The Kindness of Strangers

This past weekend B & I hauled our butts to Washington D.C. to knock out three legs of paperchasing, as well as have a little time to ourselves. Because we both work, I go to school, he has a music studio, and we are going to have C full-time for a few weeks, we really wanted some time with just us. And honestly? If this dossier doesn't get to China by the end of this month I truly believe I am going to stroke out and die.
The trip up was pretty non-eventful, so I won't bore anyone with the details. We got to the hotel, which was nice, but nowhere near the Metro station. Yes, I will be calling hotels.com to bitch about that Big Fat Lie.
The next morning we drove to the Metro station, which sucked because we had to buy one-way tickets because of morning commuters. Anyways, we got off the Metro and realized that we have piss-poor directions to the Authentications office. I went up to a very robust Homeland Security guard at a hot-dog stand and asked him for directions. Being a helpful asshole, he basically told me "No, I am not helping you," and turned his back. I guess the call of a greasy hot-dog smothered in onions at 9:30 in the morning was more important than assisting a fellow citizen.
A woman with a huge wig was standing beside him, and when she saw this guy being an asshole, she volunteered to walk us there. We were grateful, and patiently waited while she bought herself a hot-dog and BB-Q corn chips, and then walked several blocks to the Authentications office. We thanked her and she went on her way.
As we walked in, we saw two little girls playing outside in the courtyard where the Authentications office is housed. One was Caucasian and the other was Chinese. We admired their cuteness, walked in, took a number, and waited until we were called. When we handed the worker our packet, she told us that we could only authenticate 15 out of 16 pages. When I asked if I could do 15 and B could do one, she told us "No, you two are together." Okay, by this point I was getting pissed. Hearing me argue with her, a man sitting in the waiting room said, "You know what, I'm not with them. Give it to me, I'll walk it through!" He was pissed on our behalf! I said, "You know, that's a great idea," and started to hand him one of our documents. At this point, the woman said, "I'll talk to my supervisor." Shortly she came back and wiggled her fingers at me. I handed over the document and sweetly said, "Thank you so much."
As we were waiting, B struck up a conversation with two women in the waiting room. One was an adoption courier (she was also the mother of the two little girls) and the other was a professional courier. B told them we were adopting and why we were visiting D.C. After the adoption courier split, B asked the other woman for directions to the Chinese Consulate. The woman began rattling off how to get there. B then asked, "How long do you think it will take us to walk there from here?" Looking shocked, the woman said, "You cant walk to China! It's too far! I'm going there next, I'll give you a ride."
By this point we were feeling pretty discouraged. Things just weren't as hearts-and-flowers as we expected. We looked at each other, and said, "Okay." This lady didn't look like a serial killer or a freak, she looked like a mom. Besides, we knew if she tried anything, we could take her - she maybe weighed 130 pounds. We got our paperwork back, checked it, and walked with this woman, who introduced herself as "Debbie," to her van. It was obvious then she really was a mom, because that van said "kids" all over it. We strapped in and the ride began with a massive U-turn right in the middle of downtown D.C. traffic. Let's just say I held onto the "Oh Shit!" bar the entire ride.
Debbie walked us in and began walking us through the process. We could not believe how helpful this woman was being - she didn't have to help us at all. She kept saying, "You guys look so nice, there's no way I would leave you."
We had decided to leave our documents with the Chinese Consulate, because to wait for them would have cost us over 500 dollars more. As we waited, the adoption courier walked in with her daughters, and said, "Hey, you beat us here." Debbie asked her how they got to the Consulate and she told us they rode the bus. Debbie asked her where they were going after their drop-off, and she said, "We'll ride the bus back to the Metro." Debbie then said, "I'm taking them back to the Metro station, my van seats 7, so ride with us."
Amazingly, we all finished within 3 minutes of each other. We walked back to van, all piled in, and Debbie made another massive U-turn and two-wheeled it back to the Metro station. As we all got our stuff and poured out, B said, "You can't imagine how much you've helped us. Is there anything we can do? Buy you some gas? Buy you lunch?" Debbie just smiled and said, "Nope. I have a good story to tell my family. They'll probably kill me for giving a ride to strangers, but you guys looked so nice, it was fine. Good luck!" She waved, made another U-turn and sped off.
We said good-bye to the adoption courier and her children and rode down into the belly of the Metro station, shaking our heads in amazement at how wonderful people can be.

The Big "C" - Bully For You

We recently learned that C's biological mom is having some health issues. Earlier this month she had a minor car accident, and while getting X-rays, the physician discovered a goiter/mass on her thyroid. After seeing an endocronologist, getting more tests, and discovering some hinky spots on her lymphnodes, they are pretty sure she has some type of cancer. Wow, pretty scary. It is intensified by the fact that, along with C, she has an 11-month-old and is currently going through a rough divorce. She hasn't always been the nicest person, but no one really deserves to go through this alone.
B & I are trying to be as understanding and helpful as possible. She has surgery on May 15 and we'll be keeping C for at least a week - maybe two. C's brother will be staying with a friend who has a flexible schedule and can stay at the mom's house.
C is taking it pretty well, but she's really having issues at school with her nemesis M. M is an incredible bully who regularly tells C she's stupid, weird, and fat. C handles it okay, but her passivity is allowing M to beat her down daily. We have all attempted to talk with C about not taking her shit, but the benign, benevolent forgiver in C won't stand up. She even tells us how great M is and how nice she can be sometimes. C even goes as far as calling this brat "my friend." When C says these nice things, most of the time I gently remind her that this girl is a bully, and friends don't make you feel like shit on their shoe. Sometimes I just want to shake C and shout, "Get a goddamn backbone! Smack her - it's okay, we'll bail you out!"
Anyways, C came home the other day and said that M has been telling her, "Your mom has cancer and could die. My mom's gonna live - she doesn't have cancer like your mom." Whoa.
I really want to call the teacher on this one, but it's not my place. I have learned over the last 8 years that stepparents have a place to take action, and this is not my place. All I can do is coach from the locker room, dry tears, and continue to try to wipe this fog of "Please like me" from the eyes of my child.

Cookin' With Grease

As you know, I am within walking distance of the main branch of our local library. Being that B and I are driving to D.C. tomorrow, I decided to trek down to find an audiobook. My pal Tami loves the library as much as me, so she came along for the fun.
Our library has an entire media floor so she and I went in opposite directions, and met at the checkout counter. I was armed with James Patterson's The Jester (B will not listen to romance novels on audio, get real). Tami comes waltzing up with Sista Monica Parker's Can't Keep a Good Woman Down. Now Tami isn't one to pick up a gospel CD - she's probably one of the least religious people I know. Nevertheless, she checked it out. When I asked her "Why?", she pointed out two songs on the list: Cookin' With Grease and Put it in the Crock Pot. Okay, that sealed the deal for me too - I had to hear it.
We got back to the office, shut the door and put Sista Monica in, thinking we would have a good laugh. Well, color me surprised! It was pretty good. I can't say I'll ever listen to it again, but the lady's got some pipes.
I decided right then and there if Oprah does her old and fat people version of American Idol, I'm singing Put it in the Crock Pot for sure.

Johnny and Marilyn

B and I received our passports today, which is fabulous! Two weeks earlier than expected, so we're off to D.C. next weekend.
Our pictures are pretty funny. B looks like a criminal/drug runner/cartoon character. B has hair that stands straight up al-la Johnny Bravo. At the time our passport photos were taken, he was in desperate need of a trim.
I look okay, which is saying a lot. I have many pictures where my right eye is going crazy lazy. So no stinkeye, whew! However, I do have a spot on my cheek that does not belong. I told B he'd better watch out, the Visa folks may mistake me for Marilyn Monroe!

Family Weekend

This past weekend C, B, & I hauled our booties over to Cincinnati for a weekend of family fun. It's been a long time since we went on a vacation, and being that we are spending beaucoup bucks on this adoption, a week-long beach trip is not an option (sigh).
After arriving just in time for Friday-Five-O'clock-Oh-Shit-It's-a-Game Night-Traffic, we finally made it to the hotel. Saturday we got up bright and early and headed across the street to the Netherland Plaza to look around and shop. When I told C that Paris Hilton's family owned this hotel, she asked me if Paris bought it with all the money she makes from acting. B laughed so hard he almost fell over in the street.
Later that afternoon we went to see Peter Pan, part of the Cincinnati on Broadway series. It was phenomenal! Yes, that's Cathy Rigby of Olympic and Stayfree Maxi Pad fame. She's 53 years old and is as flexible as Gumby. B was amazed that someone the same age as his mother-in-law could perform a split without pulling something.
Afterward we headed over to Jeff Ruby's Tropicana restaurant in Newport, KY and paid way more for dinner than we intended. Whoops...
Sunday morning we headed over to the Newport Aquarium to see Sweet Pea the Sharkray. We visited this aquarium 6 years ago when C was 4. She doesn't remember the trip, but B & I had such a good time we decided to go back. The aquarium has expanded to include an otter den and a rainforest area that houses birds that are pretty domesticated. If you pay a buck for a cup of nectar, the birds will literally eat out of your hand. For some reason C decided she was afraid of the birds and her dad and I ended up having all the fun.


Me hanging with the birds.






C pretending to hang with the birds - notice her arm and her dad's hand.
Nice fake.






B feeding one of the more aggressive birds. The bird eventually took the nectar cup and began throwing it back like a shot of scotch.





Good weekend. Good times.

WTF?

