jaysaint Getting it all down on paper…

Damon’s been building a set for a junior high production of Annie. He drew up the plans and has been leading a production team of tweens in getting it built. The show is this weekend and we’re going Saturday night to see it in action. I hear tell Daddy Warbucks parlor has been decorated to look exactly like our living room.

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On my nightstand: Servants of the Twilight by Dean Koontz*
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*I don’t want to admit that this is what I’m reading. But it’s true, so I will. And now you are free to mock me. My only defense is that I inhereted my ex-husband’s grandma’s trashy book collection when she passed away and I can’t bring myself to get rid of a one of them without reading it first.

So, definitely not implantation bleeding.

But I’m not down. Because now I am armed with information about my wandering uterus, and I will just have to tell my husband that his presence is required nigh-on nightly if that’s what it takes. I feel he will rally to the cause. My doctor gave us three months and we’re going to make the most of them.

I’m in those last few days of the month when I will shortly know whether or not our effort to get pregnant has paid off. I don’t feel any different, although I hear many women don’t for a few weeks.

I had a bit of spotting yesterday. Which is right on target datewise to be implantation. Or, just the harbinger of my period. Could be either.

I think I’ve not been too focused on waiting, but then I dream about it. In my dreams I always find out that I’m not pregnant.

Jodi is now much closer to New York than to Florida. Their train is late, which means it will be nearer to 1 than 10 when they get into town. I can’t wait to see them, and yet those extra three hours are a blessing. I’m burning through work with much haste.

This afternoon I was eating shrimp skewers in the Canyon Ranch test kitchen. This evening I was cleaning cat barf out of the bathtub.

I’m happy to be home. I missed Damon and the cats too, even though they’re barfy.

Did I mention in a previous post the itty bitty teeny tiny airplane I flew up on? The emergency exit was IN THE ROOF. So Liz (one of my fellow editors) and I, being the two fliers, requested that we not be made to honor our reservations on the flying death bucket for our return. So we shared a limo with another editor and had a lovely, girly ride back together.

So now I’m fast and furious trying to plow through emails and put together a big content feed. I’m managing so far to cling to the meditation, breathing and mantras I learned over the past week so as not to allow my shoulders to creep up over my ears.