Category — Friday Blog Roundup

I went over to Lindsay’s house and on the top step, as if he was waiting for me, was a cricket that was seriously the size of a small dog.  On her top step.  So I leaned forward and knocked on the door with my wimpy little knock and then ran down the steps away from the Hummer-sized cricket.

And she didn’t hear.

So I did the next best thing.  I emailed her while standing on the sidewalk, my eyes trained on the cottage-sized cricket.  20 seconds later, she opened the door, gave me a look, flicked the cricket — which, by this time, was certainly the size of a McMansion — into the bushes WITH HER BARE HANDS.

That’s bravery.

Seriously, how can I be expected to sidestep a cricket the size of Buckingham Palace?

This is just one more reason I love technology.

*******

I went to the used bookstores to pick up some more Charlaine Harris books, and, understandably, there weren’t any on the shelf.  The man working there noticed me looking disappointingly at the shelf and asked what I was looking for.  When I told him that I wanted vampire smut, he said, “oh, yeah, we’re out of those books at the moment, but I have a really great book about Einstein for you.”

Einstein?  Did Einstein fuck vampires?  No?  Then I’m not sure how that biography could possibly satiate my hunger for vampire sex scenes.

I walked around the store for a bit and then Josh was ready to check out.  The man bit his lower lip as if he was thinking whether or not he should do something and finally he said, “I feel badly.  Wait here one second.  I have something for you.”

So what would you be thinking at this moment?  That he knew that there were some Charlaine Harris books in the backroom that hadn’t been put out yet, but he was going to give me first-dibs on them.  So I waited, excitedly, to see if they were ones I didn’t have, and he comes out with this book that looks nothing like a vampire romance.  There was no blood on the cover, there were no sexy vampires.  There was, in fact, a picture of a gun.  And vampires, everyone knows, do not need guns.

For some reason, the man thought I’d like a book about Jewish gangsters.  Apparently, my Semitic looks coupled with my love of vampire sex = Jewish gangsters.  It turned out that Josh already had the book in the library at work so we thanked him and went on our way.  But seriously, how can people not understand this?  I want vampires.  I want vampires having sex.  I want vampires having messy sex and then taking a bath with their girlfriend afterward.  Is that so wrong?

*******

The Weekly What If: What if you had to choose one font to use for every document for an entire year.  Which one would it be, and why?

*******

And now, the blogs…

The Road Less Travelled has a post about Facebook status updates.  The night before October 15th, she posted about her daughter, Katie, explaining that she often keeps her lost daughter close in to her heart.  The story continues with what happened once she sent that status out there and how family reacted.  And beyond that, it’s a rallying cry for more to be done for pregnancy loss, stillbirth, neonatal death, and infant death.  You have got to read this post.  And forward it others.

Nuts in May has a brief, wistful post called “No Kiss Goodnight” in honour of October 15th.  It’s not a post I can describe — it is a tiny post that you need to experience.  And read carefully, especially the last line.

Cloudy with a Chance of Hope has a post about surviving.  She writes: “My heart is beating, albeit it is incredibly broken, but it still beats to let me know … I am here and there is so much more life to live!”  I loved the tie-in to Sylvia Plath as well as the hope within the words.

Lastly, Baby, Boreno or Bust has a post contrasting her life now with her life back then.  It serves as a reminder of how much things can change, even if it doesn’t seem possible when you’re in the middle of darkness.  It is — simply put — a post about living, and I love these lines: “Looking back, it seems impossible that we jumped off that cliff and trusted that we would fly, but we did, and I must say, the views are just amazing. It feels so good to soar.”

The roundup to the Roundup: Lindsay saved my life from a giant, woman-eating cricket.  Strange recommendations in place of vampire sex books.  Answer the Weekly What If.  And lots of great posts to read.

We’re having a stinkbug problem in Maryland.  I’ve noticed them on and off over the years, but this fall, they’re coming in swarms.  We’ve had about 20 of them in the car — they fly right in when you open the door.  Up until this point, they’ve been in the back seat and the kids will see them as we’re driving, Josh will take care of them, and we’ll go on our merry way.

Until this week.

I was driving to the library when something jumped down onto the dashboard.  I pulled over, shrieking (I’m an equal-opportunity hater when it comes to bugs), and inexplicably, threw on my windshield wipers.  I tried to swat at the bug with my shoe, but only succeeded in knocking it into a crevice on the dashboard.

