Category Archives: Writing? Really.



That’s me whoring for comments. And since I realized it’s National Delurking Week (pretend that I’m from whatever nation you are from), you can meet me in the back alley and I won’t have to face the pimp hand any time soon. January 4 – January 10, 2009.


You’ve been dieing to tell me I’m an asshole? Or you need to admit anonymously you enjoy going commando? Or maybe to share what your favorite jelly bean combo is? Here’s your chance.

Comment whore? You bet. Subtle, I am not.





Nothing says, “Party Pooper” like telling someone to fuck off, no?

While logging onto WordPress, this was the headline from a blog: “Fans are outraged by Infinity Challenge”. At first I thought it said, “Fans are outraged by Infertility Challenge”. Now THAT’S  post I would read.

“Hey, DD, how about the year in review!”

Why, sure! Love to.

January 2008 – First trimester of ZGirl’s pregnancy and I was sure I would miscarry any day.

February 2008 – Made it to second trimester of ZGirl’s pregnancy and I was sure I would miscarry any day.

March 2008 – Bought a minivan and my husband discharged a rifle accidentally  in my parents’ house…and I was sure I would miscarry any day.

April 2008 – Made it to six months and every one knows. While no longer fearing I will miscarry any day, I am still babygear shy.

May 2008 – Actually purchased my first major babygear and blogging like a “normal” pregnant person. Why didn’t you smack me when I got annoying like that?

June 2008 – Eight months pregnant and so over the hype.

July 2008 – Surprise! It’s a girl!

August 2008 – Exhaustion.

September 2008 – Exhaustion Part Deux.

October 2008 – Back to work. Yuck.

November 2008 – I’ve become a mommyblogger and talk about breastfeeding! *shudder*

December 2008 – Took a break from blogging. Came back from break. Not much of a break if I was to be honest.

Wow. I’m dull.

And for 2009’s Resolution? I don’t believe in resolutions, but this seems like a good start:


Pass the valium and champagne!!

Happier 2009 to you all!


Here’s what I realized during my pseudo-hiatus.

I talk to much.

I worry about what you will think.

I stopped having something interesting/pertinent/informative to say, oh…I’d say, never.

These lessons were learned when I posted a few shorties on facebook and just enjoyed the brain-dump.

So while I’ll continue with the tag line above expaining why “punch drunk”, I’ll let you in on a little secret from this point forward that if I could, I would add as a sub-tag line:

Lower Your Expectations.

Plus, not posting was KILLING me as I have soooo  much to tell you!*

By the way, the snow stays until WordPress discontinues it. Suck it up.

* No, I am not pregnant, but I’m pretty sure I’m only one of three bloggers out there right now that is not.

This Is What Happens When I Assume You Can Read My Mind

Just a quick note since no, I have not been guilted into blogging here any time soon. Your pleas and bribes have fallen upon deaf ears (unless of course you WANT to plea or bribe…).

Instead I need to clear up a misunderstanding about the card exchange.

While in the past, Pru would take all the names and addresses and in OCD-like fashion, organize them into a nifty spreadsheet and then send out the spreadsheet to all the participants who would then be responsible for sending out cards to their assigned bloggers, that is not the case with mine.

Remember, I am lazy.

Simply put:

  1. You send me your address
  2. I send you mine
  3. You send me a card
  4. I send you a card

So, erm, that’s it.

I feel like an ass for not making that clearer. Knowing that, I promise next year to be more on the ball and try to organize a Bloggers Across the Earth Card Exchange or something equally grandiose and impossible.

I figured that if you wanted to reap the rewards of receiving a bunch of cards that you would sponsor your own card exchange, which is why I created the button, and when I didn’t hear any one had, I just figured you were all a bunch of Scrooges. Apparently, I am the Scrooge.



I’m taking one.

For no reason in particular. For an unlimited number of reasons.

When I’m done feeling sorry for myself, I’ll be back. It could be by Monday. It may be next year.

Yes, I’m still going to BlogHer, and yes I’m still participating in the card exchange, and yes, you’ll still see me occassionally update Flickr, Twitter and Facebook, but I just don’t feel I have much to offer here right now.


So many things I want to tell you about, but I find it easier these days to hold my cards close to my heart. I can’t explain why. Maybe I’ll be able to break it down into bits and bites when I don’t feel so overwhelmed by just about everything around me.

