Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Super Troopers

And we are.  At least, I feel today like I am.

Heather had a phone call last week from the fertility clinic in Nashville, which she did not answer.  I was assigned to call them back, presumably to set up an appointment now that all our forms were completed.  Yesterday at lunch, I took her phone to do it, and she suggested I listen to the message they left.

"Okay, you didn't listen to the voicemail?"

What the hell

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Thank god it's Christmas

My sister texted me this afternoon to ask why I hadn't posted recently, and I figured that, if it's come to a text from her, I should dig up something.

This morning, I saw my psychiatrist, who wrote me a prescription and asked how the baby thing was going.  She's a birther, so I didn't know how she'd react to my run-in with the Baptists, but she was appropriately indignant (while writing notes in my file, presumably about whether I was delusional in my quest to reproduce unnaturally).  Then she made a weird comment about Hilary Clinton, putting our relationship back on its traditionally ambiguous footing.

A couple hours later, I went to get a haircut with my very sweet stylist, Katie.  (When I got home, Heather said, "Oh.  You got rid of your pretty bangs.")  Katie and I were chatting about strange jobs and giggled about gynecologists.  "You know, I have a friend whose sister is a gynecologist.  She's supposed to be just amazing, but I don't know if it would be weird."  And, because life is like that, the gynecologist/sister is Dr. King.