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October 2007
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December 2007

This is my fear

Sorry about my freak out yesterday. I was having A Moment. I need to stop reading stuff on the web. It all seems either incredibly basic or worse case scenario, neither of which are helpful. I’m one of those people who want a little more medical depth than the average joe (such as, will a temporary hormone surge delay your period? This shouldn’t be that hard of a question) but I don’t want the end-of-the-world analysis either.

I also really hate some of the terminology used in reference to women’s health and pregnancy. So much of it sounds negative and… almost… accusatory. If that makes sense.

The thing is my thyroid condition puts me at a higher risk for miscarriage. I didn’t know this for my first pregnancy because I wasn’t even diagnosed with the thyroid issue until I was four months along. But I think the knowledge going into it this time is (obviously) coloring my reaction. The truth is I’m more comfortable with the idea of not conceiving or the egg not embedding early but still getting a regular period than miscarrying a week or two after my period. I’m especially afraid of multiple successive miscarriages. Like, every month feeling briefly like I’ve gotten pregnant and then losing it.  Because you do have these hormonal surges where something feels different and then it stops or you get a wonky period (with more hormones) or you just feel sort of crappy but you can’t tell if it’s the flu or something else. And you feel a little crazy for feeling bad… as if it’s all in your head.

The problem with being a chick, even those of us who feel like we’re pretty even-keeled, is that your hormones do affect you emotionally. And then your heart and your head affect you emotionally.  And sometimes you can’t reconcile the two (or three, whatever). Usually the head can balance out the hormones, or at least temper their influence. And sometimes you just get caught in a crossfire / spin cycle / tornado slam of emotional hell between the two. 

We are, after all, trying to have a baby here.  And no matter how “easy” it seems for some couples than others, it’s still not an easy thing.

And an update… as of this morning my period still had not started (I usually start in the morning), but by this afternoon I started cramping and spotting.  We’ll just see how things go.

Thanks for being there, my Internet friends.

                   - wg

Updated to add (Monday 12/3):  My period did start fully by Saturday morning.  Ironically, and for once, as soon as my period actually started the hormones subsided and I felt better.  I was disappointed of course, but I didn't feel crazy.   And you guys helped with that, too.  Not feeling crazy goes a long way.  Thanks!

Internets! I Need Some Help!

Soooooo... my period is late and yet all the pregnancy tests I've taken say negative.  For a while there I kind of felt some really early pregnancy symptoms but then right around the time the egg is supposed to embed the symptoms stopped, so I figured "OK, that one probably didn't take".  Then I started to feel like my period was about to start... except it didn't.  And I, despite being hyperthyroid, am clockwork girl when it comes to periods.  A friend told me to "wait a week" but I've very rarely ever had to wait so... I'm not good with the waiting.  If anything my periods seem to be getting gradually shorter (27-25 days) as my eggs wear out.  So, of course, I google a few queries... all of which made me feel like shit, because they all had something to do with "failing pregnancies".  I actually didn't feel too stressed before I  did the googling.

Now, I'm starting to really feel stressed out.  (Which, I know, doesn't help.)

Here are my questions for you:

Does anyone have experience with this?

If the egg fertilizes but doesn't embed will it delay my period?  You'd think that somewhere, somehow, there'd be some sort of answer to that question but I couldn't find it. 

What can I do to relax here? 

Please someone, make me laugh.  Thanks.        - wg

Guides and Guides and Guides, oh my!

It’s time to share some shopping love here at wg’s!  Here are some of the guides, links, and shops I’ve found extremely helpful during this and past holiday seasons.

Kristen and Liz really do a fantastic job scouring the web for cool finds. The Cool Mom Picks Holiday Guide is great! I’ve already shopped off this fabulous list.

Cool Mom Picks Holiday Guide

The very lovely and talented KC from All the World’s A Stage has finally launched her own craft shop. I LOVE the wristlet purses made from vintage ties! So cute!

