Almost Vacation

This year, we’re going northeast for our anniversary, starting with seeing Tom Petty in Little Rock, then lunch in Memphis on our way to Nashville for a week. We’re also going to spend a day in Louisville. 

Any suggestions on can’t-miss attractions any of those places? 

So far, we have a watercolor class in a Nashville park, the zoo, and some museums in Louisville. 


Five Years

I’m horrible with dates. I really am.Well, not important dates. I’m excellent at birthdays and anniversaries–real anniversaries, that is.

Remember in high school when couples celebrated their two-week anniversary and more gag-inducing scenarios like that? To this day, I still don’t understand how in the world they kept up with the dates. Granted, I didn’t have too many romantic entanglements in high school, but still.

Last Friday was the anniversary of the day my in-laws met, so a hard day for my father-in-law. But I don’t know how he remembers it. I only remember the day I met my husband because it was at his brother’s wedding. If we’d just met in passing I’d have not the first clue.


Anyway, today turns out to be my five year anniversary with WordPress. Five years and 1,062 posts. This one’s 1,063. One completed-enough-to-publish novel. Three novel drafts. One memoir-in-progress. Thousands of words, maybe even a million words. That feels like something.

A million words.

But five years and July 17, those don’t feel like such big deals. I’ll forget the date in a few days, and it’ll sneak up on me again next year. When I’m sure I’ll be just as nonplussed.

I mean, I’ve caught hundreds of Pokemon and walked dozens of kilometers in the past ten days.

Anyway, happy five years to me. I’m more proud of the 418 post streak I’ve got going on right now. I’d have the anniversary whether or not I wrote every day.

But hey, thanks for sticking around. I appreciate that.

Ninth Anniversary: Ink

We’re in Arkansas: North Little Rock, Sherwood, somewhere, I don’t know. It is seriously confusing driving around here. We went to dinner at a restaurant on the same side of the river as our hotel but had to cross the river twice to get back. 

We got up at eight this morning to make it here for my one o’clock appointment at Black Cobra Tattoos with Katie McGowan

The last forty-five minutes of our trip was through a torrential downpour, no lie. Ian drove. We were about half an hour early, so we looked around at the flea market next door, where Ian found a Kirby Puckett card. 

Then we went in and waited on the comfy couches for Katie to finish up my drawing and get everything ready. 

A few hours later, and:

How freaking amazing is that?? Katie was so nice and did such a great job!!

But oh, it was definitely hurting by the time she was finishing up. I don’t know if I can do that to myself again. Maybe on my legs…

We haven’t decided what to do with the rest of the weekend; the weather’s supposed to continue sucking until Sunday, when we head home, so the zoo is probably out. Maybe the natural history museum. 

Aaand the cable just went out in our hotel room. Told you the weather’s bad. 

How Things Change

A little over a year ago, I posted about my piercings. And I said this:

Which reminds me of all the tattooed people I know who are dying for me to get inked up. Why do you do that, guys? You’re like junkies who need someone to join in on their next fix.

I don’t have any tattoos. I don’t have plans for any. I do have a couple of drawings I’d likely have tattooed on me if I were to ever get one, but they’re just not my thing. I haven’t felt the call of the wild tattoo.

You know what’s funny about that? Tomorrow is our ninth anniversary, and we’re going to Arkansas for my fifth tattoo. And I’ve gotten four piercings since our eighth anniversary. So at this time tomorrow, I will have gotten more tattoos than piercings in the past year. 

I’m getting a mola mola on my right arm. 

Super stoked. 

Four Candles

Six hundred forty-five posts later, here we are.

IMG_6408Only 645? I better step up my game. Just last year I was at 500. I did take a lot of time off, though.

But the evolution.

Mel included me in the Roundup today, and her blurb had me thinking: am I still an IF blogger?

Am I? I deleted my timeline. It seemed completely irrelevant to where I am now.

Is it enough to disqualify me that I feel the need to define IF as infertility? I don’t know the last time I blogged about infertility. Let’s see, two months ago. And that was really more of a side note, not the main point. Three last year, the whole year. It’s been almost exactly two years since I’ve written about the feeling of being in the trenches. And that was just an expansion on a post from three years ago.

It wasn’t precisely a decision to give up, more like the teenage realization of when did I stop believing that I would be a paleontologist when I grow up? No date to pin down, no solid feeling of well, that’s that.

Was I just an old infertility soldier, fading away?


Looking back, that’s what happened; the infertility posts faded until they could be fully eclipsed and replaced by the personal essays and fiction, by the responses and imagination that spent so much time waiting for their moment in the sun.

But it doesn’t take writing to make an infertility blogger any more than it takes trying to conceive to make an infertile. It’s a scar that’s never going away, and it does leave its mark on everything that I write.

I’ll never delete all the posts in my Infertility category, any more than I’d delete all the posts in any category. It’s funny, we just watched Misery a few days ago, the first time for Ian, and I hurt so badly watching Paul have to burn his book. I don’t think non-writers would ever be able to fully empathize with that scene. While much of it does stick in your head, it can’t all stick. Rewrite all you want; try, try, again, but it’ll never be the same.

I can’t just throw it away, because it was a huge part of me. Is. It is a huge part of my life, and an introduction to so much that I treasure now. Would I have become the writer that I am today without it? Would I have met the wonderful people and had the wonderful experiences that I have without it? I have to say no.

There may have been other writing, other people, other experiences, but they wouldn’t have been the ones that I know and love right now. How on earth would I be texting a fellow IF blogger as I write this if I weren’t an IF blogger myself?

I trace cause and effect like it’s going out of style; maybe I would have found the Listserve without other bloggers leading me to Mel and Mel leading me to Justine and Justine leading me to the Listserve. Maybe I wouldn’t have. Maybe I wouldn’t have won the Listserve this week. That, by the way, has not been the big shebang that I expected, but I’ve been having problems with my emails being held up somewhere before I get them, so fingers crossed that’s that.

Yes, I think I still kind of count as an infertility blogger, but do I really deserve that badge anymore? It’s not a badge of honor you’d catch anyone fighting over, but still. It feels greedy. But not claiming it certainly feels like a lie.

Okay, Mel. You win this round. I’m an IF blogger. Got my four year pin today. Bring on the cake.

Perfect Monday

It hasn’t just been a moment; it’s been a day.

We got Abby yesterday due to some difficulties Mama’s having, so we actually got to sleep in! I did wake up with a horrible headache, but a pill and thirty more minutes in bed, and I was good to go.

Ian cooked eggs in a basket and bacon with my new cast iron bacon press (sixth anniversary is iron). Yum!

We all got dressed and went to pick up a new pool! And a few other things, but the pool’s what’s important. Well, the air pump was pretty important too, since our vacuum doesn’t reverse.

It’s only 8’x5′, but that is plenty big enough for the three of us to cool off. We left it filling while Abby napped, and I had to give it a test run before she woke up.

One afternoon is not enough to warm up 200 gallons of ice cold water. But we toughed it out. Mostly me. Abby gasped every time she splashed, and Ian only spent a few minutes sitting down.

I was fine. No hives!

We called it a day and took warm showers.

Ian cooked ribs and artichokes with hollandaise. My husband makes amazing hollandaise!

And now, Abby’s in bed, not sleeping–I hear her thumping around in there. But she’s quiet.

So I’m enjoying a glass of Rosa Regale and watching a movie with my sweet husband. I love you, Ian! Happy anniversary!


Check out Lori’s and other Perfect Moments here!