Her Crankiness
There was a lot of bad in my relationship with toad (for those of you who are newish, toad's my ex--we split up about five years ago, now) and I've talked here about a lot of the bad. We were together for more than a decade, so there was a fair amount of good, too, and I haven't said much about that at all.

One of the best things about our relationship was our cat, Her Crankiness.

When toad and I first moved in together, I really wanted a cat. She really didn't want a cat--when her father died, she'd inherited two pieces of his leather furniture and she was worried about a cat wrecking them. In October of 1993, after living together for five months or so, she finally relented. I bought kitten food and toys and a litter box, and we headed to the no-kill shelter.

toad immediately found a cat she loved--emphasis on cat. I pointed out that we'd purchased KITTEN food, and I steered her over toward the piles of kittens. But toad knew things and she kept her eye on that cat's crate and when she saw a woman making a bee-line for it, she ran over and grabbed the cat she'd noticed, the cat who'd stood up on her hind legs and stretched her paw out toward toad as though saying, "Please! Get me OUT OF HERE!"

And so we did. She was 1-2 years old and had had at least one litter of kittens. She was smart and hilarious, routinely leaving toys in toad's shoes. When toad and I split, there was no question that HC was going to go with her. After toad moved out of the house but before she moved out of state, HC stayed with me, and the day that toad came to pick her up for the last time was the first time I sobbed into the phone to Bat Girl, who immediately invited me over for dinner.

toad called today--Her Crankiness, whose real name was Molly, died this morning. She'd been having some health problems the last few weeks that turned out to be kidney-related. She was released yesterday, but quickly started having trouble breathing. toad took her to the vet again, then to the emergency vet, then to the university vet. And toad had to make the decision to put her to sleep, rather than letting her suffer.

In so many ways, Molly represented everything that was good and loving in my relationship with toad and I'll carry her in my heart always.

Confluence?
Yesterday was Pentecost. And Mother's Day.

And I got my period a week early, something that hasn't happened in the 3+ years for which I have data, which means that we've started the cycle of meds and the final IUI.

This is either going to make a really great story or I'm going to cry my fucking eyes out in a month over the cruel joke.

We have a lot of cats. Have I mentioned this?
Everyone seems to be settling in, bit by bit. Last night, Lorenzo was insistent about getting pets from me for the first time--it was totally cute! And Sam has been hanging out with everyone downstairs in the evenings--not that long ago, she was still pretty much hiding on top of the armoire in our bedroom most of the time and saw us once we went to bed for the night.

On Saturday, turtle and I kicked off our season of hosting a Farmer's Market gathering every week. It's a nice way to stay in touch with our friends and it doesn't require me to clean anything, which I appreciate Very Much. We had a lovely time and just after we got home, I decided to do some front-yard pruning. I was about six snips into my task when turtle came charging out the front door. "You have to take Kissa to the vet RIGHT NOW!"

I dropped the clippers and went running into the house. When Kissa chooses not to pee in the litter box, she does so in the bathroom sink. I wouldn't choose that habit, but it sure beats her peeing on, for example, the carpet, so I haven't bothered to break that habit of hers. When turtle went into the bathroom on Saturday, there was blood in the urine in the sink. She grabbed the sample, I loaded Kissa up into a carrier and drove to our vet's office, where we had no appointment.

They fit us in quickly and were thrilled that we'd brought a sample. The vet was also smitten with Kissa, who was a total lovemuffin in between yowling like a banshee because she had a thermometer up her butt or someone she didn't know was looking in her mouth or she was getting an antibiotic shot in the muscle. That's my Kissa--hates the traumatic moment but is purring immediately when it's over.

She's got crystals in her bladder, so we're doing two weeks of isolated feedings with her on prescription food, then switching all of them over to something other than what we've been feeding them.

That's the excitement for now. My parents are coming to visit in a few weeks and Mother's Day is just around the corner, so stay tuned for the rants which I'm bound to write soon!

Note to Jabberwocky
Thank you so much for the lovely comment--and congratulations and a hearty welcome to you!

