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.

E's Back

I heard from E over the weekend, actually had a text waiting from me when I got out of foster care class.

"how's my sexy bitch?"

"I'm good...missing you."

"me too"

And then because it was the NFL Draft Day, I didn't hear from him again.

This morning, I came back from a meeting to "hey u"

"Hi baby."

"When do I get to watch you [do something] to my [adjective, adjective, adjective] [part of my anatomy]?" Ya'll can figure out what he was saying.

Tempting as it sounded (and it did), I can't do anything for another 10 days or so. And he doesn't know that I'm trying to get pregnant, that I'm on "vaginal rest" for two weeks, not to mention the bruises all over my stomach and ass from my new set of shots.

How to answer? I tried to call Bubbles at work, but it went right to voice mail. I can do this on my own.

"Hmmmm...nice visual, want to soon. I can't next week, week after?"

It's good for him for me to not be immediately available, right? Right or not, that's the way it has to be. I'll call the whole fucking nine months without if the doctor tells me to, if it means sustaining a pregnancy.

A Late Bloomer

I went to Syracuse yesterday for the embryo transfer, still a little down about only four eggs and two embryos. FG walked and said, "we've got three beautiful embryos."

Both Jill and I said, "no, two."

"No, three. One more decided to grow." And I started to cry, and as FG does so well, he held my hand, hugged me and talked about God's plan and visually what it is I want, a beautiful baby. He spent a good five to seven minutes with me -- an eternity for someone as busy as he is -- and then his parting words.

"Remember God gives us what we ask for...and sometimes something better."

And so I visualized on Hope, Faith and Bob -- my three beautiful embryos -- and the goal. A beautiful, healthy baby.

The transfer went really well, and by the time I left my second acupuncture session of the day, my mood did a complete 180. I have hope again, I have a positive attitude. And right now, I have three lives inside of me. And right now, at least one of them is burrowing in and getting ready for the next nine months.

I'm a baseball nerd, I admit it

I went out to dinner with a friend tonight, and as we were walking through the Commons, I saw a chalkboard in front of the burrito place.

TRIVIA: What year did Babe Ruth hit his 714th home run?

"I know that." And it excited me in a way that only talking about baseball excites me.

I walked in and said, "1935."

The guy at the counter looked confused, until I pointed to the sign. "The trivia question...1935."

A girl from the back came out and said, "You're right, you win chips and salsa."

"Oh I don't need that, I just wanted to make sure I was right. And I think the exact date was May 25."

"Yea that's right."

I walked back out to my friend. "I was right, and he actually hit 712, 713 and 714 that day. In Pittsburgh. And then retired a week later."

"How do you remember this shit?"

"It was my job."

Yup, I'm a nerd, but I know my George stats. ;)

Putting all my eggs in one basket

I went to Syracuse yesterday for my retrieval. After three weeks of injections and nine ultrasounds, after two months of waiting to get back on the horse following the miscarriage, it was finally time.

Hope went with me to drive me home following the procedure. She had never been with me to one of these appointments, but I've told her so much, she knew what to expect. They let her stay in the room with me while I was out and they did the actual retrieval. So she was right there when I woke up.

Four eggs. I felt like I got punched in the stomach. Four? Only four? Hope told me that embryologist said they looked really good, that I should get three or four embryos from them. I was disappointed, but tried to remain positive.

We continued with our adventure, over to the office next door for acupuncture, and then headed south back home. I had lunch with Heather and then did a little grocery shopping. By that point, I was worn out and a little crampy. I needed to remember that even though I recover from this procedure much better than anyone ever expects, I still had a surgical procedure done. I went home, put the freezer and fridge stuff away and left the rest on the counter, before climbing into my chair and sleeping for the next three hours.

I alternatively felt sorry for myself and my four eggs and tried to think positively -- I only need one embryo to get pregnant. Still, being able to put two or three in would increase my chances.

I went to bed early last night, still tired. About 10:30, my cell phone beeped and woke me up. Because I had been in such a sound sleep, I didn't realize what beep it was -- E, J or just the general one.

I opened the phone. It was from J. "hi, how did everything go today?"

I sighed, without even being able to explain to myself what I was feeling. I started to type that there were only four, that I was disappointed, etc. But I erased it all. Not the baby daddy, not my husband or my boyfriend, or my lover. So I wrote back, "Good, I'll find out tomorrow when the transfer is and how many embryos."

"Keep me posted babe."

I had foster care class this morning. Already in week 8. I'm actually going to get through these 11 weeks -- wow. I had my phone on vibrate and the FG's office called about 10:30.

"They injected all four eggs and two fertilized, so that's great. You've got two embryos."

It's better than one or none. But again, disappointment. This shows me that my quality egg reserve is not-so-slowly dwindling. My first retrieval was seven eggs, and netted five embryos. The second retrieval was seven eggs, three embryos. This time, four and two.

Instead of spending the day thinking about what this all means, how many eggs I may actually have left, how many chances I actually have, I would really like to spend the day with someone -- Chris or E or J -- who can make me laugh, make me realize that it's okay, that I still have choices and chances. I'll feel sorry for myself for a few more hours and then I'll snap out of it.

Because I have to. Because I need to put my positive hat on and get ready for the transfer, to not think about anything but the transfer on Monday.

The Mom Version of Ellie's Adventures

A few weeks ago, Heather told her mom the very G-rated version of my recent adventure meeting E. Her first response, "I thought Ellie was a nice girl." And then, "what did they do?"

Later that same day, I was on the phone with Heather, her mother was in the background trying to convince me to skip work and go over and hang out with them. "I want to hear more about your story."

"You told your mother?!"

"Yea, she said she thought you were a nice girl."

And then from Sandie in the background, "Get it while you can! Was it good?"

"Mom!"

Last night, she told Heather to tell me, "there are going to be a lot of cute men in Cortland this summer, the Giants or the Jets....some team. Tell Ellie to go meet them."

It reminded me of when Bubbles and I went to NYC last summer and I hooked up with my Yankee. When we returned to Baltimore, Bubbles' mom Diane met us at her place to drop off the dog. We told a version of the truth involving drinking and my Yankee coming back to the hotel with us, but sort of left it at that.

After she left, Bubbles said, "I give her one week before she asks me if you slept with him."

I left the next morning to come back home. I wasn't even out of the state of Maryland when my phone rang. "Diane just called and asked not only if you slept with him, but what time of the month is it and could you be pregnant?"

I love my friends' moms supporting my single girl's search.

Is it Friday yet?

Another trip to Syracuse yesterday and the follicles are growing slowly, but steadily. With three mature, and the other four lagging behind, they've scheduled me for retrieval on Friday. Finally!

I had to do shots last night and tonight, and then blood work (but no U/S) tomorrow. Tomorrow night at precisely 9pm, I will do the trigger shots (hCG, to start the egg release), nothing on Thursday, and then Friday the big day.

I gotta tell you, last week at this time, I didn't know if it would ever get here. Fingers crossed that he can pull out a lot of good eggs.

~~~~~~~

E texted me last week. "haven't heard from you in a while. what's up?"

"I'm sorry...I thought I told you I was the coolest chick you know. I don't cling, I don't hover, I take your lead. You want to talk to me, you know how to reach me."

"you're right, you are the coolest chick i know." And then with five simple words, my stomach did a flip. "miss that mouth of yours"

~~~~~~~~

The over/under on any of my boys remembering my birthday was 1.5. I went under, though I had faith that Chris would remember. Bubbles went with the push. "Chris will call and if J calls, he's only half a man anyway...."

Chris didn't disappoint, though it wasn't on my actual birthday, I gave him credit. When he called two days after the actual date, the first thing he said was "I missed your birthday, sorry. Was it good?"

J didn't remember, despite what he said less than a week before. He's getting closer to being erased from the phone.

Should have had faith

I'm glad I waited to talk to Heather until tomorrow about her email, glad that I kind of knew it was her venting, even if she ultimately decides to stay home with her baby.

This afternoon, I got the following text from her:

I know I have been a shitty friend lately (to all of my friend communications wise) but in addition to feeling sorry for myself today I wanted to let you know I am thinking of you tomorrow and sending you good vibes that everything looks good to go for Wednesday. Looking forward to catching up with your life. :)

Again, my friends come through in ways that my family never could.

Retrieval and a UTI

Lucky me! I drove up to Syracuse this morning for my U/S at the FG's office. They immediately saw things differently than my local doctor's office. I guess the follicles are clustered and on top of each other, so I have more mature than two and they think I will be ready for retrieval on Wednesday. I will continue shooting up tonight and tomorrow, and then back to Syracuse for another U/S on Monday morning.

I also noticed Wednesday night (when I got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night) an unusual irritation. I hadn't had a yeast infection since college, but I was remembering this was what it was like. It wasn't constant, really just when I went to the bathroom. I mentioned it to the doctor's office yesterday and they said yes that could very well be the case because of all the extra hormones, that if I could stick it out one more night they would test me this morning.

They did a urine test, and there were in fact leukocytes in the urine, indicating not a yeast infection, but the start of an urinary tract infection. So I'm on antibiotics for 10 days. And I'm drinking lots of cranberry juice.

