The Mind of Olivia Drab

Stay tuned... new stuff coming after Thanksgiving.

Some things is gonna change in these here parts...

For those of you who still like reading my blog, you can thank Brad and Parents Parenting (sorry, my goof, it was PARENTING) Magazine for what I'm about to announce.

I had been planning to let the blog lapse. The end was nigh, farewells had begun. My keyboard was going to retire to Boca.

And then...

I discovered that MY blog, this wee little blog, was a link from one of the Mom blogs on Parents Magazine's website. FOURTH in the list, no less. My mind exploded--I feel like I've been so blah lately. After showing Brad my discovery, and we talked about you guys, he convinced me that I should renew my blog and keep going.

So, I will be renewing this here blog when it expires in two weeks.

*applause*

The thing is that I'm no longer considering myself an infertile. Yes, I am still a biological demolition derby, that won't change. However, I feel that our journey to expand our family has been reached and we have no plans to push the old ute to perform any more magic tricks (hey kids, watch me pull a human outta my hat!) What will change is the focus on this blog. I will likely drag Lauren and Brad into the mix more. I will probably delve into more movie reviews and celebrity gossip. Also, graphic design will be a category, in which I go a little deeper into the madness that is ME. You guys thought you knew me before? Hold onto your hats, kids. Ok, it probably won't be that awesome, but maybe it will be a little fun?

Spidery

You know that scene in Flash Gordon, where Prince Barin challenges Flash to the Death Game? The one where he has to stick his hand down into a tree stump and hope the Wood Beast doesn't bite/sting him? (pictures attached for the 1980's challenged)...

That's how I felt this morning trying to retrieve a can of refried beans from the storage shelf in the basement. I was pretty sure a giant wood beast of a spider was laying in wait to attack.

It may be Fall, technically, but it's been Winter already in Colorado. 13" of snow on the ground after a heavy snowstorm struck. You'd THINK spiders would be out of commission right now. Bugs don't usually fare well in super cold weather. You'd think.

And yet, our house is still littered with spiders. I hate them. I know, I know, they serve a very good purpose in this world, eating mosquitoes, bad bugs, etc. There are no mosquitoes right now, and so they bite US. I'm not even certain they ever ate mosquitoes during the summer because of the mosquito masses that got into our house.

I do love Halloween. I really do. The one thing I don't care for is the prevalance of GIANT HUMONGOUS WAY-TOO-BLOODY-REAL-LOOKING spider decorations. Ugh ugh ugh. I feel like the spider gods are literally coming out of the woodwork in honor of their special day. *shiver*

Thank goodness for Costco and their 2-pack of GIGANTIC bottles of lemon juice. The Lemonation attack returns. Never thought I'd have to do it on a day with snow on the ground.

Sisterhood

When it comes to sisterhood, I've never really been much of a subscriber.

I have always been more of a tomboy, my best friends usually guys (or girls who didn't fit into the girlie girl stereotype). I wanted to play football in high school, not cheer. I preferred Converse to "girl shoes". I was infinitely more comfortable having a beer with the guys, commiserating in the "what's the deal with women?" conversations.

Twice in college, I remember sorority girls bouncing up to me, their lovely locks flipping and flapping around their heads, asking if I was going to rush. Needless to say, the answer was a resounding "no", but I never really used those words precisely.

The first incident was at University of Tennessee, Knoxville. It was an incoming freshman orientation thingamajig, where you spend a couple days on campus, spend the night in a dorm, mingle with the college world, experience the lure of an awesome college education. My friend Raj and I sat on a campus fountain after lunch, waiting for our next seminars. Yippa Kippa Blippa sorority army approached from the east and the lead ENTHUSIASTICALLY asked me if I was going to RUSH. I swear, there were birds tying ribbons in her hair when she talked. Raj and I looked at each other and started laughing. The surreality of the question was a shock in itself, and therefore hilarious. They walked away.