(To the rest of you: The downside of this comment system is that I can't tell which post it is the comment is about, so sometimes I just have to punt!)

More good news, and more good news
I had a mid-cycle ultrasound today--the doctor proclaimed my ovaries "beautiful" and my uterine lining "excellent." So, now I wait to bleed, then start the festivities for my one and only IUI with trigger and monitoring.

I dropped off the prescriptions for the meds I'll need at the pharmacy--turns out that the one my insurance supposedly didn't cover is covered.

Here's hoping all this good news is leading somewhere that involves parenthood!

Geodes
You can't always tell one from another.
And it's best not to judge a book by its tattered cover.
I have found when I tried or looked deeper inside.
What appears unadorned might be wondrously formed.
You can't always tell but sometimes you just know.

Round here we throw geodes in our gardens.
They're as common as the rain or corn silk in July.
Unpretentious browns and grays the stain of Indiana clay,
They're what's left of shallow seas glacial rock and mystery,
And inside there shines a crystal bright as promise,

All these things that we call familiar,
Are just miracles clothed in the commonplace.
You’ll see it if you try in the next stranger's eyes,
God walks around in muddy boots, sometimes rags and that's the truth,
You can't always tell, but sometimes you just know.

Some say geodes are made from pockets of tears,
Trapped away in small places for years upon years.
Pressed down and transformed, 'til the true self was born,
And the whole world moved on like the last notes of a song,
A love letter sent without return address.

You can't always tell one from another.
And it's best not to judge a book by its tattered cover.
Now I don't open them to see folks 'round here just like me,
We have come to believe there's hidden good in common things.

You can't always tell but sometimes you just know.
You can't always tell but sometimes you just know.

By Carrie Newcomer © Carrie Newcomer Music, BM1 Bug Publishing

"Come on now, buttmonkeys!"*
Yesterday was the sort of day where a stop for a six pack of Green Light was a good plan, so that's where I was headed last night after work. I take the bus to and from work most days and yesterday was no different. Typically, the bus is filled with other commuters when I'm on it and I know a lot of the people, by now.

Last night about 2/3 of the way home, two young women boarded. They seemed to be having quite a lot of fun, laughing and carrying on. I was listening to my iPod and it took me a few minutes to realize that they were laughing because they were mocking the other people on the bus. We all ignored them and continued on our way.

I pulled the cord for my liquor store stop, put my iPod away and made my way to the back door. En route, I realized that these two women were now targeting me--laughing at what I was wearing, giving me a hard time because I had on a hat and scarf and, according to them, "It's motherfucking spring, you stupid motherfucker!" I continued to ignore them, but the bus driver didn't.

"You two. Off the bus. Now."

"What?! We didn't do anything!"

"I heard you and I watched you in the mirror. I know exactly what you said and I will not have it on my bus. Off. Now."

"No way! I didn't say SHIT."

I kept walking toward the store and called turtle. "I need you to come and pick me up at the liquor store. I'll tell you why when we're in the car."

I picked up our beer, was CARDED (which ALMOST made up for the assholes on the bus) and turtle called--she was already waiting for me. When I got in the car, the bus was still at that stop, apparently waiting for those two women to leave and/or for police to arrive.

*The title has nothing to do with anything. turtle drove me to work this morning and this was her very best line while dealing with traffic. Cracked me right up.

Report on the hysterosalpingogram (hsg)
The procedure yesterday was quick and mostly painless. There was one pinch/cramp and nothing other than that. I'm sore today, but nothing that will bother me, I don't think.

And the best news: Everything's fine! The doc actually said that there's nothing better he could have seen. I'm very pleased! Even if I don't get pregnant, at least I know that I haven't blown many, many dollars on swimmers that could NEVER have made it to their destination. And that's something, for sure.

turtle was a dream--she came and picked me up from work when the xanax made me too loopy to stay (these sorts of procedures can be triggery for me) and provided me with fabulous banana pudding when it was all over.

For those of you not familiar with the procedure but wanting more information, read about it here.