One More Shot

Brothers and Sisters
I sent out another round of emails to my brothers and sisters the other night. It was simple and I blind copied them all -- so it looked as if I were sending it to a bunch of people.

It's one more chance for them to redeem themselves. Or one more chance for me to realize that I set my expectations of other people way too high. I'm trying my best not to let their actions disappoint me.

They will. Of course. But at least, I'm prepared for it.

The Dating Game
This eHarmony thing is shit. I go in with such high hopes of at least having a decent conversation with someone. And this is what happens. I email someone and they either a) email me back, I respond and then they never do again; or b) never respond in the first place.

My pet peeves about all of this. 1. I'm putting myself out there with my picture, you better fucking have a picture of yourself up. 2. You've paid money to be on this site. Get your money's worth. Respond when someone writes to you. 3. At the very least have the decency to say "thanks, but no thanks."

I have to put up with this for another two months. I've heard from one person. I've called him. We haven't connected. I"ll try again tonight.

Friends
I'm going to Skaneateles next weekend to spend the night at my friend Jen's. She's turning 40 on Wednesday, so we'll her kids and husband and head into town for dinner to celebrate. She is also trying to play match maker.

There is a teacher at her school. She's told me about him, him about me. Finally, realizing it's hard to play match maker, she asked if she could just give him my contact information. That was over two weeks ago.

Now I know it's summer. I know people are busy, people could be on vacation, etc. But it appears I am striking out left and right.

Resentment is an Ugly Thing to Swallow

And try as I might to not feel that way, sometimes it gets the better of me. I'm hoping that putting it out there, writing down, that hopefully I can then let it go.

So here goes:

I am resentful of pregnant women, especially if they are significantly younger than me. And most especially if they are so young that their pregnancies are unplanned.

I am resentful of a friend from work who sees and hears all the people selling raffle tickets, selling eggs, being supportive -- and who has yet to help in any way. She mentioned to me over a year ago, while I was still pursuing the fertility route but was more realistic about needing to go this way, that unless my adoption fund was associated with an actual 501c3 that she wouldn't be able to sell tickets for me. How could she ask her friends who didn't know me to spend money? How would they know it was legitimate?

Really? They know it's legit because you're asking. Or maybe your friends aren't as trusting of you as mine are of me. Because if the shoe was on the other foot, and I was selling for you, the mere fact that I was asking would be enough for my friends. If they could afford it, they would do it.

I am resentful that my colleague gets 12 weeks of maternity leave, just one year after coming back from another 12 weeks of maternity leave. That she has two perfect little babies -- and I started my whole process well before her.

And I am resentful (and really this one is for Bubbles, though I definitely feel this way) of bitches who treat their men like shit, who are awful awful people and I'm single!

It's day 12 of my new shortened 25-day cycle. I'm ovulating on my own. I'm in pain. I'm bloated, I'm uncomfortable. I've been awake since 4am. And on top of all of that, I fucked up my knee doing lunges at the gym. So much for working out.

All that is to say, I'm cranky. The resentment will be gone tomorrow. I actually already feel better by writing it down, admitting it publicly and moving on.

Tomorrow is another day.

The Wisdom of Bubbles

It doesn't matter that my brothers and sisters haven't gotten back to me. It doesn't matter that they've ignored the email my mother sent out as a follow up to mine.

It doesn't matter that I'm hurt, again, by them.

It doesn't matter that they are seemingly ignoring the biggest thing in my life.

The only that matters is this biggest thing in my life, this little baby who will someday be mine.

It only matters that I am the type of person who can let go of hurt feelings, who can let go of the bitterness, so that I can be a good mom, a good role model. The kind of person I want to be for that little baby.

Bubbles reminded me of this, and once again reminded me how lost I would be without her.

The Week that Was....

It started out shitty. I was an emotional wreck on Monday and Tuesday, literally crying for no reason a few times. I finally got my period on Wednesday, which helped my emotional stability slightly.

Wednesday night I slept awful. Itchy-twitchy legs all night as I tried to fall asleep (itchy-twitchy is my version of reckless leg syndrome). Thursday I left work early, drove to Syracuse to meet my brother, sister-in-law, niece and nephew for dinner and then my niece's high school graduation. And then turned right around and drove back home.

Friday I realized that I'm exhausted. Not just from the shitty week, the emotional week, the lack of sleep and driving 150 miles in four hours. But from work -- I've been doing two jobs since December and three since early May.

I was too tired to go to they gym tonight after church, but am hoping that blowing it off tonight, getting a good night's sleep and waiting until tomorrow will mean that I have lots of energy for the treadmill.

Added to all that is the fact that I still haven't heard from any of my siblings since I sent the email about my adoption nearly two weeks ago. Add insult to the fact that I went to dinner with two of the people who got the email, and saw another, on Thursday night. Not one word.

My mother became momma bear this morning and sent out an email to my siblings telling them I needed their support. We'll see how far that goes.

Happy Father's Day

I can say that without being too sad. Although I just read a heart-breaking account from another blogger I read and how she bought two cards for her husband for today. It got me to thinking about how my child -- whenever he or she arrives -- will most likely not have a father. It will just be the two of us.