I stood outside the car, unsure of what to do.  Three teenagers were walking down the street at that moment, listening to their iPods (seriously, do kids not speak to one another anymore while they walk?), and I called them over.  “Would any of you, by chance, be willing to get a stinkbug out my car?”

And G-d love those boys.  They took out their ear buds and got to work, trying to coax the thing out of the crevice.  They didn’t ask why the windshield wipers were running at full speed.  They worked on the problem for about 8 minutes, finally telling me that the stinkbug had crawled into the vent and it was impossible to get the thing out.

The largest boy gently told me that the bug would likely fry inside the hood of the car, using the same tone of voice I use to describe unpleasant things to the kids — a voice that betrays that the speaker doesn’t believe what they’re saying one bit, but they need to calm down a person on the brink of hysteria.  The ends justify the means.

“Thank you,” I said, “not only for trying to get the bug out of the car, but for not mocking me in the process.”

The boys solemnly told me that they would not be discussing me once I drove away, they would not be mocking me or turning me into one of their private jokes.

But they were using that voice, so you know that they probably have a nickname for me now.

And I deserve it.

*******

The Weekly What If: What if you were given a choice — either everyone would tell you the truth, brutally and uncensored — or you could continue with the world you know, where people are sometimes trustworthy, sometimes truthful, sometimes fibbers, and sometimes outright liars.  Would you take that opportunity to know exactly where you stand with absolute truth from everyone; or is ignorance bliss?

*******

It draws ever closer, therefore, it’s time to mention once again that I’m going to be delivering the keynote address at Resolve of New England’s conference.  I promise, it’s going to be spectacular.  It will begin with some Fosse-like dancing a la the opening of Pippin.  Then, I will juggle 8 knifes — AT ONCE.  And eat a 40-pound block of grilled tofu while jumping through a ring of fire.  I’m going to give away a car to everyone in the audience (you get a new car, and you get a new car, and you get a new car, you all get matchbox caaaaaaaaaaaaaaars!).  And finally, I will give you a piece of advice that will change your freakin’ life.

Seriously, would you miss that?

Come to the conference on Saturday, November 6th (you can register online).

*******

And now, the blogs…

Time passing was definitely a theme this week, beginning with Infertile Revolution’s post about her one year anniversary.  She writes about the familiar faces that have moved on from the clinic, “Still, there was something comforting about seeing them over and over. Like commuters stranded on the subway platform, we were sharing the same experience, even if we didn’t talk about it.”  I love her juxtaposition of the hated but familiar routine with the idea of it ending.

Hold My Hope has a post about her brother on the seventh anniversary of his death.  It contains the most gorgeous line: “It’s just another day.  When people see me today, they won’t know what this day is for me.  And then I wonder about their story – what ordinary day isn’t ordinary for them?”  Didn’t that give you chills?

I Spy a Family has a post about people asking questions about her children’s adoptions in front of her children.  I love how she clearly outlines the time and place for curiosity, and even gives people the benefit of the doubt.  She explains, “I signed up for this – I knew we’d look different from everybody else, I knew we’d face curiosity and occasionally racism. I knew this and willingly agreed to it … but my kids did not.”  Their stories may be intertwined, but it is that deep respect for the child that drew me to this post.

A Little Sweetness writes a post about why she wants her child to be born near the due date of the child she lost.  Not as a replacement, but to ease the burden of memory.  It is a post about being the sole carrier of a memory, and how heavy that weight can feel.

Lastly, Things Get If’fy has a post about how while she refrained from calculating her due date for this recent loss, she will be reminded of it regardless due to the fact that her coworker is pregnant around the same gestational age.  She writes so beautifully, “Of course I’m pleased for her. I hope it goes very well (the less to complain about the better!), because another person’s misery doesn’t undo any of my own. But I had hoped for a little more respite, not to be shown quite so close up what might have been.”  It is a post about the body moving on long before the heart is ready.

The roundup to the Roundup: I am more afraid of stinkbugs than looking like a fool.  Answer the Weekly What If.  Hey, I’m speaking in New England!  And lots of great posts to read.

Last night, the twins went to bed sobbing.  The ChickieNob curled up like a comma in her bed, her back to me, and cried quietly into her pillow.  Her brother tipped his head back, tears streaming down his face, wailing as if I had just told him that I was going to put all of his stuffed animals through the shredder.  The source of their grief: bow-tie Mike, the Jeopardy champion.