The second incident was years later. I transferred to University of Texas at Arlington, in the Architecture program. One of my basic requirements was Psychology 101 and I just wanted to get in, get out, without being noticed much beyond getting the credit for the class. So, as per my usual self, I sat on the back row of the stacked classroom. Day one: Goopa Klappa Crappa girls surrounded me. I had nowhere to go--I was in the bloody BACK of the room. "Hi! Rush! Yeah? Ohmahgod? Yeah? Totally?" or something like that. It was Psychology class, so I thought maybe get a little early practice. I let them talk about the super awesomeness of Greek life for about 20 minutes or so before I broke in. I told them that was I was excited to be a part of a NORMAL human group after what I'd been through over the summer. Mock concern, interested faces, puzzlement... I told them I'd been abducted by aliens the prior July and showed them the chicken pox scar behind my ear. "That's where the implant went." I managed to keep a straight face through the "oh you're so funny"s long enough to convince them that I was either not interested in their sorority or I was frootloops. Either way, they went away.

So the point here is that when the miscarriages and crap started happening, I was wholly unprepared for how to deal. Men go through their own psychology and can never understand exactly what it means to the woman, as much as it's impossible for a woman to understand what it means to a man. Initially, I made jokes. The first couple losses, I actually joked about it. Lighten the mood, try to make it seem less horrific than it really was. The first one was easy. We weren't quite ready, it was unintended. The second was harder. By the third, I was losing my grip on everything, and it was unfair to expect Brad to be able to really help because I'd joked my way out of the first and second.

That was when I found The Board--a recurrent miscarriage board where I could commiserate with other women going through the same mosaic of emotions that I was going through. Because it wasn't just women hanging out with women for the sake of women hanging out with women, I felt very comfortable and made some friends (who are still some of the closest friends I've had in my life.) When so many of the other board members gained what we all hoped to gain--a successful pregnancy--I knew it was time to move on. Eventually I made the switch to blogging, at the nudging of an uncommon rockstar named Julia. I will always thank her for that nudge because without it, I was a duck sitting in a nearly-empty puddle feeling sorry for myself.

Blogging was a whole new world to me. I met an entire universe of women who were feeling the same way I felt, though they got there from different paths. Different kinds of women, different age groups, different lifestyles, different approaches to their feelings. A big part of myself was enthusiastically joining a sisterhood that I never realized before. And now, with Facebook, I'm getting to personally know a lot of you, which I am eternally grateful for. Not to say I'm grateful for my miscarriages, because honestly I'd have rather gotten to know you all under better circumstances. However, I am grateful to know you.

Just wanted to tell you that.

Speechless

Lauren turned two on September 7.

Even now, I'm still in awe that she is more than just a figment of my imagination. I spent the first year of her life in a minor state of emotional dormancy as a result of the miscarriages. I was running on auto mode. After so many losses, your heart grows a callous to protect yourself from the hurt and anger. The callous hadn't completely grown over, there was still enough squeak room to allow love and happiness to enter, but it was a tight squeeze. This year, the callous had mostly dissolved away thanks to the miracle freakazoid kiddo who is currently pouting because I took away the Kleenex box (for the millionth time, that is NOT a snack, Lauren.)

Her two-year checkup was on Tuesday of this week. Overall, she is doing great. Average on height, weight and development. With one exception...

She is still behind on speech. It's frustrating to everyone, especially her, because she so earnestly wants to tell us things, but it just doesn't come out. She still baby-babbles. It's cute, and I will miss it when it's gone, but she's intellectually mature enough to have specific thoughts. To not be able to communicate those thoughts is hard for her and for us. So we will begin speech therapy soon, and hope it helps bring those words out of her noggin.

Also notable, she's a pretty sharp dresser. Nothing wrong there.

Snow falls

I love this time of the year. Summer is over. Fall is just clearing its throat. Colorado has beautiful seasons, and the change of seasons can be pretty vivid.

Today, we are watching our first snow of the season. It's not a lot, but it's still exciting. It reminds us that the shorts-wearing days are officially over until late Spring. Also reminds us that the colder-weather clothes can come out of hiding, that the holidays are fast approaching, and for Brad, it means he doesn't have to mow the yard for a long time. Rake leaves? Yes? Mow? No.

My favorite part of Fall? Halloween. I love love love Halloween. This year, I'm actually putting forth some effort for my costume, and I'm pretty excited about it. I am not telling though... teehee...

What about you guys? Are you going to participate in Halloween festivities? I know some may not recognize Halloween, but if you do, I'm curious what YOUR plans are.

So where were we?