The BlogHer ladies have a great page with holiday tips, covers everything from shopping in particular genres (such as Sarah’s guide to that sports fan in your life) to avoiding depression through the holidays.

And… ahem… my own shop, which is kind of a mess right now and a friend and I are in the midst of merging our t-shirts together and I’m still working on the site design… but if you want to check it out. (I’ll launch more officially soon.)


Now for something completely not-so different. It occurred to me that I have collected quite the mix of shopping bookmarks in the last couple of years. Whenever I embark on a Project I have to search the web first, especially gift projects. I thought it would be fun to do a link dump. You might find something you’ve been looking for or something you hadn’t thought of OR you might learn more about me that you really didn’t want to know. Either way, enjoy. (Warning: this guide is heavy on the life sciences, because all the kids I know like that stuff.)

WG’s List of Random, Weird, & Bulk Shopping Items – (because sometimes you just need to buy stuff in bulk)

Butterflies and other buggy specimens

Venus Fly Traps and other flesh eating plants – (These were gifts for Keen. He wanted some for his office to creep people out.)

Seashells - (Look, we don’t have many seashells on the West Coast. All you East Coast people stop laughing!)

4M Toys – This company has some really cool science-y and craft kits for kids, but they don’t ship in the
US. However, if you browse their products and then type the name into eBay you can usually find a distributor. Last time I ordered from a guy in Australia.


Toys for Adults (not that kind!)

T-shirts – Completely blank and dirt cheap, when you just don’t feel like going to Target.

Pinup and Vintage-inspired Clothing (because it’s HOT!)

Leather – Also dirt cheap, however I haven’t ordered from this place yet so I can’t attest to the quality.

What great online shops have you found? Or… plug your own shop!

    - wg 

On the Lifestyles of the Rich

This being THE weekend to shop, I’ve spent a good part of it flipping through catalogs and perusing online stores. (I wouldn’t go to the malls this weekend with a saber-tooth tiger on a leash. I love shopping but I’m not crazy!) We’ve got about a gazillion catalogs coming in, the vast majority of which we never signed up for but hey, they are convenient! Amusingly, we’ve also noticed that, now that we just bought a new house, suddenly we get the high end catalogs.  Ooooh la la! Like, hello? We just bought a house, I don’t think anyone’s springing for diamond-encrusted butt scratchers around here.

Anyways.  I’m flipping through the Bloomingdale’s catalog (what? I like to look) and I come across this fabulous red coat made from what I assumed was fake fur. I look closer… it wasn’t fake. Call me naïve but I was a little shocked that you could still buy real fur products from a department store. Sure, it’s a high end department store but it’s still a department store. And isn’t wearing dead animals still out? (I mean, except for cow. Leather, totally in at the right occasions!) I knew fur was still sold I just assumed it was sold out of highly secure, undisclosed locations that only the really rich knew about.  Places you had to have a password to get in to, only learning that password after providing a Faberge egg or other secret token to the concierge at the Four Seasons.  You know.

OK, so I flip through a few more pages and I find an even more fabulous red fur coat!  (What? I like red.) And I’m even drooling a little (because it was that fabulous) even though I know it’s probably real fur too. This one? BEAVER fur! $4500 worth of beavers. I’m not fanatical against all fur or anything, I just think real fur coats are more appropriate if, you know, we’re in apocalyptic times and need to keep warm. Fake fur is kind of fun and kitschy. Real fur is rather… hmmm. In general, I don’t really approve of the offing of little creatures for fashion (except for cows, but we’re eating them anyway). It just seems like unnecessary karma. 

And besides all that… could you imagine the obvious social pitfall of owning such a coat?…

“Excuse me, boys. I won’t be just a sec… I need to go put on my beaver.”

Rich people are weird. 

 - the weirdgirl

Last we left our hero...

Ha ha!  I managed to recover almost all of my original post!  Take that Dell!  Take it and like it!   - wg

written yesterday:

Today I got stuck in the shower. Not like trapped by a cold-water blast; or someone knocking at the front door while I’m nekkid. No, I was actually locked in the shower.