One of the rather neutral topics I wanted to follow up on is BlogHer. Oh, sure, you probably are thinking I must be all full of myself to think I “belong” at what is typically, and probably quite accurately, viewed as a Mommy Blogging Orgy of Self-Adoring Asshats. But heh, aren’t all bloggers just a little too much into themselves or else why would they even blog?

I'm Going to BlogHer '09

I’ve always wanted to go (“always” being since 2007) because I live here, in the puckered and pimpled ass of the US. I love Nebraska, but I am constantly flummoxed on how I can live smack-dab in the middle of this nation and yet still be as far away from anything remotely exciting and new as if I was the mate of a lonely polar bear afloat on a 10×10 slab of ice.

Ooh, the similies. They are a’flowing like…

never mind.

Back to BlogHer. It’s in Chicago. The drive to the airport takes longer than the flight. It’s a chance to meet a few of you I’ve only had the pleasure of either blogging, flickering, twittering, or facebooking with. I’ve been lucky in the past and have met a handful of bloggers, including Mollywogger, Suz, Alexa, Jennifer and Enat. But I’m selfish. I want to meet more.

I’m not going under the guise of mommy blogger (MB), either. Instead, I will always be a dyed-in-the-wool IF blogger. SIF blogger, if you want to get technical, which seems to be the in-thing to be nowadays (for those of you who were  SIF, isn’t it funny how times have changed?). I can go in under the cloak of MB, infiltrate the ranks easily with talk of teething (oh, yes, she is – god help us) and breastfeeding with the new parents and even speak the language of the parents who have elementary school children and how their teachers suck and how poop and fart jokes somehow NEVER get old.


My heart belongs to IF. The first time I hear some knowitall talk smack about ART, I’ll be all over them like flies on shit. However, I will try to keep it civil since one of the few lessons I learned from my dear, sweet, bitter mother is, “Be nice the first time. If they don’t get it, then  you can be a bitch.”

Also, I am not deluding myself into thinking that by going I can effectively “increase blog traffic”. Punch Drunk? She has peaked. I know that. I just need to look at my stats and see that the most hits I ever got before the birth of ZGirl was when I miscarried Wolf. I’m sorry, but no amount of traffic will ever make me want to go through that emotional insanity again.

I just want the chance to meet those I may never get to again. It will probably be one of the first times in almost two years that I get to do something JUST FOR ME. No husband who won’t even go to the mall with me because of all the snarky comments I make about shoppers, which he swears they can hear me say even though they are 10 yards away. No kidlets waking at 6:15 on a Saturday just to ask if they can watch Nickelodeon or to let me know that ZGirl’s still asleep.

Just me, me, me…and hopefully, some of you. And for those of you who suggested bunking up, it’s time to put your money where your mouth is. I want to get this bitch booked.


Guess what we did for “Day of the Dead” (Sunday, November 2nd), or if you prefer, “All Souls’ Day”? We decided to baptize ZGirl. I found it fitting, actually. A strange sense of irony since her christening also marked ZGirl’s official first year of life, if you go by McCain/Palin and the ever progressive (*sarcasm*) Catholic church. Yep, Miss H. was busy working on becoming an embryo this time a year ago. She’s changed so much since then. You know, by getting fingers, toes, a heart and a rather productive digestive system, and all that stuff that makes her an eating, sleeping and pooping machine.

So, uh, yeah. About the political reference. Let me explain. We of course put on the show of being good Catholics by going to Mass prior to her scheduled baptism. That’s when Father used the Homily time to recite the letter from the Omaha Archdiosece Archbishop Elden Curtiss regarding the 2008 Election.

Now of course Curtiss doesn’t specifically  name either candidate or party, but the message is quite clear, and in not so few words, “Down with that heretic, Obama!”. Here is the link to the letter itself, if you would like to read it.

He writes,

There are many serious issues at stake in this election, but none is more important than abortion.

I beg to differ. Hello? Has Curtiss so firmly shoved his head into his mitre that he has failed to take note of the economy? Or hey! Howz about that little “skirmish” over there in Iraq, which some are melodramatically calling a “war”? Pffft. *wave of hand* Those? They are immaterial issues, dear ladies and gentlemen.