Certainly, things may change. I'm certainly open to getting married someday, I'm just not counting on it anymore. I just hope that I will be enough. I will have to be, I guess.

I had a great weekend in Syracuse, with my niece and her two boys. Garage sale, playing outside, sunburn, hot weather, sprinkler on the gym set to make a "water slide," and lots of hugs and kisses. I can't wait for them to meet their new cousin.

Last Tuesday, I sent an email to the rest of my siblings. The rest of = those I'm not in touch with on a daily or weekly basis, those who I told I was trying to get pregnant and then never heard from again. Rather than giving them the courtesy and showing them the importance of their opinion or support of me by giving them individual phone calls, I sent one email.

As you all know, I tried for nearly three years to get pregnant. It wasn't in the cards, and after much disappointment, I've decided to move on. And knowing that my fertility issues were as serious as they were, I began the paperwork for international adoption as I went through my last year of fertility treatment.

As of May 17, all of my paperwork is in, my FBI clearance came through, and I am officially on a very long waiting list for a baby.

As you may not know, international adoption is extremely expensive. When it's all said and done, my adoption costs will exceed $26,000 (and probably be closer to $30,000).

The good news about the very long waiting list -- they are now estimating 16 to 22 months -- is that it gives me plenty of time to save and raise money. I am applying for adoption-specific grants, and my friends have helped organize a raffle as one fund-raiser, and we have just started selling raffle tickets.

If you are interested in helping sell some as well -- or just want to buy some -- let me know. Tickets are $5 each or 5 for $20, and the list of prizes for the monthly drawings can be found on the website I've set up....

Thanks in advance for your help.

--Ellie

I'd like to say that I'm surprised that I've heard from none of them. But I'm not. I wish I could say I wasn't hurt. But I am.

What I have learned is that I've realized over the last three years is that no matter how important family, friends are just as important, if not more.

Kind of a rambling post, I know. I'll try to have a more cohesive brain later in the week. Until then, happy new week.

First Pedicure of the Season

I got up this morning with a list of things to do, which could have been done in any order. I opted to do the post office and then everything else after the mall. I could have gone to the bank, could have done my grocery shopping or Kohl's, could have checked on Jill's cats -- any or all of the above before my pedicure.

This is important because all of those things enabled me to be at the mall and talk to the nice pregnant girl while we both got pedicures.

She commented how good the back massage felt. I asked her when she was due. "July, but I could go earlier because I'm carrying twins."

An inner voice, but I ignored it. I went back to making my grocery list, she talked to who I assumed was the baby daddy. He left to go smoke. I turned back to her, "do you know what you're having?"

"Identical boys."

Inner voice got much louder. It couldn't be, could it? "Wow, congratulations."

"Thanks. I have four other children." And then I could have repeated the ages and names of her children along with her. "Four, three, two and just over one." And then she showed me pictures of kids I've seen before. Kids I knew about. The baby I have actually held.

Yup. Leave it to me to be sitting next to and making small talk with the DSS mother I wrote about last week.

Are you shitting me?

When I called Bubbles to tell her, she had the best response, as only I would expect Bubbles to have. "What a fun pedicure for you. Want me to invite J's wife along for spa day?"

Creepy McCreeperson

I'm the cute single girl in my housing complex. I give all of my neighbors a plate of Christmas cookies every year. And I thank the male neighbors who shovel my sidewalk with cookies every now and then.

And regardless of whether they are 70 or 50, I sort of lump those two snow shovelers in the same category as old married neighbor. However, I've been given pause lately to that. And it's kind of creepy.

The younger of the two "old married neighbors" recently friended me on facebook. Without thinking I accepted it. And after I did, I regretted it. But I put him in that category of people from high school that are on my friends list and I never talk to.

The next day, I got a message from him. "Your hair looks fabulous. You look great." I had recently gotten my hair chopped (did I not mention that here? I cut 10 inches off last week.)

OK....there was a picture on my page of my new hair. And maybe he just doesn't get that he could have written on my wall.

But I was thinking that I needed to figure out how to limit his access to my page. Apparently, I didn't do it soon enough. Yesterday I got another message from him. The subject line was "Hmmmmmm."

The message: Nice tattoo, the things you can learn about your neighbors.. My lips are sealed...

I was immediately creeped out. Inappropriate. Way inappropriate. No longer was he getting limited access. He was getting cock blocked. I blocked him and now I do not exist on FB to him.

Hopefully that's the end of the story. See what I get for trying to be nice and neighborly. No more. I'm going back to my motto of "if I would sit on a bar and sing karaoke in front of you (or if I have), you get to be my FB friend."

The Week in Review

It's been a weird week. My emotions have been on a roller coaster, mostly down. I'm sad. That's really the only way to describe it. And I know that I will get over it eventually -- or at least, if not over it, it will become a little more bearable each day.

I started to think about my birthday and how I'm going to be 40 in a little over a month. Never in a million years did I think 40 would look like this. But here it is. Where a few weeks ago, I wasn't making any plans for 40, because I so thought I would be pregnant, now I have plans to make.

