Winter. We're shooting for a mostly-handmade Christmas again this year, and I can't very well blog about that, can I? Over half our family and friends read this! Just suffice it to say that I'm teaching myself to knit and embroider, and leave it at that. Mama is preparing for her double knee replacement, so I'm trying to figure out the best way to help her for a few weeks/months as well. Brian was diagnosed with mild to moderate sleep apnea last week (yay for concrete diagnosis of something!!). He'll go back in next week to be fitted for a CPAP machine and will hopefully be better rested very soon.

So, bear with us. I'll blog when I have something to write about. Look for pictures coming soon. And pardon me while I go take a nap.....

Big Honkin' Update

Disclaimer/Update: I started this post on Monday. I'll hopefully get to publish it tonight, which is Tuesday. We'll see. I also intended to have tons of links to help you better understand all the tests, results, and wildness of our week. Yeah, not going to happen. Little tip: highlight a word, right-click on it, and choose

"Search Google for...". 'Cause I'm tired!

Original post:

Holy mother of pearl, it's been a crazy week. I mean seriously-crazy-not-fun-ER-visit crazy week. I'll try to catch you up as best I can, but bear in mind that it's been so nuts that I don't have the four days it would take to do our week justice. Or ten days, to be exact. Starting in order from when last we saw our superheroes....

Father's Day was lovely. Brian worked and I had a nice day celebrating Father's Day with my family. Last Monday was fun because I had a trial run with the new baby who will start here tomorrow, and it was wonderful to get baby snuggles again. The Big Kids have gotten to the point where they don't need me at all and would be just as happy if I let them go outside by themselves thankyouverymuch. Monday was the end of any fun and normalcy around here until....well, some point we haven't reached yet. Brian mentioned in passing that he had a headache Monday night. Then......

On Tuesday morning, Brian called me around 9:55. He sounded terrible, and I could tell he had a migraine and vertigo from the way he sounded. I'm becoming horribly familiar with that sound in his voice. He said he was on his way to the ER. From what I can gather he started feeling dizzy around 7:45 and went to the break room to grab a bite to eat. He was dizzy and had a headache. When he started dropping his food he started to worry, and stood up to go downstairs. He fell, and caught himself on the wall. Knowing that he couldn't make it down the stairs, he called for his friend/co-worker who is huge and very capable of lifting all 190 pounds of him (along with anyone else he happened to pile on, too, as he is very, very strong). Big Guy helped him down the stairs, to the front of the store and into a wheelchair. Apparently at this point Brian realized that he was hallucinating. Or else snakes had invaded the store, which is unlikely. Actually, not unlikely if you know the building, but it was a hallucination this time....

When I arrived at the ER 15 minutes later, Brian and Big Guy were in a darkened room and Brian was barely able to speak coherently, and was still seeing people and things that weren't there. Whenever he closed his eyes for more than a blink he was instantly dreaming, too. When he was taken to back to the ER, they wanted to treat him with meclizine. We knew from experience that when he is seen in the ER for vertigo they just give him this drug and send him home, and that it doesn't help him at all. They did not seem pleased that we refused their panacea. Then they sent him for a CT scan. Upon returning to his little curtained area, he immediately fell asleep. Huh?!?! Who sleeps in the ER?!?! The problem here is that he was asleep and snoring within 45 seconds, and was hard to wake him up. I tried for a while, nudging him and telling him he was officially that guy snoring loudly in the ER but eventually it was impossible to rouse him at all. When I could get him to wake up at all his eyes were going different directions and he made less sense than your average drunk. Soon I couldn't get him conscious at all. I was seriously worried, but no doctors were around. I alerted an orderly (the only person I could find who would make eye contact with me) and he started monitoring Brian. His pulse oximeter kept beeping as his respiration fell into the low 80's. No one seemed concerned at all. The doctor who finally showed back up around 3:00 suggested a spinal tap to rule out an infection.

