Drew here.

So, after a brief try at having a MySpace page, I obliterated it yesterday.  When the magical cancelling script asked me the reason for cancelling my account, I was able to adequately sum it up in one word "annoyed."  It all started when, somehow, my graduating high school class was able to find me (even though most information I put up was inaccurate and I never even put up school information).  It seems they had created an account to try and find people for the reunion this summer...yay (mucho sarcasmo here).  So, being the nice person I am, I accepted their friendship request and was now opened to a whole new world of annoyance.  People messaging me asking which Andrew I was (there were only like 5 or 6 in my class) and others just going straight to friend requests.  I haven't talked to any of these people in 10 years, sometimes longer (I was never a very social person in high school), so why do I want to talk to them now?  Well, I didn't.  I was able to get past most of that by just ignoring them since there were a few non high school people I wanted to talk to (the aubmeister and d-money for example) using this crazy MySpace thing.  However, I finally had to call it quits when I got a message from said high school class account asking me to put up a picture of me or more information about who I am because noone knows which Andrew I was.  I can stand people messaging me and trying to add me as friends or whatever, but when you try to dictate how MYspace should look, I'm going to throw a big FU your way and maybe even moon you.  So, that's what I did.  End of Story.  Thanks for riding the Drew train.

Ha! I laugh at that. Haha! Heh. Hrrrm....

More severe headaches, hot flashes, the WORST BITCHINESS POSSIBLE EVER IN LIFE I'M NOT KIDDING IT'S BAAAAD AND SEEMINGLY UNCONTROLLABLE, depressive lows. Double doses of this devil drug...ugh. Only two more days for this month... I can make it, right?

-Em

To know that I spent the better part of St. Patty's Day making Asian cuisine. That's right, Dad, no soda bread, no boiled dinner. Instead: spring rolls, Thai chicken salad, crab rangoons, fried rice, and egg rolls. My friend from work, Bolay, is a master of this type of cuisine (she herself is from Cambodia), and she had a big group of ladies over on Saturday to perform a cooking demonstration. She's one of those ladies who's finished as quick as you start paying attention (saying, "It's easy; just do this!"), and then you've completely missed what she's done. In years past, she's been the ring-leader for a group of us who have volunteered to cook and serve at the Holland Rescue Mission, and she has a background in catering.

Saturday, however, was unprecedented in that Bolay WROTE THINGS DOWN. That's right: she gave us recipes of all the dishes she demonstrated and got us involved with. And? She went slow (relatively speaking) enough for us to absorb what she was doing. And you know what? She's right. This type of cooking is pretty simple. It's just a change in mindset (and ingredients), but I love that it is fast and without the need to measure (blech, hate measuring, which is why I hate baking).

So, anyway, even though I was wearing green like the good Irish-turned-Dutch-and-Polish girl that I am, I was not partaking in the traditional Irish fare my parents so diligently prepare each year. But...sounds like they had a party that night! 

Yesterday, though still a bit cold, was a beautiful, clear, sunny day, and Drew and I decided to get out of the house for the better part of it, rather than staying home and doing the usual chores. I'll have to catch up on laundry, etc. tonight, but I have to say it was worth it--shirking our responsibilities and going out to play.

In other news, today is my second day of my double-dose Clomid, and so far I am relieved to report the only side-effect seems to be a dull headache. Cross your fingers for us this month and next. We've been researching the "next step" fertility treatments and adoption over the past few weeks, and it has become obvious to us that if Clomid doesn't help this month or next, it will be time to take a break from trying. We will need to save up more money for either more expensive treatments (that seem to provide a minimal ROI) or to begin the adoption tasks. *Sigh*. Having a child is expensive, I've heard, but we're not even expecting yet.

Wishing you all a good week,

-Em

I'm not sure of the culprit, but I seem to be becoming dumber day-by-day. Lack of sleep lately? Too much information to ingest and make sense of? Don't know if it's pinpoint-able to just one thing.

See? Now there's a good example right there. I cannot USE MY WORDS these days. I say a lot of things like "pinpoint-able" or "cheerer-upper." WTF? Why can't I say "easily identified" or "encouraging"? My vocabulary is slowly oozing out of my left ear...

Also, I just got back from lunch with Drew and Becky, and I'm sitting there at the table with my glass of water, all spacing out and feeling very low energy and wondering what I can do about it (sugar soda? OK!) when I suddenly remember: "My pills! I should take them!"

What is wrong with me this week? I have forgotten to take my pills almost every morning. No wonder why I'm on the verge of hypoglycemic episodes...and thus unable to formulate a complete sentence with words above a 3rd grade reading level (or not of my own making...cheerer-upper? Really? Can I not do any better than that?).

Bleh.

Anyone got a form-fitting hat I can borrow?

-Em

Drew and I carpooled into work this morning. We drove Susie Q. Subaru, and about half-way through the commute, Susie's check engine light came on. I am proud to be able to say that this was Susie's first check engine incident. She's been a good car these past five years, and I've been lucky. So, you can imagine that we were both none too thrilled to see the lighting up of said indicator.

We finished our commute into work, and Drew mentioned that he'd like to take Susie to AutoZone over lunch to have them check the diagnostic code. So, we go, and the guy comes out with Drew, plugs in the diagnostic tool, and asks, "Would you, by any chance, have a loose fuel cap?"

D'oh.

As the last person to fill up Susie's tank, I am at fault. We are both breathing a sigh of relief that, for instance, her transmission isn't about to kaput. But, for now, all I can think is, "When is Drew going to stop telling EVERYONE this oh-so funny story?"

-Em