Can I have a pastrami on rye?

That's right, right? I don't even know if I like pastrami sandwiches, but when I'm in New York next week, I'm ordering one, damn it! That's right my faithful followers, I'm leaving and you're not (unless of course you are and just aren't saying, or you are lucky enough to already live in NY, then I totally take back my snideyness (huh?)) for NY and won't be back until someone from CPS calls me demanding my immediate return so that my neglected children are taken care of. That of course, is a joke. I would never let someone from the government bully me into cutting my vaca short. Anyhoo - NY will be awesome!

I already have the theme song to "Sex in the City" playing out in my head, as visions of me - cloaked in bags from Versace and Gucci and all the other places I can't afford - sashaying down 5th Ave. bring a bright smile to my face. Aaahhh, the escape is drawing near! Well, sort of. It's not a vacation, per se... more of a let's get this embryo transfer done so we can grow a baby type of thing. I'm still totally stoked, though. I'll be in Manhattan for one day, so I am planning on squeezing in as much sight-seeing as possible in about a thirteen hour period. Oh, and I can't wait to see my IP's.

Things I plan on doing in NY:

*eating a hot dog from a street vendor (I live dangerously)
*shopping
*getting that pastrami on rye (well, probably wheat since I don't care for caraway seeds)
*seeing the Museum of Natural History
*strolling hand-in-hand with my hubby through Central Park, while eating an over sized soft pretzel dipped in creamy cheddar cheese product
*gazing lovingly into said hubby's eyes as he feeds me cotton candy from the Central Park Zoo (I like to eat, okay?)
* shopping, shopping, shopping

Oh yeah, and hopefully getting pregger's with someone else's baby! A big WOOHOO! to technology! That's all for now, but you'll be the first to know if I eventually think of anything else. Ta ta for now.

Estrogen is kicking my A$$

I have to laugh at the fact that my body is overrun with potent levels of hormones right now, and at any given moment I could probably snap someone's neck, Special Forces style. I laugh because I've never in my life (except -so I'm told - when I'm pregnant) been so easily annoyed or disgruntled around others, and my friends keep asking me if I'm done with the drugs yet. NO. Unfortunately I'm not. This is, of course, my official post about my surrogacy and I have to say it's very freeing. No longer do I feel like I have to worry about what others think. So there.

My journey has gone remarkably smooth, compared to other stories I've heard about, and I thank my lucky stars for the Intended Parents, to whom I will (hopefully) be preparing for parenthood (again). These people are the real thing, and that's what is so awesome about this entire process. If I didn't genuinely feel that these were truely congenial people, there is no way I could do this. But they are, and I am. Yippee!

I just had what should be my last monitoring ultrasound and blood work, and we will hopefully be doing the embryo transfer next week! I tell ya, I can't wait. This is something that is so incredibly meaningful to me for more reasons than I can actually express. There are literally no words for how I feel right now. In a way I guess that's good, but in another I really wish I had my Thesaurus handy.

So please, if you pass me on the street or speak with me, and I'm not one hundred percent pleasant, don't take it personally. It's the drugs, man.

A Love Letter (of sorts)