It took me about a half hour to get Brian awake enough to sit up for his spinal tap. Then he had to lay flat for an hour afterwards. It came back clear, and he was starting to be more coherent by that point. So...they admitted him to the hospital. We reached his room around 5:00. That evening, we met his hospitalist, the neurologist who would be seeing him, and had some visitors. Brian slept well Tuesday night, and I stayed in the chair in his room. Rumor has it that I slept at least 2 hours that night, but I doubt it.... As we've been talking through this whole scenario, it's becoming clear that Brian has little to no memory of anything after about 10 AM through Wednesday morning.

On Wednesday, Brian had every blood test under the sun, an MRI, and an EEG. We waited patiently in his room for the rest of the day for the results and a discharge as he was feeling better. The doctor came around 5:30 and said that all the tests were clear and that she would send us home that evening after the neurologist finished looking at the EEG. I went home to teach two lessons. Around 7:15 Brian texted me to say that he had to stay overnight again. What?! Apparently the neurologist is a very cautious man who prefers to keep patients for 48 hours instead of 24. I'm not sure why no one told us this in the very beginning. Around this point, Brian got a roommate! He was an older gentleman suffering from congestive heart failure who apparently has very little time left. It was amazingly depressing to know this from over-hearing the nurses and doctors and yet realize that he and his wife did not realize it themselves. Because of the roommate, I was unable to stay overnight. We decided that I would work on Thursday so that I could more easily refrain from killing a nurse or a doctor. Brian was released at 5:30 on Thursday evening without ever seeing the neurologist again. He spent his hospital visit playing approximately 6 hours of Final Fantasy on his PSP, watching approximately 36 hours of CNN, one baseball game, and running through two Blackberry battery charges. He was bored out of his skull by Thursday evening, still stressed, and not rested.

The official diagnosis of sorts was exhaustion, stress, and extreme dehydration. Seems a steady diet of no food, caffeine, and 65 hour work weeks will do that to you. Go figure. Brian has been told to drink a minimum of a gallon of water or Gatorade daily, to eat regular meals and not just whatever crap he can find at the store when he has a minute, to get more rest and to have a sleep study to evaluate him for sleep apnea, and to get a new job as soon as humanly possible. The doctors told him that if he doesn't change his lifestyle, particularly his stressful job, then he will be dead in short order. I really, really hope he was listening.

For now, he's still off work (at the time of posting, today was ER Day +7, so that's a huge deal for him) pending a doctor's clearance. His sleep study can't be scheduled for at least 2-2 1/2 weeks, his actual neurologist can't see him until mid-August, and he's hoping to see our family doctor later this week. Thank you all for your calls, emails, texts, and especially prayers. We will be making (more) huge changes around here to de-stress, so we'll keep you posted on our new normal.

10-Day Crash Course in Living Alone

I've learned a lot during the past ten and a half days with Brian out of town. Some of it is very useful, and some of it is just depressing. Some of it is downright enlightening. In bullet form, here you go:

I can finally sleep with the TV off. I started this bad habit ofsleeping with it on when I was single, and I usually leave it on when I'm alone, but managed to do without it most of this week.

Brian creates most of the trash in our house.

I don't cook when Brian isn't here to eat. Maybe that explains the reduction in trash, now that I think about it.

All that mess in the bathroom sink? Not just Brian. When did I forget how to rinse the toothpaste out of the sink?

You never outgrow that childhood tendency to hear spooky noises when when you're home alone. Apparently I am still 11 years old.

Our cats love Brian way more than they love me.

My daycare kids love Brian way more than they love me, too.

The mess in the office? Totally all Brian's.

I can no longer drink a whole soda in a timely fashion. But I tried. A lot. Somebody pass the water, please.

Brian generates 75% of the laundry in this house. I've gone from 8-9 loads per week to 2....

I seriously hate cleaning out the litter boxes, and never want to do it again.