When I was driving up to Syracuse I was thinking all sort of horrible things that it could be, even though logically it really felt like a simple infection. I hadn't had any blood tests for STD's in almost a year, and in that time I had been with three different men, though Chris being one of them, I felt okay about him. Lucia may think I'm foolish to think so, but I really believe I'm the only one he has on the side. My Yankee and E, on the other hand...

Thankfully, it's a simple UTI and I'm on antibiotics.

~~~~~~~

My friend at work returns from 17 weeks of maternity leave on Monday. She sent me a long email on Friday, an excerpt of which is:

I am just miserable and physically sick from the thought of leaving her to sit at work. I don't want to come back at all. People keep making jokes about don't I miss the work and how much work I have waiting and that freaking catalog. I could honestly give two shits about any of that as I am sure you can imagine, so I don't really find it funny. :( Not that you should be telling your boss this, haha, but I know I can talk to you. I have no desire to come to work, do any work and I really don't care about the work -- it all seems so meaningless now. I don't know if I can do it day in ad day out if I continue to feel like this. I used to enjoy working work and even sometimes found work rewarding -- now it all seems like a waste of time when I could be spending my time with her.

It was really the last thing I wanted to read yesterday, and even now, just re-reading it. I just want to say to her, "I need this week to be about me. Can you do that for me? I've been covering your work since December 10. We can deal with you missing your baby next week."

I'm not sure how to answer her, and I'm guessing that it will be better to talk to her in person about it. I understand and won't begrudge her if she wants to quit and stay home with the baby, but it will freaking piss me off, because the way things work in higher education, it will take forever to find a replacement for her, to train someone. I was without someone before we hired her for nine months. I don't know if I can do that again. And hopefully I'll be going out on maternity leave at the end of the year, beginning of next. The whole thing just makes me crazy to think about.

TGIF

I went for my U/S this morning -- the 7th one in less than three weeks -- and blood work. I have two follicles over 20mm, the rest are still pretty small, in the 12-14mm range.

Because I go locally for the U/S and the information gets faxed to Syracuse to the Fertility Guru, they in FG's office are not actually seeing the U/S pictures, just the measurements. I usually hear from the FG's office in the afternoon, but I was barely at my desk this morning when my phone rang.

They are concerned with the lack of growth, and according to my blood work and my hormone levels, the follicles should be much bigger. "Can you come to Syracuse tomorrow so we can see for ourselves what's going on?"

So I get to skip foster care class and drive up to Syracuse for a 9:15 appointment. I have no idea what this means, if they will be scrapping this month or we'll continue with shots and wait for more growth or they'll go in for the two that are mature. Who knows? I've given up trying to guess on what I know from past cycles. We've already determined that this month is nothing like any other cycle.

Black and blue

Tomorrow night will be two weeks since I started this round of shots -- three sticks a night, including the new medicine which stings like a mother fucker. And the needle, even though it's only subcutaneous, is longer than the others. And I usually end up bleeding a little with that stick. And what that means is this...



Yes, that's my lower belly (and yes that's my Mickey Mouse tattoo -- notice that he's wearing a Yankees hat), bruises along with prick marks. Lovely, isn't it? They tell me it will all be worth it. I'll let you know when it is.

This week the follicle are continuing to grow, but they're taking their own sweet time. I thought for sure today (and thought the same thing on Monday) that this would be it, it would be time to start preparing for the retrieval. This morning, I had two that were 20mm (that's the magic number) but they want to give the others more time to grow since they are only in the 12 to 14mm range. So two more nights of injections, and more blood work (my arm is bruised, as well) and another ultrasound on Friday.

Maybe retrieval on Monday or Tuesday?

~~~~~~~~

My niece's baby shower was last Saturday. I didn't go. I sent a gift and no apologies. My mother asked what she should tell people if they asked why I wasn't there.

"Tell them the truth if they ask, tell them it's too hard."

So Sunday, when my parents came down to visit for Easter dinner, I asked how the shower was, if she got nice gifts, and if anyone asked why I wasn't there. And the reply shouldn't have surprised me. It was typical Fran.

"No, but I made sure they knew why you weren't there."

"What do you mean?" Even though, I knew. I've seen my mother in momma bear mode many times.

"I pulled Erica (the pregnant niece) and Angie (her sister) aside and said, 'you know why your aunt isn't here, don't you?' And they said no, so I told them that it was too hard with you losing the baby."

"And what did they say?"

"Nothing. So I said, 'you do know she had a miscarriage, don't you?' And they said they did."

Now I was pissed. "Did they even fucking ask how I was?"

My mother paused. She didn't need to answer, I knew not only from her expression, but also because she didn't say anything about me saying "fuck" in front of her. But she went down this road, so I made her. "Well?"

"No, they didn't."

I'm so glad I didn't waste my time to drive to Syracuse for the shower. It would have just annoyed me.

I still don't know why I let my family get to me. Why I expect them to behave any differently, why I expect them to be able to see beyond themselves.

Someone told me a long time ago that I shouldn't have the same expectations for other people that I have for myself, that it will only set me up for disappointment. And for the most part, I try not to do that, try not to set my expectations too high, but with my own fucking family? I don't think that's expecting too much. And I won't lower my expectations for them.

My Last Day at 38

Happy birthday (almost) to me. I like to think of my birthday as my New Year's. It's a time to be reflective, it's a time to think about the last year, and a time to think about the coming year and all I want to accomplish.

Same as last year -- I've spent the past year focusing on trying to get pregnant. And same as last year -- I will spend the next year focusing on much of the same. Although the difference is, by the time my 40th birthday rolls around, I will know one way or another....I will have a baby of my own, or I will be working on adopting.

In the next year, I hope that all of my bad boys will be put away in their appropriate places. I hope that they will either give me what I deserve (regardless of what I tell them I want or expect from them) or I will have the strength to walk away.

And by the time my 40th birthday rolls around (unless I've just given birth in the past few months), I want to be back in my skinny clothes. I want to get rid of this pudgy stomach and muffin top. I want to look the way I used to in a pair of jeans and a bra and nothing else.

And I hope that by the time my 40th birthday rolls around, I will be happy turning 40, that I will accept 40 with grace, honor and happiness.

Having accomplished at least one of the three goals above will go a long way in helping me meet 40 with these virtues.

GOOOOOOO-AL

Four miles.....48:31.

Yeah....bring on 39, I'm not afraid of getting older. I'm only getting better.

And we keep going....

I had an ultrasound this morning. The missing follicles are still missing -- either the egg released (that's U/S tech's best guess) or it just disintegrated or got smaller (my guess) -- but there are seven total. Most are in the 10-11mm range.

The tech pissed me off, because even after telling me that she was sure the eggs must have released and I told her my blood levels were nowhere near ovulatory, she said, well, I don't know that they're going to tell you, probably will have you scrap this month.

So that was my mood all morning. Worrying about another month going by, wondering why my body isn't responding to the meds the way it has in the past, and especially since I'm on more than usual. And then the doctor's office called me why I was in "stitch and bitch" (a group of ladies brings their knitting and I bring my quilting, and we stitch and bitch during lunch on Fridays) to tell me to keep going with the same doses and go back in on Monday for another follicle check.

So we're still going. I'm bloated as all hell, but I keep telling myself it will be worth it. It's good practice to look four months pregnant even when I'm not, right?

The Yankees are on at 4:10 today, so my goal for the gym while I watch the game is four miles in under 50 minutes.

I'm Weak...But Getting Better

(I have to admit that I'm writing this while I'm supposed to be paying attention in a computer training session at work. You gotta love the back row in the computer lab.)

Tuesday, I got home and immediately finished with my pre home-study cleaning, especially vacuuming and steam cleaning the rug near Casey's litter box. When I turned off the cleaner, I heard the shrill beeps of my cell phone, indicating a text from J.

Literally out loud, I said, "really?"

I went downstairs and saw that he had actually texted 15 minutes ago. "I blew off work and am drinking wine down in Fell's Point. Does that make me bad?"

"Not bad enough. If you're going to blow off work, you should be getting blown, doncha think?"

It went downhill from there. For the next two hours. Including me sending him the picture I took for E of my in the pink oxford. "Speechless" was the response to that.

"You're with friends. Call me when you're driving home."

"You better be naked....it'll be a while."

He never actually stopped texting, even though he was obviously out with friends. "I will be, and I supposed you'll be worth the wait."

"It will be worth it. Just get naked. You're hot...enjoy it."

And he's stepped up his texting. A couple, I wondered if these were really from J or from E. But they were from J. He was a little more forceful, and I told him I was digging this tougher J in control of me.

When he finally called, about 8:30, there was no small talk. I could actually hear him slapping the monkey. And what I love about the phone sex with him, he does all the talking. And he knows exactly what he wants to be doing, what he wants me to be doing. Until the point in the conversation when he said... "we're fucking in perfect rhythm, I'm kissing you so deeply, we've never experienced anything like this with anyone else we've been with."

I stopped what I was doing and looked at the phone. Did he really just say that? Seriously?! I didn't even know how to respond to that, and thankfully I didn't have to, he kept going. And then, perhaps more disturbing that the previous, "our bodies are becoming one."

WTF! I know I should have killed the mood right then and there and called him on the utter inappropriateness of that. Who would have thought that given this entire situation between the two of us for the past eight years that anything could be even more inappropriate than that? Well, he managed to do it not once, but twice.

