I have no words for this . . . well, maybe two:

I've had an interesting weekend.

It started on Friday, with my last day at my crap call center job. A chapter closed. I wanted to celebrate by waiting in line at WalMart with my friends to buy Eclipse on DVD at midnight, but I have this awful cold which kept me on the couch instead.

Saturday, I woke up feeling worse. Mr. Joe made me scrambled eggs and cheese in bed, which were marvelous, and I decided that in my gross coughy state, we should not attend our friends' annual Christmas party that night. My celebratory weekend was not turning out the way I had planned at all. Mr. Joe decided around noon that he would take a nap. I wanted to drug myself with Nyquil, but we were fresh out, so out I went to Walgreens.

As I was searching the aisles for my drug of choice, I passed by THE AISLE. You know the one. It occurred to me then that I was late - if I was a normal person. I haven't really been paying attention on our break so I wasn't convinced this meant anything, but I can't resist peeing on things, so on a whim, I bought a FRER. Then I peed on it. Well, first I went home, THEN I peed on it. Then I almost threw up.

At first glance, it looked like a faint positive. Then I realized that the dark line was the test line. It sucked all the ink out of the control line.

Holy shit.

Part of me was fighting this, because it would appear to the outside world that once I just relaxed I ended up pregnant. If you know anything about me, know this: I HATE TO BE TOLD I TOLD YOU SO. Which is precisely what my turd husband said. I would have punched him in the face, but I'm with child, and I thought that would be a bad idea.

Another part of me is extremely cautious. I must only be 10 minutes preggo at this point. We have only told 3 people, and you guys of course. If anything were to go wrong, those are the people I would cry about it to, so it only made sense to say something now.

Still ANOTHER part of me is sad for those of you who haven't made it here yet. I know how it feels to read another BFP post and have the inner war with my emotions. I am still praying every night for you. So far, God has been answering my prayers. It's taken me a little while to trust Him, but He seems to know what He is doing. I understand if you stop reading. I promise not to take it personally. I won't stop reading and praying for you though.

I feel like I am dreaming. I can't believe that tomorrow, I will be training for a job where I won't be talking to angry people who hate me all day long. I can't believe that I will be learning about how to manage some one's case and be growing a human being at the same time. I can't believe that I might be getting everything I've ever wanted.

Holy shit.

P90X it is.

I started af on Tuesday. At work, of course, so I couldn't really afford to cry and carry on like I did last month.

I cried a little anyway. Ironically, as I gazed out the window in an effort to compose myself, one of summer's last bumble bees was buzzing around. I heard the distinct smack as it flew into the window pane. Then again. Then again. "That's silly," I thought to myself, "why would you keep flying into the same spot after being (painfully) rejected 3 times?" I half giggled, until I realized that the bee was not the only one hitting the same obstacle over and over again. We've flown into the window several more times than the bee, each time the feeling the sting a little deeper.

ahhhhhhh this sucks and I hate it.

So P90x it is for a little while. We leave for Disney in 113 days, so that gives me plenty of time to tone up and look svelte for the hot February sun. I will look the sexiest I have ever been. I will research the book I want to write. I will drink beer. Maybe I'll finally start piano lessons again or pick up a camera or something. We still have so much to do with the house. As I looked around last night, I saw all of the projects I've been putting off because I wanted to be pregnant. There were things I wanted to do before all of this began. Maybe this is my sign to do them.

I'm going to try not to be low and melancholy about it all. This month is a tough one for me, as I've said about a million times before. Part of me thinks I always knew that this month would not be it. I'm sad, but not broken. I just need a break from this. I need to find a new doctor, one who maybe monitors patients on clomid instead of just writing a script and wishing them luck. I need to settle into my new job and work out a new schedule. I need to let go of some of the grief I am carrying around. None of that can be very conducive to making a baby.

Mr. Joe is not really on board with my break idea, so I will continue to chart (sorta) and we will still have sex. Not that we wouldn't have sex anyway, I guess what I meant was that he'll be timing sex. I won't because I will be too busy enjoying all of the new hobbies I will be taking on. And Tony Horton!! I'll be enjoying my boyfriend Tony Horton again.

I know I can't just turn off the baby brain I have. It will be there until I'm holding a baby (one that belongs to me, not just any old baby) in my arms. I'm pretty sure that once I beef up my fat hammy arms, I'll be able to push it to the back of my mind at least.

So. Be prepared for non-ttc dribble and other nonsense. Or be prepared to ignore me for a few weeks or months.

Just please tell me we'll still be friends and you won't all board the baby train and ride off into the sunset without me.

2 Years

Two years ago today I became Mrs. Joe!! Oh what I wish I could tell that girl dancing with her new husband . . . .

ps: See the skinny girl in the back right? That's my skinny minnie sister. I told you so.

Does this template make my blog look fat?

I got an email from blogger and they were like all "change up your blog" and I was all "I'm working and hate my job so of course I'll waste time on my blog today!" Does the white background look like bubbles to you? I want some kind of bubble in my design. I am the SOAPscum avenger, after all. I don't know if I'll keep it this way or not. I'll have plenty of time to change it tonight since I gave away my shift at the movies to my friend Nicole and Mr. Joe has already made plans. I know you're jealous of me, sitting alone in my house playing with my blog lay out on a Friday night.

I am super cool.

Life is one big stage, after all

Ironically, the year I am married is the worst year of my life thus far. It started off with our money being stolen out of our account when Mr. Joe decided to apply for a "job" that would require a deposit of "about nineteen twenty", which is understood as 19.20, but in actuality was 1920.00. Needless to say, for a young couple saving for a wedding, nineteen twenty was a pretty big blow, especially when it was taken twice. Did I mention this almost caused us to lose our photographer? Definitely not a fun time in our life. It took months to get our money back, but we finally were able to. That came just in time for my car to get broken into at work and EVERYTHING to be stolen out of it. EVERYTHING, including both of our passports, my identification, credit cards, access to our just recovered wedding account, and these delicious pastry twists that I had just bought. Ridiculous. I was also battling an intensely personal situation that even under the anonymity of the Soap Scum Avenger I refuse to go into detail on. Just know that it was intense and caused me great pain and sacrifice. Times this year were tough. Add to that the wedding planning and the DRAMA that came out of merging three families into one happy party, and you can imagine how hard it would be to maintain sanity. Throughout all of this, I remained calm and continued to remind myself that life is difficult and I should try to be positive because as each awful moment occurred, I was CERTAIN that it was the last.
Now I am beginning to think I am cursed.
My brother is dying and there is nothing I can do to stop it.