My mama is really good at picking injured people up from the Super-Mega Buy In Bulk Store, taking them to the ER, settling them in at home, and catering to their every Darvocet whim. She rocks.

So does my Daddy, for the record.

When left alone with 3 two year olds and no adult supervision, I will eventually begin talking the ear off of anyone older than 10 who will listen. This is probably annoying.

It's been a loooooong ten and a half days, folks. But my Pepsi Throwback Advent Husband Calender is starting to look promising. Here is what it looked like last night when I got my second to last (penultimate, if you will) soda for dinner.

Only one is sitting on the counter now, ready for lunch. Brian called earlier and is about eight hours away. I am so excited I can't hardly stand it, so I'm off to finish cleaning the house in preparation for the weekend. Have a great Thursday!

Felled By A Blueberry

For those of you who don't know me in real life, I am the Queen of Bizarre Injuries.  Well, maybe the Duchess - Yaya Princess is pretty capable of some bizarre ones, as I'm sure she'd tell you herself.  Basically, I fall.  A lot. If there's an opportunity to bust my tail, I will.  I have sprained my ankle numerous times.  I fell from the top of a set of bleachers when I was 17.  I have fallen up as many staircases as I have fallen down.  I dislocated my kneecap last year by falling into my shower.  I once fell in my parents' shower and ended up with a bruise in the exact shape of their soap dish on my rear end.  I am a champ at falling, trust me.  

Also, when Brian is out of town, weird things happen to me.  When we lived in the old house, we had a bad problem with wolf spiders.  I'd link to it for you, but I'm too weirded out to even look at the results.  Google it.  They're huge.  When Brian would leave, the spider-count usually doubled. Considering we used to kill 6-7 daily, that's a dozen spiders a day when Brian was gone. Once, my exhaust system fell out from under my car while Brian was away.  Fell out, ya'll. Invariably, he leave and the weirdness increases around here.  See why I need him in my life?

This weekend was no exception to the rule.  Saturday I had tons to get done, including grocery shopping, baking a pound cake for my cousin's surprise birthday party carry-in, and taking cards to the store where I'm going to sell them.  Running behind schedule, I went to the store to drop off cards and found they were closed already.  So I headed to my favorite Super-Mega Buy In Bulk Store (you know the one!) to pick up some tea tree oil.  I found they had it in the pharmacy a while back and needed some more.  They don't have it anymore, in case you're wondering.  I went bopping toward the door, headed for the natural foods shop a block over. I noticed something squishy that looked like fruit on the floor in front of the registers.  Being prone to busting butt, I was careful to give it a wide berth.  Ordinarily I'm the type of person to report this to the nearest store associate so it can be cleaned up before anyone can fall and hurt themselves.  I was in a bit of a hurry and it never even crossed my mind.  I feel kind of bad about that.

As I continued on past the membership desk, I moved to the left to pass a couple walking slowly. Literally the next thing I knew I was on the floor.  I had felt my ankle turn under, realized that my foot had slipped in something squishy, and landed on my right knee (thankfully, my good knee!).  I was immediately horrified, mortified, and embarrassed beyond belief.  Only about 8,392 people saw me, though....  

People immediately notified the folks at the membership desk who helped me sit down in the food court and called a manager.  Everyone was very sweet.  I learned that when someone falls, the first thing you must do is offer them a drink.  I was offered three drinks in a matter of minutes.  Unless they contained morphine, I didn't need a drink.  About 15 minutes later someone thought about ice.  I filled out an accident report and was assured that someone from Liability will be calling me.  Everyone was very sweet and helpful, and it's not their fault that all I wanted to do at that point was scream my ever-lovin' head off in pain.  I called Mama and she picked me up, offered to take me to get a drink, took me home, and then took me to the ER.  My ankle is sprained, of course.  They x-rayed it, wrapped and braced it, gave me Darvocet and sent me home.  I've been on the sofa or in bed since, moderately doped up. I'll schedule this to post Monday morning, and I should be back to work by that point, if a bit gimpy.  It's amazing what a bit of rest, some ice, an Ace, and a lot of comfrey salve will do for you.