So I'm going to Baltimore the weekend after my birthday, for my usual round of visiting. And Bubbles is making all sorts of plans -- I just have to show up. A day at the spa, fancy dinner out. And lots of drinks. Finally, something to look forward to.

My friend at work (who has several children through foster care) told me about identical twin boys to be born this summer. The mother has four toddlers (4, 3, 2 and 13 months) -- all in foster care. DSS isn't sure what the plan is for the babies. As Charlie was telling me, the woman who has the other four kids can't take two more. And the mother, if she doesn't have her babies right from birth to bond with them, doesn't want them.

She wants her 4-, 3-, and 2-year olds back, but not the baby. Because he was taken away from her as soon as he was born. She doesn't feel a connection with him. She doesn't have any bond with him.

So I called DSS, one of the women who taught the classes I was in last spring, and left a message. It was very generic -- just that I wanted to touch base, let her know where things were in my life, etc. She passed me off to someone else, who specifically handles adoption.

And when the adoption guy and I finally connected, I asked very specific questions about this woman who is pregnant with twins and doesn't have custody of her other four children. I knew more about the situation than he did. He didn't have a whole lot to say. They're not sure of what the plan is when she gives birth, if the twins can't go with the other four, the goal is still family reunification, can I do that?

I was honest. I told him no. These women give birth to throw away children, I'm not going to help them get their kids back. But knowing a lot about the situation, knowing how she feels after giving birth and giving up immediate custody, I'm willing to take the chance that she would get her kids back. He appreciated my honesty, and of course because of the business he's in, he can't agree with me.

I understand the premise of DSS. I understand why we have Child Protective Services. I do. I get it. And I understand that people makes mistakes, that there are circumstances.

But in the case of the kids that Charlie has -- a 4-year-old and a 3-year-old who have been in Charlie's care for more than two and a half years; and their 2-year-old twin sisters who have been with Charlie all but six months of their lives. (not to mention the three teenagers she has lost permanent custody of and who live with their grandmother). And then this other case -- four toddlers and now soon-to-be-born twins. They've been in foster care since last January. The baby has never been in the custody of his mother.

It's a fucked up world we live in. I can't get pregnant, I can't have a child, and these women are getting pregnant more often than Michelle Duggar. Explain the logic. Explain the fairness.

And my frustration is more than at these women, it's at the system, as well. So my conversation with the adoption guy, after he said he would talk with the woman I had called in the first place, I asked what my next steps should be. "Will you call me after you talk to her? Will she call me? Or should I check in with you or her in, say two weeks?"

He didn't know how to answer that. He's not sure what the birth plan is for the twins. "Well, they're due to be born in June. And they're twins, so she may go early...." My voice was trailing off, because I needed to keep my composure, but when the fuck were they planning to figure it out. It's March.

"Yeah, I'm really not sure what to tell you. We'll keep in mind that you're interested in these boys, and add you to the list."

And so that's that? WTF? No wonder people have the opinion of DSS that they have. I know they are understaffed, underpaid, over burdened. But here I am, wanting to do something, to help two children.

It's a frustrating place to be, for sure.

Can we have a single guy, my age, be this interested in me?

Please.

The phone rang today and I looked up to see it was from an orthopedics office. I picked up the phone and then paused. Could it? I did a quick internet search while the phone was stilling ringing and confirmed that it was Dr. Pervert's office. I put the phone back down.

Why the hell was he calling me?

Thirty seconds after the phone stopped ringing, my cell phone started. I picked it up -- 315 area code. Same number. I ignored that as well.

I went along with my day. Fabrics store, church, dinner. And then this evening, a phone call from a "private" number. I mistakenly answered it.

"Ellie, hello, it's Dr. R."

Ugh. WTF. Why are you calling me? What do you want? Aside from the fact that you operated on my knees in the '80s and then put your tongue in my mouth in the '90s, we're not that close.

But did I say any of that. No. In the same vein that I needed to call the FG's office to apologize to the receptionist the other day, I can't be rude to him. I was monotone, non-committal in the conversation, uninterested even, but not rude.

He told me that he saw my mother this week and she "read me the riot act for not staying in touch with her and you. So she gave me your numbers."

Oh Frances, what am I going to do with you? How many times do I need to tell you to not give him my numbers. Do I really need to tell you that this man you've known for 40 years, this man that you trust and respect hit on your daughter when she was in her mid-20s and he was easily on the other side of 50? Are you going to make me tell you this?

After nearly 15 years of sparing her feelings, I know that I will continue to not tell her any of this. It really wasn't that big a deal. It made me feel icky, I dealt with it. He kissed me, I briefly kissed him back, he ran his hand up my sweater, pushed me down and would have fucked me if I said okay. I said no, he respected that. I'll give him that at least.

But all in all, it wasn't a big deal then. Not a big deal now. But this man needs to stop calling me. And my mother needs to stop encouraging him to call me. I'm not sure what she's trying to prove, what she's trying to do.

Christmas '09 In Review

The good...

