This was on the hus’s phone Father’s Day eve.
Next year’s gift is going to be the best.
This was on the hus’s phone Father’s Day eve.
Next year’s gift is going to be the best.
A couple weeks ago I got a flat tire. I had Rogue and little man in the car, and had it packed with suitcases and toys and dogfood and whatever else you bring on a 6-hour roadtrip. Like a reasonable person, I drove to the closest body shop for a new tire. The hus was outraged. He says I should have driven to Costco – 20 minutes away, in the opposite direction, because they would have replaced it for free.
Today he took the morning off work to go to a machinery show with my Dad, cousin, and little man. They took my car, since it has the car seat, and I ran my errands in the hus’s. When we met at the house at noon, the hus immediately bolted: “I’ve got to go to work,” and as I prepped little man’s lunch I heard some sort of expletives coming from the garage. I ignored it, because it takes very little for the hus to get bothered. All of a sudden he storms in the house, puts his hands on his hips and exhales. Then he goes “Did you notice anything ….OFF…with my car…….?” I kept slicing this avocado and said “You know what? It felt like it was pulling a little, maybe to the left.” “THE TIRE IS FUCKING FLAT!” he erupted. “Oh it is??” I said, still slicing, “Is this the tire you’ve had some issues with?” “Yes but it was FINE LAST NIGHT when I drove it,” and he stormed out, slamming the door.
I waited for him to come back in. When he didn’t, I peeked in the garage. I saw him bent at the waist, in his fancy suit – trying to blow air in the tire with the contraption we use for pool floats. “Go to work” I yelled. “I’ll get a new tire this afternoon – no big deal.” “DAMMIT. DAMMIT,” he alternated between cursing and giving stern looks to me, the car, the garage walls, etc. “Follow me to the tire place,” he screamed, “And leave 5 minutes after me cause i’m going to have to drive SO FUCKING SLOW to get there.”
Not one to follow instructions, Little Man and I left 2 minutes later. We pulled out onto the main road, and as we drove out of our neighborhood, I looked down a side street, and saw the hus’s car, crawling along at 5 miles per hour, with the hazard lights on. Who takes the scenic route when they have a flat tire? Immediately my phone rang, before I could say “hey” the hus’s voice bellowed over the speakers “I’M BACK HERE. DO YOU SEE ME?!” “I see you, why did – ” Click. He hung up.
Later that night, I was telling my Dad and my cousin about the hus’s tire episode. They exchanged looks. They said “you should have seen him this morning trying to start the car. He couldn’t get the key in the ignition. He poked his finger in there and $3 worth of change came out.”
The hus has a vegetable garden he takes very seriously. When it started it I thought it would be a small little patch of an area with some herbs and maybe a tomato plant or two. Wrong. It’s grown into a chunk of the yard, yielding squash and cucumbers and tomatoes by the minute. There’s a ton of basil and at least two (that I know of) types of mint.
On the days the hus is home at a reasonable hour he goes out there and pokes around and pats himself on the back at his bounty. It’s nice to be able to cut out a trio to the grocery store, but lately some of his creations have gotten out of hand. The other day I was minding my business in the kitchen and he comes in with this monstrous zucchini and yelled “Bend over!” (to whom I’m not sure) and waved it around the kitchen like one of those foam fingers people have at football games. After he left I pulled up this James Beard zucchini bread recipeÂ and gave it a whirl.
I was on a kick making zucchini bread and muffins for a while for the little man. His versions used whole wheat flour and honey and applesauce and whatnot. This is a much more old school, tons-of-sugar-and-white-flour recipe and it seems to have come out ok.
NOTE: i turned the oven off and left the loaf in there while we went to the zoo to ride the train. I think keeping the bread in the oven for longer helped make the top and edges crunchy, a nice (unintended) touch.
We sent Rogue away for training about three weeks ago. It’s been really really nice to have one less thing to take care of, but I won’t lie: I miss her a little. Funny how fast you get used to things. As mentioned before, she’s not the quintessential “family dog”. Mals are not bred to be cuddly. They’re super protective, aggressive, and I forget the term people use, but it’s something like “quick on the trigger.” She can be totally fine one minute, and then WHOMP! a fang-bearing terror.
Several months ago I had Rogue and my little guy at the dog park together. Little man had an empty water bottle in his hands and was clutching it and squeezing it and making all sorts of racket. A golden retriever ran up to him and tried to take the bottle in her mouth. Rogue saw this dog rush towards little man and she lost her damn mind. Like a freaking lightening bolt or something, she darted in between little man and this dog andÂ swatted the other dog with her paw and snarled. I couldn’t believe it. All her hair went up, she was growling. It was completely unnecessary, but she was doing what she thought was best, (according to the hus, who was not there). Obviously a golden can’t hurt a fly, and Rogue will- literally – rip someone’s arm off if she’s in the mood.