So what did I slip on?  A blueberry.  I know because in the middle of the fruit-squish I landed on was that weird little star-shaped thing that is on the stem-end of blueberries.  Big, huge, Buy In Bulk blueberries.  The really, really hilariously ironic thing is that I HATE BLUEBERRIES. Go figure.  

Can someone please send my husband home before anything else goes cattywampus?

The Soda Advent Husband Calendar

On Saturday, our community had a yard sale.  Ever looking for alternate streams of income, Brian and I set out our useless junk Priceless Treasures for the consuming masses. Ever inventive in our search for alternate streams of income, we also bought a ton of soft drinks that we put on ice and sold for 75 cents each.  We have a few (thousand cases of) sodas left over.  Luckily, Brian resists my efforts to make him give up caffeine and canned beverages full of sugar and will have these few remnants consumed in no time.  Not to mention that the bulk of the soda is Pepsi Throwback, his soda du jour.  

As we were cleaning up Sunday night, there were a few sodas left in the bucket, swimming in water.  I dried them off and we took them inside.  Since our fridge is full of Pepsi Throwback and my single-person, I'm-not-cooking-just-for-myself-but-still-need-to-be-low-carb food for this week, these sodas (Cokes, if you're from the South....) ended up on the kitchen counter.  Monday, after Brian left, I realized that there are eleven sodas on our counter.  Exactly the number of days (including the two half-days of travel) that Brian will be gone to North Carolina.  I try not to drink soda very often, and since I found a decent source for sparkling water (which I LURVE) this past weekend I'll be drinking even less.  But I've realized that if I drink one each day, I have a tangible countdown until Brian comes home.  It's an advent calendar of sorts, I guess.  Except one made of Pepsi Throwback, and Grape and Orange Crushes.  

Do you think if I drink two each day he'll come home faster?

One Is Such a Lonely Number....

Yesterday, Brian left for North Carolina. He'll be gone 10 days.  Well, ten and a half days, and ten nights.  If you're counting.  Which I am.  I'm not telling you this so that if you're some weird murderer you can come and stalk and kill me.  I'm not small, I do fight back, and I do have an incredibly large butcher knife.  Don't even think about breaking in.  I'm telling you this so that you can understand what's going on around here, and why I'll be weird if you talk to me this week.  You know, like I'm lonely and missing adult companionship!  Nothing like being surrounded by two-year-olds to make you need an adult, right?

I hate it when Brian has to leave for work.  The Bargain Basement where he works sends him all over the place to open new stores. Luckily, everything so far has been in either Pennsylvania or Virginia.  And a day trip to Maryland, I think.  He had to go to Kansas City when he worked for Circuit City (see the irony?), but that was like four days.  This is North Carolina.  For a week and a half.  One particularly long trip was to Richmond for somewhere around three and a half weeks. It was horrible, but he could come back here on his days off and I visited him down there once as well.  Of course, being Richmond, part of the fun was that the store was in an absolute ghetto and people were often robbed at gunpoint in the parking lot.  While he was there.  Gotta love Richmond.  But now, he's eight hours away, too far to visit, and gone for a long time.  

Mama swears I'll eventually want Brian to be away sometimes.  She lives for hunting season, when Daddy becomes a mountain man living in his cabin and pretending to hunt deer She loves to eat out for every meal, stay up late, sleep in late, not clean house, and basically be single for a week.  They both think it keeps them married, this system having a few weeks a year off for good behavior.  I do not think we will ever get to this point, and personally hope we do not.  I love Brian more than anything in the whole world, and could happily spend 24 hours a day with him for the rest of our lives.  We've actually talked about this quite frequently (he feels the same way), and we're so glad our marriage is so good.  He's my best friend and I want to share each little mundane thing with him. Not having him here for at least a chunk of the day makes my life crawl by in a boring, pointless blur.  If you don't know me, you may not know that I am an accomplished sleeper.  I can sleep anywhere, anytime, in most any position, and through any ruckus.  I'm really good at it.  When Brian's gone, I do not sleep.  If I can get to sleep before 1 AM, it's a good night.  And then it's only with the pillows strategically arranged, at least one cat purring by my head, and with the TV on. Then I'll wake up every two hours until 7:30.  Tons of fun.  It wears on me when he's gone for three or four days, so I can't imagine how I'm going to last 10 days of this routine.  