* Christmas Eve was great. I drove up in the afternoon and met my Virginia family at my sister-in-law's parent's house and went to mass with them. After that, we went to my niece's house for the evening. My niece and her family, my sister and brother-in-law, and my brother, sister-in-law and niece sat around and munched and drank and laughed. The boys opened presents and got sufficiently wound up from wrestling with my brother.
* I spent all of Christmas weekend in Syracuse -- did day after Christmas shopping with the family and played with lots of Moon Sand with the boys. Sunday, most of the family came back out to my niece's for brunch before everyone scattered again to their own lives, including the Virginians who would be heading south the next morning.
* As much as I enjoy being in Syracuse and hanging out with my niece and the boys, and there is nothing like an uninitiated hug from a two-year-old (you know you're loved when you get a hug for no reason, without asking for it), it was good to be back home, to sleep in my own bed, to turn my heat on as high as I wanted it.
* And about 11:30 on Christmas morning, my phone beeped. A text from E: "Merry Christmas gorgeous. hope you have a great day."

The bad....

* a rare snow storm in the mid-Atlantic region halted my holiday plans for Baltimore the weekend before Christmas. I was going to see Bubbles, Wanda and her family, Tim and the girls, Jan, and visit the Museum. I was also looking forward to testing myself by being in the city and NOT reaching out to J in any way.
* I handled Christmas day the best I could. And by that, I didn't really acknowledge my new niece, born over the summer. There were 14 other people to dote on her (and they all converged on her two feet behind me as I was doing dished when she first arrived). If she were older and would have noticed the slight, I wouldn't have done it. But she's six months old. There was a little tension with her mother, another one of my niece's (we all the know the story) -- or maybe I imagined it. Maybe the hurt feelings over her wedding, over the way she told me she was pregnant, made me think there was tension. In any event, I didn't really talk to her (thankfully with such a large family, it wasn't possible to have a lengthy conversation with everyone).
* At one point, I felt the tears coming on. I was grating cheese and fought the tears back. I wanted to let loose, I wanted to start bawling, but was surrounded by my family. A family who doesn't really understand the pain I sometimes feel around a baby. I tried to explain it to one of my sisters and she said, "but you're around babies all the time." Not really, and not really the point, but my response was "yes, but those are babies whose mother's are nice and supportive of what I'm going through and understand that their happiness might cause me pain." I was met with a blank stare, so I changed the subject.
* The family pictures! Ugh....almost as much as seeing my niece's baby, I was dreading this moment when my sisters would make a production of doing "family unit" pictures. Not just a picture of everyone who was there, or even random photos throughout the day, but posed pictures of each little family unit. Brother, sister-in-law, two kids. Niece, her husband, two kids. Sister, brother-in-law, niece, her husband, two kids. Etc. Ever since it was suggested that we frame these sorts of pictures for my parents' 50th anniversary a few years back, and I contribute a picture of me with my cat (seriously!), I've avoided these little set-ups. I stayed in the kitchen, and thankfully no one called me into the living room to pose in front of the tree, either alone or with my parents.

The weird...

* Thankfully there wasn't really any ugly. My sister got me a strange present, and while she thought it was funny, it's not exactly the way I would have handled it. As she explained it, she ordered two day planners from the Smithsonian gift shop and was able to get one monogrammed for free, so she got hers done with her initials. When they arrived, she started filling hers out, and only then realized that she had started writing in the non-monogrammed one. Rather than give me the one she had started to write in, or get me something else and write this one off as a loss, she gave me the one with her initials. So instead of having LAW (my true initials) on a day planner, I have for the next year (should I decide to use it) KLY. I know, it's the thought that counts. But I find it weird. And again, given lingering tensions over her daughter's wedding and the way that was handled, I think I'm finding more wrong with it than if it had come from my oldest niece or even my sister-in-law in Virginia. Because I'm closer with them, because I would have found it funny, and because I know that that's not how they would have handled it.

And so all in all, the Christmas I was dreading, the Christmas I wasn't really looking forward to....I survived. It's over. The family drama, the tension, the feelings of inadequacy (because of singledom and childlessness)....it's all over. And so if I'm still childless next year, here's hoping Richmond is an option. Otherwise, I think Bubbles and I should be finding ourselves on a beach somewhere, drinking margaritas and ignoring both of our families.

Attitude Adjustment

My mother told me last week that my niece (and her new baby) would not be with us at Christmas. She would be spending the day with her in-laws. It made me not dread the day quite so much.

And then tonight, "Erica will be coming to Christmas."

Terrific. So looking forward to it.

I've got a week to figure out how to make the best of it.

Dream a Little Dream

I've been having bizarre dreams over the past few weeks, and it doesn't take a psychology major to figure them out.

In one, I was in Richmond, and my sister-in-law said to me, "you're not going to like this, but it's for your own good. Erica is bringing the baby over so you can see her."

"But I'm not ready yet. I don't want to."

"Too bad. They're here."

And when they got there, there was this beautiful little baby -- my great-niece -- and my niece gloating (it was like out of a bad sitcom) about how easy it was to get pregnant, how she didn't understand why I was so bad at it, what was I doing wrong, was my doctor competent. Awful.

