My husband wrote me a sweet poem this morning and read it to me while I was still in bed. To be honest, I can't remember most of it because I was so groggy. But it was so sweet and romantic. And I'm not really a romantic type of gal.

We're going away for a few days at the end of the week, to celebrate our 3 year anniversary. Score! Only to Branson, but I am really looking forward to it. Silver Dollar City, here I come! And outlet malls. Plus, we're going to the World's Largest Toy Musuem. No Lawrence Welk or Andy Williams for us!

Barbara came over to get Fifi last night and as soon as we opened the gate, Fifi and Squirrel bolted like it was a Steve McQueen movie. They took off for Oklahoma! Which is not actually saying much, since the border is about 50 feet from the end of our street. I would have been mad, but they were so funny, I couldn't stop laughing. Jason took off after them in his socks, and Barbara jumped in her car and followed. There is nothing like watching a longed haired dachshund and his chihuahua sidekick running down the street at top speed for a good laugh. We finally caught them and hauled them in. It was quite the day for the Squirrel. He was asleep the minute we put him to bed.

In other news, my father bought himself a BMW motorcycle. Whatever.

By the way, my boss waited in line to get Matt Groening's autograph and decided to keep it for himself. He doesn't even watch the Simpsons. What a stinker.

What the bleep is the matter with this comment engine? I'll have everyone know that if I don't comment you back, it's because I can't get on the bleeping comment page.

I am a lousy friend. My good friend is getting married in a week, and I rarely see her anymore, but I promised her I'd throw her a shower. Never planned it. Then her sister calls and SHE'S throwing the shower, and I can't even attend! I'm going to my Dad's induction thing at his new church. I know she's going to be hurt. She was a bridemaid in my wedding. She flew all the way from fricking Switzerland to be in my wedding. And I can't even get off my butt, one town over, to throw her a shower! Argh! The guilt!

Sometimes I just want to start over, me-wise. Here's the personality traits that I wish I had, but am sorely lacking (This is not meant to be Ellen bashing, just a truthful assessment):

1) Musical prowness. Why did I quit piano? Why did I sell my french horn? Why did I not practice my guitar? Why the hell can't I sing like Aretha? Because I don't have the TALENT. In another dimension, I am Gwen Stephani.

2) Thoughtfulness, and other hostess-y type skills. I don't lay out the towels for my guests and they end up walking around the house wet after a shower. I forget to plan showers. I HATE to plan showers. I don't send flowers to people in the hospital. I don't send thoughtful cards, and I work in a CARD COMPANY.

3) Better work ethic. Solitaire. Blogging. Complaining. That's me.

4) Procrastination. I'll write more about this later.....right.

5) Budgeting. I had a budget once. I still think of myself as on the budget, just on a break. That was six months ago.

6) Fashion. I spend way too much money on books and art supplies, then I dress like a....well, just boring.

Eh... this list is boring me. Who the hell cares. I'm not perfect. Sue me.

Feeling much better today. Had some good talks with friends.

The animals in my life are driving me a little crazy right now. The foster cat, Lazarus, is really great, though ugly, and has smelly peepee. But Atticus, my poor gimpy handcapped cat-- his world is rocked and he is totally stressed out by the new creature in the house. And a little known fact about Persians is that when they get stressed, they get diarrhea. So he and his stinky self have been quaranteened to my bathroom. Squirrel, my chihuahua, has figured out how to jump off our bed without hitting his head, so he's decided that bedtime is playtime. Jason and I spent half an hour chasing him around the house last night, and Jason was not amused. "Damn dog," was the last thing I heard as he nodded off to sleep. Schaeffer and Elizabeth, the new Stealth Persian Dynamic Duo, have figured out how to jump up on the kitchen counters, so nothing is safe.

I was about to give them all away (yeah, right) and now my husband has decided he wants to adopt a Border Collie.

What on earth.

My parents are ridding themselves of all of our stuff, so they can begin their new Empty Nest life. I just received a huge box of all of my journals, from age 16 through age 24. I pulled a couple out last night to peruse through, and I probably shouldn't have. I am in a funk today. It's hard looking back at a former self. Half of the time, you think, "What was I thinking? I was so immature!" And the other half, I was blown over by how much better I knew myself back then.