Before the Yaya Princess and I were married, back when we were blushing, virginal maidens (cough, sputter), (you know like three years ago?) , Brian had to go to Kansas City for Circuit City.  He had never flown anywhere before, and neither had I (I know, we're sheltered). I took the day off to drive him over to the Charlottesville airport, put him on a horribly small propeller plane, and watched it take off for the middle of nowhere.  I will freely admit that I fully expected to see his plane drop from the sky or explode while I stood by the fence crying my head off.  You see, I'm part of that lucky generation that has lived through the Challenger and 9/11.  So maybe my imagination works overtime, or maybe I have post traumatic stress. Whatever, I was scared.  I waited until that plane was completely gone from view, and then I headed back home.  I cried for the entire hour I was on the road.  I called my Yaya Princess to cheer me up.  She travels a lot for work (so not kidding....like living in a different state for a month out of the year at that point), and so does everyone she knows.  I called to ask her how on earth you get used to putting someone you love on a plane, trusting that it won't fall out of the sky and that they'll be back safe and sound. Better yet, in light of Brian's need to do this again in a month, how do you get used to doing it over and over?!  She assured me that it was totally safe, and that I'd be fine.  I think maybe she thought I was a little bit nuts.  She loves me anyway, though, and checked in on me through the week.  

Fast-forward about a year or year and a half. Yaya Princess and her Prince were engaged, and he had to go out of town for business.  Living within spitting distance of three airports like they do, the Princess dropped him by the airport on her way to work.  And then called me, sobbing like someone had shot her cat.  She suddenly got it -- it's a whole heck of a lot different when you put the person you love more than anything else in the whole world on a plane.  Saying goodbye to your boyfriend for a week? Easy.  Saying goodbye to the love of your life for 10 minutes? Enough to make you rend your clothing, break out the ashes and sack cloth, and maybe go on a hunger strike to boot.  She said it was infinitely harder than ever before, and that she completely understood why I was so upset now.  We haven't talked about the subject in a while, but I'm willing to bet it still feels the same way for her.  I know it does for me.  As I watched that Jetta pull out of our driveway I couldn't help but cry.  Forget that my husband is The Safest Driver On The Road.  Hands at 10 and 2, foot ever ready for the brake, GPS enabled and guiding him to safety, always 5 miles under the speed limit.  I don't care, I sobbed anyway.  Maybe I'll stop crying by the time he gets home.  Ugh, I hate business trips!!!

Our Master Plan

Due to popular demand, I'll share our Get A Baby Plan 3.0.  You know, 1.0 was just get pregnant like everyone else.  2.0 was do a little Clomid. 2.5 was see the fertility gurus for a lot of Clomid. So, without further ado, 

Get A Baby Plan 3.0!

We're stopping everything for six months.  I know, a crazy way to get pregnant, you might think. We know that it's either going to take IUI or adoption for us to have children, so we individually took a week or so to think through our options, do some research, talk to the doctor, etc.  Brian said he continually came back to the feeling that we need six months off and then we'll be successful at something.  Since he kept coming back to this same conclusion, we decided to listen.  If God points you in a certain direction, the best plan is to listen to Him.  So, six months off.  No Clomid, only loosely monitoring anything, and just enjoying our Summer and Fall.  If I get pregnant, it's God's Will and rock on with it.  This gives us a chance to heal emotionally, rest me physically, and maybe even drop some of this big ol' butt.  Hopefully.  Gaining 25 pounds on Clomid sucked, in case I haven't mentioned it.  