He continues,

Almost 50 million babies have been aborted in the United States since 1973, an unfathomable loss of human life that increases by more than a million every year.

Whatchu talkin’ ’bout, Curtiss?

I think your researcher needs to attend confession and request absolution for telling a big fat lie to not only you, the Archbishop, but to thousands of parishioners. According to this chart, not only is the rate of abortions in the U.S. decreasing, and has been since 1990, but in the 35 years since abortion has been legal there has never  been an increase by a million in any  year. In fact, according to this table, even if I use estimated number of abortions (which is higher than reported), the largest increase in any one year was just shy of 154,000…in 1974. If you were to figure a million exponentially (using the Curtiss method of ‘rithmatic), that comes out to roughly 560,000,000. Not to be picky but obviously the numbers don’t jive.

Lastly, this line, stuck in my head,

Our Holy Father, Pope Benedict XVI, has stated with clarity that Catholics who vote for a candidate precisely because he or she supports abortion and/or euthanasia would be guilty of formal cooperation in evil.

I would have to sincerely hope that anyone who has the privilege of being able to vote in this, or any election, would consider any candidate on his or her issues in their entirety, not because of any one “little” issue; and if they didn’t, then they should burn for eternity for just being stupid and narrow-minded.

Except of course, when it suits their most Holinesses.


The prior post was brought to you to let you know I am OK but need some time to digest the week as a whole. My first week back to work. The first week for ZGirl in day care. Her first subsequent day care cold (fuck). Appointments, schedules, deadlines…and to end my week, a funeral.

So please, humour me until such time I can pound something meaningful out.


Just because I now have a baby girl and a school-aged son, does not mean this blog is no longer infertility related.

How’s that for just jumping to the crux of a post?

I started a blog over three years ago. I actually missed my anniversary, which was back in August. You can read last year’s recognition of my illustrious start, if you are so inclined. When I take into account the blogs I have been reading during these three years, it’s not a long time. However, when I look over Mel’s list of blogs over at Stirrup Queens, I’m a veteran.

It bothers me that this blog may no longer be perceived as falling under the topic of infertility. If someone new stops by they may read all my posts about my pregnancy with ZGirl, if they can even get past the most recent posts about breastfeeding and exhaustion as related to a new baby. Then there’s the posts about my son; and work; and my in-laws. And every once in a while, one will stumble into a post dedicated exclusively to infertility.

Here’s the thing, though. Just because many of my posts do not contain the details of a consult with my RE, or the internal dialogue for choosing a sperm donor, or my feelings when all my frozen embryos died, does not mean that infertility was shuffled unceremoniously to the back burner.

When we lost our second pregnancy in November 2004, every moment from that point became tainted. Here’s an analogy for you in case I’m being obtuse, if not just too damned wordy: we are living in a new home (coincidentally, construction started in 2004). It’s a gorgeous house. If you stopped by, I’m sure you would think we were very lucky to have such a lovely space to raise a family. It still has that new home smell to it. But what you wouldn’t realize is there is a fine layer of dust that has infiltrated every surface of the house due to the fact we are surrounded by sand, and no matter how many times I vacuum and dust and mop, the dust remains. It just takes a few days to build back up again. You may not see it, but I do. I see it every. goddamn. day.

That’s infertility. It may look to you as if my life as far as having the my son and now my daughter, is now “perfect”. But no matter how large my heart swells in my chest when I see ZGirl grin at me excitedly from her bassinet, or when my son hugs me tight and tells me he loves me, there will always be a fine dusting of infertility that I will have to work at to keep at bay.

My blogging began as a result of infertility. That was three years ago. Having a new baby at home for two months will never discount those three years. Maybe in three years, I’ll feel a little differently. Maybe then this blog will finally be something else, but I will guarantee if you run your white-gloved finger over the surface, you’ll still find a little dust.


Heather asked:

….what scent would you use to cover up your smell? As in, what perfume do you wear?

I rarely wear perfume, especially since becoming pregnant as the smell was just too overwhelming. When I do, it’s for special occasions or if I’m feeling particularly “pretty”. The last bottle of perfume I bought was Glamorous by Ralph Lauren. I don’t know if it necessarily is me, but I wouldn’t know how to pick a good bottle of perfume.

