Checking in

Very little has changed in 5 years, same old frustrations, no kids, no money, blah blah blah. I bore myself so won't post to bore others. However, I've seen some very interesting spam in my comments. One was about alpaca infertility. That's pretty damned funny! I've started another blog but have only one post as of yet. I may check into some of the blogs I used to read to see what's up with those folks. Oh, and hi!

While...

-I'm still feeling sorry for myself
-I'm still a malcontent--a job-hating doof
-I'm still extremely, irritatingly, mind-numbingly restless

I'm happy to report that one of my very good friends has proved that IVF can work. She had one failed go-round this summer, and wasn't planning another, but gave in to the urge. Of course, she lives in Illinois where health insurance laws are much kinder to the infertile, but she found out Monday, 5 days after her 43rd birthday, that she got a Halloween treat this year. And of course, I'm hoping to follow my fellow 40-year-old Brooke Shields in finding out that after years of infertility, voila, I can get pregnant, too. Ya never know. Also, hopefully getting slowly closer to setting adoption wheels in motion. I'll be back.

Taking a break again

I think I'm going to stop for awhile again, maybe for a few weeks, maybe longer. Reading blogs, blogging, etc. It's just difficult to feel everyone else is moving forward and we're just stuck. We're in our 40s and we just can't get on our feet. G has quit working for the employer for whom he did the majority of his work. He really never should've worked for them in the first place, they're often pretty shady. They're also our insurance agent, and they've really never done anything but take our money. I'm glad he's quit them, but I'm not sure what's next. It may be fabulous, and I can only hope so, but right now, it just feels like another in a very long series of blows. If I believed in that sort of thing, I'd say our house is cursed. It certainly seems to attract piles and piles of junk. My grandmother was sort of a pack rat, and one day, my grandfather called my mother crying because of all the stuff in the house. He wasn't the sort to do that kind of thing, and my mother and father were quite worried, and came to the house (they live 30 miles away) under the pretense that they were out shopping and just decided to stop by. My grandfather was fine by then and never had another similar episode, that we know of. I've felt the same way. G has so much stuff related to all of his hobbies that I often don't feel there's room for me here. And I hate it here. I always have. 9 years of living in a house I don't like. I try to make it better, but the improvements never last. Maybe we can find jobs elsewhere and just go. I just don't know and I feel so lost and tired.
I also feel like it's just not meant for us to have a family. I was 29 before I found someone to love, and he'd had a vasectomy. We had that taken care of, but no baby. By a couple of years later, I knew there must be more cause, so we did the IVFs, and the lap. And so, tried to move on to adoption. But every time we get close to being able to start, something else happens. My employer goes under. My car gets crashed. I know adoption can happen without lots of money, but probably not the way I want. And we wouldn't be able to give our kids the things they'd want.

I know I'll feel better in the morning. I've been scrubbing the kitchen floor, and cleaning our house always depresses me, because I see how much more there is to be done. I'll be over that in awhile. When we were on our way to Cleveland last weekend, there were rainbows in the sky for a lot of our drive, and I felt they meant something good. I still hope so.