One of the things we’ve needed to do since we’ve moved in was get the shower door fixed. It doesn’t close all the way and then water drips all over the floor, soaking the bathroom rug. The rug gets all smelly with mildew and I’m constantly doing this weird rotation of wet rug(s) hanging over the bathtub (until they get all crusty dry!), new rug soaking up water, and then transferring all wet or partially wet mildewy rugs to the wash for a soaking of Oxy-clean and… repeat.

Keen, however, has this method of using his super-strength to sort of fling the door shut behind him as he gets in, thereby actually making the door shut. Thus…no drips. (You have to talk like this in reference to super powers.)

In an effort to attempt this miraculous achievement myself, today I tried flinging the door shut. I’ve tried this method in the past without success, but today I felt a little… dare I say… touch of fate in the air? The boding of greatness? Anyway… I dropped my clothes, stepped into the shower, flung the door…

And it stuck! Woo weee! All was well, I enjoyed a peaceful shower. Even got to shave my legs! And then at the end I prepared to step out onto a nicely dry bathroom rug…

and couldn’t get the fucking door open.

It was wedged something good and I, alas, had not the super-strength to get it open again. I banged at the door, kicked it a few times, targeted the lower right corner where the wedging seemed to be focused, wiggled anything that would wiggle. Of course, I didn’t have my glasses on so I really couldn’t see what I was doing. I stood up on the seat and yelled for Keen over the glass door, hoping against hope that he’d hear me through the bathroom, through the door, through the bedroom, down the stairs, across the living room, dining room, hallway, over Chance’s yelling, and into the den. I yelled for a good five minutes.

He didn’t hear me.  (But I'm sure the neighbors could.)

Wait, what about Chance?  He's my trusty sidekick and he always shows up at least once any time I'm in the bathroom!  Would he be able to accurately carry a rescue message for me? Maybe!  I wait for Chance. And wait… and wait.  What about one of the cats?  Maybe I could quickly train one of them into Lassie-action by dribbling water at it from over the top of the door!  I peer through the frosted glass for cats.  No cats. 

At this point resignation set in. With my luck, I found myself thinking perched on the edge of the seat and separating the bath items into edible and non-edible, I’m unknowingly already pregnant and I’ll gestate here for the 40 weeks and have to give birth in the goddamn shower. At least I have plenty of hot water.

I hear that’s good in a birth.

Wait, a true hero never gives up! Even if she doesn’t have super-powers. Or can even see.  Maybe I could cut through the doors with my now rock hard (albeit chilly) headlights!  This nefarious shower wouldn't beat me!  I kicked at the door a couple more times... and it finally popped open.  At least a good ten minutes after my shower ended.  Maybe more.

But this is what I find truly mystifying about the episode...

Normally, I can’t take a shower, get dressed, or even comb my hair without someone following me. The one time I need assistance the entire household decides to give me a minute to myself?  What the hell?!

           - the weirdgirl

I just spent the last hour writing a post, an amusing anecdote of being locked in the shower, only for MS Word to freeze on me to the point that not even End Task is working.

I'm never buying a Dell again. 

Goddamn it, I'm cranky.

My Ball and Chain (and no, it's not my husband)

On Thursdays I feel like I fall into a dark hole and it takes me halfway through the weekend to climb out (you notice it’s Saturday night, right?). Thursday is the one day I go into the office and... it’s not like it’s horrible or anything, I just somehow always feel a bit cut off.  My email is cluegy plugging into the network. Obviously, I don’t blog, or read and comment on other blogs. I don’t talk with the people I usually talk with. I always think I’ll catch up on stuff when I get home and I’m just exhausted.  In general, it disrupts my routine. Electronically, psychologically, socially, whatever.