When we were done with the dirty talk, he asked about the baby making and I filled him in on where I was in the process. He asked about my mood and how I was, related to the miscarriage. I glossed over the sadness, and told him about how being extra hormone-free had effected me last month.

"I could have bitten someone's head off for sex."

"Really? And..."

"Well, I have this guy who's been giving me blue balls for the past eight years, but he told me we would get together before the next cycle started, he would look at his schedule and call me in the next week."

"What happened?"

"You never called."

"Oh, that's me. Sorry, El."

"You've been giving me blue balls for the past eight years."

"You can't have blue balls."

"Oh no...I'm more like a guy when it comes to sex...can do it without mushiness and emotions, and baby if this ever happens, my hand will be on the back of your head pushing it down just like a guy."

He laughed, but I figured this was an opportune time. "I told you a long time ago that I have no expectations of you, just the ones you give me." I know I had delivered this message before, but it was via text. Who knows if he really heard it? But I could make sure now that he heard it.

"I know. You're right." And then he tried to change the subject. "Will you keep me posted after your next doctor appointment?"

"We're not done with that conversation."

"What are you thinking about?"

"Honestly? I'm wondering if this is ever going to happen, you and me, some afternoon."

"I don't know what to tell you EllieLincoln." (Whenever he says my full name, he says it as all one word.)

"You're the only one who can know." There was some silence and then back to the baby talk. I should have been firm, I should have gone in for the kill, I should have told him that until or unless he actually follows through, we can't do this anymore.

I should have....but I didn't. I don't know why it's so hard to cut the cord with him, but it is.

We talked some more about Baltimore stuff -- the Orioles, baseball, the museum. We talked more about the baby stuff -- he's so fascinated by it all.

And then he said something about the picture I sent him. "You looked so hot in it, sexy. I really liked the one you sent me last month too, but in that one you looked cute, almost vulnerable because your hair was wet, just out of the shower..."

"So did you show your friends at the bar, the hot redhead with the nice rack?"

"Oh no...that's all for me. And listen to you, nice rack..."

"Do you disagree?"

"It's better than nice."

I guess that's why it's so hard to cut the cord. Because he's good for my ego. Although Bubbles challenged me on that last night. "You just had a fucking ESPN radio star drive over an hour to meet you at a hotel room when he didn't even know you. J not only knows you, but you two have this amazing connection, explosive sexual attraction...and he can't get off his ass to meet you. Why do you put up with it? What is it going to take for you to say enough is enough?"

I didn't have an answer for her last night, and I really don't have an answer for you now. I just have to hope that someday soon enough will be enough.

Missing Follicles

I went this morning for a follicle check, and where there were two big ones on Monday, they were missing today. Or smaller. I didn't exactly get the full story, mostly because everyone was perplexed, and apparently had never seen anything like this.

My blood work indicates that I did not ovulate, so I don't have to worry about that, but it is still weird that they aren't there any more. The doctor's office told me to continue with my shots (my stomach looks like a pin cushion, with lots of little red dots where the injections have gone in) and another follicle check on Friday, and we'll see where we are then.

I'm trying not to stress about it, but it's hard. Just once, just once, I would like this to all go routine. I ended up calling my friend April at the end of the day, because I knew she would understand what I'm feeling without me even having to put it into words. She's going through a similar thing and it's just good to hear her voice sometimes.

I also had my home study with DSS tonight. I'm guessing I passed, but she warned me that she wanted me to be realistic and know that the likelihood of being able to adopt a baby (0-2 years) through the system were slim. I know that, but I can't ignore this as an option.

Tomorrow: J update. Sneak preview: I was weak. But I just explained it all to Bubbles on the phone, so I'll give the recap tomorrow.

Happy Opening Day!

Life begins on opening day. I'm a little nostalgic for Baltimore today. And I would have been there if I didn't have a doctor's appointment this morning. Baby making takes precedence, even over the Yankees.

I had a follicle check and they were huge after only four days on the meds. I guess that second stimulant has been working. I had six follicles all together -- two in the low teens (in mm) and the rest between 5 and 10mm (18-20 is mature). So I'm just about halfway there.

I'll continue on my same dosage and go again on Wednesday for more blood work and another ultrasound. At this rate, I could have retrieval at the end of the week or on my birthday next Monday.

I'll take it as a good sign.

~~~~

It is Opening Day, so this morning I texted all my baseball friends, including J and my (former) Yankee. I heard back almost immediately from my Yankee. I congratulated him on getting picked up by another team and being named the home opener starter later in the week.

I heard from J later in the morning: "Thanks, you too. I'm headed down there soon. Talk later?"

"Have fun. And sure, although make it a more reasonable hour next time or give me a heads up that you'll be calling."

"I absolutely will make it more reasonable next time."

Nothing earth-shattering, but I wasn't really looking for that. Just wanted to be a part of Opening Day by making sure I talked to, emailed or texted all my baseball friends in Baltimore.

~~~~

And finally....I made sure I was at the gym for the first pitch of the Yankees/Orioles game. Got on the treadmill, put my ear buds in, and turned on my iPod Shuffle. And the first song that came up was "Thank God I'm a Country Boy." Made me even more homesick for Baltimore baseball today.

And if you don't understand that reference...

Foster Care Class, Revisited

I finished week 5 of 11 this morning. It seems to be getting easier. Last week, I stayed after class and spoke with the social workers, sharing my feelings about not having sympathy for the birth parents. They didn't seem to mind, especially given that I want to adopt and won't have to work in partnership with the parents on reunifying the family.

So having had that conversation, going into class this morning was much easier. I even opened up to the class about it when it was appropriate in the conversation. My voice quivered, my eyes watered, but everyone seemed really supportive.

Some people have dropped out and I like the core group of people that we have left. My favorites -- Jason and Jason, a gay couple who are looking to do foster care but eventually want to adopt; Terry and Jennifer, another gay couple, who after my disclosure about my infertility struggles, shared that they had been trying to get pregnant as well and want to adopt; and Rebecca and Mark, a middle-aged couple with teenagers, who seem like they would be the "cool" parents.

I feel a new freedom about it, not worrying about the feelings I have towards the birth parents, worrying that this is a waste of everyone's time for me to be there, worrying about this and that. Today, I didn't worry, and I was back to myself, back to making comments and sharing, joining in, even volunteering for one of the activities.

And even if I don't need to have my baby this way -- the hormones have already bloated me up to a four-months-pregnant belly...I'll take it, it means they are working -- I'm learning good parenting skills, I being exposed to lots of things that I might not otherwise be exposed to, and learning is always a good thing.

I'm a Yankees Fan but....

this is fucking hysterical. And worth sharing...

And it starts....

I had a moment over the weekend (well, more than one) when I wondered if I could be pregnant. Sure, E and I used precautions most of the time, and I do have that little fertility issue, but stranger things have happened. So many times I heard stories about people who had trouble getting pregnant on their own, used IVF, and then had a second surprise pregnancy because they didn't know they should be using birth control.

And then I was reminded again of that brilliant movie He's Just Not that Into You. Sunday morning, I woke up to another reminder that I am the rule, not the exception. My bottom half was covered in blood.

Okay, so I was glad I didn't waste money on the HPT that I contemplated buying on my way home from church. I felt foolish for the "signs" that were pointing towards a miracle pregnancy. And I realized that while this would be the "easy" way to get pregnant, there would be nothing easy about carrying E's child and dealing with all that comes with having a child with a one-night stand. for the next 18 years, at least.

Without being graphic, I know now what a woman goes through with her first cycle after giving birth. As Bubbles put it, we want a happy, clean uterus. After the past three days and nights of gushing, there can't be much left in my uterus. It's all cleansing and healing and making itself ready for the another successful IVF and what will be (positive thinking) a successful pregnancy.

I did my blood work yesterday and had my baseline ultrasound this morning. All look good. I will start taking the Lupron and Gonal-F on Thursday. Additionally, they will also have me take menopur, another kind of gonadtropin to help turn my ovaries and eggs into jiffy pop.

It helps to start again. It feels like I'm actually doing something. That I have my plan, that I have something to do, that I can move forward. And if all goes as it has in the past, I should be ready for retrieval the week of my birthday.