Bad News? Good News? The suspense is killing me

So, Friday morning at 12:50a.m. when we'd been asleep for about an hour, we heard a commotion outside. In my grogginess, I realized I heard a car alarm, but it took a bit for it to register that it might be mine. Of course, it was. G. looked outside and told me to call the police, because my car was either gone or had been knocked down the street. It turns out that it had been knocked across the street, and was sitting, facing the street, in the yard of an apartment building. It's quite pretty, I'll try to post some photos. The driver's side headlight and surrounding area are completely f--ked, and the back is bashed in, too. I'm REALLY hoping the insurance company will total it, because it will never be the same. The dimwit who smashed the car sure seemed like he was on something, but EMS cleared him of being drunk. He supposedly asked our neighbor across the street for a ride somewhere right after he hit my car, an attempt to flee, I suppose. He doesn't seem to have insurance, and he had taken his grandmother's car (without her permission) and SHE doesn't have insurance. Our aforementioned neighbor (who had her 6 year old daughter out with her at 1 a.m., walking across the glass-littered street in SANDALS) wound up giving the guy a ride home (?!!?). She told G. it was about an hour before the guy, with a cup of coffee poured down him, was coherent enough to be able to tell her and whoever was with her where he lived. My mother offered the helpful advice, "well, you shouldn't have parked it on the street." No shit, Mom. G. has the @#$%^ boat he built a few years ago but which has never seen water at the back of our drive. He always parks in the driveway because he's afraid his tools will be stolen, never mind that my car is much more valuable than his truck. Oh, and since some of his tools got stolen anyway this security plan didn't work that well, did it? We've been wanting to build a garage for years, but one thing or another always gets in the way. I've always had visions of someone hitting my car, but driving away, and us never finding out what happened. We got the guy this time, but it may be moot. I guess my inusrance company could do something to recover the loss--attach his wages (if he has any) or something. Our independent agent, G's main employer, is afraid we'll get dropped from our (crappy) company if they have to pay this claim. We had a claim a couple of years ago when I hit G's truck in the driveway (long day, lots of driving, attended a concert, NO DRINKING INVOLVED, just too tired to drive). If they drop us because of this, which was not our fault as WE WERE IN BED, we'll sue.

If they total it, it could honestly be a good thing. I've been thinking as soon as the car's paid off, we could start paying for adoption applications, home studies, etc. My car had low mileage and we could clear about $12,000 after loan payoff. If that's the case, I'll try to find a decent used car for about 10K and have some left over to get us jumpstarted in adoption. We'll see. As I told G, I never loved my car, but I did like it. I just need something reliable to get around in that will hold a car seat and a stroller ;).

In my closet

I know that barring hitting Powerball, moving to another state, or getting a job in the state with insurance that covers infertility, I will not be doing IVF or probably any other treatment again. So why do I have leftover PIO, needles, and a shoot-me-up travel kit in my closet? Well, yes, I know it would be a bad idea to just put a bunch of hypodermics out for Waste Management to pick up, but I could give them to a doctor's office, donate them to a clinic or something. But they're in my closet. Inertia? Self-punishment? Misguided wishful thinking? Whenever I think about getting rid of the paraphernalia I think, "no, I'll just hang onto it a little longer." It'll come in handy when I start my habit, I guess.

Wonder if it was a mustang

Of course, this guy IS from Kentucky.

Enough Already

Liquor's quicker, but...

Creme Savers Tropicals rock! They say "Limited Edition" on the package. Mango and cream, Bananas and cream, and pina colada--all pretty tasty!

Now back to your regular programming...

Spooky

I told G while we were at a Derby party the other day, that I could hear the announcer saying "it's Giacamo, Giacamo!" This was before the race, and yes, I did bet the horse. I never usually bet horses to place, but unfortunately I did this time, and the limit for place horses at this party was 8-1. If I'd bet him to win, I'd have gotten 40-1 odds, still not the 50-1 he paid at the track. Still, my premonition paid off.

Back in November, I had an interview with one of the largest ad/PR agencies in the state, and was very hopeful going in, but as soon as I walked in the lobby of the building, I was slammed with the feeling I was never going to work there. It didn't affect my interview, in fact, it may have made me more relaxed. I was disappointed a couple of weeks later when I found that I didn't get the job, but not shocked or devastated, because I'd already known.

Right now I have the feeling I'm not going to be at my current job a lot longer, because something better's a -comin'. It may be wishful thinking this time, though. We'll see.

Not My Day

The picture disk I picked up from Mei*er this morning after dropping off a disposable camera yesterday has no pictures, although the little thumbnails they gave me look fine. I'm going to have to go back. The tire I had fixed Monday afternoon is flat again. I'm going to have to go back. I have cramps, just in time for Mother's Day. Whine, whimper.