Idiot 101

I have off from work today, so trying to take advantage of the day alone to house clean and prep for Thanksgiving.

It’s also one of those comical days that could easily be made into some funny yet god-awful Will Ferrell movie.

Take, for instance, my attempt to show the classy side of Shelli… and instead of just whipping out a wrinkly tablecloth to put on the Thanksgiving table, I decided to IRON the tablecloth. AND the napkins. Oh yes people, I spare no expense on turkey day… it’s all first class around here. So as I am ironing an incredibly LONG tablecloth my cat decides that as I iron and push the fabric to the other side of the ironing board, he is busy making it into his bed. You would imagine my surprise after I declared “I’m done!” only to look on the other side and see my cat clawing into said tablecloth. Ugh. As I pull him off, his claws take fabric with him and he’s in full sprint down the stairs with a tablecloth dragging behind him.

Yes, thank goodness I have a backup tablecloth.

Next, a trip to Starbucks to buy some Christmas Blend coffee (thank you Starbucks, for using the word “Christmas” and not changing it to “Holiday”). This blend is my favorite coffee, and the only time of year I clean up the actual coffeepot (I usually use my one-cup Keurig). So, I buy a pound and decide to get a Gingerbread Latte, but the barista must have gone foam-crazy… as I exit, I squeezed the cup lightly to hold the door for someone, and SPLAT… foam shot out of the cup and onto my shirt and chin. I HATE when that happens! Not to mention I looked like a fool.

As I am driving to another errand, yet another OMG moment… our main road in town is currently getting paved, so traffic has been horrendous with lanes being blocked off. Why they insist on doing major roadwork on the DAY BEFORE the day of Thanksgiving is beyond me. So, my side of the road is reduced to one lane (normally two lanes on each side separated by a divide). Imagine my surprise when I spy an old woman DRIVING IN FRONT of a steam roller in the CLOSED lane making tire tracks on brand new asphalt. Workers were waving at her frantically to stop and get out of the lane. What did she do???

She slowed down and waved back at them.

Aaaaahhhh, the fun has just begun. Just wait until the hi-jinks as I prepare Thanksgiving Dinner on Thursday.

This Thanksgiving, I am thankful that I still have my humor, and that even though I had some close calls today, I am still not as big as an idiot as that woman driving on freshly poured asphalt.

post signature

Miley Cyrus, The Apocalypse, and the End of Infertility

You know the apocalypse is upon us when I say “Miley Cyrus” and “I cried” in the same sentence.

Are you ready?… I cannot stop crying when I hear that new song, “The Climb” from the overrated teen queen, Miley Cyrus.

You haven’t heard it?? I defy any infertile to hear the song and not feel the need to shed a tear or two. Or a hundred.

There’s always going to be another mountain
I’m always going to want to make it move
Always going to be an uphill battle,
Sometimes I’m gonna to have to lose,
Ain’t about how fast I get there,
Ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side
It’s the climb

Thank you Miley.

Speaking of celebrities (loosely), I also want to talk about Trista Sutter. Oh, you remember Trista, right? The Bachelorette that actually got married. I like her. She seems like a smart girl.

Anyway, let us dig deep into the BagMomma archives to a post I wrote several years ago, when Trista was talking about her two-year battle with infertility and how the Ov.Wa.tch. helped her get pregnant with her first child.

Then came child #2, soon after (wow, lucky dog!). And now, she’s gettin’ cozy with another company… (I hope she’s getting paid) but this time she’s AVOIDING pregnancy.

This got me to thinking. If you’ve battled infertility at all in your lifetime, and achieved your dream (whether it be 1, 2, or 10 children)… how comfortable would you be jumping into permanent birth control?

Does an infertile ever do that? Really???

I may be way off base, but I am thinking that anyone that’s been though a very hard time conceiving wouldn’t exactly be running to their OB/GYN to avoid pregnancy. I think I’d sooner jump bare-assed out of a plane with a poorly-packed parachute than do that. Maybe it’s because I am not done yet, and the thought of any woman willingly cutting off their reproductive ability is directly mocking me.

Joking of course. Ok, not really.

Look, I don’t disagree with it… I just find it…. odd.

If it were me making this decision (lol, like I EVER! will have to) I’d feel like I was playing with the devil. And the minute I really cut things off (so to speak) something would happen and I’d regret it. OR, the Gods (much in the same way they’ve been torturing me for all these years) would mock my smugness and impart bad juju to my family.

What say you, internet?

I know you all have got to have a lot of opinions on this.

Responsible family planning for infertile graduates, or the equivalent of 10 broken mirrors (70 years of bad luck)?

Fortune Telling

When I was a young girl, I was fascinated by psychics.

Not fortune tellers, tarot card readers, and the 98% of people making a living calling themselves “psychic” (and aren’t by any stretch of the imagination). We are talking the real deal.

Looking back I understand why I was so interested at such a young age, and that is a story for another time. Or another blog for that matter.

