Rochester’s gamble looked like it was going to pay off; the girl was walking toward the alley where she would, with any luck, meet her doom. He peered at the screen intently, waiting on the edge of his seat, without the slightest tinge of remorse to mar his heartless soul.
The girl stopped, and so did Rochester’s heart. She cocked her head to the side, as though listening to someone who wasn’t there. He ground his teeth in frustration as he watched her kneel to pluck a daisy from a crack in the sidewalk. That’s just so like her, he thought. Never keeping on task when there’s a bit of fuzz to distract her.
Rochester breath whistled in and out between the heavy hairs lining his nostrils as he played the waiting game. Will she or won’t she? Come on already!
He lashed out, kicking a filing cabinet into the wall as she stood back up and turned around. Rochester’s sweaty hamfists pummeled the desk, and the slip of a girl went on about her day, thoughts of butterflies and flowers babbling through her brain, never knowing how close she had come to dismemberment.
Yes, I know, I didn’t really fulfill my NaBloPoMo promise last month. Sorry! However, there are tons of doings to catch everyone up on, and I’m NaNoWriMoing this month, so I’ll be on the computer more, therefore posting more, hopefully.
Here’s some of what I have in store for this place along with what I’ve been up to:
- We returned to Dixie Corn Maze two weeks ago, so I have some pictures from there to post.
- Halloween, of course. A couple pictures and what we did since we didn’t have Abby for official trick or treating hours.
- Vision and dental kicked in yesterday, and Ian and I had our appointments lined up for a full day. We knew Ian needed glasses, but it also turns out I have mild astigmatism, along with my eyes getting older. So we’ll both be getting our glasses in a few days. After that, I got my teeth cleaned. Here’s a shameful fact: I hadn’t been to a dentist since 1997. Fortunately, genetics and fair-to-middling brushing and occasional flossing were on my side, and my teeth are just fine and dandy. I was definitely showing them off at work last night! Too bad my favorite wine is a red…
- My parents are coming to visit for a few days, starting tomorrow. And this place is a mess! We’ll get it cleaned up and probably hit up the State Fair on Monday before the rain.
- My youngest brother is back in jail until March 2015. We’re pretty sad and disappointed that his poor–more like lack of–judgment has put him back in this situation. If we’re lucky, when they send him somewhere permanent it will be somewhere that Ian and Abby can visit him as well, since Ian hasn’t seen him in over a year, and Abby in even longer.
- I’ll be back at the mall engraving again in a couple weeks. I’m looking forward to that!
- My Open Adoption Blogger Interview will be posted in just ten days! My partner and I have swapped questions, so we just need to get our answers together and share with each other.
- Which reminds me, since I’m back on good ole Lappy, not my iPhone, I need to update my badges!
- Yesterday partners were assigned for the Christmas Swop! Time for some blog stalking, a bit of sewing, and present-wrapping! I can’t wait to get my stuff together and sent out, and then to see what my partner thinks!
- My pizza job–well, it’s alright. Sometimes I just want to scream stop telling people I’m your senior assistant manager if you don’t trust me to run my shift properly!! Okay, maybe a few more choice words as well. About integrity. Ahem.
- Okay, enough for now. Time to NaNoWriMo!!
Acronyms have become such a huge part of our life since we began TTC (ba-dum-bum) This is not going to be another list. You can find one of those here or here, if you’re not completely, painfully familiar with the wonderful world of infertility.
I really only have two to get into today. I’ll start with the one I don’t like, so I can finish up with the cute anecdote.
I’m sure everyone has their own personal hot buttons when it comes to infertility. One of mine happens to be an acronym. When I see it, I want to grind my teeth into jagged stumps while cursing my own confused ovaries. It’s dpo. I hate those three little letters. They sum it all up for me, because I’ve only once been able to count days past ovulation instead of cycle days.
At first, if asked what I wanted, of course I would have replied pregnancy. Now, that seems like Everest. Now, I want to ovulate. It doesn’t even have to be every cycle, every other one would be just fine. It’s like when you’re young and you say you want four kids or six kids or, bless your procreative little heart, a dozen, and now it’s ‘please just one.’
The other acronym is DH. I cut down on Facebook in January and started tweeting. A few months later my darling husband did the same, and one day he sheepishly came to me with a question.
‘Does DH mean dumb husband?’
Come on, how cute is that?