Amazing. You're welcome.

Okay: amazing.  Heather and I went to a new guy to get our hair colored earlier this week, and he is not a fella who cuts corners when it comes to time or highlights.  Heather was in probably phase 948564 while I was on a break between phases 93495734 and 9934753497, so Barry and I sat together for a few minutes chatting.  (I'm using his real name, which is unusual in this blog, because he's so good that I can't bear to hide his light under a pseudonymous bushel.)

Barry knew that we were trying to make a baby and asked me when we were going to start that up.  I said it would be after we came back from our vacation in June.  That is a mere footnote to what came next.

"So are you going with in vitro or...?" he asked.
"We're going to start with just home insemination," I said.
"That's what we did with our dog," he said matter-of-factly.

What the actual fuck? is what I did not say, but thought.

"Yeah.  We took her to the vet, and they told me afterwards that they had propped her hind-parts up so gravity could assist."

I would have said something about the rotisserie-chicken technique recommended by Nurse Nina, but there was not an adequate pause, nor do I think the impregnation of lesbians interested him all that much.

"When I picked her up that afternoon," Barry said, "I knew right away.  I told the vet that she was pregnant and I could tell.  He said there was no way to know because nothing would have happened yet.  I told him, though.  I knew.  I said that she was pregnant, that she would have five girls and three boys, and that one of them would be black & white."

I nodded, waiting for the punchline.

"The vet said there was no way for her to have a black & white puppy given her color and the father's, but I just knew.  And guess what she ended up having?"

Dude.  Guess.