Whip it Good

I wish I were the kind of person capable of maintaining multiple blogs. I would love to have a baby-attempts blog, a my-personal-life-sucks blog, a decorating blog, a cooking blog… the list would go on and on. Basically this has come up because I just caught myself looking at faux porn; cupcake recipes. I have had cupcakes on the brain ever since I woke up last week in the middle of a dream that I had the most delectable pink-frosted confection. And now I want one. Or, more accurately, 17. But then I started looking at other recipes, and thinking about how it’s summer and I should be doing more things with fresh fruit and veggies, and I wanted to blog about that, so since I don’t have any baby updates anyhow (I was kicked in the teeth by a raging migraine Saturday night that quite literally brought me to my knees – I ended up at 11:30 pm on my bathroom floor, the coolest place in the house I could think of to lay my burning forehead after the chills and shakes had turned into fever and delirium. So I am probably getting my period, is my point, since my migraines are usually hormonal. I now return you to the sentence in progress.), I am going to talk about food.

Anyhow.

Quiet and I recently made a very serious, official, and potentially legally binding pact to become Mostly Almost Totally Except in Some Uncontrollable Cases Like When Confronted With a Reuben Vegetarians. He is very serious and committed to Eating Healthier and Avoiding Evil Meat, while I am Partially Convinced I Can Live a Week Without a Big Mac. To this end I have become more creative with my meal planning and execution, especially since I shudder in revulsion at most ‘fake’ meats other than the suspiciously tasty Boca Burgers. In a move that still makes my mother sigh and shake her head in resignation for all her failed attempts, I now enjoy tofu; there are all kinds of exciting seasoned flavors available now, like Five Spice and Miso, and I kinda prefer it over chicken in several Asian dishes. But mostly I just like doing plain ol’ veggies, only fancier and in nice sauces and seasonings. I was chastised because I am having problems remembering my food pyramid of protein substitutions, and apparently Seasoned Waffle Fries with Dill Dip is not representative of either all the food groups, or a good vegetarian dinner.

My favorite recent creation is a ridiculously simple vegetarian gumbo, which I enjoy mostly because I don’t have to make a roux and therefore don’t stupidly stick my finger in a one million degree mix of flour and scalding oil. I’m excited to make it again for dinner tonight because I ordered file powder online (you know, like the song, but I’m not having it with jambalaya and crawfish pie). Who knew it was powdered sassafras?! No one sings about THAT little fact. It smells freaking awesome, and I’m told that it is the secret ingredient that really makes gumbo the taste sensation that it is. The other key ingredient is okra, and since I’m in prime okra country and have developed a secret crush on the odd little seed pods, the whole thing works out great.
Also on the current cafeteria plan at Chez My Place is Curried Thai Eggplant (they are just precious! I want to draw little faces on them and carry them around, only they are so much tastier than nasty purple eggplant that a sad yummy sticky rice ending is in their near future), Veg Kabobs, and Gnocchi with Homemade Pesto. Since I did Vegetarian Fajitas (with above-mentioned grotesquely textured fake meat) the other night, that means we’ll be culturally well-represented in my kitchen this week, with Mexico, New Orleans, Thailand, Greece, Italy, and Magical Pink Cupcake Land. Believe it or not, I did just finish lunch - leftover Italian pasta salad with fresh mozzarella boccini, black olives, basil chiffonade, tri-color 'corkscrew' noodles and all kinds of other good stuff. I can't help it - I just like to talk dirty.

The End is Here

These are the things I’m thinking about today. I finished the latest HP book Saturday night, and of course loved it, but I’m sad that it’s done and gone and there will no more journeys to that place. There will, of course, be a few more movies and the theme park in 2009, but for those of us that know the real magic is in the printed word it's a very sad time.

Loud returns this weekend. He’s been gone for three blissful weeks, weeks in which the house stayed clean, there were no fights or sleepless nights, food stayed in the refrigerator, and it was just simply quiet. Luckily his stay will be brief, as he’s back on the road in another week, but with no further house showings it’s getting tougher and tougher to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Plus since I have found the Very Much Unlucky Pretty House Bad Decision #2 I am freaking out about losing it.

I got the new job, which is exciting, Service Planning Product Manager. I don’t have to go through the trauma of changing companies, and most importantly I still get to work from home. And it’s more money, which always helps. I’m nervous about pretty much all aspects of it (female boss, high expectations, big shoes to fill, lack of product knowledge, lots of travel to Boston, etc.), but at least it’s a challenge, right? And NOT project management, huzzah!