So today I was sitting in a very dry, very boring training with my pal Lori. We were listening to this guy drone on about how there are people in society who are devalued and, as people who are paid to work with devalued people, we need to help them find value in their societal roles. As we were lounging in our ergonomically uncomfortable chairs taking page after page of notes, the woman in front of us begins talking about her son who has disabilities. No big deal, right? Well, then she goes into how she has been at odds with her son's service agency because she does not want him to have staff who are of a different ethnicity than him. My pen skittered across the paper, and I looked at Lori who was mirroring the same WTF? look as me. Our eyes telepathically saying, "Is this bitch for real?" The woman then said, "I want him to have staff who are his ethnicity so that when he's out, like at the doctor, people will think that he's with family."
Oh hell no. She did not say this in front of 25 professionals and expect to get away with it. Neither Lori nor I could say anything to her - we were there representing our agency, which is very politically tied to our field. Inside I was screaming, "So, I guess I need to start interviewing
Chinese women my age to take my daughter to the doctor, that way they'll assume she's with 'family,' bitch?" Of course I couldn't say a word. But if she could read minds, man, she would have heard that and more.
You know what pisses me off the most, though? No one in that frigging room said a damn thing - no one. That makes me maddest of all.

Because We're A Little Bit Dumb

B and I just went to get our passports today. Yes, I know we're stupid. Honestly, though, I didn't think we would need them until we traveled. Hello! We need them to get the Chinese Consulate to authenticate our documents pre-dossier. DANG! IDIOTS!
I'll be 40 before we get Ruby.

Stinkeye

So for the past month I've noticed this bump on my outer corner of my left upper eyelid on the lash line that (unfortunately) resembles a whitehead. It's not sore or achy, just itchy when I wear my L'Oreal Paris Volume Shocking Mascara. Well, last night I fell asleep with my cosmetically enhanced lashes on, and this morning I ended up with the stinkeye. You know, the crusty, itchy, greenish, gunky eye that requires the application of a warm washcloth to open? It was even prettier because I looked like Petey from the Little Rascals.
I de-glue the lid and see that my bump is bigger and the corner of my eye is a little irritated. I do the no makeup route for work, which is good for everybody, and call my optometrist's office. They fit me in after lunch. Logically, I know the optometrist's office isn't a real hotbed of crisis and drama, all filled up with emergency eye issues. However, it is nice that they always work me in on the day I call. In my heart, I like to think it's because I have been going to this same family practice for 30 years. That's a lotta clams on exams, glasses, contacts, and bump removal.
Dr O takes one look at my stinkeye and breaks out the heavy artillery. Within 30 seconds of sitting down, I have my head at a funky angle and he has on the headwrap/headlight and the magnifier. He numbs my eyeball with stinging yellow goop, and uses gigantic tweezers to pluck out several eyelashes. OUCH. For a minute there, I started feeling a little like Dustin Hoffman in the movie Marathon Man, even though Dr. O is not a Nazi dentist, and I am not a short, Jewish method actor.
Anyway, Dr. O informs me that I have a "blocked gland" and I need to put wet heat on my lid as often as possible in order for the white gunk to "express or disperse." If my stinkeye doesn't go down in a week, he's gonna "clip it off."
Uh, hell no.
After this trauma which has taken all of 10 minutes from start to finish, I decide to call my mom on the way back to work. As I am telling her all about it, she interrupts me and says, "Oh, you used to get those all of the time when you were a kid."
Great.

One Step Closer

We got our I-171H! The federal government approved us to be adoptive parents - B's rep as a punk rock rebel just flew out the window. Ha!
B & I went out to dinner at the Rio Grande to celebrate. Those who are familiar with us know how pathetic we are in our love for some Rio. This time, however, the excuse to go was pretty damn valid.

Guilty Pleasures

The other day while my friend Tami and I were in the car for an extended period of time traveling for work purposes, we were listening to the XM Radio, cruising for the stations and hit upon Berlin's The Metro. We turned it up and sang along with every word. This got me thinking about guilty pleasures. You know, those things you just don't like to admit you love? Well, I'll tell you my top ten and just let it all hang out. What's a little honesty between friends, right?
Shhhhh... Don't tell anyone but I love...

1. All Michael Jackson songs up to the album (CD) Dangerous. Even though he's a freak and possibly molests small children, the man can sing. If he didn't have such rabid fans and could go beyond his freak stigma to tour again, I would be there. In.a.heartbeat.
2. Blue books. The steamier and raunchier the better. I will own up to reading romance novels, but wont discuss the ones that make the faint of heart have palpitations with anyone but my friend Caroline (who reads them too).
3. Laying in bed right before I go to sleep, I will picture myself walking down the red carpet waving to fans and talking to Joan and Melissa or Star Jones. It relaxes me, and it's way better than counting sheep.
4. Rubbing my butt before I go to sleep. Most of the time I make B do it, but if he doesn't, I will do it myself. Shut up and get your mind out of the gutter. Think massage. The legal kind, people!
5. Cutting my toenails in hotels. Yep, I am the nasty one.
6. The band Styx. They are cheesy, but I have a deep abiding love for Dennis DeYoung and Tommy Shaw. The Grand Illusion is one of the best albums ever, and no one can change my mind. BTW, I forced Tami to endure Mr. Roboto the day before we heard Berlin. She was appropriately traumatized.
7. Drinking my morning coffee before I brush my teeth. It tastes better that way.
8. The TV shows thirtysomething and Saved by the Bell. I will stop whatever I am doing, and like a deer in headlights, will watch either of these anytime they are on.
9. Catching C in a lie. I know it's bad of me to find pleasure in making her squirm, but in so many ways it's rewarding. She truly believes I can see and hear everything she does.
10. Popping B's zits. It's disgusting and gross, but there's a sick fascination that drives me to just grab and go. He hates it, but he endures. Man, I am really sick.

So, now that you think I am gross, have terrible taste in music, and probably a sexual freak, let me ask you this - What's your guilty pleasure?

Don't leave me out here all alone. Freak that I am.

Superstitious

Yesterday, I found myself wandering around T. J. Maxx killing time before my Curriculum Learning Theories class. It seemed like everything in the store was on sale. I was bombarded with 70% off signs on all sides as I cruised through the purses and was pretty shocked to see this bag for only $99! Not very tempted, I moved on, breezing through the shoes, socks, and panties adding black socks and pantyhose to my cart. I wheeled through home goods and debated sheets. I almost wrecked my cart in the gourmet foods section when I slid in some spilled jam. Then I caved to the sirens call of the children's section.
Like the Borg say, "Resistance is futile."
Ever the sinner I fondled, lusted, and coveted. I rubbed small marled cotton Calvin Klein sweaters marked down to $7 between my fingers. I imagined Ruby wearing navy blue $12 Ralph Lauren jumpers. I wallowed in seersucker sundresses with matching pantalettes. A sensual feast, I roamed and dreamed. As I rounded a 4-way filled with Easter frocks, my eyes were drawn to the Heavenly light bathing this...I rolled on the tide of tiny baby clothing and crashed right into that island. I inspected it from stem to stern looking in vain for a price tag. I finally located it hidden seductively in the folds of the seat and almost passed out.
$139.00
One Hundred Thirty Nine Dollars.
Oh.My.God.
A $300.00 stroller that's over 50% off!
Lust overwhelmed me as I slowly backed the cart away from the stroller. My hands trembled as I reached into my purse to grab the cell and call B. Knowing he would tell me what I wanted to hear, all I needed was the go ahead and it would be mine.
But I didn't. I resisted.
I put the phone back and immediately went to the checkout; the siren song of "Discount, you know you want this, you need this" echoing in my brain as I paid for my socks and pantyhose.
I don't buy anything baby because I am terrified. I am terrified we will be rejected. All of these rational and not so rational reasons float through my head all the time. Maybe China will say no because of my weight. Maybe because B has Lupus. Maybe they'll think we're ugly. Maybe because we don't have a religion. The list goes on and on.
I made a deal with myself way back during my infertility treatment that I would not buy any baby items until I knew for certain I was having/getting a baby. At this point, we still don't know.
Call me superstitious if you like, that's okay. I have to be safe and separated until I know for sure we are going to get Ruby (I didn't even want to talk names until B forced my hand and told me that the social worker would think I was too guarded and unsure if I didn't at least try). If I bring that into my house and my fears become reality I don't think I can handle it.

Obsession, You're My Obsession

I am currently obsessing over several things and I thought I would share...