Spring is a good time for making a life, for things to grow and bloom.

~~~~~~

I will say that with all this positive energy around me, I'm still feeling a little jealous, a little sad, about my friend Melissa. She just had her first ultrasound, and while I'm thrilled for her, I'm also reminded of that while she's at 14 weeks, I should be at 16 weeks.

I had stopped counting, stopped thinking about that pregnancy, until now. It would be hard to not think about it. We were two weeks apart. Hopefully it gets less hard, hopefully her pregnancy will get a little easier each week.

J on the Heels of E

I was so into thinking about E and our day together, that I forgot one of the best parts of the story. I got home from Pittsfield -- from driving seven hours, from spending an amazingly tiring three or four hours with E -- and practically passed out.

Around midnight, my cell phone beeped. (J doesn't get the four beeps anymore.) I looked at the phone. Text message from J. "hey" I closed the phone and rolled back over, falling right back asleep.

About four hours later, I woke up confused, did J call last night? I reached for my phone, and looked at my inbox. Sure enough, there it was. 12:04am. Closed it again, and went back to sleep.

Once I was at work, I emailed him. "Sorry I missed your text. How are you?"

"Good, just called to say hi."

"At midnight? I think you were calling for more than hi. You're traveling, I assume?"

"In Fort Lauderdale for a few days, going home today."

It was so nice to not even be tempted to call him back, to answer his text, to play his games. Of course, I'm not arrogant enough to think that he couldn't tempt me again. I know he could.

But I think knowing is half the battle.

At least, I hope it is.

From the "it could only happen to me" file...

....or I really just need to believe in myself more, and forget the assholes who don't think I'm worth it.

How to tell this story? I started emailing with E just after Christmas. It was sporadic, innocent, almost professional. He works at the World Wide Leader, and without sounding like a groupie, I'm a fan. He seemed somewhat interested so I pushed an email in mid-February to bordering on off-color. And he took the bait.

From that point on, we've been texting and chatting, sending the occasional naughty picture, and planning on meeting somewhere between here and Connecticut.

At first I freaked out that it wasn't really him. Maybe it was his intern using his email address. So I made him call me, so I could hear his voice. It was him.

As I've mentioned, he's a few rungs up the danger ladder from Chris. He's kinky and sexy, and pushed me out of my comfort zone in defining what I want from a man. And I was totally digging it.

Well, Monday was the day. I emailed Hope on Sunday and said, yes in fact I will be taking a sick day tomorrow. Please let our office assistant know. And I was on the road to Pittsfield, Massachusetts, by 6:30am.

I was a nervous wreck. Felt like I was going to puke most of the way there. When I finally got to the hotel, I took a shower and opened the bottle of wine that Bubbles encouraged me to bring. (Thanks girl!)

Sipping the wine, looking at the Adirondacks in the distance, and talking to Bubbles and Jill to keep me calm, to empower me, until the text came that read "im here"

Bubbles' parting words of wisdom...."You fucked a Yankee, this is just some guy on the radio." That's right, I am worthy.

And Jill...."Remember nothing is sexier than confidence."

Six weeks of texts and conversations telling me I'm sexy, gorgeous, that he wants to own me, that he wants to make me feel good. I just had to believe it, had to believe that not only did he think it was true, but that I knew it was true.

I heard the knock on the door, looked through the peephole (one last reassurance that it was him, and not an intern), and opened the door.

He didn't disappoint. As he told me he would....he didn't say hello, he didn't give me the chance to say hello. His hand was on the back of my neck, pulling me into him, his mouth on mine, and the door closed.

If you're interested in the full version, let me know, and I'll point you to my really dirty blog, but let's just say. The itch was scratched. I got exactly what I needed. He was amazing. He was funny. He thought I was a goddess.

And now....it's time to start making a baby. I should start my cycle in the next week or two.

Woodrow's Interview

Woodrow got interviewed by one of his blogger friends. In return, he gave some of his readers interview questions. And so here, his questions and my answers...


1. Describe the one that got away in five sentences or less.
He took me out of my comfort zone and made me realize I'm stronger and more confident than I thought. We could complete each other's sentences and were best friends. We had an undeniable physical attraction. He challenged me, and then babied me when I really needed to just be hugged.

2. What's your favorite springtime drink?
Margarita, on the rocks, with salt

3. What's one quality that you can't live without in a man?
Humor. I want dry, sarcastic, witty, goofy -- all in the same man. I want Scott Van Pelt humor. He's got to make me laugh, especially when I want to cry.

4. Oklahoma or Syracuse? ;)
That's a loaded question baby. Go 'Cuse!

5. Who are your world series picks for this year?
Yankees over Cubs, 6 games

46 Doesn't Mean Old-Age

If I'm 46, single and childless....I hope to god I'm kicking up my heels and keeping them in the air. I have a good friend who is in her mid-40s, single, no kids. And she lives like a nun. And complains about it.

Now I'm not saying she has to meet a stranger in a hotel in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, after talking to him mostly via text, for an afternoon of mind-blowing sex. I'm not saying that at all. But she needs to put herself out there. And she needs to take chances.

She has been pining over the same man from work for years, but she doesn't do anything about it. They go out for happy hour in a group setting -- a group that sits at a table, rather than standing around the high-tops or at the bar, but that's going to get me off on a whole other tangent. The group setting and where they sit doesn't allow for mingling. It relies on sheer luck for her to be near him.

At the last happy hour, she ended up going to Starbucks with him for coffee. And they talked for several hours. My questions for her....did he walk you to your car? Did he kiss you? Did you kiss him?

Her answers....yes, no and oh my god no. You're 46. You're both single. Get over it. And so while I can understand insecurities and self-confidence issues, I also understand that life is short.

Have fun.

Live it up.

And next time, lean in for the kiss. Nine times out of 10, if you lean in, he'll go in for the kill and it'll still be him kissing you.

Forget What I Said a Few Days Ago

E is a very viable option -- and just what I needed.

More later.

My letters

Even though I'm wavering on the whole adoption through foster care thing, I'm still moving forward with my assignments. This week, in addition to packets and packets of paperwork, I had to write one letter to the child and one to the parents.

Because I want an infant or toddler, and because I only want to adopt, I wrote my letters in that vein.

To my baby,

I’ve been waiting for you almost my whole life. I knew I was always meant to be a mom, and while I always thought I would go the traditional route – marriage and pregnancy – I’m thrilled to be your mom, and I know that this is the way it was supposed to be. There will be a day that I will actually forget that I didn’t carry you and that we’re not biologically related.

The extended family you are coming into is large and loving. You will have aunts and uncles all over the United States. Most are in the Syracuse area, but you also have an aunt and uncle in San Diego, and uncle, aunt and two cousins in Anchorage, and an uncle and aunt (who will also be your god-parents) and cousin in Richmond. They are just as excited about me getting to be your mom as they about you being my baby.

I am my parents’ baby; and even though I’m in my late 30s, I will always be their baby. They are thrilled with the idea of their baby having a baby. You will be so special to them for that reason, and for many that you will establish on your own as you create a bond and relationship with them.

All the love and attention I have showered on my eight nieces and nephews and two great-nephews will go to you, ten-fold. I hope you will love books and baseball as much as I do. I will teach by example how to be kind and considerate, strong and confident.

I can’t wait for us to start our life together.


~~~~~~~

And to the parents:

No matter the circumstance that brought you to this decision, you are brave and courageous to give your child this gift. I’ve struggled for years with fertility and I can’t even imagine the heartache you must be experiencing, but know that your baby is going to a home that loves him, wants him, and has been waiting for him.

I purposely put off having children this long – not because I was trying to establish a career or thought there would always be time – but because I wanted to make sure that I was emotionally, physically and financially ready for this. My decision to put it off may have cost me the opportunity to carry a child, but it has made me realize with all my heart that this is what I want. Never have I wavered in my decision to be a single mother. Never did I doubt this was the right path for me.

Your child will be raised as my own. My family will love this child as if I had carried him. And every year, around his birthday, we’ll talk about you and how brave you were. We’ll talk about how you’re no doubt thinking of him, and we’ll pray that you have everything you need. That you are loved and secure, that you don’t regret your decision.

I can’t thank you enough for allowing me the privilege to raise your child, the opportunity to love your child.

Mind Clutter

This will probably be long and rambling, with lots of things. My mind is racing lately, and for the first time in several weeks, my old friend insomnia visited last night. I'm hoping if I can get this all out here, it won't be on my mind later and I will actually be able to sleep.

Baby-Making Update
I think I'm in the middle of a normal cycle. I had awful ovulation pain yesterday, all the way through to my back. And today, I could have killed for chocolate. I will take all of that as a good sign, and after looking at the calendar and counting, all signs are pointing for my lady times to start about April 1, and the things I've been feeling the past few days are all consistent with where I should be in the month.

Which leads me to the other issue I'm having. For the first time in 18 months, I have no additional hormones in my body. And as much as I could have killed for chocolate today, kick it up a notch, and that's the way I'm feeling about sex. I need it. So bad, that I'm trying to figure out if I can't get it locally, who can I call and how far is too far to drive for a hook-up?

J is useless. Charlie is in Arizona until the weekend before Opening Day. I don't think E is a viable option. Chris is in California, though he may be home next week. I texted him last night, still waiting to hear from him. I'll keep you posted on the developments.

The Return of the PR Goddess
I've not said anything about the whole A-Rod and steroids thing, mostly because I don't think most of my readers are sports fans. But on the off chance that Woodrow is reading me, or some of you quieter folks will know what I'm talking about, or just for Bubbles who absolutely will know what I'm talking about, indulge me for a moment. I can't let this new Details magazine thing go by without saying something.

Supposedly he is paying some huge PR firm millions of dollars to handle his image. They were by his side for the Peter Gammons interview, they were prepping him for his press conference his first day at spring training, and who knows where they were when he thought it was a good idea to pose for these pictures and sit down for this interview.

When I was in Baltimore, I handled a few big public relations situations. Nothing to the magnitude of the A-Rod situation but to name a few -- a murder on the steps of the museum at 4am, calling out Barry Bonds to the national media for comments he made about Babe Ruth, executing a flawless Baltimore Colts reunion a month after Johnny Unitas died and not having it turn into the sequel of his funeral.