Rule #1 of Blogging: You don't come back after a hiatus and say "oh sorry for the time away!" But still, I'm sorry. Work. Family. Facebook. Television. SO many distractions.

I've given up searching for answers to my ailments. I'm just going to deal with them the best I can until the decision is taken out of my hands. I think it's for the best because fer cryin' out loud, medical tests are expensive. They don't tell me anything anyhow, so what's the point, right?

What's on my mind instead? My thoughts, as usual, turn to the entertainment industry. So here is my movie review (hopefully anyone who has wanted to see it has already seen it, thus minimizing spoilers.)

In the past, I've attempted to watch Sex and the City a couple times because it get so much hype. I wanted to see what the fuss was about. I never got it. I couldn't relate to any of the four women, and found them to be shallow and well.. annoying.

So the movie is on cable this month. I thought, "hey, I'm bleary-eyed and bored, nothing is on tv, maybe I will check out the movie and ... see what all the fuss is about (again)..."

I still don't get it. In fact, it was worse than I remember.  The whole movie gave me heebs, but here are the two parts that were the worst:

First, let's address the GIANT WHITE ELEPHANT. One of the four got married, couldn't get pregnant so they adopted a daughter from China. Ok. That's cool.

BUT THEN...

Hey, they adopted, they stopped thinking about it and HEY GUESS WHAT? NO WAY! YES WAY! The adoptive mother is pregnant!  *Pbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbttttt!!*

Second, how the bloody hell does anyone stand watching SJP pout for almost three freaking hours about a guy who was going to marry her, got scared, and then came to his senses (oOOH, too late buddy!) There was an entire 15 mins of the movie dedicated to her staying in bed.

Waaah waaah *wanking motion*

Sorry if you love it, but I still don't get it.

Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon? Read it? Show of hands...

I'm going to be a girl for a minute here.

I love the series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon. Love it. I've read every book many, many times and I'm currently pacing the floor waiting for the new book which is due.. to.. arrive.. any.. day..

I've daydreamed about the characters, I've planned out the movie in my head. Shame no one is asking me my casting ideas because I've thought long and hard about it. We're talking countless hours here.

What's that, you say? You want to know who I'd cast? I'd be happy to share that with you, thank you so much for asking!

Claire Beauchamp (Randall, Fraser): Anna Friel. She's young, she's English, she's feisty. The curly hair is a bonus character addition. Did you see her in Pushing Daisies? She's stinking cute. And she kinda looks like Diana Gabaldon, a little teensy bit. I could see her holding her own against a tall Scotsman.

Jamie Fraser (not posting his entire name): Either Oliver or James Phelps (they are twins, so take your pick). They are young, tall, redheaded, have the long, catlike face, and they are English--I can imagine they could swing Scottish. They are both stinking cute and have charismatic personalities. They are best known as Fred and George Weasley in the Harry Potter movies. Imagine long hair and kilts. All I'm sayin'.

The rest of the casting is incidental, right? There are plenty of others, but those two are the ones that have occupied my thoughts lately. I get a little overzealous when a new Gabaldon book comes out.

Poopheads screwing up the party

I had to turn "authentication" back on. Some douchebag keeps spamming the hell out of one of my posts. It takes one jerk to screw up the fun for everyone. After a while, I will remove it, but I'm tired of having to delete and block.

The brain is still intact

Great news! I still have a 100%-zombielicious brain.

No tumors were found on the MRI. Since (from what I've been able to tell) MRIs don't detect siezure activity, unless one is in progress during the MRI, I can't rule them out. However, I am feeling more and more like the phantom smell was directly related to the virus I had. Even though the smell began two weeks prior to my illness...

Anyhow, I'm not going in for any other tests unless the phantom smells return. Let's hope they don't.

As for the upper GI, that also revealed nothing operable. The only thing it discovered was that my body processes food, liquid, etc., at a heavily increased rate of speed. We're talking Star Trek warp drive here. Zoooooom! The entire test was supposed to take up to 3 hours. It took me 30 minutes. I drank the barium, they quickly did an xray, and I had to drink more barium because it was already through the system. Rapido. What does that mean? Bollocks if I know. I'm guessing it partially explains the magnificent gut pains I get every day, though. Somehow.

New body, preferably the android species, please...