Ninapintasantamaria's Blog











{March 17, 2009}   I can no longer watch tv.

Nope.  Can’t do it.  I try to relax and unwind and lose myself in a bit of fashion whilst watching “What Not to Wear.”  What harm could there be in that, right?  Ah ha, says the bitter, infertile, non-pregnant nor is she likely to be woman.  What harm, indeed?  No sooner than I get comfortable with my Dr. Pepper (infertility be damned, you’re not taking away my DP!) do I see an extremely pregnant (and I know this because her turkey-timer [read “belly-button”] was sticking out) saleswoman looking posh and pretty in her uptown, snooty, New York boutique.  *sighs*  It’s sunny out.  But it’s also cold.  I don’t do cold.  Did we talk about this before?  Anyway, I’ve got housework to do.  Turning off….nnnnnow.

Dammit!  Couldn’t turn it off in time.  Do people have to keep displaying their happily pregnant selves for all of us to wallow in?  *sighs again*

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{March 17, 2009}   Merry St. Patrick’s Day.

Ok, so you know how I was so green, I was looking like a new spring plant in need of a lot of water?  Yeah, well, I still am, except today, nobody’ll notice.  Tomorrow is (should be) CD1.  We’ll see.  I doubt I’ll actually be seeing red.  You know, Van Gogh painted a lot in yellow.  He was depressed, too.  I’ll let you know if knives start looking like fun.  Of course, I do work in an OR.  And I do like yellow.  A bit creepy, ya think?  I think I’ll start calling it St. Pee-Sticks Day, in honor of all my new friends and affiliates in the infertile/miscarriable realm.

As I’m re-reading this post, I am thinking to myself.  And what I’m thinking and writing on my blog reminds me a whole lot of William Faulkner.  Stream of Consciousness.  I never understood that in high school, but I’m beginning to think that was because it was his stream.  My stream makes perfect sense to me, although likely not to other people.  But, I’m used to baffling people with the contents of the remotest part of my brain.  It’s a gift.  The thing is like a computer.  Best not to do or say anything funny or rude around me.  Gets filed away for later use, as my husband will regretfully tell anyone who’ll listen.  He’ll start telling me what was said,and I usually retort “Nooo, what you said was…fill in the blank. *sighs*  It can also be a curse.  Mama thought I had a photographic memory when I was a kid.  I don’t know.  I’m like that with numbers too.  She probably thought it was a curse that she had to have such a child as could remember every move she ever made to tell anyone who would listen.  For neither was I a shy child.  I probably would have walked up to a homeless man and started telling him all about my new shoes and the time Mama forgot to pick up milk if he quit talking to himself long enough.  (And if no one were holding firmly to my hand.)  Hmmm.  I still do that.  Maybe we really did learn all we needed to know in Kindergarten.  It’s best to hold hands and stick together.



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