And so with that experience in mind, here is my quick list of advice for Alex Rodriguez:

* Stop doing interviews, stop posing for pictures. Your job over the next 12 weeks is to rehab your hip. In the process, we may be able to rehab your image.
* Stop dating publicly. Be more discreet in your public life. You can get laid in the privacy of your own home. No one needs to see you with bimbos at the bar or Madonna at the Kaballah Center.
* Spend quality time with your daughters. Take the older one to school. Pick her up. Read to both of them. You don't need cameras around for that. This is about you being a good father.
* Set up visits with groups at Boys & Girls Clubs, high school teams that are susceptible to steroid and drug use. Talk to them, honestly, about why you did what you did, what you hoped to gain and why, in retrospect it was a horrible idea. Don't give them cliqued lines. Don't say what you think people want to hear. Again, no cameras. This is about doing the right thing.
* Work with the Taylor Hooton Foundation as you promised you would in your press conference. Give money, make appearances that will benefit the foundation, create PSAs. Don't put out press releases about you doing this. This is about you being a good person.
* Reach out to your teammates, and don't expect anything in return. Think more about the team and less about your image, your numbers, your stats and yourself.
* When you return to the team in May or June, be humble. Be thankful for where you are and the talent you have. Thank your teammates for a good game pitched, for the key hit in the 7th inning.
* And when it is time to face the media, think before you speak. Think about what you want to say, and say it in 10 words, not 50.

Everyone's Pregnant
Well, not everyone. It just feels like it. And really, the only one that bothers me, is my niece.

My friend Melissa is pregnant. I've known since she took her HPT, because at that point, I was pregnant too. I was two weeks ahead of her. We joked about all the work that would pile up with both of us out on maternity leave at the same time. And yet, even though we won't be pregnant together, I'm so happy for her. Because she's been supportive, because she's been sensitive, and because I know she wants this for me as much as I do.

My friend Chris's wife is pregnant. And I'll be helping to plan the baby shower we have at work for him. He doesn't know what I'm doing, but if he did, he would be supportive and sensitive. Because he would let me know he's pulling for me.

My friend Lindsey is pregnant. I saw her on Sunday at the mall. And she told me, straight out. "I'm pregnant, and I've been wondering how to tell you and I just figured that I would just say it." And then she started to cry and she hugged me, and I cried. "I'm happy for you, I really am." And she knew I was. And she said she can't wait to be happy for me, because I deserve it.

And then there is Erica. My niece, whose baby shower next month, I won't be going to. Who called me the day after Thanksgiving to tell me she was pregnant, amazingly without even trying, and I've never even congratulated her. Not by phone, mail or email. And that's not me. I still send cards for no reason. I send cards for birthdays and as thank you notes. For new homes and new jobs, and especially for new babies.

But this time I couldn't, for all the reasons that I've spelled out in the past. And what amazes me is that it hasn't occurred to her that I haven't congratulated her. (My family works in such a way that I would have found out about it, I would have heard.) And the thing is, I really am happy for her. I'm excited for her to have this baby. I'm not happy about the way she told me, and at this point, I can't forgive that.

So maybe I'm bitter. Maybe I'm being overly-sensitive, but given that I'll be planning or attending at least three baby showers in the next six months and will be genuinely happy for the guests of honor, I don't think I am. I think what I'm doing is taking care of myself, and not putting myself in situations that I don't need to be in. What I need to work on is letting go of my anger towards Erica. And I will, but my emotions are still too raw.

Theories

Over the past couple of weeks, both Nancy and Hope have been saying that there's something about me lately, something they can't put their finger on, an inner glow, a different kind of outward beauty. I do my best not to roll my eyes, and try to say thank you.

But sometimes I see it too. When I look in the mirror I see something different. Something I can't put my finger on. I'm not pregnant, and I haven't had sex in six months, so the glow can't be attributed to either of the usual suspects.

And then I think it clicked. Even though I've said this in the past, this is the first time I actually believe it. I'm not looking for a relationship. I just want to have fun, I want to work on the baby thing, and I am not looking for a relationship. At all.

And because of that, I wonder if the inner glow is more like inner peace. If the outward beauty is more like outward confidence.

i wish I felt that way about some of the bad boys I keep in my life. Which of course is all the reason to move on without them. But even with inner peace, even with outward confidence...I just can't.

Chris is familiar. J is exciting. E is downright dangerous.

I have however made some positive steps. Emailed a friend from Baltimore -- a single friend, who I flirted with and who flirted back at the Bash -- and asked if he was coming to Cooperstown anytime soon, to let me know. Working on getting to know one of the cops in public safety.

And so hopefully between Charlie and the cop, Chris and J and E will fade into the background, until all three of them are where Chris was a month ago. In a neat little box, carefully put away from my day-to-day life.

And the Rest of the Week

My mother is driving me crazy. I haven't uttered those words in a while. She called me Wednesday, for her usual every-few-days check-in.

Then she called me Thursday. I ignored the call. I was drying my hair, after all. Then she called again, about 8:45. What if something was wrong? Well she would have called my cell, I reasoned with myself, but answered it anyway.

"I meant to ask you, what excuse did you give for not going to Erica's shower?"

"I didn't. I told Angie I wouldn't be there, but would send my gift with you."

"Oh....well, what should I tell them if they ask why you're not there?"

"Tell them the truth, tell them it's too hard for me."

"oh, okay...." and then because my voice was betraying my impatience with her. "Is everything okay? You sound stressed."

"It's been a really rough week at work, and I'm tired."

"Okay."

And then she called my sister-in-law in Virginia, who was smarter than me and didn't answer the phone. She called Debbie the next day at work. And again, Debbie, being smarter than me in these matters, let it go to voice mail. She left a message, almost in tears, that she was worried about me.

So Debbie -- again.....smart -- sent my mom an email:

I got your voice mail today. Unfortunately, I'm so slammed today at work. I'm not worried about Ellie. She has to have time and room to grieve over her loss and all the ups and downs she's been through this past year and a half. Some days are better then others for her. I believe she is actually doing very well. She is handling this the way she needs to. We email and talk all the time. She has some wonderful friends/coworkers that are a great support for her as well.

I know this shower thing with Erica has been weighing on her mind and she has handled it the best way she can. She doesn't owe anyone an explanation on her feelings. I know it's hard but we need to respect her feelings and accept how she handles it.

I think the best thing to do is to let her talk when she needs to and give her some breathing room when she needs that too. It can be tricky to determine when she needs what.

We have a pretty busy weekend ahead - I'll try to give you a call. Try not to worry to much about her.

I think that did the trick. I haven't heard from my mother in two days. And I know she's worried about me, but besides everything that is going on with me baby-related, I also work at a place where there will be lay-offs this spring, at a place where no matter how good I am at my job, the economy might prevent me from being as effective as I need to be. Got a few things on my mind, Fran. Relax, I'm not suicidal.

I had class #2 of foster care this morning. I still have the same feelings. I just don't know if this is for me. I need to talk to the social workers that run the class. I don't want to quit, I don't want to give up, but is it a waste of my time and theirs for me to be there?

I just don't know. I think I would feel better about it all if I were moving ahead with the doctor stuff. Only a few more weeks. Patience is a virtue, after all.

The Week That Was -- at the Halfway Point

I survived Monday.

Tuesday....I talked to Chris again. I know just a week ago I told Lucia that he was in a good place in my life, that he was firmly in the past, just friends, in a nice little contained area that was healthy. And I still believe that for the most part. She might not agree with me, but I do believe it. He's familiar. He's comfortable. And I know where things stand. And so if he makes me feel good, if he's a good distraction to keep my mind from J or E, well, then what's the harm?

E? Who's E, you're wondering? I haven't really mentioned him, because I wasn't sure where it was leading. E is brilliant and hot and way into sports. Friend of a friend, and we've been chatting for the past three weeks, mostly via text (what is it with guys and texting -- can't we please have a real conversation).

There were tentative plans to meet on Friday in Albany (the half-way point between here and Bristol, CT). And he was a nice distraction from the fertility shit and the waiting and the being in limbo and the boys who are bad for me. And then, that's really all it turned out to be. Bummed? A little, but probably for the best. Friend of a friend or not, still kind of a stranger.

Wednesday...it's spring break so my usual gym is closed, and the fitness center has stupid hours. But I trudged across campus today to be at the gym when it opened at 11am. I ran/walked two miles in under 26 minutes, improving my average time from last week (three miles in 39:09). It felt good, and it brought perspective and a clear head. This morning I had been contemplating texting E one more time, by the time I got out of the shower, I knew I wouldn't. What's the point?

This afternoon, I talked to Bubbles, who only reinforced that "just walk away" notion. From E and J. I agreed that I wouldn't reach out to either, but for whatever reason, I'm not done with J yet.

Ironically, J texted me this afternoon. "I know you hate me. The picture from Ryan was really cute. Thanks for sending it."

See, he's not a complete idiot. "I don't hate you, not completely so you don't have to be afraid to call me."

"What's going on with the doctor stuff?"

"Can't start another cycle until next month, so technically I guess your window is still open if I thought you would actually follow thru."

"Why not til next month?"

"Hormone levels, etc. probably won't be able to start until April 1-ish."

"Sorry. You coming down here anytime soon?"

"Nope, but the plan was to meet halfway."

"What's halfway?"

And so it went. Will it actually happen? Who knows? I'm not holding my breath. This actually reminds me of a few months in Baltimore when I actually juggled BB and Chris, one would piss me off and I'd go running to the other. Never wanting an actual relationship with either one, just having physical needs met. And so it goes....Chris and J. And actually both are familiar, but I can really only count on one of them for now.