The next one I had was about my sister and brother-in-law in San Diego. I was there, visiting them, and suddenly they had a baby. A four- or five-month old that was in foster care but was being given up for adoption. From Onondaga County (that's Syracuse). I kept saying, "why wouldn't anyone let me have him? I'm so close to Onondaga County, I can take that baby."

And then my sister, who is 50 and has never wanted to have her own children, says to me, "We're going to keep this baby. He's ours now. You get to be the aunt."

"But I'm always the aunt." And then everyone ignored me.

To make matters worse, the baby's name is Lincoln. Lincoln, regardless of what I go with for a first name, will be my son's middle name, as it was my grandmother's maiden name (the grandmother I was named after).

No one could understand why I was upset, why it seemed so unfair.

Back from Vacation

I've been on vacation, and technically still am until the day after Labor Day. I left last Thursday for Richmond and arrived in time to spend the afternoon laying by the pool in 95-degree weather. It was heavenly.

And I did what I wanted. I didn't have to think. Didn't have to explain anything. There was no baby talk, no decision making. It was just vacation. Pool, shopping, dinner with a friend from college, the beach, shopping, pool. It couldn't have gotten better.

I headed up to Baltimore on Sunday and spent two days with my friend Tim and Sonya. You may remember that Tim and I had some issues last summer. We have since moved past it. Sunday night he worked, so I spent the evening with his wife and kids. Monday, his wife and I went shopping and then we all went out to lunch.

And then Monday night, I got to see my Yankees. I visited friends in the press box and was in my seat in time for the first pitch. Lots of beers and an almost perfect game later (a real perfect game, not just that it was a lovely evening), Mariano came in in the bottom of the 9th and the game was over. Yankees win.

I had my cell phone in my pocket and was updating my FB with pictures and texts from the game. In the middle of the 4th, as I was checking a text from J, I got one from E. When it rains, it pours.

J wanted to know if we could change breakfast the next day from 9 to 9:30. No problem. And E wanted to know how my day was. I told him, better now. And asked if he liked the picture I had sent him the other night (from my soak in the tub). He loved it.

At one point during the game, Tim put his arm around me and thanked him for being such a good "aunt lulu" to his girls. I told him I loved, and Sonya (his wife), that they were all like family. And then he brought up the night of out minor indiscretion, many years ago. "We're not talking about that. I still feel guilty that I let it go as far as it did. I'm just glad, we stopped."

"You know, Lulu, that night wasn't an accident." WTF? I couldn't comprehend that. I looked at the field and made a comment about Derek Jeter's ass or something.

After the game, Tim and I went to bar near the museum for another round, and I desperately needed food. E texted again to see if I enjoyed the game (he had seen that it was a near-perfect game) and J texted to tell me that he needed to cancel, had to go to Philly for the day. Was I surprised? Of course not. Disappointed? Unfortunately a little. Especially after he had texted earlier to confirm (without any prompting from me)and change times. Tim saw that I was annoyed, but didn't say anything.

It was all of midnight when we headed out. And then it started. Although, at first, I didn't realize where the conversation was headed. He started off by telling me that he's in a men's prayer group and that he has me on his list of people they pray for. I told him I appreciated that. And I told him my story about how I was in church one day, thinking about J and E texted.

We were sharing, it felt appropriate. In hindsight, I should have kept my mouth shut. Because then he started talking about how he prays for me to find my way, that I need to open my heart up to Jesus, that all the pain and loss I've experienced over the past two years are because I don't have a relationship with God.

Let me remind you of my mindset -- I'm over-tired, I'm drunk, I haven't really let loose with crying over the last negative test. Until right now. I sat in his car, tears rolling down my face, trying to catch my breath.

At this point, we were home, in the driveway. I wasn't responding to anything he was saying. Something about feeling the holy spirit in him and praying for me to find my way, to find someone to share my life and my faith with, that if he wasn't married that he would like to get to know me on a more spiritual level, that he's upset that I have such feelings for J, that I would be upset over a canceled breakfast, that he didn't realize I had feelings for him still. On and on about my life, and what I'm doing and how he feels about it.

I was done. "I need to go to bed." I got out of the car, waited for him to unlock the door and walked past him to the girls' room where I was sleeping. I went into the bathroom, blowing my nose and trying to stop crying. I heard him walk down the hall in my direction. And he walked right into the bathroom.

He hugged me and I pulled away. "You have no fucking clue what I've been through for the past two years. Acupuncture, fertility massages, yoga, driving to Syracuse every two days, giving myself shots until I'm black and blue all over my stomach, church every week, prayer, meditation, visualization, not eating ice cream so that god forbid my uterus isn't warm enough, drinking black-fucking-strap molasses every morning...and for you to tell me that I didn't do enough, that I needed to open myself up to God. Is that why you think I didn't get pregnant? Fuck you."

"No, that's not what I meant."

"Well, that's how I took it. I need to go to bed."

He hugged me again, and I let him. It was just easier. I needed to go to bed. And this seemed like the only way to get rid of him. He finally left and I fell into a fitful sleep. At least I was leaving their house in the morning and I could get some space from him.

I acted as if nothing happened in the morning. And once the girls left for school, I finished packing my bag and did my hair. With breakfast canceled, I had some time to kill before heading downtown, but I figured I would kill it somewhere else.