Since neither the hus or I are well versed in training attack dogs, Rogue has gone to visit her mom and brother for a couple of months. She’ll do a month or obedience and a month of protection training. A couple nights ago the hus and I went out for a date night. While we were at dinner Rogue’s trainer (this badass-looking ex-Special Ops guy) texted us a video of her “bite training” and the hus had to hide his boner while he watched it fifteen times. I held my tongue. Rogue doesn’t have a problem biting… it’s the letting go part she doesn’t understand. Oh well. Mid-July she’ll be back and we’ll see what sort of monster we’ve created then.
When we lived in New York, 99% of my girlfriends worked in fashion. It was a beautiful, beautiful thing. As time passed and people had babies or changed industries or moved out of the city, the connection to discounts and sample sales faded.
One of my girlfriends who works in the fashion office for a big NYC-based company lives here. She invited me to an industry talk this week hosted at a successful Atlanta-based boutique that’s somewhere between J Crew and Nili Lotan and you know what the store owner said? “We only do sales twice a year. Sales dilute your brand and we think we have a strong product.” Now, that’s all fine and good, but some of us don’t pay retail and prefer acquisitions juuuuuuust above shoplifting. Which brings us to…..online sale season.
At press time here, the following sites are having their summer sales. My purchases, are below:
This amazing sweater from Moda Operandi.Â /www.modaoperandi.com/lingua-franca-gg16/lingua-france-grey-cashmere-sweater
My niece spends a lot of time in the buff. I feel like this could be an easy throw-on for her.Â /peekkids.com/baby-marin-dress
Look at this, a unisex evening sweater. Casual, kid-interchangable:Â /peekkids.com/baby-marin-dress
Cutest rainboots ever:Â /www.babesta.com/sale/jimmy-boots-blue-gray-native-shoes.html
For ladies and mamas:
Show off those tan legs in this flirty little number from NAP:Â /www.net-a-porter.com/us/en/product/825905
Be still my heart, a shirtdress. Belt to give it a little shape:Â /www.intermixonline.com/product/rails+julian+lisbon+stripe+dress.do?sortby=ourPicks&from=fn&
I bought this suit full price and returned (this happens a lot – the initial purchase is for sizing. then i wait for markdowns. Â #cheap). The print is perfection and the suit forgives in all the right places:Â /www.net-a-porter.com/us/en/product/858695/adriana_degreas/floral-print-bikini
Am going to forgo the man/dad portion of this. Men can buy for themselves and my knowledge of wine, guns, boats, whatever they’re interested in , is limited.
Happy sale shopping.
A girlfriend of mine who’s pretty uppity and travels all year long spent some time at a Montage last year. I’m a little familiar with the brand Â – in that, I know what it is because my old boss used to have lunch there once in a while. Most Montages are on the West Coast, there’s only one close to us: Montage Palmetto Bluff. After the circus of hormones and appointments lately, I wanted to surprise the hus with a trip there. I emailed his business partner and boss to ask if he could take a Friday off. One response was “I hope you’re finally taking him to Dollywood,” the other: “I actually prefer him out of the office.”
So, we woke up early and hit the road. Palmetto Bluff is exactly a 4 hour drive from Atlanta. I drove since the hus had a “business call” and needed to focus. The call was cancelled as soon as we got in the car so instead this is what was coming out of the passenger side seat:
“I’m ready to be pampered in luxury.”
“How many one-pieces did you pack?”
“Can I get a ball feathering at the spa?”
“Oh you booked a boat ride? How much did that cost?”
The location is pretty spectacular. There are live oaks everywhere, water views galore, etc etc. The overall feel I think is very genteel (“what? like non-Jewish?” the hus said when I mentioned this to him). There are restaurants on-site, enough that for 2-3 days you probably don’t need to leave the property, three or four pools, and tons of bike/golf cart trails. Also, if you’re into boating, shooting, or horses, they have you covered. Â Remember when vacations used to be about exploring and learning new things and being kind of sexy? Then you have kids and all you want is drink by the pool and wait for Pippa Middleton’s wedding photos to come out.
All in all, we liked it. I give it a 7 out of 10.
Ambiance: 8 (but a strong 8)
Background music: 5
Floral Arrangements: 10
Menu (drinks): 8
Menu (food): 10
Appeal to kids: 8
Spa Offerings: NA
Room Specialness: 7
You know how you go to Chik Fil A, get a little meal, have no intention of finishing it, and after you do you feel enormous? That’s what I looked/felt like all. last. week.
Every time we’ve done this it’s been a non-issue. You “take it easy” the day of the retrieval and then go about your business. The first time I think we had 11 eggs, the last time we had 8. I don’t know what the goal number is. In the past I heard 15-18 was ideal – that was a good amount of healthy eggs to aim for. Obviously I’ve been below average in that respect. This time we came out with a 29. That’s a lot. I almost made out with the doctor, I couldn’t believe it.