The good thing that came out of the conversation with him, though. At one point he said he needed me to understand that it's not that easy for him to get away. My response? "I understand, I really do. And I'm not trying to be difficult. I told you a while ago that I have no expectations, but you make promises and never follow thru, that's what pisses me off, that's what leads to my expecting more of you."

"You're right and I'm sorry. I'll try to be better about that."

So I said what I need to. And I feel better. No matter what happens between us -- even if nothing happens between us -- he's still my friend. And while everyone in my life might think I'm an idiot for it, I don't want to lose that.

One Last Desperate Attempt

I mailed a thank you picture that my nephew drew for J, for getting Andrew a baseball for his collection. Bubbles said I should have just mailed it to the athlete, not J. I broke down and mailed it to J.

And in other news, I talked to Chris the other night for about an hour. I'll leave it at that.

And finally, the spotting I had over the weekend was just that. Who knows if it was my period or not, but the doctor's office said it needs to be the real deal. So, if it was, and they kind of think that's all I'm getting this month, I need to wait for my next one.

I hate Mondays.

Plan C

Plan A....get pregnant and have a baby

Plan B....international adoption and get a baby

Plan C...adoption through foster care and get a baby

So this morning, I started foster care class. It'll be three hours every Saturday morning, for 11 weeks. And when I left, I felt deflated. Most of the people there are there to be foster care parents, not "foster to adopt."

They talked about helping children transition back to their families, about helping families become whole again. They showed a video of interviews with kids who had been in foster care for various lengths of time, and of their parents.

And all I could think about was I don't want to do that. I don't want to want to do that. I don't want to help someone get theirs kids back.

Maybe because I've been struggling for so long to try to get pregnant, maybe because my emotions about it all are so raw. But I don't want to help someone get their kids back when they fucked up in the first place and had to have them taken away.

I know there are people out there who can do that, and thank god there are, but I can't be one of them. And I know that won't change, but I'm hoping that I will be able to get rid of some of the bitterness.

My Week Ended Better Than it Started

Despite the start of a cold (or allergies), I managed to work out every night this week, including kick ass workouts last night and tonight. I ran/walked three miles in 42 minutes last night, 39 tonight. The running, the sweating, the sucking oxygen were all exactly what I needed to get me out of this J funk.

And I saw Lucia on Wednesday night, for a little head shrinkage. She's great. She manages to make everything seem so simple and in a way that I should have realized it. When I gave her the fertility update (I hadn't seen her in about eight months), I told her basically when I was finally pregnant it made sense. This cruel joke that the universe has been playing on me, that I'm almost 40, single, childless, struggling to get pregnant -- it all suddenly didn't matter, it made sense, because I was pregnant. And then I wasn't. And now life and the universe don't make sense anymore. And her reply, "oh, okay, so you're going to take on the whole universe. I see."

Right, exactly. I need to be focused me and the things I can control. And then I need to focus on how to react to what I can't control.

And then I told her about J, the whole saga....ignoring his texts while I was pregnant, feeling strong keeping it platonic, and then weakness. Baltimore, the ultimatum, the photos from Taughannock Falls. And in her usual dry way, she reminded me what a master manipulator he is. And I was finally ready to close that chapter. I just hope I can stay strong months down the road when I forget how much this feeling sucks.

And so faithful readers, fear not....Ellie is on the mend. Physically...stronger than I've been in months. Emotionally...getting stronger every day.

I know what I need to focus on, I know what's important and what's not worth my effort, and I hope that by the time March rolls around next year, I'll be writing under my real name, posting pictures of my little bambino or bambina.

7 Apparently Means Negative

I had blood work today, for the 4th Monday in a row. My hCG levels were 7, and according to Becky, the nurse at the fertility guru's office, that means I'm back to negative levels. She told me to call when I get my period and we'll start the meds, the injections, schedule a baseline ultrasound, etc.

"And if you don't get it by the end of the month, call us." THE END OF THE MONTH?!! I thought I would be getting it this week. "You might. But because it took so long for your levels to come down, your body might take a little longer to regulate itself."

Great....just one more thing that my body can't do right. Needless to say, it was a frustrating afternoon. I just want to get this thing started, move away from the bad boys, focus on making babies. But who knows when that will start?

So....not only did I text J last night, to thank him for the baseball that arrived on Saturday and tell him he owed me a phone call this week (I know, I'm weak), but when I saw him online on FB today, I instant messaged him. I'm cringing, actually cringing while I type this, just so you know.

I also emailed Chris, but haven't heard back from him. Hmmmm...what other destructive behavior can I do? Call BB? I thought about it, long and hard, but he's in Baltimore. I'm going to go with the fact that he misses me and he thinks about me, and leave it at that.

I also found out this weekend that my niece's baby shower (the niece of the stupid wedding from last summer, the niece who announced she was pregnant by telling me she wasn't trying, it wasn't planned, but wasn't it crazy that she's pregnant) is Easter/my birthday weekend.

I'd love to plan a trip to Baltimore, but it's Easter, and everyone will be doing the holiday thing. Just because I don't care about spending the holiday with my family doesn't mean that others don't want to. So even though there is no way in hell I'm going to the shower, I need to figure out something to do because while I feel perfectly justified in skipping it and just sending a present with my mom, I don't feel like dealing with the rest of the family judging why I'm not going.

Can you tell it's been a really sucky Monday?

Taughannock Falls

I'm in high school and the boy I've been fooling around with walks by my home room class, even though his is on the other side of the school, with his arm around another girl. Just to show me how cool he is. Just to show me how things are. Just to show me my place.

Oh wait....that's not it. I'm not in high school. I'm an adult. I'm in my late 30s. Or so I thought.

This morning I logged into Facebook to see that J had updated pictures. Of him and his wife and dog. Perfectly acceptable, I've seen pictures of both of them before. And then I noticed the background. Of a waterfall. Of this waterfall.



My waterfall. Twenty minutes from my house. I sat and stared in disbelief. The pictures were from the summer, but he never mentioned that he was here. Even after the fact.

Why post them now? Perhaps a little tete-a-tete to my FB status the other day. "Ellie is reminded that if he wanted it to happen, he would make it happen."

This from the man, who five years ago, when he was telling me about his upcoming trip to Italy with his wife, said he didn't know if he could do the whole Bridge of Sighs at sunset thing because I had just told him that was my romantic dream ever since I saw the movie "A little Romance" when I was 9.

And I pressed him on that, why not. And he took my hand and said, because I'd be thinking about you.

I don't even know what to feel, what I'm feeling. Bubbles told me I have one week to delete all contact information from my phone. "Pretend he's dead, oh didn't you hear, there was a horrible accident on 695 today."

I know that's the right thing to do. But I'm not ready for that. For whatever reason, I'm not ready to let him go. I know I just need to move on.

Bubbles Puts it All in Perspective

"How in god's name can you feel like you are unwanted. You fucked a Yankee!!! He came to the bar....he showed up. He wanted to see you and he made it happen!
UM HELLO...What do you and and MA freakin DONNA have in common!! Fucking Yankees!!!"

And regarding J, she reminded me of yet another lesson we learned when we saw He's Just Not That Into You. "If he wanted to see you, he would make it happen. He would figure the work thing out. If he really wanted this to happen, he would. It's not going to happen."

So harsh, but so true.

Two Minutes Walking...

two minutes running. I did this for 45 minutes tonight. I was running off frustration, and sadness, and even a little confusion. So remember when I said I was healing? Yea, maybe not 100%. But I'll back up.

For months and months, it's been about nothing but trying to get pregnant. And then I was, and then I wasn't. And when I wasn't, it was about healing and waiting. But there wasn't much to focus on. And then there were some distractions of the male variety.

One who I said I would be kicking to the curb (or trying to, at least -- yea it didn't work) and one completely new one. How fun! And just as quickly as I got sucked in with both of them -- all long distance -- it ended. They got bored? They had other commitments? Who knows....all I know is I felt like I got punched in the stomach. Twice.

E (the new one) -- whatever. It was a fun distraction. No feelings, no expectations, though if it ever actually panned out, wow! But J. I know, I know. J.

J of Baltimore texted me last week and reeled me back in. And I felt like I was in the power position. I really did. How silly of me. I told him that I wanted one night, no drama, no distractions, no other commitments or client meetings. One night. Falling asleep and waking up. And he agreed, he would make it happen.

When we talked later that same night, I told him now was the perfect time. No injections, no pills, no hormones, no doctor appointments. My body, which has been betraying me for all these months and months, I just wanted to use it for something I knew it could do. I wanted to feel like a woman, I wanted to feel like a wanted woman.

I wasn't quite that dramatic with him, but he got it. I thought. I went in on Monday for my blood work. Last week it had dropped more than 300 points to 71, so logic and math would dictate that I should be back to 0 this week. Apparently my body can't even do logic and math. My hCG level was still up -- 19.

So another week of waiting. Another week of not knowing. Another week of limbo. But...I had a distraction. I had something to look forward to. I texted him the results and told him we had about a three-week window to try to get together.

And the text I got back was very formal (for us) and not very warm. "Sorry Linc (he calls me by my last name, sometimes), I'm slammed at work for the next couple of weeks. I'll mail the baseball to you." (He had gotten a baseball for my nephew.)