As I was straightening my hair, I heard my phone beep. It was a text from Tim in the other room. Some more mumbo jumbo about opening my heart, etc. I closed the phone. And then another about how I'm better than J, and I need to move one from him. I closed the phone again, packed up and left.

I haven't heard from him since then, but I'm guessing that in the next week or two, he will dig it all up. I hope I'm wrong about that.

I visited my old work, caught up with everyone there, even got recruited to apply for Bitch-stine's old job at the museum. It's an interesting prospect, and I'm going to humor them by asking some questions, but I don't think that's the right place for me right now.

I had lunch with Bubbles and filled her in on the last four days. I miss seeing her like this. To be closer to friends like her, moving back to Baltimore would be great.

After leaving downtown, I went to my friend Wanda's house. We've been friends since the mid-90s and it would be nice to be able to talk about the baby stuff with her, to get her perspective on what I should do, as well as the job stuff.

It didn't happen, and that along with the way things ended with Tim, really put a damper on the Baltimore part of my trip. When I got there, we had a snack with her five-year-old, and then took both kids to the playground, meeting one of her neighbors there. There was never a time for the two of us to talk. By the time we got home, her husband was home, it was dinner, getting the kids ready for bed and then the three of us watched TV and went to bed.

I was bummed. And it made me put into perspective the way life is for my friends who have families -- that sometimes, there is no time for my needs. Even a half hour or so of one-on-one time.

College Revisited

During my senior year of college, I had two best girl friends, but mostly aligned myself with my guy friends. I learned early on that three girls are trouble. There is always drama, there is always a power struggle, and there is never equal love between the three. Somehow, someway, some variation of two are closer than any other. It's just the way it works.

When I graduated from college and one of these girls got married, I let the inevitable happen and drifted apart from the friendship. It was easier. I never missed the drama, never regretted not keeping in touch with them.

Fifteen years later, Facebook has brought them back into my life, for better or worse. I've kept them at arm's length, exchanging pleasantries, catching up on the last 15 years, and then really not much beyond that. We have our own lives, own priorities, and have, I'm assuming, replaced each other with new friends.

One of the ways I use Facebook with my immediate circle of friends is to keep them updated on doctor appointments and there I am in my current schedule. I keep my status updates pretty vague -- those in the know get it, those who don't know, have no clue.

Recently one of these girls from college sent me an email asking if everything was okay (she'd probably noticed some posts on my FB page that said "sending good thoughts" or something like that), that she was concerned, etc. The email sounded sincere. And if....no, when I get pregnant next month, it will only be a matter of time before I announce it. So I thought about it for a day about how I should answer her.

And finally I just decided to tell her. I told her I'd been trying to get pregnant for the past two-plus years, that all the trips to Syracuse were doctor appointments, this was my last attempt, etc. Not overly dramatic, not a lot of emotional sharing, but still clear that these two years have not been the easiest. And I thanked her for her concern.

And then? Nothing from her. Not a single word. I've seen that she's been on Facebook. Clearly she's read it. And while I had hoped that we've all matured in the past 15 years, the insecure part of me wonders if she is now taking this information and talking it over with the other friend from college.

I told Hope about it today. She told me I have too much faith in people, think too highly their motives and their sincerity, that I should have gone with my gut and my last opinion of her. Should have told her thanks for your concern, everything's okay -- and left it at that.

I should have.

My Mood is Better

I'm still on the pill for one more week, but I'm feeling less weepy than even two days ago. I made it through the weekend with little drama.

My niece had her baby yesterday -- a little girl. I'm not sure exactly how to feel about this. I know how I'm supposed to feel, I know how I expected to feel. Mostly I'm indifferent and feel nothing.

I got an email from my sister (her mother) first and then from my niece herself with pictures. In neither email was my brother copied (remember the family drama from last summer). So much for my sister saying that it was all done, move on, no hard feelings, etc.

I think that pissed me off more than feeling sorry for myself that she had a baby. Thanksgiving should be interesting when the Virginia relatives (those who were not invited to the wedding) come home.

And so even with the family drama, and the baby being born, I'm feeling okay. I've got a fertility massage scheduled before yoga on Tuesday. What's a fertility massage? My cynical side says one more way for the FG to make money.

Officially, the website says: A rejuvenating and nurturing treatment utilizing a variety of techniques including Swedish, deep tissue, trigger point therapy, myofascial release, reflexology and cranial sacral. Stimulate your circulation, decrease muscle tension, and renew your well-being. This massage is designed for pre fertility treatment.

I have one scheduled for the following week, as well. No one can tell me that I'm not doing all I can to try to get pregnant.

Pretty Woman

My friend Jill is out of town and I'm cat sitting. Which really means I drop by her house every three days or so, bring in her mail and make sure her cats have food and water. And usually, I'll hang out there for about half an hour to visit with the kitties. Not a big deal.

This morning I went over and on the kitchen counter was brand new Vera Bradley bag "from" the kitties. It was so sweet. I love the style -- totally different from my usual choices, but I wasn't crazy about the color. You'd think you couldn't go wrong with anything pink -- and usually that would be the case -- but I'm not crazy about the yellow.