• Loreal Paris' Volume Shocking Mascara is awesome. It makes you have super long, voluminous lashes that are amazing. My lashes are okay thick, but are short and noncolor. Besides the sheer splendiferousness of my lovely lashes, I really dig the commercial. Now I am not a commercial person. Besides an anytime-I-want-to-watch-it Napoleon Dynamite, I have DVR for a reason. Anyway, the reason I like this commercial is because it has The Most Beautiful Woman in India, Aishwarya Rai and her voice is a surprise. It sounds like she's giggling and like she has a secret at the same time.
• The Gaunlet 2 - Real World/Road Rules Challenge. I totally hate everyone on the show (except for Timmy, yummy). Both female captains, Beth and Kina, are hideous bitches. Beth is psychotically crazy and Kina has a funky mouth that in many ways looks like Jack Nicholson's adaptation of The Joker. She has these weird curlicue lips that make her look shady and like she has a moustache. Every Monday I wait for either one of these nut nuts to fight the Gaunlet and hopefully let some other psycho take over as captain. I'd like to see Suzy whip Kina's ass and then turn into a complete asshole. She has the scariest cry face I believe I have ever seen.
• Zac Braff. I love Scrubs and Garden State is one of my favorite movies. I had "one of those dreams" about him two nights ago and I keep thinking about it. Here's why. My alarm clock is always set at 30 minutes fast, it's a psychological trick that shouldn't work but does. I also set my alarm one hour before I really have to get up. I do this because I hate to wake up in the middle of REM sleep. I get up, pee, reset the alarm and snooze for another hour. This works for me. I think this dream stemmed from the combination of my morning pee and B leaving his March Giant magazine sitting in front of the toilet. BTW, it's a great magazine.
• My period. First let me say, NO I am not pregnant. I am late, and what this means for me is that when it comes it's going to be a total bitch. One thing I have learned in the almost 25 years of bleeding is that the longer I take in between, the heavier and longer my period will last. This bites because I am traveling a lot next week. Who wants to drive for hours bleeding like a stuck pig? Me neither.
• Heidi Klum and Seal. They are my new Brad and Jen. Whenever I see them, the love is palpable. I also am obsessed with Project Runway. My vote goes for Daniel "Flowing Locks of Glory" Vosovic. He really is the best. My favorite part of Project Runway is the opening sequence with Heidi's squeaky German voice saying "One Hunderd Tousand Dollars" and "Sixteen Designers."
• The songs This Year's Love and Moon River. Two old songs. Well, one really old and one not so old. They are both lovely.

Seriously in Need of a Calgon Moment

I have been exceptionally busy lately with work, school, C's rapidly increasing PMS, my mom's health, and my furniture dilemma.

1. Work: Cant talk about it - moving on.
2. School: I have two writing-intensive classes this semester. I am writing a minimum of one 12-20 page paper a week. Some weeks I have 4 papers due, all of which are due on Mondays. I have a very supportive work group. We very smartly volunteered to be the first group to present in my Curriculum Theories class. Good move - no one to compare us to and we set the bar. I am so glad I have these three women, without them I would probably rethink this whole Ed.D process.
3. C's Rapidly Increasing PMS: Puberty is starting to crush my little lady. She's royally pissed because (this is a direct quote), "My breasts are growing too fast, and they hurt. Mommy wont let me shave my legs because she says my hair is still blonde and no one can see it, but I can and there are black ones there, Debbie I swear it! I am also getting hair. Down there. I am using my deodorant, but the other day, after gym, I did this (raises arm and sniffs) and I almost puked. I am also afraid I'm going to start my period at school, so I have been keeping a jacket or sweater to wrap around my waist just in case. I know _________ will make fun of me if she sees it. I know it!" When she paused for a breath after this incessantly long run on sentence, I asked her, "So, are you freaking out?" She rolled her eyes at me and said, "Yeah, Duh." Her dad walked in and she locked up tighter than a clam, jerked her thumb at him, muttered, "Don't tell this guy," and marched off to bed to wallow in her stinky hairiness.
4. My Mom's Health: My mom is in menopause - yes the hormones are haunting me in every way. She was convinced she had uterine cancer after having her first period in 11 months. I kept telling her she probably ovulated because she's only 53, extremely healthy, and hey, shit happens. After 2 ultrasounds, bloodwork, and a PAP, her GYN told her, "You ovulated and you had a period." Told you so.
5. My Furniture Dilemma: So you may have read about B and I buying new living room furniture and tables. We deliberated and finally chose the fabric and sofa on which it would cover. Well, after having 3 out of 4 tables delivered and paying 20% down on a sofa and two chairs, the furniture store called and reported that the couch we chose could not be covered in the fabric we wanted. Long story short, I complained, they're coming to get the tables, and I am getting my 20% back as well as delivery fees. We are going to La-Z-Boy this weekend. I'll keep you posted.

** I borrowed the pic from this person. Obviously, I don't have time to read her blog, but I love her art.

Passing the Torch - Part deux

We finally, finally, FINALLY finished our homestudy!! The notarized documents arrived last week and our social worker sent me a "Sayonara Sweetheart" email on Friday.
We are finished. Again. For Real. Stick-A-Fork-In-Me-Done.

Now the wait for the brown envelope begins.

Brand New

So, how do you like my new lovely image at the top of my blog? Thanks to my epals Amy and Ruby I have a Brand New Look. One thing to know about me, is that I love Brand New Things.

So Amy & Ruby Cate, Thank You, Thank You. This is just what I needed on a snowy day where the only things facing me are writing a yucky paper, reading a yucky text, and fighting a yucky cold. You're the best!

People Like Us

Every year around this time, B & I make a major furniture purchase. Last year we bought our bedroom suit. It's very lovely. The bed is so big, we have a total of 13 standard and king size pillows. I am lounging in it right now. This year we decided to replace our living room suit and tables. We finally agreed and made the purchase. Delivery will be in 6-8 weeks.
However, furniture isn't really the point of this blog, it's about coincidences, and the love and admiration I have for my husband.
Last year we were trolling around the furniture store bickering about what bed to buy. As we meandered through the aisles we saw a family. A mom, a dad, and a daughter. A daughter very obviously from China. I pointed them out to B and told him I wanted to talk to them He asked me not to, saying no, it would be intrusive. ***Keep in mind we had recently shelved fertility treatments and dusted off Plan B. Plan B, our plan to adopt from China, had been languishing on the shelf growing fat and sassy. A little piglet of smug. Anyway, I decided to make a comment about how their daughter was pretty, and that we were adopting from China too! This family was so nice. Throughout our financing process they stood and chatted with us. Mainly with me. B stood beside me holding my hand and listened. I could feel the tension in his hand. When I asked him about it later, he told me he didn't want this family to think we were weird and intrusive. They were the first people, outside of our family and close friends, we had told we were adopting. It just seemed right to mention it, and I was glad I did.
Fast forward to today, we were once again in a furniture store bickering about what to buy. I had a small panic attack (something I do when I have to spend a lot of money). Wanting to quickly escape my radiating stress, B wandered over to the lounge area of the store to get me a soda. 15 minutes he comes back, a spring in his step, grinning like a fool. He told me he just met a family with a daughter from China. He then told me about how he walked right up to these people and told them that we are adopting and are finished with our homestudy. I said, "You talked to them?" He said he couldn't resist; he wanted to meet other people like us.
Ruby is gonna be one lucky little girl having a daddy like him, and people like us to be her parents, family, and friends.

It's a Small, Small World

Ever since B & I decided to adopt from China I have been lurking all over the internet joining forums, reading blogs, researching China, and started blogging myself. I have read about so many interesting people and shared their journeys via the World Wide Web. A year later, Karen and D are anxiously awaiting Maya Papaya, Susan and Will are packing and preparing for their trip to meet Olivia, Lissa and Russell are loving Lydia and Amy and Ruby are having the times of their lives. I think about these families I haven't met. I am surprised by the commonalities we have, and I look forward to sharing their happiness, albeit vicariously.
The one journey I have followed from the beginning has been Karen and Scott's (I can't link to their blog because it's private). I don't know these people, but if I saw them on the street I would stop and ask about their lives. I know about their marriage, their struggles and successes, and their adoption of Gwen from the first stages of the process, through the scary, harrowing first three weeks of being with her and wondering if she would make it through the night, and through the celebrations of her first birthday a few days ago. I also know other personal things that, even though they are strangers, makes me sad and angry and worried. It's hard to believe, but it's true. My thoughts are with these people I really don't know, and I am humbled and amazed by the power of the internet and the power of people.

Not Again!

Having my usual luck, the small burning ember of the homestudy torch that was passed has been returned. Reason being, I need another letter from my doctor regarding my hypertension. Great. As you can recall, back in September, I asked for, received, and promptly thereafter fired my doctor. I have since moved to a new doctor. This guy is nice, but his office staff leave much to be desired.
I make the call, give my info and make my request. The person with whom I am speaking (I have no idea if she's a nurse, assistant, LPN, or receptionist), says, "It's really sad that you have to go through so many hoops to adopt." I let this one slide, because in many ways I agree with her. I respond with, "Yes it is, and this is a last minute hoop, so I would appreciate the letter as quickly as possible." I was hoping this redirection would help expedite the call. Personal phone calls at work are frowned upon, and since I share an office, I try to follow the rules. The rest of the phone call goes like this:
She says, "If you don't mind me asking, where are you adopting from?"
I answer,with a little sense of giddy pride, "We are adopting from China."
Her response, "That's really sad too, when there are so many kids here that need adopted."
My deflated, curt response, "I respect your opinion; this was a very personal decision for my husband and me, and I really don't think this is the point of this phone call. When can I come in to pick up my letter?"
I was so pissed. I know I opened the door, but I viewed it as a) a friendly inquiry, and b) a need to be polite because I was asking for something from these people. But you know what, I don't have to be polite, and unfortunately, I can think of so many meaner, caustic things to say now that I have had time to think. How nice do I have to be? We pay monthly for health insurance, I pay a co-pay every time I walk into the office; I am a customer. The staff at this office are rude, stand-offish, obviously opinionated, and really are all around assholes. I don't think this doctor is worth it. Perhaps I am expecting too much but, I am one of these people who refuses to put my doctor on a pedestal and take his/her word as gospel. I have a decent amount of education, and although I didn't go to medical school (back off), I tend to view my doctor as a peer rather than an authority figure. I know my body better than anyone else and even though I respect and admire the medical profession, I don't have to be treated like shit by my doctor or by his/her staff. I am at an impasse - I didn't like my first doctor, but she had really great staff; I like my new doctor, but I hate his staff. I am giving it a year, which will be September, and I will search again for the perfect blend of doctor and office staff. If I am lucky, I'll find one who gives out lollipops too.