Not to sound like I’m whining about having to work. I don’t mind working; I like the actual work and I really like the cash.  I find cash quite useful.  It’s just… when I made the decision to go back into the office I thought it would make scheduling easier, but instead I feel like I’m losing big chunks of time. I spent the last few months wondering why I couldn’t quite get my crap together before I realized it was probably the routine change. (Yeah, I’m slow like that.)

Plus, why the fuck does everything takes three times as long (or more) to get done in the office? Oh my GOD, that irritates me! 

Anywho. Being a contractor can feel like you’re always on the clock. There’s a lot of hurry-up-to-wait going on, as well as “expecting a call”, and “that project may come in” time. There have been many a Friday that Keen has taken off for family time, only to have me hanging around to see whether I need to join a conference call. 

So it is with much pleasure that I decided to take off this coming week. Oh, there may be a random call or two, but otherwise I am off the clock. (Trust me, it's been a while.)  It’s a holiday week. Keen is home. I am going to do family time, take some naps, eat a lot, work on my Christmas shopping, and do some not-even-remotely-close-to-marketing writing. Me and Keen might even go to see a movie! It’s been so long since I’ve seen a movie at the theatres I don’t even know what’s playing.

And let’s see if I can catch up on some blogging, eh?    - wg

Dildos and Cough Drops

I’ve been dragging around the edges of this cold when I suddenly realized I hadn’t posted in days. Complete space.

And since I’m still a little spacey I thought I’d go back to the one or two commenter suggestions I’ve got left. (Still working on that mammary one, though, it’s just not gelling.  *snick*) I’ve decided to tackle “Embarrassing Moments” courtesy of Andrea.  Tackle is actually the right word here because I don’t get embarrassed all that easily. The moments have been pretty rare and as I get older they’ve been even less frequent; I think it’s a combination of better mouth control and just not giving a shit.  The times that immediately come to mind fall more under the range of “total humiliating failure” more than your everyday “embarrassment”: both incidences of which involved being pressured as a teen into performing music in public, once with piano and another time with hammer dulcimer.  Total. Choke. Some of us aren’t meant to be performers (which real performers never seem to understand!).

So I’ve had to think about this quite a while to come up with some general embarrassing moments. Like the time I inadvertently made a comment about needing a nap after sex. I was at work and I just hadn’t meant to make that comment out loud.  In front of my male coworkers who bust out laughing. But still that’s only a five-minute embarrassing moment, you know?  Anyway, so I continued to search my fading memory for appropriate examples… and then I remembered THAT TIME.

Picture if you will a young couple in love.  I was 19, Keen was 20. He proposed a trip down to Disneyland because I had never been and we took in some general sightseeing as well.  Now please note, Keen was only my second serious boyfriend.  I had done some dating in highschool but, whereas today I meet young ladies who talk about their sexual experiences at 15 and their sex toy collections at 16… I was not that girl! I was more that nerdy girl who hung around with the guys. Think Ugly Betty, but not so high-strung. It never occurred to me to “explore my sexual power”, much less cruise through lingerie catalogs or buy the accessories to hook a hottie (or go it alone).  What can I say?  I was a gawky teen and a late-blooming one at that.

Fast forward a couple of years… by that time (obviously) I was no longer virginally-challenged but I still wasn’t altogether comfortable proclaiming my sexuality to the world. It was “private”. Bedroom matters stayed in the bedroom.  Blah blah blah.  But of course, I was still curious about all things sex. I just never used the word “orgasm” in group conversations (back then).

So me and Keen are in the Hollywood and Vine area on this trip when we come across a… you guessed it… a huge lingerie/sex shop.  Being that I am curious, and it wasn’t in our home town, I timidly followed Keen into the store. At first it was just honest perusing of the lingerie and discreet snickering of the sexual aids.  We slunk (or maybe that was just me) around the store poking at this or that, trying to figure out what a few items were used for, and definitely avoiding the sales people.  After a few moments I felt comfortable enough to wander away from Keen and started flipping through a rack of teddies.  And that’s when Keen decides to call to my attention the biggest frickin’ dildo I had ever seen!  This thing was so big it could be seen by horny aliens in outer space.  And at that point I hadn’t seen any damn dildos in real life and I still knew this was enormous.  Like, probably 20 feet long!  And not altogether stiff.  And very, very flesh-colored. Keen calls to me loudly across the room and then JIGGLES it in my direction!  Laughing.