I had a best friend back then, a guy named Jesse, and we considered being more, then considered not, then gave it a try, then broke each other's hearts. Over and over, for about eight years. Finally, I told him to leave me alone, and he did... and went off and got married. Then I fell in love with Jason and got married. We both chose the right lives for ourselves. But the truth is, I really really miss him. I know that we can't be a part of each other's lives-- spouses wouldn't understand. But sometimes, I just wish I had an evening to talk to him again.

I guess I just learned the hard way-- the heartbreaking way-- that you aren't necessarily supposed to marry your soul mate. I love my husband, but he isn't my soul mate. I am constantly finding little treasures and pits and cavities of Jason's personality that I never knew existed. He's rowdy, then he's gentle. He drives me crazy and I think I'll never understand him, then he surprises me in the sweetest ways. I remember one night, right before we started dating, I looked at him and knew that we'd have children together and grow old together. When I met Jesse, it was like I'd known him forever and we were already old souls. I knew him better than I knew myself. Jason and I are growing together... with Jesse there wasn't anywhere to go.

So many times, I will see something or be reminded of an old joke of ours, and I wish he was there to share it with. Even a phone call. But he's not. It's just not possible. It's like a death in my life that nobody else knows about. I'm the only one grieving.

Things I am Thankful for Today:

1. The building's private ladies's room on the second floor, with the loud fan, reading material and aerosol can.

2. The shirt that Stephanie and Rebekah got me in Equador, that makes me feel sort of saucy and festive.

3. The new "Pirates of the Caribbean" movie and my newest crush, Orlando Bloom, who has knocked Lance Bass off of the throne in my heart! Tee hee

4. My husband, Jason, who painted my library room last night and didn't make me feel guilty at all for watching a movie in the other room.

5. My boss being gone at ComicCon in San Diego and promising that he would stand in line at get Matt Groening's autograph for me, his lowly assistant.

Sorry I haven't posted for a few days (my sister in law, Alice, has been harassing me about it). I could make excuses, but hey....just laziness.

Thanks for all the pregnancy comments, everyone. I have actually made a decision about it. No more temping and no more charting. I mean, it's good that I learned about my fertility and now I know when I am ovulating and all that. But I was starting to see myself get a little nuts with it. And no more going to webwomb.com or fertilityfriend.com or idreamofbaby.com or pleaseknockmeup.com to check my symptoms with every other woman trying to get pregnant.

You know, this is so like me. Whenever I get a new project, be it a painting or a cartoon book or whatever, I get so obsessive. I guess getting pregnant became my new project. So instead, I have decided to write a comic book for my new project, and just try to get pregnant on the side. hee hee

And the thing is I still want to have a child pretty badly. Even after spending Saturday on a boat on the lake with a screaming 15 week old baby. And spending last Wednesday night entertaining a very active 4 year old ("I'm bored. New game!!!"). I love children. Well, most children. Let's face it, some are toots. And some are just plain assholes.

In other news, I am going to foster a Persian from the shelter. This pathetic cat got dumped at the local vet clinic with matted fur all the way to his skin. He was severely dehydrated and covered in fleas. The vet saw him as a lost cause, so they gave him to the shelter to be put down. This was miscommunicated somehow, so Vivian (the adoption lady) took him to the groomer to be shaved, and only found out later that he was supposed to be put to sleep. Anyway, he looks awful, but he is so sweet. I'm going to take him home with me until his hair grows back in. Jason agreed (yippy!) and asked, "So how long til his hair grows back?" "Ummmmmmmmm.....probably Christmas." He just sighed and walked away.

Ha ha. Got my way.

Well, we're up to twice today that the network has crashed, so it's a slow day. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr... Plus the color printer/copier is broken yet again.

I'm in a funk today. Don't know why. I just feel tired, grouchy and in need of a nap. A nap with a little curled up chihuahua.

Our company network servers have crashed yet again. It's a five times daily occurance now. I wish the IS department get their collective heads out of their collective butts.