Our friend rocked the buzzer all night, and we bounced up and down on my bed, cheering her on (shrieking loudest when she got what is Candide because it’s one of my favourite books).  She went into the final question with an enormous pot of cash.  She wagered it all — a gutsy move — and was felled by a manatee (curse you, manateeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.  And seals tooooooooooooooo).

I was truly upset for her because it was such a frustrating loss, but I couldn’t even focus on that disappointment because the twins looked as if Alex Trebek had taken a dump on her scoreboard.  And then their faces crumpled.  And the closing credits song played to their heartfelt cries.  I was trying not to laugh, but all I could think of was how terrible it was that my Flip video was downstairs because I would have loved to film it and send it to Alex Trebek.

All in all, it was incredibly cool to watch our friend on television.  She was calm and cool and smart and quick.  And she rocked that red top.

*******

The Weekly What If: what if you were holding a box with $10,000 inside.  There were two boxes in front of you.  One has a million dollars and one contains nothing.  Would you switch your box holding $10,000 for one of the two boxes on the table?  It’s Deal or No Deal … blog style. (I’ve actually never seen that show, so I’m not sure if this is exactly how the game is played, but I’ve often wondered how many people would trade something pretty damn good for the chance to win something fantastic with the possibility of losing it all.  How many play it safe and how many go-big-or-go-home?)

*******

Something really cool happened.  An autism blogger joined on for the last IComLeavWe because IComLeavWe is not only open to anyone in the blogosphere (blog writer or not), but that diversity is encouraged.  She read through dozens of infertility blogs and learned more about our stories.  And then she wrote about IComLeavWe and her post went up on the Autism Blogs Directory, where Kim and Kathleen are building a similar community to the ALI community amongst autism bloggers.  And others said, “that is a damn fine idea to read more about their stories and hopefully they will learn more about ours.”  And a bridge is born.

Autism Mom Rising writes,

Reading their blogs I felt empathy. Is that strange since I don’t share those fertility issues personally? Not really. These blogs house stories of struggle and actualization, from the joys of motherhood to the agony of child loss. I may be fertile but I know grief and loss. My child is still with me, but I did lose my son as I knew him. Of course, this is not the same as actually losing a child, but grief recognizes grief, no matter the degree or manifestation. Such loss splits the heart in a million pieces, then sends them out compassionately in all directions. ICLW week is electric. You can feel it in the air as people buzz from blog to blog leaving a little dose of positivity behind. My blog had so many wonderful new visitors.

And that’s exactly it.  IComLeavWe is, of course, about comments (because blogging is a conversation).  But it’s also about reading someone else’s story, really thinking about it, and then writing something intelligent back to them to let them know that their words haven’t disappeared into the ether.  It’s about making a connection, building a bridge between your life experiences and an unknown situation.  And I think it rocks that another community has shown up big time.

And now, the blogs…

Are We There Yet has a post about being pregnant after infertility.  She is attending childbirth classes and still attending her infertility support group, feeling as if she knows too much to completely let go, but still has faith that things will work out.  I love her final moment juxtaposing her own internal answer to the midwife’s question in yoga class.

The Young and the Infertile has a post exploring what it means to not be extraordinary by random societal measures.  In discussing jealousy over reading about a recent recipient of a MacArthur grant, she writes, “He is very wise, Mr. X.  He reminded me that the measure of my life is the love that it is in it and what I do to make me happy.   Rex raspberried at that moment, probably to reinforce this. He’s right. As usual.  Right, right and right.  And I know that I am happy with who I am, whether or not I’m given $500,000 for being fabulous.”  It’s a good reminder-of-a-post for all those comparative situations in life.

The Hardest Quest issues a challenge this week: “I need to try to get in touch with some of you who do mean a lot to me. And I challenge you to do the same. I challenge you to at least make the offer to three bloggers who have touched your life in some way. Make the offer to write a personal note to them (if they’re willing to give you a snail-mail address) and let them know how or why they have affected you.”  It is a post about where her love of writing and her need for community meet.  And it’s just a great post (and idea).

Lastly, Infertile Fantasies has a post about explaining pregnancy to her son that runs the gamut from cannibalism to babies inside boobs.  Truly, you have to read it to understand.  And laugh.