No updates yet on the current TWW. Keep your fingers crossed for me, dear reader. Maybe getting rid of Stressor #1 will help. I did some more writing for the next Choice Mom Fertility Guide and have some editing to do, so I need to get my non-propogating self in gear.

Long live Neville!

Hey Jealousy

Six months have come and gone, and not even a nibble. I’ve done charting, and strips, and male fertility tests; everything except de-stressing. What comes next? I think the magic number for me to be able to have fertility testing is a year. As if I can wait that long! Every article I read says the same thing, that women in their mid-40’s regret not starting on fertility drugs in their mid-30’s when their odds were better. Not great, but better. No one can say what the right thing to do is, and no one can know. Maybe it’s really going to be a little Vietnamese girl for me. Either that, or some sort of DeLorean time machine.

In just-slightly-less-depressing baby news I finally got to meet my niece, Ms. Amelia Jane. She is exactly as precious as someone who looks slightly like me could be. She has no less than a million different facial expressions, and did not like it at all when I got out of the shower, unrecognizable with wet hair, and growled at her. It had been a while, for me, since I’d rocked a baby to sleep in my arms, and apparently it’s not something you forget how to do. Or forget to love.

My sister is a typical new mom, anxious and doting and totally flipping clueless to the pain of the people around her. My dad had mentioned on phone calls that she was a little one-track-minded, but he neglected to add that every single conversation had to be about the baby, or else she would creatively find some way to steer it back in that direction. Actually, he DID say this, but I thought it was just dad being crazy, because if a conversation veers away from beer or televised sporting events he tends to lose interest. I was ok for the first three days of BabyFest 07, and then totally cracked. I even know the moment it happened. I had invited my best friend from college over, a mother of two. I was looking forward to catching up with her and seeing the kids, but sis latched onto her the moment she walked in the door. Instead of helping out so that I could visit, she launched into the litany of breast-feeding woes I’d been hearing since I got off the plane and totally took over the visit.

To be fair, I had told her upfront that I didn’t mind talking about this stuff. And at first, I didn’t, until I realized that it was all going to be one-sided conversations because she really didn’t want anyone’s feedback or suggestions or advice, she just needed to talk. I was happy to do that for a while, but as it went on and on it just became more and more obvious that this was the same ol’ dynamic, only this time it was a topic that hurt me in sneaky little paper-cutty ways. After a while I gave up trying to talk about other things or participate, because I was constantly cut off or interrupted. We all know how I like to tell my stories, so it was very humbling to be the one whose voice was secondary. Surprisingly, I didn't like it one bit.

During my friend’s visit I went and stood in the kitchen and cried while my dad mumbled apologies and patted me awkwardly on the shoulder. It made me feel a little better, because if it was something that even he had picked up on, then maybe I wasn’t totally overly sensitive. Ok, I do recognize that I am overly sensitive, and that’s part of it. But my vacation was all about my sister, and secondarily the baby; when they were eating, who was feeding them or making them snacks or getting them beverages, or doing these things at the wrong time or in the wrong way and pissing them off. Again, I understand, new mom, I’m touchy on the subject, let’s just forget it and move on until the next holiday. On a positive note, I got a lot of reading done, which was nice. I’d go hide in the scary basement where I was sleeping and read til like 3 am.

So I was glad I had planned for two extra days off when I came home, although I ended up being guilt-ridden about packing since we’d received an offer on the house while I was out of country. Now don’t get all excited – in the continuing saga of Very Much Unlucky Pretty House the offer fell through, and on Friday the 13th no less. We have dropped the price again, re-listed, and have had exactly one showing who didn’t like the unique floor plan. I am more desperate than ever because I have found Very Much Unlucky Pretty House Bad Decision #2, a gorgeous in-the-middle-of-nowhere overpriced house that I want to buy right this second despite the fact I haven’t even been inside it and can't affort it and did I mention it's in the middle of nowhere? I’m such a sucker for falling in love, be it boys or buildings.

I started the seventh month of attempts last night, and despite my forced calm breathing and contrived relaxation techniques I am not feeling hopeful. More positive thinking, stat! Also, there was a slightly alarming difference in how things went down that I’m not quite ready to blog about until I compulsively read everything I can find on the interweb. Suffice it to say, I thought I might have poked the pipette through something important and was going to die in my sleep. Man, this thing is so complicated!