Needless to say with a 19-year-old girl who is still skittish about her sexuality, my face froze into mortified oh-my-god-church-girl horror and I turned and ran out of that den of sexual iniquity.  Or rather, the den of horrifyingly embarrassing dildo encounters.

A word of advice, just in case I have any young male readers (doubtful) who are just embarking on new love… don’t shake any dildos at your girl.  Especially in public.

Unless she starts it.         

- the weirdgirl

You Give Me Fever (and I give you general goofiness)

We’ve all got the sniffles here in House of the Weird. Chance is down for the count. Me and Keen have been battling it with the help of lots of lovely drugs. I was going to be extra brave and attempt a Concentrated Effort at Potty Training this long weekend. However, I suspect that might be potentially traumatizing to do to a kid when they have a fever.

Cue: big booming voices, delirium enhanced lights

“CHANCE!… pee in the potty Chance!… want an M&M*?… big boys POOP!... CHA-A-A-A-NCE!”

(*M&Ms are our potty bribe of choice. KitKats will be used as the big guns.)

True story: When I was about seven I had the flu with a fever so bad I started hallucinating. At one point I saw three images of my mom, all standing in a row by my bed, doing that wavy body distortion thing they used to do in the Pepto-Bismol commercials in the 70s. And all the while those three moms are asking me (in scary hallucino-talk), “What’s wrong honey? What’s WRONG?” That pink shit used to make me feel ill for a loooong time.

I can’t do that to my son. M&Ms should be an important part of every kid’s life. I mean, besides the fact that the training would probably be an utter failure.

(Though I am kind of hoping he feels well enough soon to at least start the potty training this weekend.)

On another note I’ve still got a couple of commenter inspired posts to finish. The following baby was from Fuzz; he suggested a chick version of Budweiser’s Real Men of Genius commercials. I was having some difficulties early on but then I saw this…



The Real Woman of Genius would also have added plexi-glass divisions to separate the children, some sort of electro-magnetic, sound muffling field, and a password-protected alarm system (for security) to access the cart. Maybe even a pellet treat dispenser for the children to nibble on while you’re oh so blissfully trying on clothes in the dressing room. Ah…

Here’s to you Ms. Inventor of the Most Perfect Shopping Cart Ever! *sniff* (It’s so beautiful!)

And for those keeping track… an update! Month one of the Great KnockUp Project was a no go.  :(  Embarking onto month two!

- the weirdgirl

Bad Wife


Me: “Hello?”

Keen: “Hey babe.”

Me: “Hey, honey! What’s up? This is early for you to call…”

Keen: “Happy Anniversary!”

Me: “Oh My God!”

Keen:  *snorts*

Me: “Happy Anniversary babe! I totally lost track of the date! I’m so sorry…”

Keen: “Nine years today…”

Me: “I know! I’ve just been really bad with time lately. Seriously, the whole last week I didn’t know what day it was, or the date, or have even been on the right month! I was gonna BLOG about it!”

Keen: “Uh huh.”

Me: “Happy Anniversary, babe. I love you.”

Keen: “I love you, too.”

Me: “I did remember to take my ovulation test!”

Keen: “Good. And?”

Me: “It’s not positive but we’re almost there.” …pause… “Don’t worry, we don’t have to wait for that thing.” 


Nine years married. Seventeen years together. Contrary to what my faulty memory implies, I am looking forward to the next nine and seventeen (and whatever new kiddos may or may not pop out in that time). Love you, hon!  I’m looking forward to dinner just with you.  

  - wg

"The holiest of all holidays are those Kept by ourselves in silence and apart; The secret anniversaries of the heart."
    -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow