Lessons learned by Ellen in the past couple of days:

1) If you are a girl and hang out in the Sci-Fi/Comic Book section in Barnes and Nobles, you WILL be hit on by a male. Or several. I guess that the thought of a woman showing any remote interest in The Green Lantern or Arthur Dent is more than a trekkie can take.

2) You will make enemies if you cough, sneeze, snort and gack for four hours during "Return of the King."

3) Chihuahuas cannot be passed off to other people. Yes, after 48 hours, Squirrel was back home with me. The lady called 24 hours after the exchange and said, "This ain't gonna work." He is back and he is happy and he is still incorrigible.

4) You should shut up about how bad your job is if you have a boss that buys you $100 worth of toys for Christmas, including 11' inch fully articulated Legolas, 12'' inch Muppet Show Beaker and assorted robots and Simpsons figures. (Which mine did yesterday.)

5) Sometimes God puts signs in the unlikeliest of places, like the word "Church" on the underside of a toilet lid while you have your head in the bowl vomitting. Okay, God, I'll go back to church. (But why would anyone name the brand of their toilet "Church"?)

Well, this has been an all-around crappy, difficult week.

All testing lines are completely gone, so that's that. Not pregnant. I am sick of looking desperately for phantom lines, so no more testing. I am literally sick, so I went home today to rest. But not before a lady at work offered me some cold medicine and I hesitated, so she said, in front of two other women, "Oh, are you pregnant?" I fobbled a minute, then said "no" and managed to wander off. Then Jason came and got Squirrel this afternoon and took him to his new home, so now the whole house feels empty. Amazing how one small chihuahua can implant himself so enormously in your life. I know it's the right thing, but it's still really hard for me. And I also know that Beatrice is leaving on Christmas day, so I'm not looking forward to that either. My parents will be here in several hours, the house is not up to par and frankly, I don't have the energy to deal with all of them. And finally, Atticus has Poopy Butt so I am dreading having to give him a bath.

Lazarus is here, and on the brighter side, he is going to a new home the day after Christmas. The same lady, that found his last home, found him another one in Kansas City and she is taking him there.

I just don't know what is going on with my life right now. I feel sad and a little lost. My dad used to always say, "To quote Bob Dylan, 'Some days are diamonds, some days are stones.'" Well, I'm definitely in a stoned period of life right now. I don't really know what God has planned for me. I'm feeling lost in my personal life and definitely in my work life. I feel like I can't keep going down the same track that I am on, but don't know what track I'm supposed to be on. I keep waiting for some miracle to happen. Like Ed McMahon stepping out of a van with 2 million dollars. Or somebody offering me the directorship of an animal rescue service. Or....I don't know what. I think that's part of the problem. I don't know what that miracle would be. I feel like I'd know it when I see it.

I'm trying to not sound like I am complaining and whining. I am just in a Grand Funk right now.

Aunt Flo update: nothing yet. (can't believe I'm actually printing that for the world to see.)

I'm picking Lazarus up at 5:30 today, poor guy. Hopefully the animal shelter will keep him around for awhile and try to get him adopted. He's neutered, declawed and totally up on his shots. It would be such a shame to put him down.

My house looks like a hurricane hit it. If I don't keep up with it every day, everything snowballs. Cat hair, cat litter, dog toys, dirty laundry, clean laundry, art supplies, dirty dishes, towels, towels and towels. There are only two human individuals living in that home. I don't understand how this happens.

In other news, I got new glasses! I am one of those people who is "in style" once a decade or so, then I delude myself for about ten years that I am up on it. Someone usually has to sit me down and inform me that, no, Pepe jeans are not in style anymore. No, Lee jeans are not in style either. I am shocked, then set off to remedy the problem til it happens again. My mother actually stole my favorite coat a few years ago and gave it to Good Will, though she denies it. Technically, it was her coat from 1973, but it was a very good coat with cool buttons.

This time, it was my glasses. I got some Giorgio Armani glasses when I was 16 and thought I
was the proverbial shit. I just kept getting the lenses replaced every couple of years. My husband couldn't take it anymore and told me to go buy new ones. "What?" I said with dismay, "But these are great glasses. Designer glasses." Finally a couple of weeks ago, I wore them to work because my usual contacts were bugging me and Kyle harassed me about them all day. "What?" I said. "Kyle, these are Giorgio Armani glasses." "Ellen," he said, "he died like seven years ago." That finally made me think.

Anyway, I love my new glasses. I look kind of like a mix between Lisa Lobe and Tina Fey off of Saturday Night Live. Hopefully, someone will inform me when they are awful, so that I can replace them five years later.

Feeling alot better today. No sign of Aunt Flo yet, so who knows what's going on.

Lazarus's owner called me today. He has to go. He attacked their other cat AND he's licking all of his fur off, for some reason. I can't keep him, so I guess it's back to the shelter with him. I really did all I could do. Sigh. Sometimes you succeed and sometimes you fail with the animal rescuing. Not a great thing to hear first thing in the morning.

Beatrice is headed for a good new home, though, and so is Squirrel, at the new year. My friend Joe is super excited about Beatrice, and I'm sure she will have fun with his three kids. The dogs were pretty funny this morning. They were wallering all over me in bed this morning, so I threw them out and closed the door. I heard them running toward the living room like a herd of elephants, then back and BAM! They both ran headlong into our bedroom door. I laughed pretty hard.

Oh, this is such a bummer about Lazarus. I hate it when stuff doesn't work out.

Talked to my mom last night. What's the first thing she says? "Oh, it'll happen." No joke. Exact words. I almost started laughing. Almost.

I'll write more later.

Well, I think that I am having a "chemical pregnancy." Basically, it's a really early miscarriage. Last week, I got two really faint lines on some tests. But since Friday, nothing. I also had some tell-tale symptoms for a couple of days-- sore boobs, come and go nausea, night sweats, toothpaste tasted like metal. Now, nothing, except that I think I am getting the flu, to add insult to injury.

I never thought I'd get so emotional about this "trying to conceive" stuff. But I am so depressed and sad right now. It's awful to get so hopeful about something, and then just have it disappear. I was so excited, for a few days there, to tell our family at Christmas. Now, I just don't feel like seeing anybody. I'm so tired of people telling me, "Oh, it'll happen." They mean well, but it doesn't make me feel better.

Oh well.

Do you ever go through periods of your life where you feel like you are in a weeding out state? Deciding what matters, what doesn't, what isn't worth the trouble and what is.

I was telling my friend that the other day. We had been having friend problems and had to go through the process of deciding that, yes, it was worth discussing, making changes and continuing the friendship. I've recently decided to stop feeling guilt about friendships that I have let go--specifically some from college. I felt guilt because, Oh! I haven't called them in two years! Well, suddenly I realized that, hey, they haven't been calling me either. Duh--I know, but that one took me a long time to catch onto. However, after getting back in touch with my high school friend, Tiffany, l realized that I truly missed her and would like to keep up. It's worth it.

I didn't go to my folks' house for Thanksgiving this year and it was such a relief. I want my own Thanksgiving traditions-- and I don't want the guilt anymore of having to go to certain places and be with certain people. It was so liberating, and we had a great day. We saw a movie and relaxed and watched the dog show. Karen and her boyfriend came over and a good time was had by all.

Well, all of this mulling is leading to the decision that Jason and I just made to find new homes for our two dogs. I can barely keep up right now with the two of them, but I can't imagine what it will be like with future children. And frankly, I'm not enjoying them much. I spend most of my time at home cleaning up after them, or being bit by Squirrel my pain in the ass chihuahua, or getting awakened at 3 am every night by howls to go outside. I used to adore petting and brushing my three cats, but I rarely get to fuss over them anymore. All attentions are diverted to the dogs. So we decided and it's been a monster of a decision for me. I love the dogs, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to end up hating them eventually at this rate. We already have home offers for both dogs, so adoption isn't a problem at all.

It's just a touch decision for me. One of the pros and cons to my personality is that I am fiercely loyal. I am often loyal past the point when I should be loyal. It helped the other evening when my friend Sunny, who loves dogs and owns two, listened to the story of my life with Squirrel, and announced, "Well, I sure couldn't do it."

So there it is. I'm not going to feel guilt about this decision as much as my brother in law, Wade, will probably try to heap it on me.

Ha ha, Wade.

Strife in the office. My boss and a fellow coworker ended up yelling at each other this afternoon and now everyone is tense and on edge. I hate conflict. I went and sat in the bathroom for awhile with my head in my hands. I have decided that, after this, I am not working for another Christian organization ever again. When overt religion and work get mixed in together, it gets all complicated. And claustrophobic.

I feel very stressed about it. I wasn't really involved, but I just feel bad about the whole thing. Kiss and make up! Kiss and make up! I don't think it's going to happen this time. My boss said some stuff that went over the line-- like "Typical woman reaction!" or something like that. Donna was furious. She yelled at him to get in his office because she didn't want to talk to him anymore. I think she meant permanently. Then he left the building and she started crying her eyes out. The thing is, Donna was in the wrong but my boss really crossed the line.

Why is life so hard? Why are relationships so difficult, and work so unpleasant? Lately, all that runs through my head is worry or negative feelings towards others. I don't think it's supposed to be this way. Maybe it is, I don't know. There are people out there who enjoy their jobs. I see articles about them in my Mary Engelbreit magazines. They sit in their studios and make adorable art that customers scoop up for lots of money. Even in this building, I think that there are people who enjoy their jobs. Many people who do. I see them busy at their desks or smiling to other people in the halls. My husband generally enjoys his job. But it seems like everyone who is near me, hates it.

I know that I have talked about this before....sorry. I am in a funk today.

Can I just say that Liz Phair had SOLD OUT? I was listening to this new garbage of hers on the radio. It goes, "Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you...?" Something like that. It's such a travesty. Not that the song is so terrible, but her first album "Exile in Guyville" is such a masterpiece. The ultimate angry female chick music album. Now she sounds like Michelle Branch or somebody. First Jewel sold me out, now Liz. I swear, if PJ Harvey comes out with a christmas song, there's no hope.

Christmas shopping. Done. Yes, except for my mother and mother-in-law, I am finished. Hooray! I braved the malls today and did the hard core shopping. Go me.

Went to the Christmas banquet last night. Every year I swear that it's the last year and the next year, I'm back. For the food and free door prizes. Well, the food wasn't that great and I didn't win a door prize. We had an improv group and I HATED it. Maybe I'm just not much for improv. It was really painful for me to sit there. Painful, because I looked around and everyone else, including my husband, thought it was hysterical. But, I'm sorry, it was SO DUMB... and I truly think that I am right. At my inner core, I really believe that I am correct on this one: it was dumb and everyone else is wrong. I saw half of those skits at camp seven years ago. The ole' guy behind you pretends his arms are yours. The ole' backwards skit. The ole' answer the audience's questions one word at a time between the performers.

Jason challenged me to be positive about the banquet on Monday. "It's your first step on the recovery from your critical nature." Fine. I will smile when everyone is reperforming the dumb skits at work on Monday. But I'm going to complain about it here first.

I am going to blog something now that I told my husband that I wasn't going to do anymore, because he said it makes me appear whiney and "Poor Me": whine about fertility. Poor me.

This girl I work with, Stacy, came in today and announced that she's pregnant again. The prelude to this announcement is that she just had a baby in September. For Pete's sake, she just got back from maternity leave a few weeks ago. I was a little shocked and afterwards, asked another girl if it had been an oops. No, it wasn't an oops. She wants her kids close together. Her husband didn't want any more but consented to one more. Boom. She's pregnant.

Kyle says, "That girl's as fertile as a Tennessee valley." So here comes the annoying, pathetic, "Poor Me" part.... tune out now if you don't want to hear it. What is WRONG with me?! Where's my baby? Why won't the sperm and eggs get it in gear? It's not ROCKET SCIENCE. If I hear one more person saying, "You can't get pregnant if you don't relax about it" I will pop them one. It's a load of crap, for one thing. You can get pregnant if you are wound up as tight as a spindle. These people usually know nothing about fertility and ovulation. Pregnancy is not a state of mind. "I am so relaxed today-- oops! Hey, I'm pregnant! Look at that."

I would like nothing more than to be the type of person who can just let it go, have sex whenever we feel the mood and suddenly wind up pregnant the next month. I would like to be the type of person that hands it over to God once, and suddenly I am totally at peace. But here's the reality: I have to hand it over to God about seventeen times a day and I still struggle with it. Every time someone in my office announces that they are expecting, every time I go to a baby shower and must will myself into selflessly feeling joy for the new mom, every time I see a Pottery Barn Kids catalog on someone's desk-- I struggle and have to fight to turn it over to God.