Please Squeeze the Charmin!

So my mom called to tell me this story about my nephew, and I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants. My SIL, Kim decides to take a shower, and, as she steps out, she notices that Chubs is playing with the white terrycloth shower curtain. She also notices that very close to Chubs' little hand is a giant, brown circle approximately the size of a baseball. Not knowing what it could be, Kim picks up the shower curtain and sniffs. Yes, it is shit. The culprit is the mysterious fellow to the right, who fessed up to wiping his ass on the shower curtain because there was no toilet paper available. Hey, no skid marks in the Sponge Bobs allowed!

Passing the Torch

So I just returned from handing off a check for our final homestudy payment as well as the highlighted and corrected version of the final document to our social worker J. Now it's up to B and me to gather and hunt for the remainder of the dossier prep process and get this show on the road.
Although I am happy with our agency - they've been super nice, I am sort of wishing we had gone with our other choice, paid the extra 900 bucks, and let them do all of this prep. I am so afraid that I am going to drop the ball and drag this out even longer than it's already taking. Fortunately I have some floating holidays I can take. I am planning to take one in the next week or so and knock this out. Wish me luck!

Cha-Cha-Ching

Here we have C, lover of stuffed animals, Gwen Stefani's "Hollaback Girl," hooker makeup (thus the bright blue eyeshadow), television, ham sandwiches with ketchup, "Bohemian Rhapsody," and American Idol. C also has no, count 'em, NO fashion sense, difficulty remembering to shampoo, a very bad habit of farting in public places, and a great need for orthodontia.
Neither B nor I needed braces, so when C had her first appointment with Dr. T to apply brackets and bands, B listened closely and took notes. You would think he was being quizzed or something. We non-braces people learned that all things good are forbidden when wearing braces. Especially braces that set your parents back $7400. Apparently B thought C was listening as closely as he was. He was wrong.
Here's the scene:

1. B & C arrive and are shuttled into an assembly line of chairs at 8:00 am.
2. By 8:30 am, the purple and pink (remember I said NO fashion sense) first set of braces are applied and the note-taking lecture ensued
3. At 8:35 am B signs an ironclad contract agreeing to pay big bucks for this kid's mouth.
4. At 8:36 am B writes a check for $550, the first of many, many to come.
5. C arrives at school, braces shining by 9:00 am
6. B arrives at work by 9:25 am.
7. At approximately 11:02 am B receives a phone call from C's mother informing him that C ate Nerds at break, popped a bracket, and is hysterically crying in the nurse's office at school.
8. 4:00 pm B & C are shuttled into an assembly line of chairs for the second time in one day.
9. By 4:10 pm the bracket is repaired, the second lecture has taken place, and C appears remorseful and attentive.
10. Finally, at 6:30 pm B gets a phone call from C saying, "Dad, I ate soup for dinner."

See what I mean?

Rock Star

Happy First Birthday, Chubs!

Resolutions

I don't make New Year's resolutions. It's too much pressure. Being an inordinately lazy person, resolutions open doors to failure and add more stress to my taxed brain when I think about all of the things I should be doing. Think about it - I am lazy; therefore I lament regularly on what I should be and could be doing instead of being lazy and lounging around. Compound that with additional resolutions that usually revolve around some type of life improvement like losing weight, exercising more, blogging regularly, or cleaning my closets makes for undue stress, consequently hurting my brain and exhausting me to the point where I have to have to lie down for a while.
Although I may be exaggerating, I believe I have a point. Instead of resolutions that revolve around change and improvement, I have decided to take things as they come, and resolve to make acceptances:
I resolve to accept my laziness as a part of who I am.
I resolve to accept the fact that I procrastinate things to the point of crisis.
I resolve to accept that my thighs rub together.
I resolve to accept that this adoption is taking way longer than I want.
I resolve to accept that C has horrible fashion sense and enjoys looking like a clown on crack.
I resolve to accept my lack of organization.
I resolve to accept that I am obsessed with the mail, shoes, and books.
I resolve to accept my romance novel addiction with pride instead of shame.
I resolve to accept that I am a bad friend that rarely calls or emails, but still loves and worries about my pals.
I resolve to accept I will never stop having pimples even though I am thisclose to my 35th birthday.
I resolve to accept my self-absorption.

New Beginnings Late in the Game

I know I devoted an entire post to my shiny new ring, but I didn't say much about the rest of Christmas. This year was fabulous. We all got along, everyone was thrilled, and the memories of last year finally began to fade.
Last Christmas, B & I we struggling with our decision to stop infertility treatments and bump Plan B into Plan A. At the same time we were all dealing with C's mom's unplanned pregnancy and how it had become a bitter ghost moving in and out of our house. I was angry, B was worried, and C was just being an all-around asshole about it. Last Christmas C got her first spanking, I cried all morning, and B was angry and sad because both of his ladies were miserable and he couldn't fix us.
This year, as I said before, was different. We were relaxed, slept later (the benefits of having an older child, who, although no blood-relative of mine, seems to have adopted my lazy gene), and had a nice holiday. Outside of the jewelry, B decided to theme my gifts. Because I travel an insane amount (I think I've stayed at every Hampton Inn within a day's drive of my home), B kept this in mind when purchasing my gifts. I ended up with a car safety kit, XM radio, keyless ignition/entry, space bags, an iTunes gift card, and a spray can of Mace in my stocking. Think he worries about me when I'm out there on the road? He put a lot of thought into the whole present thing, which is very sweet and cool.
Another great thing this year is that we actually had Christmas morning, which is also her birthday with C. For the last 8 Christmases we have celebrated on Christmas Eve, and C would have Christmas Day at her mom's house. We don't share the holiday. I know there are blended families out there that can all come together and make it work, but we are not one of them. Enough said.
Anyways, after having a leisurely morning opening gifts, B decided to scope out the city to see about getting breakfast. We all piled into the car and headed toward Shoney's, the only place open. The place was packed with firemen. It was sort of surreal. We hit the buffet and as we tucked into our food, C began talking about her birthday and was asking B about the day she was born. No big deal, really, just talk. Apparently the waitress overheard C and asked to speak to B. Ten minutes later, here comes our waitress holding one of these followed by the rest of the wait staff clapping and singing the requisite restaurant birthday sing along. The look on C's face was priceless. As she dived into chocolaty vanilla bliss, she turned to me and said, "Can we make this a tradition?" I scooped up a bite for myself and replied, "Yes, we can."

Rex Kwon Do Better Watch Out

Although I normally won't post pictures of my family and friends (It kinda freaks me out even though I know there are few people that actually read this blog), this is one of my all-time favorite pictures.
My nephew Noah is a nut. He loves his "fryjamas" and these stinkin' moon boots. He does karate in his Sponge Bob underpants, freaks out over Game Cube, obsesses over "bad guys," and can name Hot Wheels makes and models in a Rainman-esque fashion that astounds mortal men. He's a redheaded hellion who can sing "Take Me Out" at the top of his lungs and is terrified of spiders. He likes to sleep in my bed, but won't let B sleep with us because, "He lets big, stinky farts," and gives the best hugs ever.
I love him beyond words.

Bling! Bling! Christmas is Shiny!

Well, a month's gone by and I haven't blogged since the last holiday, but honestly, I have been so wrapped up in work, finishing school, and Christmas shopping I haven't had time to do much of anything else. Well, except get the worst haircut EVER. I swear my hair looks like this, but truthfully, the wig looks better. I find it disconcerting that my hairdresser, whom I have trusted implicitly for the last 3 years decided to make me look like I need to be in a retirement home. Regardless, Christmas at my house was full of family, love, and bling.
I won't lie and say that I regret not having a big wedding. Eloping with B was the best decision I have made in my life; however, at the time of our surprise nuptials, we rushed to get rings at a local shop that rhymes with "lawn." Don't get me wrong, I am not a jewelry snob or even a girly girl who likes to wear different pieces, but for a while (several years) I have had a serious case of diamond envy. I'm not choosy, I just wanted a carat. My small, shiny, beautiful diamond has great sentimental value, but I still coveted the rings of my friends. If that makes me shallow, so what! At the time of our marriage B and I made less money combined than I make now. We were poor and in love and made do, and for these years of diamond envy B refused to even discuss a bigger ring. He just couldn't see how a piece of jewelry could make me happy. Nevermind the fact that he pays monthly rent on a studio for his drums that he visits at least once a week, but hasn't had a consistent paying gig in over 2 years. I digress...
Imagine my surprise this Christmas Eve when I got my carat. Finally after years of envy I got what I wanted. A carat solitaire that shines lovely on my fat little finger. Upon giving it to me, in front of both our families who were in on it, he stated, he realized that this time next year we would be getting ready for our trip to China; and after that we would not only have Cadance, but Ruby, and eventually grandbabies. This would be the last time we could really focus on each other. With flourish and grandeur he presented me with the ring. I couldn't be happier, but much to the disappointment of B and the fam, I didn't cry.
Next up, a new band for Valentine's Day...

Although I Like to Eat...

Being that today is Thanksgiving and I have been up since 4:30 this morning, thanks to passing out last night around 8:30, like many others in the world have decided to list my blessings for which I am thankful...