Is there room for me? I whisper to Simon, hoping the kiss of air I’ve sent him finds its place against the soft crook of his smile.
At 12:13 in the morning, the night air sits quietly against my cheek as my tears run along the base of my jaw, carving a path through my skin like shards of steel, tainted with my pain and covered in my love. My mind has been violated, filled with the empty promises that you had whispered when the moon was full. I’m drowning in the sorrow that lays heavy on my soul while I study your motions, wavering through the glass like a dancer who is balancing at the edge of love and unknowing. The branches of the willow before me sway with your movement, breaking open to the silent beat of the music, so that I can see you.
The night sky is a thick blanket above my head - the moon the pillow that welcomes my weak muscles. Aching has become a regular emotion that I embrace, because without it I feel nothing. My skin is numb as the blade finds its way to veins that carry life, an atlas of blue that begs to be released. The love I have for you spills across me, dampening the layers that were once protected by you, now open for the world to reject.
The car door creaks as I make my exit, shouting to the universe that there is movement below and you stop dancing, staring blankly ahead at the belly of the darkness that surrounds us. You move toward me, causing me to quickly dart behind the sturdy wall of a maple, bracing the pads of my fingers deeply into the skin of the mighty tree, wishing it would split itself and wrap me in its protection. I stand motionless as my mind races, wondering if you’ll be happy to see me.
We are love.
I smile as these words drift me in and out of conciseness and work their way around my scars.
I slowly peek around the bark of the tree, hoping to catch another glimpse of your perfection, but am disappointed when I see nothing but the empty space where your body once stood. The thought of your skin against mine revives me, reminding me that I am still alive and gives me reason to hope. There will always be room for you in my heart, space that can never be filled by another and I tell you this, to remind you of your vow to me.
Leaving the sanctity of the tree, I find myself winding down a walkway, gliding on memories I had forgotten existed. Do you remember the last time we danced together? We twirled through the grass behind the stables of your house and you told me you would always be there for me. Your dark eyes silently promising to forgive me of all my past sins, telling me things that your lips could not. I could hear them though. From your heart to mine, you promised to always love me.
Love me, Simon. Love me like you did before my mind left us. Your voice echoes through my skin, vibrating off of my blood vessels and settling with a force between my ears. What? I ask you. How should I get there?
I can feel the skin of my fingers peeling away; layer by layer my finger tips have become soft pillows of pink tissue, and I stop to stare at them as I make my way to you, unsure of what has happened to them. I rewind my thoughts, grasping for some kind of explanation, something to tell me what has happened.
My mind breaks at the sound of your voice, guiding me along the brick pathway that leads deeper into the property. I can only make out a silhouette now, twirling along the same rugged path my slow, heavy feet are on. You seem happy to see me.
Are you happy Simon? Am I a good girl now?
I wait breathlessly for your answer, bracing myself on a small post that has been driven through the dirt, breaking away the living ground for reasons I’m not sure of. Why aren’t you answering me?! I shout, coughing as my words pass my lips. I touch a hand to my mouth, pulling away quickly at the burn of my skin. What has happened to me? Where are you? I can’t see you anymore!
I force my feet to move again, begging each muscle to work so that I can finally reach you. It’s dark outside, and I’m not able to see you. How do you know where I am? I have to shuffle my sore feet along the path, grazing my hand along each tree to feel my way. Suddenly I’m near, I can feel you. A painful smile marks my face as my feet hurry across the grass. There is light now! I can finally see you!
I’m here Simon! I hold strong as I slice through the damp lawn, digging my now bare toes deep into the earth. My heart is beating so rapidly, I can feel it in my bare fingers. I follow as you sprint ahead of me, your laughter breaking through the vibrant singing of birds overhead. Even they are happy for us!
Stopping short of a large spruce, I drop to my knees and begin digging my broken fingers through the ground. The dirt softens as my blood trickles down my arm, and puddles at the point in which my fingers make contact. How far down? I ask.
“Keep going. You’ll know when you see it.” Your soft voice guides me on my journey. I feel the hard packs of earth digging deep into my forearms, splitting and hacking at my skin. My nails snap under the pressure at which I am forcing them, burying myself deeper into the ground. I can feel you now. I’m close, Simon. I’ m almost there.
“You’re a good girl, Carly. Keep going.”
I see you! I’m here Simon! My face burns with relief as I open the wooden door that separates us, wriggling myself into the small space you have left for me. There is just enough room for me to curl my body next to yours, as I pull the door shut. I rest my eyes, noticing now how heavy they’ve become. I’ll only rest for a minute. Then we’ll dance again.

Okay, now I'm pissed!!!

