Syringes and needles and vials, oh my!

Late last week I decided that I was tired of paying for the little miniature Sharps containers the pharmacy keeps sending me, so I decided that in order to reuse them, I would empty all the full ones I have (yeah, I'm stockpiling full Sharps containers, and I know I have a problem) and put the contents into a recently emptied extra-giant sized laundry detergent container.

So, I dragged all of my bursting-at-the-seams Sharps containers into my kitchen and dumped everything out onto my kitchen counter. (Yes, I know that seems sort of unsanitary, but I reasoned that I could bleach the kitchen counter afterwards...) Anyway, the more I dumped, the more morbidly fascinated I became. I felt a perverse sense of accomplishment looking at all of those spent vials of medication and used needles. (Yes, I know I'm cracked.)

Soon I found myself carefully sorting through the contents, almost feverishly piling syringes on one side, needles on another....

This, I thought, is what hundreds of needle pokes looks like. This is what ONE IUI and ONE IVF looks like. This is what thousands of dollars worth of drugs looks like.

And above, you can see for yourself what it looked like.

For the as yet uninitiated, clockwise from the top left: Empty vials of Menopur, progesterone in oil, and hCG; empty Follistim Pen cartridges; used Lupron needles; used needles; used Follistim Pen needle caps; and used syringes.

Waiting on Miss Priss

So, while I'm here in limbo-land, waiting on my prissy period to deign to grace me with her presence, I thought I'd post about something inspiring I heard today.

I attended a funeral today, for my best friend's father-in-law. He was interred with military honors at Quantico Cemetery at the Marine Corps base in Quantico, VA. It was a beautiful service, and the presiding chaplain delivered rather unique remarks, in my opinion. They were the most upbeat and joyful remarks I've ever heard at a funeral or interment service, and I've been to far too many.

In addition to the typical, "he was 81 years old, he lived a long, full life" type of stuff, the chaplain also admonished the rest of us to take joy in our own lives and loved ones - to wring the most out of every life experience we have, each and every day. While smiling a big infectious smile, he said (and I'm paraphrasing here), "We don't have much time here, any of us - so love your family and friends with your whole heart. Forgive everyone! For everything! Life is too short to harbor resentment. Let the love pour out of your heart at every opportunity! If you love someone, tell them! Try to be conscious of the joy in every life experience!"

I was particularly uplifted by this, and have been thinking about it all day. It helped to reset my perspective a little, which is always a good thing. His sentiments remind me of a passage that is very dear to my Mom. She has it framed by her bedside. (I believe we first heard this in a benediction delivered by our most beloved Dr. P, the former minister of our church, and the man who married R and me two and a half years ago):

Life is short.
We do not have much time to gladden the hearts of those who travel with us.
So be swift to love,
and make haste to be kind.

I think that says it all, folks.

8 random things about me...

I apologize for yet another post that falls under the category of ME, ME, ME! Tagged again by Jen at The Mama Wannabe to come up with eight random things about myself:

• I have an ear for foreign languages. I whizzed through French in high school with straight A's, and always received compliments on my accent. The summer between my junior and senior years of high school, I spent a month in Germany, and learned a shitload of German. My senior year, I enrolled in First Year German (which was directly across the hall from my Fourth Year French class). During the second month of school, my German teacher came down with laryngitis. I ended up teaching the next month's worth of classes for her, in German. For several years after that, I thought I wanted to be a foreign language teacher when I grew up. I majored in German in college because all my German classes were easy and required the least amount of effort on my part. If I had it to do all over again, I would have gotten a business degree. I've never once spoken anything other than English in any job I've ever held.

• I made a lot of extra money in college by translating German "business writing samples" for a guy who worked for a major stockbroker in downtown Richmond, VA. I now suspect the "writing samples" I translated were the work product of either colleagues or competitors that he somehow stole. He always paid me in cash.

• I'm the girliest girly-girl you'll ever want to meet - I won't go to the mailbox without makeup on. I wash/blowdry/curl my hair every morning. I feel absolutely naked and uncomfortable and anxious if I leave the house and forget to put on perfume, jewelry, or lipstick. It takes me a minimum of 1 hour to get ready to leave the house in the morning. (much to R's dismay, since we usually carpool most of the way into work together.)