I ignored him. I had a friend over for dinner, we were finishing off a bottle of wine, my low tolerance had me completely buzzed. He texted again, and we went back and forth. I told him I wanted to talk to him. He said tomorrow.

I cried myself to sleep, mostly from the wine, I'm sure. But also because I got distracted. I lost focus. I shouldn't let boys get to me this way. Even boys who I have had an undeniable mutual physical attraction with for almost 10 years. Even those boys. And especially boys that I'm not supposed to have feelings for.

And unfortunately, J falls into both of those categories.

And so tonight at the gym. I started walking for four minutes, running for two. And I replayed the past week in my head, reread the texts and e-mail exchanges, recalled the phone conversations, and just wanted to run. Suddenly, four minutes was too long of a wait to run again. And after about 15 minutes of that four-two, I started running after two minutes of walking. And then I started running after one minute of walking.

Anything to tire me out. Anything to help me sleep tonight and not think about the boys in my life and why I let them get to me like this.

You Never Forget Your First

Ironically on the same day that I ate a piece of Dove chocolate with the wrapper message "remember all your firsts," I found one of my firsts on facebook. Jamie was my first older man, among other firsts.

I was working at a TV station is Rochester as the receptionist, he was a client. This was in a world where voice mail for everyone wasn't commonplace. They talked to me, if who they needed wasn't there, they talked to me some more and I took a message, wrote it on my pink pad, and schmoozed with them.

I was good at my job. I recognized all their voices, knew who their AE was, could make small talk. Jamie was flirtatious. And in his early 30s. To someone right out of college, he was more than exciting.

We had a three or four-month fling. And I can't even remember how or why it ended. Maybe he moved away? Maybe I met someone else? I don't remember.

I remember our first kiss....on the roof of the TV station.

I remember the first late night in his office...I'll leave it at that.

And I remember the smell of his cologne...Safari by Ralph Lauren (it was the early '90s after all).

And yesterday, there he was the friend of someone who had just friended me. I clicked "Add as Friend" and added the message "Hi, remember me?"

It was sweet that he responded, "how could I forget?"

We've played the catch-up game, back and forth with a few emails, and now that he's back in Rochester (he had moved to Florida, and that's why things ended?), he would take a ride to Ithaca sometime soon and buy me a drink.

It would be nice to see him. As an adult. Because I wasn't when we were together. Not really. I was 22 or 23, at best, playing an adult game of a relationship. I had so much ahead of me. So much living to do, so much exploring to do, so much to experience.

And looking back now, I'm so glad that I didn't take what we had seriously. That I just had fun with it. We were in such different places, that it would have been ridiculous to start anything more.

He had already been through his 20s -- and all that that brings -- it was still ahead of me like a long and mysterious path. My 20s, and hallelujah, my early 30s, when I really started to experience and explore and have fun.

And so now, here we are 15 years later, and it will be so nice to see where that long and mysterious path has brought each of us, and how it has brought us back into each other's lives.

I'm Back

and I'm healing. I had the best workout at the gym tonight. I started doing one-minute sprints after four minutes of walking -- I did that for 20 minutes and then just started running during the chorus of the song on my iPod.

Shorter running times, but more frequent. It was great. I told Adam to remind me of this night. The next time I'm not feeling it, I want to remember this runner's high. I feel great.

The Definition of Insanity

"Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result."

Yea...that's me. Leaving it at that for now.

He's Just Not That Into You

Last week, while I was in Baltimore, Bubbles and I went to see "He's Just Not That Into You." And it was as if someone followed us around and wrote down scenes from our life.

Seriously.

The scenes between Scarlett Johansson and Bradley Cooper (who is married to Jenifer Connelly) were especially weird for me to watch. From the first innocent meeting between the soon-to-be femme fatale and the married guy, it was me and J. The innocent flirting. She called him. He freaked out. And then he thought about, and he called her back a week later. Even the conversations, the escalation in flirtation were eerily familiar.

We laughed, we pointed, we editorialized. We covered our mouths in horror and fascination as it played out before us. And then I said, "oh my god, I'm Scarlett Johansson."

From the very first scene on the playground, when the mother tells her daughter that the little boy was mean to her because he liked her -- who hasn't heard that before? Even now, in our 30s, we hear it. We think it. We still figure they're playing that game, so we have to, too.

And we keep that message going. The little boy on the playground who pulled our pigtails because he liked us, is now all grown up, and he doesn't call because he likes us.

We analyze -- over-analyze -- every small touch, every text message, every word. We analyze what time of day he called, how many days between texts.

We think about every happily ever after story we've heard.

"When I met him, he was happily married, but now look. He left her. He's divorced and now we're together and it's great."

"She pushed back and told him that if he couldn't make a commitment, she would leave. And the next day, he proposed."

"He didn't call, but I thought, why does he have to call, so I called him after the day, that night. And we've been married five years."

When really, what we should be telling ourselves, is that these happily ever after stories are urban legends. Fairy tales to give us hope. To make us more neurotic. When really, what we should be doing...we should....what should we do? Someone tell me, because I sure as hell don't know.

I'm still clinging to the he left his wife because he decided he couldn't live without me legend. (Not entirely, but for the sake of this, we'll say that's the case.)

I've heard the urban legends. I've told a few, I'm sure. And if I stopped to think about it, I would actually believe that it was more than a friend of a friend's cousin, that I had direct knowledge of the happily ever after relationship.

The movie laid it all out there. "No matter what he says to make you feel bad about it, don't fall for it. You just got dumped." "You are the rule, not the exception." And of course, the title of the movie.

For the majority of this two hour and nine minute movie, it was the self-help book every single girl needs to read, the tough-love therapist every single girl needs to listen to, the older, wiser sister we need to go to for advice.

It was telling us to stop being foolish, to have some self-respect, to stop thinking about the white knight coming in on his horse. To date, to move on if he doesn't call, to date some more.

And then it came crashing down. As only Hollywood could do....in the last 10 minutes, they forgot their own core message, they forgot what they were peddling, and tied up every relationship with a neat little bow. Happily every after.

And so if you go see this movie, get up and leave after Jennifer Aniston tells Ben Affleck that it's okay if they don't get married, she just doesn't want to lose him. Right there. Leave. Out of the theater. Don't look back.

Because after telling us for two hours that we are the rule, not the exception, this movie shows us that Jennifer Anniston is the exception, not the rule. Giving us hope on that urban legend that you can give him an ultimatum, and even if the very core of his being is against marriage, he'll give in.

At least Scarlett Johansson doesn't end up with Bradley Cooper, or I might be packing up and moving to Baltimore.

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"

393

Wow....three nights in a row. I'm trying to make up for all my time away. This will just be a quick update to my doctor appointment the other day. I drove up to Syracuse on Monday morning for my follow-up to the D&C.

They took some blood and did an ultrasound. Still some fluid in my uterus, so maybe a little more spotting this week, but it all looked like it was healing the way it was supposed.

The tech told me that as long as my hCG levels were back to negative (showing that all the pregnancy hormones were out of my system), I could try again with my next cycle, if I was ready. Oh I'm ready.

My blood came back that afternoon, and my hCG levels were 393 (they had been over 31,500 on January 20). I will go back for more blood work on Monday (I can do it at the hospital lab here, I won't have to go to Syracuse) to see what my levels are. At that point, I'm not sure if they will put me on the pill for a month to regulate my cycle or just wait.

They also gave me more medicine (all injectables -- yeah!) to help support a pregnancy. So in addition to the baby aspirin I was taking to prevent miscarriage, I will also be injecting a blood thinner and the progesterone in oil (the big-ass needle). I dropped off six prescriptions yesterday -- four of them for syringes.

It felt good to be almost back on track, but I still have my moments. I went back to the gym last night. Did 45 minutes on the treadmill and felt great. Tonight, barely 30 minutes and then I cried on the way home. And I know that I'm using food as a comfort, and that it needs to stop, because it's not making me feel better. I'm going to give myself through the weekend, then hopefully try to get back to normal with that too.

Weekend Update: J

I knew that J wasn't going to be at the museum event, he had another event for one of his clients. But he started texting me once the Bash started, asking if we could meet for a drink after both events.

I told him to meet me at Pickles, that's where we were all going. "Can't do that place. Meet me now at the Marriott on Eutaw."

"I'm not walking four blocks alone. Come pick me up."

"Sorry can't do that place."

"Come get me at the museum."

"OK...leaving now."

And then he texted me almost immediately. "Gotta have a drink with the staff. give me 20?"

"Fine."

My event was over, my friends were all headed to Pickles, so that's where I went. A block from the ballpark and museum. I was drinking and talking, meeting Dwayne, flirting with Dwayne, and then another text.

"Where are you?"

"Pickles. The Bash is over."

"I'm not going in there." That should have been my first red flag. You're not coming in because you don't people to see us together?

"I can meet you out front."

"K....half hour."

And then I left with Dwayne. He texted me that he was out front and I left Dwayne's and walked the block back to Pickles. And then I realized I had no purse. I got to Pickles and called J, rather than text. "I have to run and check in with my friend. Be right there."

And so I went in, realized Tim didn't have my purse, checked the bathroom, asked the bartender, and then went back outside. No J. No J's car. I called him and it went right to voice mail.