I really didn't think that when I opened the book, that I would enjoy it nearly as much as I did. Now, I haven't officially finished it at the time of this entry, but I'm close enough to the end to say that I really liked Twilight - unless of course the author has gone and screwed with my head, and in fact takes this story in a completely different direction than I think she is. Then I will happily correct myself. But as of now, I *gag* like it. Now, I'm not saying that it's bad to like this particular book, or that I'm above it (I really am, though) in any way. I'm simply stating that I have truly surprised myself by enjoying it. My sister (a self-described book whore) had informed me already that it leaned toward entertaining, so I was fully prepared to sort of like it, but to find myself caught up in the death race of a fictional teenager and her dead boyfriend, well that kind of put me over the edge. I mean, I only started the thing yesterday, and I guarantee that I'll be done by this evening. Easily the quickest 500+ book I've ever read, but nonetheless, enjoyable. So I repeat, for those not listening - I'm really pissed about this! Not only am I completely jealous that this woman chose such an easy topic that has already been sold to the masses before, but that I DIDN'T THINK OF IT FIRST!! AARRGGHHHHH! Okay, I think I'm done now.

So, if you haven't read this book, (I say book - singular - because I haven't read the others yet) I suggest you pick it up, and ready yourself for an evening of teen angst gone vampire. I did, and I'm sure I'll get over it...eventually.

Prompt: Comfort

Okay, so 2 entries in one day - what else should I be doing? Anyway, one of the writing groups I belong to has this thing, where each week the group owner adds a prompt, and everyone else writes about it. I thought this one was particularly interesting, so I did the complete opposite of my first natural instinct of fleeing: I wrote. Here it is, in all of it's short, stout glory.

P.S. - This is a write-what-you-want-as-long-as-it-has-the-word-comfort-in-it type of thing. No minimum number of words or central setting.


Henry's eyes locked stead-fast onto Sophie's, sending invisible beams of courage in her direction. "Look at me Soph," he said calmly, gently brushing a hair from her cheek. "Just keep your eyes on me."
Sophie felt the brush of his hand against her skin once more, and turned her dampened face into his palm, pressing her lips into the soft pocket he had created. "I love you," she whispered, half-hoping he didn't hear her. His rule had been no good-byes, and she had just broken it.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked, tugging the blanket up and over her bare shoulders. She nodded slowly, a weak smile appearing at just the corners of her mouth for a moment, before fading away again. The pain in her eyes shot through Henry's chest, as his stomach tightened and his worst fear began to play out in front of him. "Sophie, please..." he stammered. "Please not yet." He bent down to her, pressing his forehead against hers in a last ditch effort to make her stay. "I'm not ready," he sobbed, burying his face into her neck.
With all the strength she could summon, Sophie caressed the back of Henry's head, digging her fingers into his thick locks of chocolate hued hair. The sound of his sobs wrapped around her, accompanied only by the sounds of the medical equipment beeping and dripping beside her. "I am ready," she breathed, pressing him close to her. As his eyes rose up to meet her, she heard him whisper the same good-bye that she had already spoken, and laid a finger to his lips. "No good-byes, remember?" she said smiling, before closing her eyes for the last time.

Sick Kid...

There's really nothing worse on a cold autumn (feels like winter, though) morning, than when one of your kids wakes up sick. I say morning, but it was more like 10:00 last night. Hubby and I were just settling in to enjoy a quiet evening of Fringe on television, when what to our surprise, the sound of hacking coming from our five year old daughters bedroom. He looked at me , and I at him, waiting to see which one was going to have to leave our cocoon of comfort (blankets) and console the baby of the family. I lost the battle of the eyes -his are apparently less shifty than mine. Anyhoo, I ran in her room while putting on my best "Are you okay!?" expression, expecting the usual drama-filled show that had become normal for her, and stopped in my tracks. The look on her little face told me everything; she was definitely not faking.
I was then up with her approximately six other times throughout the night - and morning - holding her blond hair up and reassuring her that she wasn't going to have to go to school.



So, needless to say, she is home sick today. We now have an entire day of cartoon watching and soup eating to do, so when you ask yourself "How does she do it?", just remember that it's all in a days work!

Welcome!

Welcome friends, to my site! I hope that this blog gives me the chance to pass along all of the wonderful attributes that make me, well...me! Enjoy!