Mr. DD has never bought me perfume. I tried for years to get him to try cologne, including the CK-One rage a decade (or so?) ago. No such luck. Now I just appreciate it when he takes a shower and uses deodorant.

I know a couple of women at work who wear so much perfume that I can taste it in the back of my throat long after they’ve vacated the office, and I swear my MIL bathes in Chanel No. 5. Coincidentally all of these women are older so it must be their olfactory senses that have aged and gone to shit.

Christine, who must be quite bored, asked several questions:

How many places have you lived?
Who is your favorite relative and why?
Did you like middle school?
Chocolate or chewy candy?

I grew up in Small Town. Moved to Lincoln. Moved to Wichita. Moved to Omaha. Moved to Wichita. Moved to Lincoln. Moved back to Town Bigger Than Small Town, which is my current location. The back-and-forth prior to that was when I was teaching dance and I was asked to help open a couple of new studios and train staff. My move to my current location was done when I realized I wanted to finish my degree.

My fave relative is my oldest sister. She was my Matron of Honor in my wedding. She’d be ZGirl’s Godmother if it wasn’t for the fact that I don’t want her to have to lie to the priest and say she would raise her to be a good Catholic, when my sister is basically an Atheist. It’s amazing we’re related because she’s whip-smart, ambitious and at nearly 55, could kick my ass in anything athletically related.

Hated middle school. Hated high school. Hated school. Period. Class reunions? I’d rather roll around on a bed of tacks and jump into the Dead Sea.

Chocolate, please. The only kind of chocolate I will refuse is chocolate cheese cake. Cheese  and cake  should never be used together to describe one dessert.

Katrina, who admits to being a bit hungry when she asked,

What is (are) your favorite junk food(s)? Favorite pop (soda, cola, whatev’s)? Favorite kinda cake?

Little Debbie’s Anythings. I may tell you that a lot of my pregnancy weight was water, but I must admit that some of it may have been attributed to Little Debbie’s Nutty Bars.

Not sure why, but while “pop” is the Midwestern term for carbonated drinks, the word annoys me so I say “soda”. And to answer the question, Pepsi. As for a favorite kind of cake? How could I even chose? I can only eliminate anything with coconut or “cheese” in it from the list of cakes I would eat quite happily.

Midori wants to know more about my world travels:

…if you could go anywhere in the world with anyone, where/who would it be?!

I would love to travel to all of the Mediterranean countries as I am fascinated by ancient art and architecture. I would prefer to go with Mr. DD but he would be the worst companion for that kind of trip as he has no interest in anything “cultural”. Maybe in 30 years, my children will accompany me.

Betty gets philosophical:

Which fruit will you buy after you weigh her? (referencing my obsession with ZGirl’s weight/growth)

The nectarines have been particularly tasty this summer. That or plums. And believe me, I just might sneak her onto a scale and take a pix with my phone. That is, if I could leave the confines of my home.

Erin, my lovely friend from the South, asks:

I want to know what your favorite book and/or movie of all time has been, and why?

That’s a tuffy, actually. I will watch Shawshank Redemption  every time it’s on TV. I love, love, love My Fair Lady, which has everything to do with Audrey Hepburn. As for books? I hate to admit that all my reading material is mostly on-line via blogs, but I would highly recommend the book from last year’s beach vacation, “Water for Elephants“.

Enat. Dear, dear Enat…my younger, cuter, funnier Snark Sister is looking for shopping tips:

…how about telling me more about your antique store finds. I am remodeling our bathroom and need inspiration for a funky vanity.

Antique shopping in Nebraska is really a hit or miss. It’s best done at farmstead auctions and not via some shop. I find it funny what some people will pay for certain items that my Mom and Dad call “junk”, usually because they are still using it. Like this chicken catcher. Or old cream cans, of which we have a dozen or more in the barn filled with my Dad’s canceled checks from 50, 60 years ago. Right now, I only have a few small things here and there: black art deco glass salt and pepper shakers; a 6 gallon crock in perfect condition; a plaster stringer shaped like a kitten…antiques are the only “knick-knacks” you will find in my home.

By the way, Enat, I’m totally picturing something like this or this, if it’s for the bathroom I’m thinking of.

Cat wants to know,

What is your favorite dance?

Rumba. I still dance by myself when the mood catches, just to see if I remember.

