Suds and Duds

We had our office holiday party the other night -- an annual tradition to have it in January after the chaos of the holidays is over, to have it at a local bar (that's the suds part), and to have to bring the worst present you got for Christmas to exchange (that's the duds).

We took turns choosing a present from the beautifully wrapped pile, with the elaborate bows and shiny paper. When it was my turn, I did my usual shaking and feeling and fondling, looking for just the perfect present. Hoping to find a diamond in the rough.

I unwrapped my present and immediately turned pink -- it was a turkey baster. My friends from the office who are in the know, started cracking up. Our administrative assistant almost fell off her bar stool. And everyone else was oblivious to the fact that I was standing there, having been inseminated just eight days earlier, holding a turkey baster.

It was pretty funny. Nancy thinks it's a sign. When someone wanted to trade for my turkey baster, I though quickly about holding onto it, thinking it was some sort of good luck charm. But then I said, "sure....I don't need this."

Here's hoping that I don't need it -- and that I can handle my impatience all week, until I can get my blood test on Saturday.