I'm doing okay about the whole "not pregnant" thing. I went and got my hair done last night and I feel young and vibrant today. The thing that adds insult to injury with the discovery every month that you're not pregnant is the fact that you still have to deal with your gross period for a week. I'm not pregnant AND I'm riding the cotton pony for a week. It's just not fair. But as my father says, "Life is not fair. Get used to it."

I'm thinking that I should Plan A Trip. I don't know where. I don't know when. I'm thinking maybe London in the fall. Or Scotland. Or Ireland. Or Disneyland. Maybe back to Florence. I'm probably just talking about of my butt. I probably won't go anywhere. But I'm taking suggestions.

Apparently many people share my J.Lo feelings. Hear, hear!

Well, guess I'm not pregnant again. Aunt Flo came lightly knocking upon my door this morning. Sigh. I'm okay, just bummed again. I guess you cannot "will" your period not to come. I sat there on the toilet, thinking violently, "NO! Go away!" Didn't work. It's hard because, although my husband wants me to get pregnant, he doesn't deal with the day to day cycle stuff, so he essentially has no idea what's going on. He says, "Now don't get all worried about this. It will happen when it happens." Which I know. Duh. But when you are watching your temperature shoot back down, when you want it to stay UP, it's hard not to get frustrated. So, yes. I am bummed.

I find myself pleading with God. Like if I really really really mean it, then I'll be pregnant this month. Then I get angry when it doesn't happen. Angry with God. Then I feel guilty for being angry with God. Then I look out the window for the lightening to come out of the sky and strike me dead. I think, "Hey, God, I want a baby. Is that so bad? Is that so wrong?"

I think about my friend who lost a baby at the fifth month, then had secondary infertility trying for the next. It took her a year and a half. She would get her period and stay in bed the whole day and cry. I'm certainly not anywhere near that. But I am starting to understand the frustration and out-of-your-hands feeling.

Don't be fooled by the rocks that I got. I'm still Ellen on the block.

Does anyone else feel that J. Lo is the most mediocre entertainer around these days? In my opinion, the woman is one of the main contributors to the dumbing down of America. She's not horrible, but damn, the woman isn't good either. That song "I'm Glad" is the worst because she rhymes the simplest words. And it's that "forced" rhyming. The first line has five words in it, and the second line squeezes in like seventeen words just so "sad" rhymes with "glad." Or "mad" if we're really lucky.

I was always impressed with how Sting rhymes in his songs, but they are fairly interesting words. "Poets, priests and politicians/Have words to thank for their positions." Now that's kinda interesting to listen to. "Kruschev said 'we will bury you'/I don't subscribe to that point of view.'" Makes you think a little.

Anyway, I just think J.Lo needs to shake her bootie over to that island that she and Ben bought and leave me the heck alone.

In other news, I'm going to highlight my hair. This is a big step for me. I've always been like, "I leave my hair it's natural color." I think this pride comes from me dating this guy off and on for eight years (a long story) and he was into the natural woman. So I became the natural woman. And there I stayed. Now, it's years later and I'm thinking, "Why am I doing this again?" So I am going to quit trying to see my gray hairs as a sign of wisdom (which I never really did in the first place) and get cool streaks put in my hair. Rock on!

Well, Jody is getting booked today. He called me this morning and they pressed charges yesterday. It's just so awful. I sat there on the phone and thought, "What on earth do I say?" "Have fun"? I don't think so.

My boss is on vacation right now. He gave me mountains of work to do, but by golly, I just don't feel like doing it. So there it sits, whilst I type upon my keyboard. I'm always happier when I am busy, but my laziness is getting the better of me.

In other news, ovulation time is over, so the wait begins. I went and talked to my doctor last week about my short luteal phase but he didn't seem worried about it. He seemed surprised at how much I knew about luteal phases, temperature dips and cervical mucus. No wonder. Whenever I go in there, the waiting room is filled with 16 year old girls who don't look entirely delighted to be knocked up. I am almost always the oldest person in the waiting room, which is so strange, since I am only 28 years old. Things are just different in the South. Or maybe it's just small town Arkansas. Pretty much everyone I graduated with from high school has two or three kids by now. I feel old, but I also feel thankful. I'm thankful that I had my time to lay on the couch in the evenings with my pets with no real responsibilities, and that I know the feeling of really wanting children-- not just having them forced on me.