I had bigger things to worry about and couldn't deal with his ego. But as I was sober the next day, I did start to worry. So when I got to Bubbles, I texted him: "sorry about last night. I thought my purse was stolen and totally freaked out. Sorry my crisis impacted us getting together."

Nothing. About 40 minutes later, I texted him again. "Wow you must be really pissed at me."

"Why didn't you just tell me that instead of jerking me around?"

So yea, I guess I bruised his ego. Time for damage control, although I question why I let him made me feel this way. "I'm sorry. I was panicking, I was drunk. And I think you know me better than that...I wouldn't jerk you around."

Bubbles and I left for dinner, and my mood was definitely effected by not hearing back from him, but I said what I could, and I had to let him cool off. After dinner, waiting for the movie to start, the familiar beep beep beep beep of my cell phone, signally a text from him.

"Hey, I can't meet you for drinks tonight, but what time are you leaving tomorrow? time for coffee in the morning?"

We went back and forth, decided on coffee at 10:30, he would text me in the morning with details, and then some teasing back and forth.

When I woke up Sunday, I just wanted to get on the road. Why didn't I think this through better. I had a five-hour drive ahead of me. But I waited it out. I watched TV with Bubbles, took a shower, and about 9:30 broke down and texted him "are we still on?"

And then....nothing. Son of a bitch. Just like the time I sat in a bar in Mt. Washington, when I still lived in Baltimore, for an hour waiting on him. I finally called him and he said he was sorry, he couldn't make it, he got rear-ended.

Just like the time I sat in my car, reading a book in front of a restaurant downtown, after I had moved back to NY, was on my way to Richmond and was supposed to have lunch with him. He didn't answer his cell and when I finally called the office and got his assistant, I was told he left for an appointment. So I figured it was me. I waited for another 45 minutes (yes, I'm stupid). And then I left. The next week, he told me some bullshit story about his dog getting sick.

Just like the time we were going to have breakfast, again after I was in NY and on my way to Richmond. He texted me 10 minutes before we were supposed to meet to tell me he had a client meeting.

There are at least three or four other incidents in the eight years we've known each other. And each time, I get a little pissed, but I tease him more than act angry. It's part of my "everyone has to like me, don't make waves" complex, I'm sure. Lucia would have a field day with this.

And so, Sunday it was 10:00, and then 10:05. And finally at 10:10, I looked at Bubbles and said, "give me a hug, I'm leaving."

I drove north, I could have been on the road two hours earlier, but I stupidly thought I owed him from my thoughtlessness of Friday night. I watched the clock as much as I watched my speed....10:30.....10:45....11:00....and then finally at 11:20, four beeps.

"I suck...too many martinis last night. I'm just starting to move. Next time we'll get it right and neither one of us will screw it up."

I was pissed, but laughed, because it is so typical J. I couldn't text, as I was driving about 80mph on 83 North, less than 10 minutes from Harrisburg. So I called. It rang twice and then he must have pushed me to voice mail. Yes, let's not answer my phone call in front of the wife.

"Hey, it's a good thing you're so predictable. I've been on the road for an hour. And yes, neither of us will screw it up next time, but you have a lot more screw-ups to make up for than I do. Talk to you later."

And that's my J story from the weekend. I'd like to say that I'm completely done. But there is part of me that wants to make sure we're okay, that he's not mad. And I want to explain to him about Friday night. I didn't get that drunk just for the hell of it, and yea, it might be a little cheap to use my miscarriage as a sympathy factor, but any other weekend, I would not have had that much to drink, I would not have been that drunk.

So go ahead...tell me I'm a door mat, tell me I'm stupid for letting this idiot get to me. I know it. I just don't know what to do about it.

Weekend Update: Friday

Disclaimer: There were a few things I did this weekend that I don't condone, and had I been more sober, wouldn't have. But it all worked out in the end. :)

I left on Friday morning about 8:30. The weather was beautiful, I had sunny skies by Scranton, and it really warmed the car. There were a few times in the car, when I had some weepy moments, I wondered if I could really go through with the evening, acting happy, etc. But I figured I could fake it if I had to.

Once I got to Tim and Sonja's house, I was better. I played Sorry, Candyland, Hi-Ho Cherry-O and memory with my god-daughter and then got ready to go out with Tim and his buddies. We got to the museum a little after 5:00, and as we pulled into the parking lot, I saw my former "friend" (BB) and almost jumped out of the car. Until I saw his wife.

When I walked into the museum, BB was standing with Johnny Z (my absolute favorite person in the world). Arms wide spread, I said there's my favorite man, and hugged John. He told me after that BB's face just about dropped. I hugged him pretty quickly too, but he wasn't getting my first hug.

I saw so many people -- and was actually surprised at how excited people were to see me, how good they thought I looked, and how many people remembered me. I saw media people, Orioles people, members, volunteers, board members, a few athletes.

The beer was tasting too good. I need to remember when I only drink once every six or seven months (I haven't had any alcohol since the end of July when I went out with my Yankee), I need to alternate water or soda. Didn't think about that until the next day.

At one point, I saw BB standing alone and went over to him. And then saw his wife sitting behind him. "Ellie.....how are you?" So I had to by-pass him and go do hug-hug kiss-kiss with her, and catch up on the past four years. By the time that conversation was over, he was talking with other people.

I walked around the museum, took lots of pictures with some of my favorites, and kept drinking the beer. And then I saw my chance. I walked by him and just tugged on his sleeve, and kept walking. He grabbed my hand and pulled me back, continuing to talk to the man he was standing with, and then turned his attention to me.

"Hi Princess....you look great. I think about you a lot."

I leaned in for a smooch and said he looked great too. The man has not aged. For someone who is going to be 59 in May -- holy shit. He's like fine wine. He looks exactly as he did the last time I saw him, four and a half years ago.

"We had good times together, didn't we?"

I smiled and said yes. "I miss you, sunshine."

"I miss you too. More than you know." And it's the truth. For the type of relationship we had, I never felt cheap, I never felt used. I always felt special and cherished.

And that was that. And it was perfect. It was exactly what I would have wanted for an encounter.

When the event was over, we headed over to Pickles Pub. I was drunk, and probably could have continued with my buzz drinking water the rest of the night, but it never occurred to me to stop. Something made me think I could still drink the way I used to.

When we got to Pickles, a beautiful black man came up to me and told me he saw me at the Bash and wanted to come up to me, but couldn't figure out which guy I was with was my husband, but he had to tell me how beautiful I was. Okay....I know now, it's a line. But having not dated in a long while, having focused almost exclusively on baby making....it felt good to hear.

We stood around and chatted. I convinced him I had no husband, I had no boyfriend. After about an hour or more, he asked if I would go back to his apartment with him, which was only two blocks away. Now we can all think about what the right response to this is. In fact, there are probably several correct responses. I didn't come up with any of them.

"Sure....okay."

We ended up walking to his apartment, doing some smooching, and then Tim called my cell to tell me my 10 minutes at the cute boy's apartment were up. So I headed back to the bar. Halfway back, I realized I didn't have my purse anymore. So I hit redial, thinking I was calling Dwayne. I called Tim. "Do you have my bag?"

"yea."

Oh....okay. So I didn't go back to Dwayne's. Tim had my purse. But when I got back to the bar, I said, "where is it?"

"Your bag? it's home."

Not my over-night bag, my purse! And then Dwayne wasn't answering his cell, so I couldn't be sure where it was. So I sat outside and called and canceled a couple credit cards until my phone beeped.

It was Dwayne. My purse was on his counter. Such drama that I really could have done without.

I'm of course leaving out the whole J of Baltimore story, which gets interweaved into this one, but that will be for another night, because the J storyline continues through the weekend, all the way to my drive home on Sunday.

So that's Friday. Had a blast at the Bash, loved -- absolutely loved -- seeing so many people that were such a huge part of my life in Baltimore and reconnecting with them. Could have done without the drama and the blurriness of after the Bash, but Dwayne and I did text a little yesterday, so who knows what that will lead to.

Next: the J story, Friday to Sunday; and a movie review of "He's Just Not that Into You"

Baltimore Bound

I'm going to Baltimore tomorrow for the weekend. I'll celebrate Babe Ruth's birthday tomorrow night (an event that I used to organize and run), spend Saturday with Wanda, and Saturday night with Bubbles.

Hopefully it will be a good excuse to relax, let loose, and otherwise forget the events of the past 10 days. I'll try not to think about that I was going to tell Z that I was pregnant. Next time.

Finally someone in my family gets it

My mom asked me if I was going to tell my brothers and sisters (those who didn't know I was pregnant) about the miscarriage. I told her if she wanted to, go ahead, but that I didn't really want to talk about it.

So little by little this week, she told my sister in Watertown, my sister in San Diego, my brother in Syracuse and my brother in Anchorage. And while I appreciate that they have honored my wishes and not called, seriously....they can't even send an email. No "thinking of you."

I shouldn't be surprised given how much support I've gotten from them through this whole infertility ordeal. But then, this morning, I got the following email from my oldest sister:

i just heard about your continued journey.....i know it will be
difficult to talk about ...so i will spare you having to....i just want you to
know...that you are in my thoughts....and if you need someone to yell
at...or laugh with or just say nothing....im here....i am hoping for
better days ahead for you ....hugs me

That's all I'm asking for. And I appreciate the thoughts.