After six months, we'll try six rounds of IUI.  Ideally, of course, we'll try far fewer and be successful.  If after six trys I'm not pregnant, then we're going straight to adoption.  We know that we want to adopt at some point.  Whether that's for all our children or for children in addition to a biological child remains to be seen.  First we'll try the IUI so we can have exhausted our options and can move on with no question.  

Don't think we'll be spending six months lounging on the beach and drinking mai tais, though. Nope.  Remember my post about preparing for rain?  That's what we'll be doing.  We've been so intent on asking the Lord to give us a child, but not so intent on preparing for that child. Sure, I've done a lot of reading and planning about home birth, cloth diapering, homemade baby foods, chemical-free living, homeschooling, and raising children to serve the Lord, but that's not preparing for the flesh and blood little person that we're asking for, is it?  Our eventual nursery currently houses a twin bed, full-length mirror, spare Pack n Plays for the daycare, all our yard sale accumulations, our china, a drying rack for clothes, and the second litter box.  That's not counting the closet!  Not exactly a nursery.  So, over the next six months, we'll be rearranging a few things in other rooms to accommodate the furniture and "stuff", and I'll purge most of it out of our house.  We'll return the bed to Mama and Daddy, since it's theirs, and start planning for baby furniture.  We've been buying things here and there that we know we want our kids to have, so that stuff will go into the room.  We're not painting or hanging window treatments, but we're getting ready. You know, preparing for rain.  In addition, I'll be low-carbing it, since that is a good way for women with PCOS to drop weight which leads to higher pregnancy rates.  It's worked for me before, and as important as grains are for a healthy lifestyle, it's only a temporary thing for me to do.  Bring on the steak!

The most important things we'll be doing will be gathering information for adoption, and saving money.  We'll be choosing an agency, and maybe doing agency interviews.  We'll be getting our home ready for a home study, too.  Since we'll be saving $135 each month by not going to the gurus, we'll put that aside to save.  And start cutting back dramatically in every area so as to start making a dent in the expense of IUI and/or adoption.  This six months is for preparing and planning, and that includes financial preparations.  So we won't be going many places, doing many things, or eating out much at all.  We're going frugal, ya'll.  After six months we should be able to afford six months of IUI and be better prepared financially for adoption.  

So, that's it.  I know, it's pretty simple and logical.  We have a great peace with the plan and believe that we're following God's will.  At this rate, we're looking at Baby 2010! Thoughts and prayers, and even advice are greatly appreciated. Have a great day!

Thoughts on links:  if you're here because you're dealing with infertility, some of those links might be helpful to you.  I link to things to better explain myself, not because it's the end all and be all of the information I've found.  Like the china link....it's our pattern, but not our registry. If you see a link about something you're interested in, follow it and be informed.  If you need an explanation or a link and I didn't make one, please feel free to comment or e-mail me for further information.  A handful of folks comment on my blog, and I appreciate each one.  But I see a lot of other people are here via Google Analytics, and I see the keywords that lead you here.  So know that I love you, Dear Lurker! Those links are for you!  Later, taters.

Decisions, Decisions

Today was my ovary check appointment with the Fertility Gurus. I only have two kids in care on Mondays, and one of those is on vacation this week.  The other one leaves at 12:45, so as of then I was off work! Brian worked last night from 3 AM until 1 PM today (!!!!), so he was able to go with me to Charlottesville.  I love when we can go together to these appointments; I dearly love spending time with Brian, and the two hour round trip is a good chance just to catch up and talk about our day.  And while I know that it helps the parents of children I provide day care for to have Brian watch the children when I have to leave for appointments, having him there for moral support is wonderful; it seems more like a "team effort" when we're both there.  So around 1:45 we headed off for Charlottesville.