• *I grew up in a family of hunting men. I am the only daughter and only female grandchild on my Dad's side of the family, which is a farm-living, horse-raising, salt-of-the-earth, southern Virginia hospitality-having, God-fearing family. The men of this family, including my Dad, his uncles, his brother, his many male cousins, etc. grew up hunting quail and dove in the marshy ever-encroached upon fields and farmland of southeastern VA. When I was born, my father took one look at me and told my mother to prepare herself, for her daughter was going to take to the woods with her Daddy, if he had anything to say about it. On the much heralded occasion of my 12th birthday, my paternal grandfather presented me with a 12-gauge shotgun. I've never been more honored by any birthday gift, before or since. The times I recall out walking in the woods with my father, my grandfather and our bird dogs (you haven't seen anything until you've seen an English Springer Spaniel or a Brittany Spaniel standing stock still, tail rigid as a board, pointing a covey of quail - it gives me goosebumps thinking about it) are some of my most precious and treasured memories of my father, who passed away when I was only 17 years old. I wouldn't trade those times for anything in this world.

• My maternal grandfather was an identical twin. When I was younger (and oooooh so naive) I always fantasized that this would ensure side by side bassinets, dual strollers, and double trouble for me when it came time to have children. Now I worry that my chances of doing double midnight feedings are great, but for entirely different reasons.

• I have an incredible ear for recognizing famous voices. I'm constantly harrassing R with this question, every time we happen to see a TV commercial (which is not that often, since we have DVR now, which - hearken, friends and neighbors - Changes.Your.Life!): "Who's voice is that, honey? Huh, huh? Do you know? Do you want me to tell you??" My favorite are those cartoon movies with laundry lists of famous people for me to discern - like, Over the Hedge, or Happy Feet, or Monsters, Inc. (that's my favorite!!) I try not to listen to any of the previews so that I won't have any unfair information before the movie comes on. If I hear a voice that I recognize, but can't place, it feels like a puzzle I'm solving. If I can't get it at first, usually I'll think of the voice in my head, and I'll "hear" another phrase that has been spoken by that voice which has somehow stuck in my brain. From the context of that recalled phrase, I can almost always figure out who belongs to the voice. If I could somehow make a living using this skill, I would quit my project management job in a heartbeat.

• Ever since I was little, I've always been able to remember lots of song lyrics, and I can remember them for a loooong time. I got satellite radio in my car (my Christmas gift from R, two years ago) and sometimes I'll catch a song from the 80's that I haven't heard in 10 years, and I can still sing every word. My best friend Monica still makes fun of me because of this dorky ability.

• If I could come back in another life as someone else, I'd want to be a female vocalist. And I don't mean a pop star. I mean like a traffic-stopping, a capella-capable, Barbra Streisand kind of vocalist who can hold a high C for 5 minutes and bring tears to your eyes. I LOVE, love, love to sing, and can't think of anything better than doing it for a living. (On alternate days I think I'd like to come back as the female lead singer of a rock band who can actually sing. I'd have to come back in a previous decade though, a la Heart, or even Pat Benatar. That would be a lot of fun too. But in a different way.)

Similar to my invitation at the end of the "I Am" post - this has been all around the world and back again, so rather than naming anyone in particular, I will just say, if you haven't been tagged yet - consider this your formal invitation to participate!

*I realize I will alienate some readers with this tidbit about hunting. All I can tell you is that my Dad's family has never hunted for pure sport; I grew up eating Sunday "bird dinners" prepared by my grandmother, which were great feasts of dove and quail, breaded and fried and delectable, served with collard greens, butter beans, and fried cornbread. I believe God made those birds delicious for a reason. But, I'm conflicted, because I'm also a huge animal lover, and could NEVER, EVER kill anything that I thought was cute - not deer, not rabbits, not even squirrels. Birds and fish I have no problems with, probably because I don't have even the slightest desire to cuddle them. And, bc they taste so good.

I am...

OK, Samantha and Jen both tagged me for this, so here goes:




I Am


I am happy, kind, empathetic, and generous to a fault.


I am the kind of person who cries and laughs easily and often.


I am a child of God, and a big believer in His mercy.


I am the wife of a man with whom I wanted to be my whole life, even before I had ever met him.


I am acutely aware of how lucky I am to have such limitless and complete love for my husband, and to have a husband who loves me as deeply and unconditionally as he does.


I am the only-child daughter of a widowed only-child mother who has been my closest friend and confidante since I was teenager.


I am a senior project manager for a financial services company....and I dream of being 'independently wealthy.'


I am blessed with several especially close friends who are my family in every respect except blood lines.


I am a lifelong dog lover, and the daily recipient of doggy kisses that make my heart swell from our Westie, Murphy. I am certain I would not be able to get out of bed for a month if something bad happened to him.


I am a worry-wart, and have a constant movie scene of worst-case scenarios playing unrelentingly in my mind.


I am a 'soon'-to-be Mother, even though I have no idea if or when our next fertility treatment will work.


I am delighted when cooking and entertaining and surrounded by family and friends in my home.


I am striving to be more grateful for all of the joy and wonder in my life.



Now, this seems to have run around the blogosphere several times over. So, if you haven't yet been singled out to perform this little exercise - consider yourself tagged!!