Monthly Archives: August 2012

info dump

So the car is still running. Apparently a bolt (?) or a seal (?) or a something (?)* came off, which caused the oil to start coming out with the rapidness. Our mechanics fixed it for $50 (no, there’s not a 0 missing!) but told us we really won’t know if the oil problem has fucked up the engine or not without just driving it around and waiting for it to die.

It has been a week now. It seems to be running fine, it is no longer smoking, but I find myself skeptical that this is really the end of the story. Is it possible to breathe a sigh of relief while holding my breath?

In other news, it looks like this IVF may actually be happening. Perhaps not surprisingly, I am starting to freak the fuck out. Here’s where we are:

  • Phone consult with IVF coordinator: done.
  • STD blood panel for both me and husband: we have the testing order and will do this within the week. Lots of high-larious “Gee honey, sure hope you don’t have syphilis!” banter in our house.
  • Separate consent forms for IVF and ICSI need to be signed and witnessed. We are thinking about whether to have a friend witness it or just pay for a notary to keep it on the DL.
  • Meds are ordered. It’s going to be Gonal-F and Menopur, among other things, but (and this is a large part of the freaking-out) I haven’t been able to get either the IVF coordinator or the pharmacy lady to actually give me any details on what I will be taking. Both have promised to send me lists; neither have done it. Tomorrow I’m going to get on the phone and find out how to get this information; if I can’t, at least I will see everything next Friday when it comes.
  • Tentative timeline puts retrieval sometime around Sept. 15, and transfer (hopefully) 3 days later. Our clinic only does 3-day transfers; they told me they get better results that way.


* Gawd, I’m such a GIRL!


you mean it’s not supposed to do that?

Remember how I said we had the money ready for our IVF cycle? Well, that may have been hubris.

Yesterday we had to drive someone to the airport, which is a 3.5-4 hour round trip. (I told you we live in the boonies.) We got all the way up there and about halfway home, when my husband made me turn off our This American Life podcast (I told you we were walking stereotypes).

“Is there smoke coming out of the back of the car?” he asked.

I turned around to look.

“I don’t think so, but it’s hard to tell with the back window being so dirty.”

I kept looking, he kept driving, and after a few minutes the smoke was unmistakeable. We pulled off the highway into a gas station. He opened the hood to reveal smoke coming from the engine.

Not good. Not good at all.

I started cleaning the back window with the gas station squeegee thing. It wouldn’t come clean. And why was it so dirty in the first place? Anyone mechanically-minded has probably already figured it out:


Just gushing out of the car. Getting into the exhaust and spraying all over the back window (and any unlucky people behind us).

We put 3 quarts of oil into the car (!) and got back on the road, thinking we would try to make it home. We pulled off again at the next exit (12 miles down the road) to see how much oil we had lost in that short distance.

3 more quarts.

We called AAA. The car is now in the parking lot of our usual shop, and we’re going to find out today if there is any hope at all for our engine.

I really am not interested in buying either a new engine or (heavenly being of your choice forbid) a car at this particular point in time. Keep your fingers crossed!

is it a turkey? is it a vulture?

Last week my coworkers were talking about a pair of fawns that have been hanging around the office park this summer. Their mother may have been hit by a car or may have abandoned them, but they seem to be thriving. The consensus about these two little Bambis was:

“So beautiful and so delicious.”

Hunting is a very, very big deal where we are living now. Last winter one of my husband’s students gave him some jerky made from a bear her father had shot, and almost all of the men and some of the women we know will hunt deer and turkeys in their respective seasons.

I have no moral problem with hunting as long as you’re going to eat what you kill (and assuming you’re not going after the Very Last of its Kind), and there is no denying that both deer and turkeys are overpopulated around here. I really respect that people who hunt are willing to own where their food comes from — it would be real hypocrisy, I think, to be squicked by hunting but have no problem with the conveniently plucked and beheaded chickens in the plastic wrap at the grocery store.*

Still, it’s a bit jarring to me to find that just about everyone I meet can shoot a gun.

Guns where we lived before meant gangs. Drugs. Dead kids in city parks.

It makes me think about how your place (and by place I mean the place you grow up, the one that imprints on you as The Way Things Are) can shape the way you think. If this IVF works,** our child will grow up in this place. More to the point, this will be his or her place. The world as it is/as it should be will mean mountains, rivers, deer (both alive in the woods and cooked on their friends’ plates, if not their own). Our child will not know what a ghetto bird is, but xie will be able to tell a turkey from a turkey vulture.

My husband and I are a little out of place here. As I have noted before, we are walking stereotypes — NPR-listening, fair-trade-coffee-swilling, Obama-voting, self-satisfied urbanites who don’t know jack shit about living in the country. There is almost no one else like us here, even given the fact that it’s a college town.

If we ever manage to spawn, we will have such an interesting time watching xir grow up. What is personality? What is taught by your family? And what do you just absorb from your place?

* Actually I spend a lot of time at the grocery store standing in front of the chickens and pondering the ethical weight of my possible choices. Factory farmed meat? “Hippie chicken” that is supposedly sustainably raised? Tofu, which was grown using pesticides and nonsustainable farming practices? I should really learn to make my own…It takes me a long time to shop for food.

**Yeah, right.

shark week

My husband is watching sharks eat baby seals on the Discovery Channel. Surely this is a metaphor for something.

Our first (and likely only) IVF is next month. Today is CD5, so we’re about four weeks from lighting this shit up. It is starting to feel real. We have the money (important, as the clinic insists on payment in full in advance). We have told our respective families. I have a phone conference scheduled with the IVF coordinator for next week so she can confirm dates with us and order my drugs.

We’re gonna need a bigger boat.