This doesn’t translate into 29 little people. Let’s say half the eggs are “mature”, then another half don’t make it out of the freezing/thawing cycles (we threw ours in the freezer that afternoon), and you can see how the number dwindles as the process continues.
What a lot of girls do (and I’ve done in the past), is move right into a new cycle. This means you take the eggs out, fertilize them, watch them grow for 5-8 days, pop one in, and take a pregnancy test in 10 days. This time we’re taking a step back to regroup. Plus I felt so effing fat… I don’t mind avoiding any social or medical contact until things are less bloated.
Semi-related: the Net-A-Porter sale started and this shopping cart is full. If anyone wants an egg, I’ll sell one.
As probably mentioned before, meals stress me out. I learn through experience so I sort of just have to do it on my own a bunch, see how it goes, and tweak things from there. I don’t want you-know-who coming over, poking around and then meticulously setting sauces out on the kitchen counter to camouflage whatever it is i’m serving up. The other night [Full Disclosure: the night i started my meds] I was fixing dinner and was tired and ..you know… you get more tired and more sensitive as the day winds down, and the hus saysÂ “should we look into a nanny or an au pair or whatever?” What? What the hell. Â Of course we don’t need a nanny. I’M HERE ALL THE TIME. He tried to dilute this by saying “it just seems you’re so much happier if my mom or your mom is here. You’re like a different person.” This guy….. doesn’t miss much.
On that note, my mom’s in town tonight and in my ebullient mood, I’m skipping around the kitchen prepping dinner. I’m doing salmon because it’s good for you and it’s become my go-to for Mom Dinners: when my Mom or my mother in law is here, ie. When I’m happy.
This recipe is from Nastasha’sKitchen and it is damn delicious. It’s also hard to fuck up, so even if/especially if you’re not a cooking person – this one’s for you.
Oh boy. Busy week. When you’re (I’m) in a stim cycle, a good chunk of the week is spent at the doc’s office and on follow ups. You (I) go in every morning for blood tests and ultrasounds. Basically the nurses take some blood and then measure your follicles – they want them at least 15mm Â before you’re ready for retrieval. These are fast appointments. You zip in, zip out. Parking can be the worst part of it, so I always bring Rogue, park in a Handicapped or Reserved spot, and leave the window open so no tow trucks mess with the car.
Essentially after stim (which for normal people is 10 days, for me it’s 12-13), you go in, sign a bunch of waivers and paperwork. The forms ask about allergies, heart conditions, problems with narcotics (no thank God. shoot me up), etc etc. They also ask about drinking and smoking. I lie a teeny bit. Just a teeny bit.
My eggs take their sweet time. I did 2 or 3 extra days of stim this time. Since this is my third retrieval, I don’t get as nervous or hopeful about things anymore. It’s like ‘what do we have to do today? finish the laundry, hit the grocery store, harvest some eggs, clean the car.”
The hus and I went in for the retrieval yesterday morning. We bickered in the waiting room about a menu for an impromptu Mother’s Day lunch we were hosting. I looked at a guy sitting a few chairs away. He looked anxious, and kept fidgeting. Â Poor guy. He was probably worried about his wife/girlfriend/partner. Meanwhile the hus was worried about how long the line the sandwich line would be at Goldberg’s.
They put you under for the retrieval. You breathe on your own, but are ‘asleep’ otherwise. I don’t know what ‘asleep’ means in the medical community because the nurses said I chatted the whole time about needing Botox. I feel like that’s a good sign – we’re being more realistic. Botox is a lot easier to get than a baby, so at least we’re managing expectations this time.
I can’t wait for someone to breakdown why healthy, somewhat reasonable people can’t get affordable medicine. I’m not going to get on a soapbox about health care in the country, but what the hell?
A vial of Gonal F, which is a common fertility script, is $387 a vial. It’s the size of a thimble. For a normal protocol you* will need at least 5. (*”You” meaning me, in past and present experience.)
A vial of Menopur, another common script, is $87.35 a vial. You’ll* need at least 20 of these.
For comparison’s sake, my head med, Zoloft is $5. That lasts a month. And then I’m at CVS at 7.59am. Pharmacy’s open at 8.
Off the top of my head, I can think of two handfuls of friends who needed some sort of help in the baby department. Why is this so expensive? When I was in Arizona a few weeks ago, my girlfriend casually mentioned “popping over the border for drugs”. 10 years ago this would have had a different meaning. I looked at her and said “Ohmigod, do you think I can get my fertility stuff there????” She wasn’t sure, but said we could try. We took a pass.
Short of going to Mexico or Canada or another place that may have their shit together better than the US, in the meantime there is Compassionate Care. This discount program helps cover 25-75% of the cost of meds, and will let you know within 72 hours of submitting an online application. Â /fertilitylifelines.com/how-to-save/compassionate-care-application/
Best of luck.