• B - my love, my heart. What a guy. Predictability at its daily best - laughter? Check! Telling me he loves me? Check! Singing something silly about poop? Check! Talking to his dumbass cat that I hate in this schmoopy, baby voice that gets her engine revved like she's in heat? Check!
• C - Being a stepmom isn't very easy, and sometimes isn't all that fun. Even though boundaries abound, it's mostly just great. An awesome kid that let's me practice being a mom without recourse (yet) whom I love to pieces. I am lucky and I try not to forget it.
• My family - No matter what they've got my back, and vice versa.
• My friends - The Holy Trinity: Rachael, my sister in heart, who's been there the longest and loves me still, Alicia, my wife, who keeps me on my toes and allows me to be totally selfish while arm wrestling me for time to talk, "Okay, enough about you let's talk about me..." and Caroline, my constant, who's blunt honesty calls me on my shit, even when I don't want to hear it and it makes me really mad.
• My partners in crime - Lori and Tami, I am so glad I am a little bit insane, otherwise we'd drive each other nuts. It's nice to get along since we have to spend so much time together. The good new is, we aren't legally responsible for each other.
• And finally, my Ruby - Words aren't enough to say how much the wait is killing me. To see that face, dry those tears, tell her to "walk it off," finalize my family, watch her grow into an amazing woman, and love that love that makes me more and less of a person at the same time. With her, my work here will be done.

... thanks be.

All Talked Out

Well, we had our first home visit for our home study today. I took a personal holiday to finish cleaning the house and discovered the magic wonder of these. My mom always hangs with the bald dude, but I can't cheat on my regular guy. Who the hell has an all white kitchen anyways? Me, the woman who doesn't have full-time kids. Who will be painting said kitchen in the near future to avoid going through a 4 pack of magic erasers, one industrial size Clorox disinfectant wipes and an entire bottle of Spic & Span? Ooh, Ooh, Ooh, Pick me Mr. Kotter! I digress...
Our cute as a bug in a rug SW, J, came breezing in at 2 o'clock with a sunny smile and soft spoken ways. B was convinced she was coming to throw down the gauntlet, take one look at us and laugh her ass off. I was stressed because we create more dust than Kansas. Regardless, I kept reminding myself that she's a nature loving, no make-up, but still beautiful, trying to hide it hippie and attempted to relaxed. She's one laid-back chick. I talked even more than last time and realized I am a huge, pretentious nerd. C talked very little, which was surprising, but after J left she went on and on how nice and pretty she is - weird. B made jokes and somehow got her to disclose more information than she probably should. Before we knew it 3 hours were killed and we kicked her out of the house. The tension and stress of the day deflated like a leaky balloon and we all sat down to a silent dinner. There we were, halos of kitchen lighting around the blonde heads of our family trying not to acknowledge the silent, empty space at our table that's waiting to be filled with the noisy chatter of a baby girl with black hair that will reflect the light like rippling city lights on a deep moving river. Quietly eating BBQ, We shoveled it in like farm hands after a day of barn raising. What a day.

I "Heart" B

B & I had our first official interview with our social worker today. We met at her office and, being that it is only a block away from mine, B met me there. I was so proud of him, he looked so handsome and cleanly shaved, even though I know it wasn't for my benefit. She asked us general questions about our lives, family support, how we feel about interracial families, etc... All in all, we talked both her legs off, and made her laugh more than she probably should. To us, a good meeting.
The best part though, while sitting there in her chintzy wing-back chairs, was being reminded of how much I love my husband. It was like I was standing outside looking in at this couple who so desperately want this baby, but know that if, for some reason, it doesn't work out, will be okay. I have learned that with this man by my side I can weather anything. We've gone through death, major life-threatening illness, crazy people, divorces of friends and family, financial strife, and the heartbreak of infertility, and never once did we consider being apart was better than being together. He is my best friend, soul mate, buddy, partner in crime, and the love of my life. With him I am so much more.

I Will Hug It, and Love It, and Kiss It All Over

I am jonesing for a dog like nobody's business. I really believe it is stemming from the fact that 1) CCAA has slowed down the referral process and we are now looking at 2007 rather than 2006 to get Ruby, 2) my cat Darwin, the one that I love, is no longer really feeling the love for me, and 3) this picture of Dakota, a puggle from Yonkers, NY is luring me to break out the checkbook and scoop up one just like her, name her Eloise, and teach her amazing tricks that will get us a spot on Animal Planet. I love dogs, but B & I went with cats as pets because we are not home enough to give a dog the attention she would need, and making life adjustments for pets is not the same to us as making a life adjustment for a child. Cats are the perfect pet for people who are busy. They are independent creatures who do not want to be cuddled, loved, played with, and paraded for all to see. It doesn't surprise me that all of these doggie descriptors are some that are also applied to babies/children. I know that deep down I am ready for Ruby and a dog would only be compensation till she gets here. I can wait for the one thing I want - delayed gratification knows no bounds.

Kinda Like Labor, Or So I Hear

Well, first off, I am finally well. After two antibiotics, a nasal spray, and a Diflucan I am now crud free. It's about time - I don't have time to be sick. I have bigger fish to fry.
Right now I am trying to figure out when my almost-10-year-old stepdaughter, C, became a teenager. This past Saturday, C had her first Halloween/early birthday slumber party. We set them up in the dining room with pizza, snacks, a Bratz Dance Pad and Kidz Bop 8, a cd player, and let them go. The first indicator I got was when the girls were eating pizza. B & I were in the kitchen eavesdropping and all of the sudden we hear, "Let's play Truth or Dare!" B and I looked at each other and held our breath. The game starts, and we hear C say, "I dare you to make out with that skeleton." WHAT!?! B snorts diet Coke out of his nose and starts cracking up. I quietly restrain myself from jumping up and running into the dining room screaming, "Where the Hell did you hear that? No one in this house 'makes out!'" Which is untrue, but I don't want to scar her for life. But I said nothing.
The second indicator came when I was fulfilling the promised "pedicure" part of the party. Out of the blue C asks, "When can I shave my legs? Caitlyn shaves her legs already, can I?" Holy shit. Talk about on the spot. I finally mumbled, "We'll talk about this later." Goddammit.
The third and final straw came Monday morning when she walks into the spare bedroom, where I am ruthlessly ironing khakis, wearing Whore Red lipstick and a big fat smile. I take one look say, "NO," and keep on ironing. She then proceeds to gently wipe it off, leaving a lovely smeared pink residue, and begins applying glitter lip gloss in methodical, hypnotic circles on her lips. Again I take one look and say, "NO." Well, let's just say that the second rejection of her aspirations to be hooker or possibly Dolly Parton resulted in a wailing litany of "It's just gliiiiittttterrrr!" I finally had to whip out the, "If you're smart, you will silently sit in the backseat of this car and be very, very quiet" line, which subliminally says, "If you don't shut up I will have to slit my wrists, which means you and your dad will be left alone and he will allow you to go to school looking like a hooker, you will get knocked up at 12, live on Welfare, and smoke two packs of Camels a day, and if this happens I will haunt and torture the both of you as long as you live..."
I don't know what happened. It seems like yesterday boys were gross, bathing was a battle, and the highlight of her day was listening to her lullaby cd she's had since she was two. Now I have a premenstrual, hormonal, Gwen Stefani worshipping pre-teen. And, to add insult to injury, I will be experiencing this all over again in about 11 years with Ruby, which is just enough time for me to forget about the pain and agony I have experienced this week.

Being Sick Sucks

I am so sick of food T.V. I could puke. Why is it that T.V. sucks so much during the day? I am sure there are people out there who stay at home and enjoy such masterpieces as: Dr. Phil, Maury, Judge Brown, and As the World Turns. I am not one of those people. If my head didn't hurt so badly I would try to read. As it stands, I can't handle concentrating that hard. Thank Bob, daytime T.V. doesn't require much. I have raging ear and upper respiratory infections thanks to being in close proximity to people who are sick and traveling in icy rain to Pennsylvania to see my boyfriends. Anyways, I feel like crapola and having shitty T.V. bites big fatties. I hate being sick!

I Am Larry Mullen, Jr's Bitch

Round-trip Mileage: 470 miles
Ticket: $115.00
Gas: $73.00
T-shirt $35.00
Great Mexican Dinner $8.43
Seeing the greatest concert of your life with two awesome friends: Priceless

Dinner is Served

Yet again time has gotten the best of me, and I am behind on my blogging. I can't use the excuse of being busy for a second time, so I guess I'll say I've got a lot on my plate. Imagine...

For the entree, I am having a big ol' bowl of Work. Like the neverending pasta bowl that Olive Garden touts on a regular basis, it never empties and keeps taking up way too much room on my table. Each task is a winding strand of noodle, and if I am lucky, the bite is accompanied by some exciting spice or sauce. Mostly it's sort of bland and filling.

My vegetable would be school. My classes are a lot like broccoli - I never want to eat it, but when I make myself, I usually enjoy it.

C & B would be my bread and water. With just these two, I can survive. C & B just give me my space and keep me laughing - my sanity, my salvation.

Finally for dessert, big scoops of social worker, with lots of warm home study paperwork, whipped cream USCIS fingerprinting, and sprinkles of fees paid everywhere.

I am full.

Wasted Wishes

Whenever I hear someone say, "I wish..." Usually it is followed by something lame like, "...This copier would go faster," or "...My feet didn't hurt." If I hear them say it, I will reply, "Don't waste your wishes!" Well, I am pretty guilty of wasting my wishes too, so I've decided to just put my wishes out there. If any of them come true, you will be the first to know...