The roundup to the Roundup: Alex Trebek made my kids cry.  Answer the Weekly What If.  Welcome the autism community to IComLeavWe.  And lots of great posts to read.

I decided I would take a digital vacation this weekend.  I would not read blogs, write posts, check email, return emails, or touch the computer for two days.  Instead, I’d read vampire smut (oh my G-d, I am so in love with vampire smut now to the point that I am freaking out Calliope and Lindsay who “shake their heads and say I’ve changed” — quick, name the song).  Read rock-n-roll smut.

Which meant that like a real vacation, I doubled up on my online time before I left and am certain that I’ll have double the online time when I return.  Isn’t that the way it always is?  You plan a vacation and before you can go, you need to clean the house and pack the bags and do the laundry and run the errands.  Then you go on the vacation and get a tiny bit relaxed, and then come home to more cleaning, more unpacking, more laundry, more errands.  Can you ever really just take a vacation and have it be a break rather than squeezing the work to either end?

So I answered emails and I tried to get through my Google Reader and I started working on a blog post that I’m having difficulty constructing and I spent more time than I would have on the computer.  All to have a digital vacation.  And while I did this, and relished all the time I’d have for vampire smut, I started back-tracking by saying to myself that I might glance at a blog post or two.  And I might read the front page of my Twitter feed once or twice.  And I may scan the subject lines of emails and only open the ones that look like they might be urgent-ish.

A problem, right?

Usually, I don’t take a conscious break — I simply don’t find my way to the computer over the course of a day — but once I started actually planning a break, I started getting all Internet twitchy.  Still, this is a heads up that if I do what I say I’m going to do (which is spending time with vampire smut), I won’t be updating the IComLeavWe list until Sunday.  So sign up — you’ll go up — but it won’t be until Sunday.

*******

The Weekly What If: What if you could only smell one thing for the rest of your life?  What would it be?  Not in a sickening way, where everything would smell unnaturally like this one thing (as in, it’s not as if your pork chops would smell like your grandpa’s after shave), but it would be a scent that would always be accessible to you, and the only thing that had a scent for you.

*******

Evolutionary Dead End is closing her blog and I love her final thoughts, especially the ubiquitous saying, “it’s getting late.”  She writes, “But I feel the need to say something here, along the lines of good-bye, because if I don’t, I might just stay here forever. And that is starting to not feel right to me.”  It is a lovely, delicate goodbye as well as a hello to her new blog, which is linked to within her latest post.

Bagmomma has a post titled “Call Me Suzy” about how the way she viewed the world changed as she aged, and how she moved away from the greyness and somewhat back to the sunniness (though perhaps not the rosiness).  It’s a lovely post about losing yourself and finding yourself again, exactly where you left yourself. [On a side note, can I take this moment to admit that I sometimes say to myself “Bagamama” to rhyme with “Wagamama” — as in the noodle restaurant — when I see her blog title.  And I love that because you sit at long tables at Wagamama, and it would be the perfect set-up for an ALI get together.]

Child Bearing Hips has a post about perspective.  It is tiny and quick, but it packs a big punch.  It made me smile all day after I read it.

Lazy Seamstress has a post about having a child after the loss of her daughter, Florence.  It begins with a story about a friend she met at college, who gave her son, Ernest, a music box, and continues into an exchange with a neighbour.  The post meanders, almost as if you are traveling from idea to idea in the writer’s mind.  It’s a quiet post, but one that gets down into your bones.

Lastly, It’s Always Raining has a post on the morning of her first IUI.  A how-did-I-get-here post.  It is both familiar and unique at the same time.  She writes, “I guess most of us have been in that place, the shock of IF hitting us full force. These milestones are painful reminders that IF is real, it’s unfair, and it’s unwelcome. I don’t want to have to go to Dr. W’s office today.”

The roundup to the Roundup: I’m unplugging for a day or two to dedicate myself fully to vampire smut.  Answer the Weekly What If.  And lots of great posts to read.

I obviously have been dealing with a few rage issues this week … but moving on to someone else’s righteous rage issues …

The Washington Post had an article this week about the Sterling Hall bombing and how the FBI was renewing their search for Leo Burt (one of the four bombers) who has been at large for 40 years.  You can’t help but think about the bombing when you step into Sterling Hall.  I had a class on quantum mechanics in the building (oh, yes, a lesser known fact about me: I am a huge science nerd who loves physics just as much as I love talking about my reproductive organs — and y’all know how much I like to write a post about my ovaries).