There are three places in town that sell Vera Bradley -- a jewelry store at the mall, and on each of the campuses. I went to the mall to exchange it. It's Sunday. I'm in my "Sunday best" -- baseball hat, sweatshirt, capri sweat pants.

I walked into the store and was not acknowledged. I spent a good 10 minutes pulling different bags down and examining them. No one asked how I was doing, if I needed help, etc. Finally, I decided on one I liked. Same bag, different color. And decided to get the matching coin purse.

At the desk, the woman was on her cell phone, obviously retrieving messages. When she was done, she still hadn't asked me how I was or if I had found everything okay. I finally just took the lead. "I received this as a gift, and need to exchange it."

"Do you have a receipt?"

"It was a gift. The tag is still on it."

"I need the receipt. Can you call the person you got it from and get the invoice number off the receipt?"

"No. She's on vacation. She left it for me at her house this morning. I'm watching her cats. It's an exact exchange. Can't you just do it? Please?"

"No. That's not the way our system works. Get the receipt and you can come back and exchange it."

I smiled and put my purse back in the gift bag. "No, that's okay. I'd rather keep it than give this store any business." And with that, I walked out.

I've worked retail on and off for nearly 20 years. It's just basic common courtesy. Say hello when people walk in. Ask if they need help, and if they say no, leave them alone. If they look indecisive while they're shopping, go over and offer an opinion. And if you're on the phone -- business or personal -- acknowledge the person that walks up to the counter. Even if you have to whisper, "I'll be right with you."

The unfortunate thing is that this is one of the nicer jewelry stores in town. However, while it may be a nice store, it's still just a jewelry store in a fucking mall in Ithaca, not on Rodeo Drive or Fifth Avenue.

It's driving him crazy that no one responded to his last email...

BTW, since NONE of you spineless Binghamtoners (or whatever you call yourselves) don't have the BALLS to respond to what i wrote below, here are the 50th Anniversary TZ events I have orchestrated to date so far this year--just to show you IDIOTS what you passed up by rejecting me. Your loss, ASSHOLES.

How to Win Friends and Influence People

This is long, but so worth it. I have to give the background, first. We are working on an academic conference on the works of Rod Serling at the College, to be held in the fall. We received paper proposals and as a committee, decided on who we should accept and who we shouldn't. We were up in the air on this one guy, because he tends to be a pain in the ass, but he is knowledgeable on the subject. So rather than outright dismiss him, we decided to throw him a bone and have him host a marathon one of the nights.

So the other day, this is what I wrote to him:

Hello,

On behalf of the Conference Committee, I am sorry to inform you that your paper proposal has not been accepted for inclusion at the fall conference, "Celebrating 50 Years of The Twilight Zone."

We received a great number of proposals -- nearly double the amount of proposals we have received in previous years -- and the caliber of all the proposals made this a difficult decision.

However, the committee would like to ask you host the TZ marathon and introduce each episode (the night is still TBD) at the Conference in October. We will do an online poll and use the top three vote-getters, a pick from each the president and the dean, and then ask you to choose the remaining three episodes to show.

If this is still acceptable to you, please let me know no later than May 7.

thanks, Ellie

To which I almost immediately received the following:

If you think that, after coming up last year for NO MONEY and doing TWO presentations (the marathon plus my multimedia presentation) that BOTH of Serling's daughters came up to me with tears in their eyes thanking me, and then, this year, offering to DESIGN your materials FOR NO MONEY--which you, Ms. Lincoln, basically REFUSED--and then, to have my efforts REBUFFED like your letter above, when i just got done presenting BOTH presentations to the NY Comic Convention this past February (and the upcoming summer San Diego Convention, the country's BIGGEST pop culture convention this July, which would both HONOR the 50th TZ anniversary AND give YOUR October celebration a plug), is the HEIGHT of your DISRESPECT of both myself and my efforts to promote The Twilight Zone, and more importantly, Rod Serling's memory.

And for even MY TZ Marathon idea to be basically REJECTED in favor of a mixed-committee hodgepodge with NO FOCUS only adds to the SLAP IN THE FACE you have just DISRESPECTED me with even FURTHER.

So good luck with your symposium WITHOUT my presentations, which only makes YOU, the RS Foundation, and ALL the attendees POORER without my participation.

You all don't DESERVE me.

One of my committee members thought I should write back to him, so we had it in writing, that we were taking this as rejecting the offer to host the marathon. So in my sweetest email voice possible:

Thank you for replying to my email so quickly. I will take this as you declining our offer to host the marathon. We will fill the slot with someone else.

thanks, Ellie

And then:

SCREW YOU, Ms. Lincoln.

We all got a chuckle out of it, except for one of my committee members -- a retired faculty member -- who was incensed that anyone would speak to me that way. So he fired off an email to this asshole.

Dear Asshole (he actually the guy's real name, but this is more fun):

I've been following the correspondence between you and Ellie Lincoln.