One of the reasons we both wanted to go to this appointment was to discuss IUI further with the doctor.  We haven't committed to it before this because we were determined to continue to try for a few more months before turning to more invasive procedures. But we're numbers-people, and need to know a lot of facts before we commit to anything.  

So many things have stood in our way to getting pregnant, and it seems like as soon as we conquer one problem another one springs up.  We can't help but wonder if God isn't putting these obstacles there to force us back to his timeline.  No matter what we think, God knows when we'll have children, and how.  We can do everything we want to push things along, but until He's ready for us to be parents, we won't be.  That has become very, very obvious to us in the past few months, and we've discovered that banging your head against a wall gives you a headache.  

So, we've come to the realization lately that we have approached a crossroads in our fertility trials.  Basically, commit to IUI and put all our resources into that for now, or commit to adoption and be finished with all fertility treatments.  The two are not compatible, so we have a choice to make.  Unfortunately, there is so much to think about for both cases.  Today we wanted to get some numbers from the Gurus about success rates for IUI.  

We met with Dr. Bateman today (not our regular Guru, but he's growing on us).  We let him know what we're thinking, and that we're very interested in IUI.  From our research, we've learned that the national average success rate is between 4-23%, depending on the clinic. That's a huge span, isn't it?!  The Guru said their current success rate is 10%, and that there sometimes seems to be an unexplained cumulative effect; your success rate goes up after three or four consecutive inseminations.  With that cumulative tendency in affect, we'd be looking at maybe a 30% success rate.  Not guaranteed, of course, and there's no promise that I'll have that cumulative effect, but we're looking at somewhere between 10-30%.  

In addition, we figured up the cost.  Which, not including lost income, would be $504 per month.  We're figuring we'd need to commit to a minimum of 5 months to get that cumulative effect and let it work for us, which brings us to just over $2500.  Strangely, we don't have that lying around.  In order to afford that, we'll take the next few months "off" -- no Clomid, no inseminations, no appointments.  Just going back to being normal people with normal lives.  That'll save us about $130 monthly, but that won't touch our IUI Total.  So, we'd be scraping all the time -- don't look for us to go anywhere or do anything.  We'll be saving.  

Of course, in increasing our chances of getting pregnant (30%!) we also have to seriously look at my miscarriage risk.  Dr. Guru put it at about 20%, up 5% from the national average for "normal" people (you know, people without PCOS, infertility, or a big butt).  Currently, losing a baby in utero or from prematurity is my Absolute Biggest Fear That Keeps Me Awake At Night.

Down the other road (that diverges in a wood?) is adoption.  We're currently looking into domestic adoption of a non-white or mixed race child.  There is a huge surplus of non-white children to be adopted because white families are wanting to adopt lily-white children that will look just like them.  We do not have this need.  Not knocking you if you choose to adopt yourself some white babies.  But I don't mind if all my kids are of different races, if they look like me, or not.  Sure, knowing what our genetic make-up would look like would be cool.  Having a baby sleeping in the crib by the bed would be faaaaar cooler, thanks.  If that kid is not white, I'm not really going to be bothered.  Want a baby now, thanks.  IUI wouldn't mean that we don't adopt if it doesn't work, just that we'd be putting on the far-back burner until we were done with treatments.

The drawback for adoption?  It's E X P E N S I V E, ya'll.  Like new-car-expensive.  Like new-cars-for-both-of-us, fully-loaded-expensive.  See above about not going anywhere, doing anything, skrimping and saving.  Woot.  And the wait could be months or years.  Based on the need for people to adopt non-white kiddos, probably shorter.  But still, it's not immediate.   Much like making one yourself, you know?  And did I mention it costs a lot?  Yep.

So, we're taking a while to examine our options, regroup, huddle and discuss our next down, and decide which path to take.  We'll be praying for wisdom and guidance, as well as acceptance of God's will.  We'd be most appreciative if you'd do the same for us.  I'm not sure when we'll have a decision, but you'll know where we're going when we do.