Anyway, I personally knew two really outstanding psychics. I started visiting them on a whim when I first went to college.

The interesting thing about these two people was that they didn’t charge an arm and a leg. Also you could tape the conversations. I was both a skeptic and a believer, and over time I became more impressed at the specific accuracy of their readings.

I saved some of those conversations. And listened to one recently (I hadn’t in maybe 15 years or so). If you want a serious trip, listen to yourself on a tape from when you were 19 years old. lol.

Anyway, my favorite was Mr. Dee. He was an older man who lived in Northeast Philadelphia who was known for being the “real deal”.

I think of Mr. Dee often, let me tell you why. He predicted every major life event I’ve had this far. Every. One.

Oh, sure. You’re thinking. He probably just threw some general things at you that could happen to anyone. He researched you before you came for the reading. Psychics are just making things up as they go along.

When I visited him the first time I spoke to his assistant, and she took my first name only, and my telephone number. I was a student at the time, and gave him my dorm hall number. (No such thing as cell phones back then). No one even knew about the internet either, so Googling me was out of the question too. I had to wait 4 months for my appointment. And I was pretty intimidated when I got to his office.

He asked me to sit down, but not to speak. When it was time for my reading he asked me to extend my hand for a moment, and he touched the top. Then he sat back, sighed, and asked me if I wanted to know only positive or negative events.

I said both. His readings were free-flow. He would talk for about 25 minutes about anything that came to his mind, and then he would allow questions.

He caught my attention right off the bat when he easily recited the names of my family members, living and dead. Not initials, names…. occupations, and health issues. He warned me of my Grandmothers heart condition, and knew my Grandfather had died from a massive heart attack at the age of 59. He knew my Dad was a business owner, he knew I had one brother named after my Dad.

I was immediately blown away, and nervous. How does he know all of this by JUST my first name and my status as a student?

He also connected with a memory I kept hidden from everyone. Something that happened to me that I told no one about. I was freaked out, stunned, and keenly aware that I have met someone who wasn’t bullshitting me.

Then he allowed me to ask questions. I had a paper with some notes, but that sort of went out the window in my stunned silence. So I went off the cuff, and these were a sampling of the questions, his answers, and my comments today:

Me: What kind of job will I have?
Mr. Dee: Computers. Your working life will always be around computers. You will fall into it, literally, and you will love it.
My comment today: it was 1987, and computer science wasn’t even a major in my college, I graduated with a degree in Marketing/Management and back then the only computer experience I had was the ONE required Lotus 1-2-3 for DOS class. I had no interest in computers. I got my first job in a software company (curiously, Lotus Development…. ironic, no???) after a one-year failed attempt in retail by answering an ad in the paper. The rest… history.

Me: When will I get married?
Mr. Dee: Late twenties. It is not the boy in your life right now. You will be surprised how far you search for someone right under your nose.
My comment today:Back then, I did not want to hear this. I was ‘in love’ with my boyfriend back then, and we had plans to marry someday. I forgot about that comment because I hated it. I married my husband S. at the age of 27. He was my neighbor I grew up with from the age of ten. Oddly, we didn’t date until I was 26.

Me: Will I have children, how many?
Mr. Dee: Much later in life. They will be all boys. Three.
My comment today: Well, you know where this is going. Call me crazy but I recall this ALL THE TIME especially with what’s going on now. I have to trust that Mr. Dee didn’t throw me a strike out. He’s been right about everything, how can this not be true??? I wish I knew then what I know now to qualify that statement better.

I have not visited a psychic since I was 26. I think the reason I stopped was because after meeting Mr. Dee, I felt he was as close to the real thing as I would ever get. And whatever skepticism I had was gone after meeting him. I wonder if he is still around?

So, how many of you have visited a psychic in your lifetime? Did you meet any believable ones? Or do you think this is all “hogwash”? Tell me your thoughts.

It’s an acquired talent

Last night, my son and I were sitting on the floor playing with his Ninja Turtles, Star Wars Sandtroopers, and his “Army men” as he calls them. They were having a battle in the Fisher Price Castle.

I have a habit of always sitting “Indian style” …. whether I am on the floor or on a chair, it’s just more comfortable with my legs contorted than straight out. I know, I am odd. But that’s me.

Anyway, I noticed that David sits the same way I do…. except he calls it “pretzel legs”. So I asked him, “hey David, ask Daddy to do pretzel legs!”

To which my husband, S., gives me that “I can’t believe you told him to ask that knowing I can’t sit with my legs that way if you offered me a million dollars”

Honestly, S. has some sort of defect. He can’t sit Indian style. He tried once and he could barely bend his legs close to his body. It’s like he is jointed wrong. It’s really sad yet funny.

So, then I said, “Honey, Daddy can’t do that, I was just kidding. Daddy’s inflexible, I guess we just have to deal with it.”

To which David said, “Daddy, you are broken, what are we going to do with your inflexible?”

Well said, my son.