Even though the committee decided not to include your proposed paper in the program, we felt -- based on your participation in our earlier conference, and your knowledge of Serling and his work -- that you would appreciate the opportunity to participate in our third Serling event. But, your responses to this offer have shocked all of us... and I personally find your ranting extremely offensive and unprofessional. Your last comment to Ms. Lincoln was unbelievably rude. I'm surprised that anyone aspiring to be involved in future events honoring this "master" television writer would allow such a "temper tantrum" to be transmitted in writing -- on the internet yet!

If your paper proposal had any merit to begin with, it has certainly been greatly diminished by your reaction to the committee's ruling. You have proven, by your actions, that you clearly lack the ability to communicate within either professional or academic circles.

I knew Asshole wouldn't be able to not have the last word. Sure enough, about an hour later:

If you think, Mr. Weber, that I'm going to take even MORE time out of my day to dissect and respond to your holier-than-thou, high-&-mighty, ivory-tower BULLSHIT spewed in your e-mail below, sorry--I've got more important work for clients who not only PAY me for my hard work, but more importantly, RESPECT me for that hard work, for my EXPERIENCE, and my KNOWLEDGE.

But YOU Binghamton people have your HEADS so far UP YOUR COLLECTIVE ASSES that [one of the committte members]--for one--NEVER EVEN RESPONDED to the 12-minute DVD that I sent her a few months ago, that I made of a Twilight Zone VIDEO INSTALLATION I was invited to participate in, using the words, images, and music from the series (like my VISIONS presentation does). So other than the RUDENESS of getting ABSOLUTELY NO REACTION FROMM HER, gee, Mr. Weber, does ANY ONE of the "participants" your and your FUCKED-UP committee chose OVER ME have the ARTISTIC CAPABILITIES AND WHEREWITHAL to put such a piece of TWILIGHT ZONE ART together as my 12-miniute video installation represents? That I was offering to your "institution" (as in MENTAL institution at this point) for FREE because I love and honor Rod Serling's memory & The Twilight Zone like NO ONE ELSE?

Can ANYONE Ms. Lincoln chose OVER ME to design your graphic materials (for FREE again, mind you) for your symposium BETTER SUITED than me, the man who not only created and designed all of the aforementioned, but to this day, has designed the ONLY coffeetable art book about the series, both Zicree's and Gordon Sanders' TZ book covers, as well as my multimedia show that I've been presenting for OVER TWENTY YEARS?!?!?!?!?

The answer to all of the above is, of course, NO. But YOU, Mr. Weber, as part of this "committee," I assume, have YOUR OWN fucked-up "agendas" that obviously have NOTHING to do with RESPECTING me and what SHOULD have been a WELCOMING of my participation--you people should have been INVITING me to come this year, given my TRACK RECORD on all things Twilight Zone.

But instead, you chose to DIMINISH and DISRESPECT me by throwing me in with all your other BORING presenters (trust me, I saw PLENTY last year), and then, to add insult to injury, expected me to GROVEL for the CRUMBS of a mini-marathon that, last year, I SINGLE-HANDEDLY turned from a potential dark room showing random TZ episodes (like ALL past TZ marathons at conventions) into a full-fledged intellectual discourse in the TZ ("Five Themes of The Twilight Zone").

So for that, Mr. Weber, I say to YOU, and to Ms. Lincoln, and the ENTIRE Ithaca community that rejected me so DISGUSTINGLY:

FUCK YOU ALL.

And yes, Weber, I have the balls to do it here, "on the internet" even. FUCK YOU, personally, for having the unmitigated GALL to write back to me with your sanctimonious, self-serving CRAP. Stick it up your ASS where it belongs.

I thought nothing could upset me more than the octuplet mom and her brazen disregard for her children and how she's going to support them.

And then I read this headline: "Baby-Faced Alfie Patten is Father at 13"

What to say....

If your sister, or aunt, or friend calls to tell you, you specifically, that she is trying to have a baby. That even though she's single, and she knows it will be hard, but it's something that she's always wanted, and she's hoping for your support.

And you say, "you have it. Good for you. I know it's what you've always wanted. I've been waiting for you to say you were doing this. I'm excited for you."

And after you've had this conversation, a year has gone by, more than a year, and you haven't heard any big announcement that she's having a baby, don't stay silent. You promised your support last year. It won't be prying, it won't be bringing up something that she doesn't want to be reminded of (trust me, it's never far from her mind).

If you don't want to be invasive, you don't have to call. You don't even have to get into particulars. An email. A card. "How are you? How are things going? We're thinking of you. Let me know if you want to talk."

That's all it takes. I have seven siblings. I had this conversation with six of them last August, and a few of my nieces. All six siblings are married, so even if my brothers don't want to think about it, my sisters-in-law can.

Of the six sets of siblings, only two show their support. Only two ask me regularly what's going on, how are you doing, how are you handling the disappointment.

And right now, as my body is pumped full of extra hormones, all I can think about is how little support I'm getting from my family. Why did I waste my time calling them? Why did I waste the effort and the excitement on them? I should have just waited until I was pregnant to tell them.

Yes, I'm down tonight. And I'm taking it out on my family.

So here' my advice for tonight....if you know someone who shared something with you, no matter what it is, follow-up with them. Ask how they're doing. You can do it without being obtrusive.

Trust me, they'll appreciate it.