I Wish...
Ruby was with us now
My house would stay permanently clean
C was with us full-time
I only needed 4 hours of sleep a night like Martha Stewart
My brother had 100% of his hearing
I had pretty, shapely legs
My family will live forever, or at least outlive me
John Kerry was president
I had a digital camera and knew how to take cool pictures like Karen
I could tap dance
B would get a salary projection for his promotion
I had no periods. Period.
I had Oprah hair (and her moolah)
I could ride an elephant
We weren't at war
I could knit
My friend Lori could find her split-apart
I could eat as many Doritos, fried green tomatoes, and bacon sandwiches as I wanted without gaining weight
I could be on Broadway, preferably in a revised musical like Bye Bye Birdie or The Sound of Music
Somebody would put Baby in a corner
I had time to read a book for pleasure every day
I knew more about politics and world events
I could find beautiful shoes that were high, high, high and didn't hurt my feet
Nip/Tuck was on 3 nights a week
Sayid on Lost would cut his fingernails - Gross
Harry Potter was real and we could make mischief together at Hogwarts
I was finished with my doc program
I could see my friend Alicia more
There would be no disabilities or mental retardation, which would consequently put me out of a job
I could use the word "consequently" more often
I could win the lottery
Bono will see me in the audience on Oct 22, and pull me onstage to sing With or Without You with him
I could rap
Plaster walls wouldn't crack when a nail is driven into them
French-tip manicures would go out of style
Michael Vartan would still be on Alias, it's so not worth it without him
Television Without Pity would hire me
I had more wishes...

I am sure there are more, I'm just too wished out to think of them

Strollin' Thru the City

How convenient working downtown can be. Living and working in the capital city of my state is really quite lovely. Although my office is no great shakes in terms of lovely views, privacy, or cushy furniture, it is within walking distance of the post office, DHHR, Taylor Books, the New Yorkiest slice of pie you can find in this far south, the library and The Peanut Shoppe. Just today I strolled over to the DHHR office and picked up official copies of birth certificates for B and me. How cool is it that I can hoof it through the historic district of my city on a beautiful day and get what I need. I got three copies each, just in case, and made my way back to the office in less than 30 minutes. Awesome.
I mentioned the library and The Peanut Shoppe for two reasons: 1) these are two of my favorite places in the world (granted I haven't seen a lot of the world), and 2) I finally, finally, finally finished my autobiography for our home study. At last! In my "Happy Memories" section I talked about how much I love the library. When I was a little girl, my mom, brother, and I would hop on the bus every Saturday and make our way into the city. We would go to the library and check out as many books as we could - 20 apiece. It was a haven for us from being stuck in a rural area with no cable, no video games, and no computers. It was the 70's folks! Once we got the goods, we would cross the street and eat at McDonalds. This McDonalds was extra cool because it had a downstairs section. Mom would rarely take us down there except to go to the bathroom, because the transients would hang out down there and try to bum money or food. The McDonalds is long gone, currently replaced by a parking garage/coffee shop and a swanky French restaurant - with no cool downstairs. After a plain filet-o-fish and fries, we would cross the street again and head into The Peanut Shoppe. 30 years later the place still looks and smells the same. Also 30 years later I still buy the same thing, French-burnt peanuts. Little red, candy-coated peanuts in waxy, white paper bags, each one a burst of salty sweet goodness in my mouth.

Good News All Wrapped Up in Bad

Why is it that good news is usually cushioned with so much bad? Like lambswool in a too big slipper, my narrow happiness is cushioned all around with itchy, hateful, I-just-can't-make-it-fit frustration and sadness. Things haven't been so great lately. I am still struggling with finding my nitch at work and in my doc program, found out my best friend is divorcing, and learned that my brother may possibly have Meniere's disease. In the midst of what could possibly be one of the worst days of my life, we get the call. Our agency has accepted us - they actually said they were looking forward to working with B and me. Gee, I wonder how long this will last - probably until the 5, 000th phone call or email...
Good news I can't really dwell on. I am sad for my friends, terrified for my brother, and really need to just get over myself. B has gone through a divorce, and we have gone through another one with his ex-wife; however, this is different. We love both these people. We often hang out together, and many times Brian will go with my girlfriend to see scary movies or smoke outside, while her husband and I will see the funny ones and chat about comic books, movies and celebrity gossip. We always switch partners when playing games, and ususally sit across from the opposite at dinner. That's the only swapping we do, so shut up! Nevertheless, I am sad to see it disintegrate and feel very helpless. This marriage is cancer, all good things are being eaten slowly by hard feelings, resentment, and loss of love and respect. And just like cancer, remission may happen, but the threat of the disease will always be there, lingering and waiting; a silent, deadly fog of poison anticipating one sharp inhale.
My brother is going deaf. He is in a lot of pain and is very sick with constant vertigo. Again, the feelings of helplessness are overwhelming me. Meniere's disease is scary and can make life incredibly difficult to maintain. He has three small children; a family to support. I wish I could do more, but all we can do is wait. All of his childhood and youth, my brother was teased about the size of his ears. In elementary school I opened up many, many cans of "Whoop Ass" because of taunts like, "big ears" or "Dumbo." In adulthood, my brother's head and body finally caught up with his ears, and he is a proportionate, beautiful man (way prettier than me). His ears no longer look large or unusual, they look normal. I just hate it that the one feature that caused him so much torment as a child is continuing to make him miserable.
As I type this I cry. I am crying for my baby brother whom I can no longer protect. I can't beat up anyone or make this go away. I am crying for my friends who are struggling so hard to find happiness. I am crying for myself, because no matter how great our news may be, the stress of these two incredibly important people supersedes any bliss I may have.

The Beginning

Well today started the process - we mailed our application to our agency. After I covertly made copies of everything, my friend Caroline and I hoofed it a block over to the post office. My hands were shaking as I handed it over to Jason, a very friendly postal worker. As Caroline and I walked out of the building and into the sunshine dappled city of Charleston, I imagined the envelope winging it's way to Colorado fueled by the anxious beating of my heart. Anxiety over acceptance, anxiety over beginning a process that is going to change our lives forever. We can't wait - the journey to Ruby has finally begun.

The Best Part of Wakin' Up

Let me tell you about my lovely morning. Not only did my internal alarm clock start to sing "Good Morning to You" at 7:30 this morning, my full bladder began to sing melody along with the harmony of my sinuses begging for Benedryl. Making for a nice holiday, I-haven't-been-in-bed-later-than-6:30 am-for-a-week, weekend wake up call. Just to exacerbate the great, good morning vibes, I realized I was having "one of those dreams" about Gene Simmons of all people so I hauled my ass out of bed PDQ. Since it's Saturday and I don't have to rush around getting ready for the JOB, I decided to languish in my recliner that massages, drink some of my tasty mail-order coffee, and read a trashy book. I sleepily programmed my coffee maker for six man-sized cups (actually, it's a perfect amount to fill 2 Fiesta cappuccino mugs) and settled in with my book and blanket. After about 5 minutes I realize I don't hear the whirs and glurgs of my coffeemaker. I jump out of my cozy nest and lo and behold my coffeemaker is broken. NOOOOOOO! In memory I can see it all in Super Slow-Mo, it was so horrific.

Now I have been a coffee drinker since I was a wee one and if I do not have coffee within approximately one and one-half hours of waking I am intolerable, physically sick, and just damn evil. The last time I went without my requisite 2-3 cups in the A.M. was the day I had my breast reduction surgery which was October 29, 2003 (yes, I remember the date - big surgery, no coffee). Keep in mind I was having major surgery and received many, many drugs for the following week so lack of caffeine didn't really register. Actually, I think the only times in the last 20 years I didn't have my morning cuppa was prior to surgery. Basically 3 times in the last 20 years or so. So, you think I'm addicted?

Anyways, I very angrily stomp back upstairs to put clothes on to go buy take-out coffee. While dressing I look in the bathroom mirror and have the realization that I fell asleep in my makeup and I look sort of like this chick. Maybe it was subconscious because B & I went to see this flick last night and I loved it, but only because I love Jason Statham and he is now forever in my top five. But, I digress...

I wipe the goo off and make my way to the local Hardees, which surprisingly has some rockin' coffee, and proceed to get behind this very large man who has 5, count them, 5 separate orders. I swear to God if that man hadn't outweighed me by at least 100 pounds I would have probably physically hurt him. That and the fact that I probably wouldn't have gotten any coffee in jail are the two reasons I didn't go on a rampage and ram this guy's red Bronco right in the ass. I finally get my 20 ounces of hot, Hardees brew and make my way home. All plans weren't in jest, however, I promptly put my pjs on, grabbed my book, and hit the "high" button on the recliner massager and killed 2 hours like it was nothin.

Trashy Book:
Awaken Me Darkly by Gena Showalter - aliens, guns, and a badass chick, all wrapped up in cheesy goodness.

My Blood Pressure's Supposed to Go Down - Not Up!

In all of my other busy business, right in the middle of my day yesterday I had to go to the doctor. Being overweight and having a PPP (Piss Poor Predisposition), I have hypertension. I have been trying to regulate it with medication and dieting for the last year. If you read my previous post, you may remember that this time last year I was trying to get pregnant. Well, I discussed this with my GP and we tried a safe med. Once B & I stopped all that fertility hoo-hah and made the decision to adopt, I decided that 3 pills a day was a little irritating. So I made an appointment with my GP and asked if I could have just one pill a day. I informed my GP about the "no more fertility treatment ever" plans and she prescribed a new med that I take once a day. As of yesterday I had been taking this med for 5 months. Within that 5 months I have been so tired and fatigued on a daily basis that going to work is a struggle, my house has accumulated enough cat hair to crochet a blanket for Ruby, have enough stacks of unsorted junk mail to make a really cool maze for Darwin and Eliza (the cats), and could probably write my memoirs in the dust on my mantle. I looked up the medication I was taking along with the side effects (fatigue and low libido) and I decided that we needed to re-evaluate my medication. After re-giving the front desk all of my information for the second time and getting my picture taken (What the Hell is that?), I finally made it to the exam room, list of issues and needs in hand. When I complained about this lack of energy to my GP this is how the conversation went:

Me: " I would really like to change my blood pressure medication. I have no energy, no libido, I am tired all of the time and it's really bothering me. I also think I need a stronger diuretic because I am retaining water like a sponge" I then began pressing on my arms which produced yellow rings of loveliness.

