prettypissy

It’s been one of those days. It hasn’t been a bad day, not at all. Just one of those kind of days. I simply wanted to grab my purse and walk out of the office without a word. I wanted to be in my car with all the windows down, listening to Bonnie Raitt as loud as I could stand her. Driving down some two-lane highway, passing only cows and barns, without a care in the world. Instead, I’ve been keying payroll and paying invoices. It’s probably much better for me than fresh air and sunshine.

Speaking of, my family is going to the beach in the middle of May and I am so jealous, I literally want to choke them all. I can’t afford to take the time off of work and I’m trying to save my paid time for when I do get pregnant. They’re going to Destin, Florida. I’ve gone to Destin every single year since I was seven and this is going on my second year without. It’s only been since I met and married Arnie that I haven’t gone, I’m starting to think it’s his fault. We always stay on the same stretch of beach and almost always always at the same condo. I love change and adventure but with this one thing, it’s comforting to me that my family and I have something that we all love equally. It’s so incredible that I have this love and these memories of one place that we all share.

I actually forget sometimes that my husband hasn’t been around for all this. I’ll say something like, “Hey! Remember that summer that we swam with the dolphin and I freaked out because I swam all the way out and got within three feet of the dolphin and realized that I wasn’t a marine biologist and what if it really was a shark? And then I realized people were throwing food and chum in the water and holy shit, what if it really was a shark? And then I swam all the way back in about two seconds!”And he’ll just look at me and wait it out and not say anything. Then I’ll remember that I was fifteen at the time and we’ve never been to the beach together.

So, they’re going in May. I’ll most likely be severely depressed and drinking heavily that week. We’re taking a long weekend vacation to Nashville during the same time span, so maybe that little thing will be enough to tide me over until next summer. It’s not the beach. There’s no sand like sugar and no shimmering turquoise water. But I’ll be with my husband at a Renaissance Fair and there’s sure to be beer. Ale? Mead? Whatever they call it, if it’s got any sort of alcohol content, I’ll have a mug in each hand. Especially since my period is due three or four days before we’re set to go. There’s nothing like a road trip when you’re dealing with tampons and leaking. I’ll be cramping, depressed about the no baby/no beach combo and probably hot and sweaty for three solid days. Who’s a big winner?

 I really do kid. I’m looking forward to spending time with Arnie and I’m kind of a big geek..so I’m sure I’ll be all up in the fencing and the maypole-ing and the jousting.

p.s. Thank you so much to everyone who was kind enough to come check out my webpage. And thanks to Vanessa for the link. You’re so awesome and I’m soo glad you had good news today.

The nurse from my doctor’s office finally called today, my beta is at zero. Since I got my period last week, I already knew this. I’m still glad she called, they way things are going I imagined I’d be the freak that would manage to have a period with a beta of 500. No such luck, I appear to be completely normal now.

I called my husband, Arnie to tell him the news. “So, you’re ready to be pregnant again?” he says. Ready to be pregnant again? I was ready to be pregnant again about half a second after I saw the empty sac on the ultrasound screen. I was ready to be pregnant again when I was sitting in the pharmacy drive-thru, cramping and bleeding, while they took forever to fill out my prescription. I was ready to be pregnant again when the doctor said he was taking a sample of the “pregnancy tissue”. Hell yeah, I’m ready to be pregnant again. So..I’m on? Day nine? I think? I better go shave my legs, I guess.

I remember being twelve and dreaming of the day when I would be all grown up. I would be rich. I would be tall. I would have skin like ivory.

What the fuck happened? I’m not rich. I’m not an heiress and I certainly don’t have a trust fund. But this, I can handle. So what if I’m not a Hilton? Atleast I don’t have a wonky eye.

I’m not tall either. Oh, I’m tall for my family. The tallest of me and my two sisters, to be honest. I check in at a respectable 5′4″. So what if I keep my shoes on when the nurse measures me? I can handle this as well. I don’t have to worry about bumping my head on anything and I feel fairly safe when it comes to dodging lightning.

But what is up with my skin lately? I’m 28 years old and I have the worst complexion in my entire lifetime. It’s bad. Ray Liotta bad. Call in sick to work bad.

I’m blaming the miscarriage for this one, too. Before that I blamed the pregnancy. And before that? The stress of trying to get pregnant, of course. Seriously, I do not know what is going on but it’s atrocious. I’m thinking about sending my husband out of town for a few days, so he doesn’t realize that he’s gone and married Frankenstein.

I had big plans to clean house today. My husband is working, so I was going to bust out the cleaning supplies and go to town, throwing away all the junk and empty Mountain Dew cans that he collects. Then I turned the tv on so I would have background noise..and look! America’s Next Top Model is on and I missed this season–and I have to find out who won. Suddenly it was 4:00 pm and I hadn’t done a damn thing all day. So, might as well avoid cleaning some more by starting a blog. I’ve actually been meaning to do this for a long time. I’ve always wanted to be a really dedicated diary keeper but I usually give up after a few weeks. Am I the only person who always mistypes/writes “diary” as “dairy”? Maybe that’s why I eat so much cheese, all those subliminal messages to myself throughout the years.