More interesting than an article about the one bomber still at large is the story of Karl Armstrong, who served time for the bombing and returned to the campus to run a juice cart.  I still remember where I was standing when I learned that the friendly Loose Juice man was one of the bombers.

Because, it sort of gives you pause.  I mean, you’re standing there on Library Mall on a perfectly pleasant day, watching a man dole out juice, and it feels … sort of wrong … to be purchasing food from a man who protested the war by bombing a college building (and killing a man in the process, as well as injuring others).  And yet, he served time in jail, so isn’t it now his right — after paying the price for his crime — to rebuild his life?

I found out this week that he purchased one of my favourite Madison sandwich shops — the Radical Rye.  And I’m sort of wondering if patrons thought about it.  Or if they just shrugged their shoulders and ordered their sandwich.

If, let’s say, the Unabomber was released from prison and opened a fantastic sushi shop in town, would you eat there?

No really, where do you fall on the purchasing-tasty-food-from-former-bombers continuum?

*******

This weekend marks the one-year anniversary of self-hosting my site in this space.  And I still love it.  I haven’t even utilized all the great things one can do when they self-host.

(On a side note, if you are on Typepad and are freaking out about the buy-out and want to move to WordPress, Plaid House Designs, which is run by two ALI bloggers, is running a special.  They moved my enormous blog from Blogger to here last year.)

The reason why I moved this time last year was that I wanted to be in my new home and settled before the Creme de la Creme opened.  Which means, yes, the 2010 Creme de la Creme will be opening again in a few weeks.  I am giving you this heads up because I am tweaking the timing of things this year.  The list will open early — by early November — but it will close February 1st rather than at the end of March.  Which means that it will only accept new submissions for a month after it posts.

The reason is that it drags on for me (I do so much of the work prior to January 1st) and it drags on for you (how many people read the last few that go up in March/April?)  So in light of the fact that the list is best enjoyed during January, I am going to open early and close early.

What does it mean to be forewarned?  Well, the list is a first-come-first-up sort of deal, so if you want to be high-up on the list, you need to submit your post early.  So this next month or so is a good time to peruse your 2010 archives and see if you already have a post in-hand that you want to submit.  All posts will go up, but if you care where you go on the list, now is the time to pick so you can be first out of the starting gate.

And please, for the love, promise me that when the post goes up, you will actually read the whole thing through before submitting.  It saves me and you much frustration down the road.

By the way, this is the fifth Creme de la Creme.  Which feels like it should have some fanfare attached to it.

*******

And now, the blogs…

A Run for My Money has a post about knowing that she’s done with family building.  Despite the fact that their diagnosis was male factor infertility, her husband is having a vasectomy, just to give them the closure they need to know that family building is done.  I love this thought: “And that this time it was going to be goodbye for real. But this time it was on my terms and not at the mercy of infertility.”

DI Mom has a post about a question one should never ask another person.  Let’s play a game and see if you can guess what it is before you click over.  And then let her know if you were able to guess it.  For what it’s worth — I was asked twice this week.

It Is What It Is (or Is It?) has been writing a chilling series of posts this week about the accident that killed her brother, but the post I actually want to highlight came at the end of last week (sue me — I read it on Friday so I’m counting it with this week).  It’s about being stuck as she moves into the adoption process.  Read this gorgeous thought: “We string the days together, one after another, to create our experience of life. So, I think to myself, what’s it going to be? Is the quagmire of this process going to be the un-doing of the dream?”  You need to go over and read (and appreciate) the post as a whole.

Lastly, Negative Nelly Flips has a post about jealousy.  She explains that while she sailed through jealousy in other areas of life, it is hitting her hard now with infertility.  She needed to go into the baby section of a store and she writes, “I should be feeling him/her kick and worrying about the nursery not being finished and storing diapers up for the big day.  But I’m shopping for a baby that’s not mine.  And I’m no longer pregnant.”  While shopping, she receives more news, and she turns the jealousy inward by the end of the post, allowing it to eat her raw.  I hope that by writing the post and releasing it, she was able to find peace again.

The roundup to the Roundup: Would you buy the Unibomber’s sushi?  The Creme de la Creme is coming soon.  And lots of great posts to read.