Dr: "Well, you're on a beta-blocker and that's a common side effect. I prescribed it because you're trying to get pregnant. Are you still trying to get pregnant?"

HELLO!

Me (very nastily): "No, we are adopting, and I distinctly remember telling you this at my last appointment. It's not something I would forget." Smug, small smile.

Dr: "Oh. Really. Well then let's prescribe you some of the good stuff, so you won't feel so bad. Let's try Diovan."

Me: "Does it include a diuretic?"

Dr: "No, do you want one?

At this point I could only nod my head up and down - my words would have been too ugly.
She then explains how the Diovan (with diuretic) works.

Me: "I also need a letter from you for our adoption application. Because I take this medicine, I need you to tell them that it is controlled by medication and I am healthy enough to raise a child."

Dr: "Can I hand-write it?"

Me (nastily again): "No. It needs to be typed, on letterhead and signed with your credentials." It was sooooo hard not to add "DUH!" to the end of this statement.

Dr.: "You can pick it up Tuesday."

After that I basically grabbed my little bag of samples and got the hell out of Dodge. I believe I will be finding another doctor ASAP.

And I took off work for this?

Books:
Only one cause I'm a student - dammit!
4th of July - James Patterson

In Case You Were Wondering

I believe Shannon and I were probably separated at birth. I read this recently on her blog and decided to play along:


10 Years Ago: I was 24 and working at Waldenbooks in a really dead mall. I was losing an enormous amount of weight on Fen/Phen and basically was melting. Depression was pretty deep because I had a degree and was still in retail. I finally got a professional job about halfway through my 24th year. I became a case manager at a behavioral health center that is now bankrupt and defunct. I also had a boyfriend who was younger than me, but could be a lot of fun. We both were film fanatics. Had a cervical cancer scare and had surgery. It was taken care of with one surgery and my cervix is fine.

5 Years Ago: I was still working at the behavioral health center and slowly watching the ship sink. I was in my Master's internship, and felt stuck. I graduated and was hooded in April and was so proud of myself I was unbearable. Even though I had gained back all of the weight I lost with Fen/Phen, I felt pretty okay with it because I didn't have any of the scary side effects that got it pulled off the market. I was going into my first year of marriage with B and feeling very in love and happy. C was adjusting much better than I to the whole stepmom thing. She was only four and seemed to be okay with me. Sometimes if she got mad she would threaten that her mommy would put me in jail, but otherwise we were all right. Had another surgery on the nether parts to determine if I had endometriosis. None detected, but I later found out that the cyst removed from my ovary contained "boy parts" EEEWWW!

1 Year Ago: B and I were preparing to continue with fertility treatments and I began Gonal-F shots. This would turn out to be our final two attempts at IUI with medication after I switched from an OB/GYN to an RE. Neither worked, I gained 20 pounds, and we made the decision to adopt from China. We had hit the $30,000.00 mark and were finished. Also, I applied and was accepted in my doctoral program, which is a pretty big accomplishment for the lady who was told by her fifth grade teacher that she would be lucky if she graduated high school! Take that Martha Collier - you old bitch!

Yesterday: Worked all day and then went to my research class. Finally got home around 8:30, ate dinner, and immediately went to bed. Laid in my gigantic bed and fell asleep with the remote in my hand listening to the soothing sounds of Napoleon Dynamite.

5 Snacks I Enjoy:

• Doritos - Old School Nacho Cheese
• Triscuits and Laughing Cow Cheese
• Frozen Grapes
• Slim Jims - I know they're gross
• String cheese

5 Songs I Know All The Words To:

• Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen
• Greek Song - Rufus Wainwright
• 1983 - John Mayer
• Come Sail Away - Styx
• Sing - The Carpenters

5 Things I Would Do With $100 Million:

• Buy an enormous amount of land and build houses for B & me, my parents, my brother, Alicia, and my FIL - but they would be so far apart we would have to ride golf carts to visit. I would also give them annual allowances.
• Adopt more than one child which is all we can afford right now.
• Invest
• Retire from social work, finish my doctorate and teach part-time
• Hire a personal trainer, chef, and basic staff for my house and my family's houses if they wanted.

5 Places I Would Run Away To:

• Alaska
• Las Vegas
• Vermont
• Ireland
• China - get my Ruby

5 Things I Would Never Wear:

• A thong (bathing suit or underwear)
• Sleeveless tops - the Oprah's are a little too loose
• Leggings
• A Banana Clip
• A size DDD bra ever again!

5 Favorite TV Shows:

• The Apprentice
• Lost
• Alias
• Scrubs
• Arrested Development

5 Biggest Joys:

• Laughing with B and C
• Talking with my nephew Noah, he is too smart and asks really cool questions
• Getting an "A"
• Hanging out with my family and friends
• A great movie I want to see over and over

5 Favorite Toys:

• Game cube
• DVR - Charter Rocks
• My new cell phone
• Old School Crossword puzzles
• My Dell

5 People I Tag To Do This : Anyone who wants to play - have at it!

Busy Bee

So I've been kinda busy lately, and as you can see from previous posts, I can make up excuses until the cows come home. Outside of the Brand New Job, which isn't so Brand New anymore, everything has been neglected trying to plug ahead on the homestudy autobiography. Neither Brian nor I are very enthusiastic typers (I think the sporadic dates on this blog say enough), so we just have to keep telling ourselves it's for the Rubster and keep on keepin' on. So tonight while watching BB6 and Rock Star INXS, I will be typing away my life history.
School has started and I believe I am at a crossroads. It is time for me to start establishing a chair and a committee as well as take some Area of Emphasis classes. I decided my AOE would be Special Education, because I work in the field of disabilities and I am an Ethics and Human Rights Nazi; however, after tonight's class I am not so sure. I jotted off a quick email to my advisor begging for help, so we'll see. I don't think anyone will be happier than her when I finally choose a chair and they accept me. I believe I'll send her flowers to celebrate. Other than that, I am just busy, busy, busy trying to get my house and life situated. Please be patient.
Oh yeah, since I love trashy novels so much, and I consider myself a smart bitch, I have decided to add what I am reading, or have read in between blogging, to my blogs. If you want to read reviews check out this website.

Undead and Unappreciated by Mary Janice Davidson
Hot Number by Carly Phillips
The Waitress by Melissa Nathan (currently reading)

Raise Your Hand if You're Sure

I am currently what could be deemed as a stinky person. There are many reasons a person may be stinky: exercise, bad day that effects the mood so you're mean to everyone, clothing mildewed in the wash, stepping in dog shit, eating too much garlic (Karen), etc...
Well, C and I, the ladies of the house, are having deodorant issues. Surprisingly, B smells great; he finally found the deodorant that works for him and he's the most olfactory pleasing of the bunch. C and I on the other hand are nasty, hormonal chicken soup smelling gals who just can't seem to get it right. We are both experiencing hormone issues that render our pits toxic areas that no brand of deodorant can seem to touch. Hers is much more excusable than mine - she's 9; it's to be expected! Me, on the other hand, must get it under control before I scare small animals into hiding.
Right now there are 4 different kinds of antiperspirant/deodorant sitting on my shelf: Dry Idea gel, Ban stick, Adidas stick, and Secret Olay platinum gel. None of which make it through a day of me sitting in an air-conditioned office where I read manual after manual and the only exertion I get is my trek to the bathroom or coffeepot. How can this be? What really pisses me off is the fact that I am not that sweaty. I don't like to sweat, I am very lazy, and I sit on my ass all day! I have a friend who has excessive sweat production and has even gone to the doctor because of it - she uses Secret and is fresh all day! We've discussed.
Nevertheless, I repeatedly ask my confidants - Caroline, Lori, and Angie if they can smell me because I can smell myself. The answer is always a resounding "NO!" It has gotten so bad at home, that B will randomly call out "You smell good" whenever I am doing anything that remotely resembles a nostril flare or the subtle " reaching-for-something-off-a-really-high-shelf-so-I-can-do-a-check" move. Just the other night I rolled over and woke up to B mumbling in his sleep, "you smell good." I realized then that I was laying on my back and had thrown my arm over my head.
My mother and my friend Angie, who are both in "The Change" are convinced it's residual hormone imbalance from Gonal-F shots back in November. I think 8 months is a long enough time to not have any lingering Gonal-F. Truthfully, I think they are convinced I am peri-menopausal and don't have the heart to tell me.
If anyone has any suggestions, please let me know. Otherwise I may become Howard Hughesish and be more self-conscious than I already am.

I've Got to Let You Know....You're One of My Kind...

I just got an email from a high school classmate this morning - Class of 89. Later today I bought INXS' greatest hits. No real connection, but I started thinking about what I was doing back then.
In 1989 I ...