Beagle gets to round up the questions with this:

About your past and/or future clay endeavors! I think you hinted at an interest and or past experience pottery, no?

I have a BS in Art. Raise your hands if you knew that. While the college wasn’t necessarily known for its arts program, I was lucky to be exposed to several kinds of mediums, including clay and a little porcelain. I also learned a little about raku, a particular process of finishing pottery, and as you can see from Beagle’s etsy shop, a specialty of hers.

When Mr. DD and I built this house, we set aside an area in the basement for when (or if) I ever get back on a pottery wheel. The time for it is ever looming in the future, and at this point I don’t know if it’ll ever happen. A hobby for when I become an elderly and more crotchety woman.

OK, time to get this SOB published. It’s taken me two whole days to get thing pounded out. I wonder how long it’ll take for me to tell you about Mr. DD’s recent (and hopefully – temporary) case of assholiness…


Is it too soon to reach a level of New Baby Neuroticism that makes me want to go grocery shopping just so I can put the baby on a fruit scale to see if she’s gaining weight?

And with an ironic twist to the above sentence, what would you like to know about me that is completely non-baby related? I don’t want to end up jumping the shark, blogging style, by writing about All Baby, All the Time.

I do plan on writing soon about how I’ve called my husband a douchebag no less then a thousand times in my head this past week. However, in a coin toss between an extended blog post and a shower, the shower won. Be thankful your screen is not scratch and sniff.


Clover from Hidden Clover has graciously offered to update her blog with any immediate details, which I will text her with (maybe even a picture). Her blog is password protected so she will also stop by here and put in comments any information she is sent.

Clover and I go waaaayyyyyy back. She was the first SIF blog I read and she reached out to me knowing that our sad little genre covered those weird little gray areas of infertility after having children.

Thanks, Clover. Love ya, you cheeky monkey, you.


I’m actually working on a legitimate post, which explains the recent flurry of crap, or as I like to call it “fluff”.

However before I put it out there, I’d like to thank all of you who tried to help locate my lost post about XBoy’s Dental Drama. I’m still feeling a bit gutted about that.

I don’t know what to say about Bloglines finally updating. I’m still promoting exporting your Blogline feeds to Reader.Google, which is really easy.

Some of you have noted the generic avatar assigned to your comments. My little monsters…While I personally think they are kinda cute, there is a way of personalizing your avatar without having a WordPress account. If you go here, to Gravatar, you can create a free account and assign an avatar to your email. Once you do that, whatever wordpress blog you comment on will have your own personalized avatar and not the mystery man, or quilt block or amoeba-like monster attached.

I’ve decided to have a postpartum baby shower, cooties be damned. Even I am left uninspired to purchase much for Murdock not knowing his or her sex. Apparently over 70% of expecting parents find out the sex of their child prior to birth, so guess who the manufacturers are appealing to? Not the less than 30% of us looking for “gender neutral” items. And while a majority of gestators find out, I find it ironic that whenever we admit we don’t know if Murdock is a boy or a girl, we are enthusiastically commended for making the “smart” choice in waiting. You and I both know that same person is saying to those who know, “Oh, that’s the way to go! It makes shopping so much easier!”

Of course these are the same people who say to me, “Someone wasn’t planning for the Summer heat, now were we?” I seriously attract Stupid. It’s got to be a reflection on me somehow.

Anyway, as I was saying about the shower, I had been working on a wish list/registry kind of thing which is now published as one of my pages. It’s also password-protected, but it’s the same password. I honest-to-god expect nothing. I actually started it to help me figure out what I needed and to compare prices, but since I’ve been asked…well, there it is. Trust me, nothing too exciting.

Cripes. Look what rambling can do to what was supposed to be a short post. Blech. Par for course since the post I’m working on is actually long. Enjoy brevity as I know it!


While I’m still quite blue about my post being lost, I actually had the opportunity to laugh out loud at this picture. Well, not specifically  the picture, but some of the comments already posted as potential captions.

Since most of you are of the rather snarky type (that’s why I love you, of course), I believe you should put those skillz to the test and see if you can come up with the winning caption. You’ll really have to dig deep though, as there are a couple of doozies already.

An added bonus, selfishly noted, is that I can come back later to that post and see which of you took up the challenge and maybe smile some more.