Sorry to be a whiner. The hard part through all of this, aside from looking for those phantom lines on pregnancy tests month after month, has been seeing ugly, jealous sides to myself. You want to feel like you know who you are, and what kind of emotions are in there, then comes a trial and you see that you are pretty weak after all.

I just sent around this survey thing that a friend sent me on email. You send it to your friends and find out how well they know you. I got one back and one of the questions is "Would you call me hippie, glam, nerdy, snobby, or something else?" and the person wrote "Perky Goth." I like that. It's actually quite fitting. Someone in college looked at my artwork once and said, "Tim Burton with a happy childhood."

I think it goes back to the battle that I have raging inside me between the light and the dark. I am very attracted to the "Nightmare Before Christmas" side of life--dark, brooding eyes, craggy lines, and black humor. But I also am attracted to pink frills, Holly Hobbie, and fluffy kitties. Yet, there is always something sinister about the cute, pastel things and something beautiful about the morbid stuff. I think that's what I like. The bunnies sometimes bite your hand off and the wolves sometimes save your life.

All I can say is I am a stud. Last night, my sister called me freaked out on the highway with a flat tire. And I changed it! In the cold, dark night, with no idea what I was doing. God helped me, though, with superhuman tire-changing strength. I ended up climbing on the hood and jumping on the wrench to get the lugnuts off. I felt pretty cool afterwards. And dirty with tire schmuck.

I need to Christmas shop. I've done nothing. I am a very selfish person. I see so much stuff that I want, but I have blinders on for everyone else. Then suddenly, it's a week before Christmas, and I'm buying body lotion for everyone.

We decorated the office for Christmas and it looks like a Winter Wonderland. Except one dumb cranky co-worker named Toni is like, "Wah. I can't see. I need the overhead lights on. Boo hoo." So we turned the lights on right over her desk and grumble behind her back about what a grinch she is. Like anyone does any work in December anyway. Humph.

Hiatus is over. I resolved some things that needed to be resolved-- or rather, will be resolved shortly-- so I am feeling much better. Also, not pregnant yet, but still working on it. The Clomid round was much better this month and I didn't get so hormonal and emotional.

We've decided to keep Beatrice, the puppy that I bottlefed for awhile (her brother, Bernard, passed away.) She's such a smart dog! She's a good dog, which is a change, since my chihuahua is a total punk. So, yes, I now have five animals.

It was a good Thanksgiving. Slept a LOT. Rock on. We went and saw "Elf" on Thanksgiving, which was fun. On Friday, Karen, Bill and I travelled to Little Rock to my great aunt's funeral. Not really fun, but I loved her and it was good to remember her for the day. She had a very good, happy life. Then Jason bought a PlayStation 2 and so I watched him play "Return of the King" for about two days straight. He also bought "Simpson's Road Rage," the only game that I have found that I can actually play, and "Grand Theft Auto:Vice City," which, I am sorry, is a terrible game. Your character goes around stealing cars, beating up women and yelling things like "Screw you." Our children will never play this game.

On Saturday night, my old high school friend, Tiffany, called me and asked if I wanted to go visit a friend of ours, Brad, who I had dated ten years ago, while she was dating his brother. I checked it out with Jason and he said, "Fine" while staring transfixed at his Frodo beating an orc to a pulp. Then he said, "Hey, are you planning on looking up every guy that you used to date?" because I recently got back in touch with my best guy friend, Jesse, that I kind of sort of dated way back. I said, "Don't worry. My heart belongs to you, darling." And it does.

The thing is, in my life right now, I am going through a period of needing reconciliation. I hate knowing that there are people out there, that I cared about, who I hurt or who hurt me. I cannot tell you how liberating it is for your soul to clear the air with someone. Even if you aren't ever the same people to each other again, you can know that you are cool with each other. You can look on the relationship without pain.

Anyway, we went and visited Brad and the three of us had a good time talking about old times and present times. He was bartending at the time, so he jumped up from time to time to go refill the lonely old men's beers. I finally felt that there were no hard feelings. I am also glad that I have a husband who is secure enough in our relationship to let me go work things out with people from my past.

You know, two years of therapy didn't do what a couple of instances of forgiveness/reconciliation have.