• Was one of the few girls in my senior class that did not have a perm. This was because my mother refused to "ruin" my hair. I think she just didn't want to drop 80 bucks on a spiral perm. I finally paid for one myself right before graduation and I hated it.
• Had a great BFF Kathy who was skinny and super smart. I slept over at her house almost every weekend and we would read cheesy teen romances, gossip about everybody on the planet, do drive-bys past boys we liked houses in her mom's Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme (with a sun roof) while listening to INXS, think pretty deeply about religion, steal sips of her mom's liquor and replace them with soda, drink icy cold Diet Pepsi and 7UP, and hang out all of the time without ever really getting too bored of each other's company.
• Was very into Children's theatre and really thought I was the shit because I had a decent singing voiceand would get pretty big parts in the musicals. Later I realized I got the parts because I was so loud I didn't have to use a microphone. Regardless, it did wonderful things for my self-esteem so no regrets.
• Had my first fender bender right in front of Kathy's house. I was driving a 79 Ford Fairmont so of course there was no damage to my car.
• Worked at the local movie theatre and had a true Hollywood kiss right in front of the marquee. The wind was blowing my hair, leaves were sweeping down the deserted street at night, he dipped me Tom Cruise style, and I swear to God I could hear the swell of the orchestra. His name was Rob and he was really hot, had a manly moustache, and had both ears pierced. He was a football player at another school and drove a vintage Mustang. He dumped me for a beauty pageant queen named Bambi. I was devastated and cried in the popcorn storage room for hours.
• I started college without any of my friends from high school and met my "first" (which did not happen until 1990) who was funny, stress-inducing, and made me feel very grown up. He is now married to a woman I went to high school with and they have three daughters.
• Went to two funerals for guys I went to high school with. Doug and Jimmy were really nice boys who will never be forgotten.
• Wore contact lenses for the first time. I still hate them to this day, but vanity will show it's ugly head occasionally and I will break them out on sunny days.
• Used tampons for the first time - my mom always said no and when I would try I would be so tense I couldn't get it in. Once I got it I never went back to the mattress.
• Read To Kill a Mockingbird for the first time and truly understood the power of the written word.
• Called my brother "Ugly Boy" on a regular basis. I don't know why, just typical big sister bitchiness, but it stuck for several years and was eventually shortened to UB. If call out "Ugly Boy" or even UB, he will still answer today; however, I now mainly call him Brother.
• Had a wonderful boyfriend named Mark who is Filipino. He had the most beautiful legs on a boy I had ever seen. He would bring me a gift before every date, call me daily, always hold my hand, pay for every date, and took me to my Prom. I dumped him because he would not kiss me even though I could have laid one on him and he would've responded. Now this seems silly, and truthfully, I think he was so perfect he scared the shit out of me.

Okay, just a few flashbacks to 1989. What are some of your memories of the year that brought us U2's Desire, Keds (without socks), pegged pants, and big, big hair?

Spiritual Hoo-Hah - An Answer to the Why China Question

Man, people can be mean! Even though I should be cleaning my house, I just spent way too much time reading comments on The Naked Ovary. Talk about a flame war! I've been reading K's posts for a while, and on one really slow day at work (old job) managed to skim the archives. TNO is a blog about infertility that is honest, funny, and oftentimes pretty damn sad. K and D have had it pretty rough with IF and have begun the process to adopt from China. In reading these comments I began to think about the comments and insensitivity B and I have endured over the course of our IF and subsequent decision to adopt. The number one question is "Why China? Why not here?" Depending on the tome, sometimes this question is true curiosity, but, sadly to admit, most of the time it's really a "Why not White?' question. We live in a rural state that is 98% Caucasian. Racism and ignorance seemed to be served for dessert in many homes, and being a somewhat educated person, have often tried to see these types of questions as an opportunity to educate. Sometimes it works, sometimes I walk away angry and hurt.
B and I did a lot of research before we started treatment for infertility. Because B has lupus and a history of intensive chemotherapy, we knew we would have to do IUI with donor sperm. We also knew from the beginning that there was a very good chance that we would not be able to have a "pregnancy." In knowing this, many family members and friends wondered why we ever tried. I can't really explain it. I wanted the baby way more than I wanted the pregnancy; however, in retrospect, I think I wanted the biological baby in order to ease the minds of our families. Like I said earlier, our rural culture is not very accepting of differences, and the adage of "blood is thicker..." really means something here.
My family was aware we were using donor sperm, but we kept it from B's family. My parents were open-minded and okay because, if there was a baby, he or she would still be "theirs" seeing as the baby would share my DNA. Because of B's mother's religious beliefs we chose not to tell her, and she never knew. I hinted to her once prior to her death that we may have to use donor sperm, and her comment was "Let's pray that you don't have to do that." I knew then we could never tell. In many ways it was a relief that it didn't work. That kind of secret is a biggie and I am glad I won't have to explain it to my child.
Although I am not a spiritual person, I think I have known all along I will never give birth and adopting was what we were meant to do. When I dream of having a baby, I never dream of being pregnant (I may have and just don't remember). I always dream of a girl baby with no face and black hair. I am always happy in the dream, but most of the time the baby's back is to me. I am not chasing her, just watching. It's kind of strange. B and I both have blonde hair and light eyes. If our DNA were to ever merge, the chances of us having a dark haired baby are pretty damn slim. Sometimes I think this is spooky and spiritually my body is telling me something, but oftentimes I think it's all a bunch of hoo-hah crap and I am subconsciously projecting my daily thoughts and reality into my dreams. Who knows?
We chose China because it seemed like that was where we were supposed to find our child (now who's talking spiritual hoo-hah?). We did the research, talked a lot, and decided China prior to ever doing the first IUI in 2001. We know most of the arguments, and have answers for all of the questions that have come our way. Answers to questions that are sad, truthful, and sometimes hurtful. Answers to questions I will not subject any readers to. Take my word for it, that we chose the best fit for our family and are making my dreams our reality. That's "Why China."

Please Excuse Debra From....

One week into blogging and I am already lagging behind on my posts!
My excuses (in no particular order of lameness) are:

1. This past week I started my Brand New Job. I can't really discuss it, but I will tell that it is corporate, different, and I have two great friends who are with me to ease the transition. One of my best friends, Caroline, and my new friend, Lori. I met both of these women through work. Caroline and I have known each other almost 10 years - yikes! We endured graduate school together, which is a bond that will never be broken. Lori and I met about 2 1/2 years ago through a mutual client. I also provided her with many, many continuing education credits; therefore, I take undue amounts of credit for her obtaining her license. I am really liking my new position and I am looking forward to learning more about the job. My only two complaints are that I have to get up an hour earlier, and I have to dress up every day, which includes big shoes and make-up. Dammit!
2. I had my 34th birthday on Wednesday. This was the first time in over 10 years I worked on my birthday, which was sucky. My Honey B made it much better by hand-delivering 2 dozen yellow sweetheart roses to me at work. He says he was being romantic, but I know he was trying to impress my new co-workers. It was an attempt to rally new troops on the "B is a great husband-he's soooo romantic-how can you ever be angry at him" front for when we have divorce days. He totally schmoozed all of the women at my previous job, so now he has to start from scratch. Imagine his disappointment that only two people witnessed his romanticism because everyone else was in meetings. It was also exacerbated by the fact that my new AA thought he was the flower delivery guy. I have to give him credit though, he is a great guy who is v.v. romantic (much more than I will ever be) and his schmoozing works on me about 90% of the time. So even though I think romanticism is overrated and I am a withered heart cynical crone, B makes up for us both. It's actually kind of a relief.
3. On my birthday, we also went to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, which confirms Johnny Depp's position at the top of my Top Five list joining Julian McMahon, Russell Crowe (as Gladiator only), Dave Matthews, and Rodrigo Santoro. Yum-Yum. I loved, loved, loved this movie. Johnny Depp is the best actor of my generation even though he hangs out with a skinny supermodel who is a rock star wannabe. Her song Commando is so bad I thought it was a joke the first time I heard it.
4. We also celebrated my birthday at my parents house. My mom is the greatest cook ever! Mom always makes the birthday dinner and birthday cake of our choice. The menu was fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, corn on the cob, and macaroni salad. Total carb and fat fest! She also made Sunshine Cake, which is yellow cake with mandarin oranges, pineapple, cool whip and lots and lots of love. Along with my parents, my Honey B and C, my brother and sister-in-law with the crazy/beautiful kids were there, my cousin Stef and her new boyfriend, my Poppaw Kitty-Kat and my stepgrandma Helen, and my great- aunt Mommy Gay. I got a Target Card (yay), a lovely perpetual desk calendar, and a picnic kit. I am still figuring out what I want from B and he's getting frustrated. Good food, good presents, good birthday.
5. We finally decided on an agency, and are currently filling out the paperwork for application. Also, I spoke with our homestudy agency and received the packet for application as well. My friend Ashley is a social worker there, and even though she can't do our homestudy, she is able to answer all of my neurotic questions. I love it that she's there because she knows my personality and can handle it when I get demanding, snippy, and crazy. We both have to write huge autobiographies - great more paperwork. Guess what we'll be doing tomorrow.
6. I finished my summer class. I had to take a multiculturalism class (my 3rd!) this summer and we had a final paper. Me being me, I waited until the last minute and cranked out 20 pages in APA format with reference on the last day. I received a 299 out of 300 because I couldn't get my table of contents to hyperlink which gives me a 98% in the class. Nevertheless, I am not encouraging anyone out there to wait until the last minute to write a paper. I swear I developed chronic Carpal Tunnel in the span of 8 hours.

So those are my excuses, and if I sit here any longer I could probably think of many more. I will try to post as often as I can. But you see, I have to.....