Posts Tagged ‘food’

lazy day

I didn’t do much at all today.  No, that’s not true.  I did quite a few things, it’s just that – for a change – the day didn’t revolve around work or baby-makin’.  A day off work, and I’ve been pretty damned stressed out by work and other injustices lately, so I spent my day off lazily.  Walked the couple of miles into Red Hook, visited Brooklyn’s much-touted Ikea for the first time.  (and, oh my god if that place isn’t strange.  Nifty cheap minimalist Swedish shit that somehow manages to look sort of creepy at the same time.  I’m definitely going back soon.)  Wasn’t intending to buy anything, but walked out of there with a pineapple plant – with a wee, bitty pineapple growing out of its top –  and something for the dog.  Then I continued on to Fairway, which is the biggest supermarket in the city and reminds me of my lost suburban lifestyle.  Then I walked out to the pier and stared at the statue of liberty for a few minutes. After I carried my groceries and Ikea-treasures home, I didn’t try to write.  In fact, I didn’t do much all day except buy food and cook.  Which was wonderful.  I have that much of my father in me – when stressed out, I want to prepare good food.  Eating it is nice, too, but it’s the preparation that eases me when I’m angsty.  

So I roasted a duck and made a garlic gravy.  Mashed taters and a salad.  And the boy – who would just as soon have had chicken & baked potato – ate it manfully and pronounced the duck tasty and the potatoes nice, “but isn’t the carmelized garlic gravy just a bit too sweet?  wouldn’t the salad have been nicer with just a bit of vinegar and oil?”

Maybe, but that’s not the point.

(I make him sound ungrateful and he wasn’t.  I think he liked it well enough, he just doesn’t understand that it’s not even how it tastes that’s the most important, it’s the kitchen zen that gets me off when I’m in a mood like this.  If it hadn’t been stepdaughter’s birthday last week (German chocolate cake) and my birthday next week (fudgey double-chocolate cake), there would have been some serious baking going on today.  Probably good for my waistline that I settled on a single fancy dinner instead.)

And I liked the gravy, though the recalcitrance of our food processor had me tearing out whatever remains of my hair.  

And then we watched “First Wives Club” on dvd.  While we were giggling, Nellie-the-whippet was apparently downstairs eating a hole in the mattress cover while the sheets were in the dryer.  Oi.  What am I going to do with this dog?  I actually bought her a sheepskin at Ikea today because they were cheap and soft and I thought – silly me – that nothing would be more tempting for a dog that likes to chew things up than a piece of dead sheep.  But no!  Poly-cotton mix stretched tight over a mattress is much more appealing.  If you’re Nellie.  

Nothing IVF-related except injections & ingestions between now and Sunday.  Sunday’s appointment is an 8am one, so I’ll be yawning on my day off.  Otherwise?  Nothing new to report, save that someday I’d like to teach my son to cook just like his granddaddy taught me.

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Day five.


A blustery day, so the first homemade clam-chowder of the season with what will probably be the last asparagus of the season.  A day of cooking and writing – how wonderful an autumn day is that?  Answer: in my world, that counts as a muy wonderful day, indeed.

And Nellie hasn’t eaten anything she shouldn’t all day long.  (what a good dog!) And we went to the dog park, where she spent a happy hour or so watching all the other dogs having fun while she stood near us pining like the unpopular kid at prom who hangs out with the chaperones instead of dancing.  Poor Nellie.  But she did get a few good sprints in.  Impressed the hell out of a Boston Terrier who was trying to keep up.  And tomorrow, if the weather is better than today, we’ll go out to the beach and let her run.  Put the fear of Dog into all the seagulls.  Watch her encounter salt water for the first time – always entertaining.  Boy’s at a fundraising party tonight, which I am staying home from.  So it’ll likely be a movie & popcorn sort of evening.  WIth the dog.  And knitting or quilting.  Maybe a bit of exercising, just for the hell of it.

Other than that, not much going on – certainly nothing happening on the IVF front.  Next week is when things get interesting again.  Just in a holding pattern for now, and only worth remarking on because I am, for a change, fairly contented to be in said holding pattern.  If all days could be like today, I’d have very little to ask for from life.

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Back from a wonderful long weekend at the boy’s parents’ country house in Connecticut. They were interested and supportive of pregnancy, I got a couple of sincere compliments from his mother, who told me that I’m looking ‘radiant’ these days. Since she’s not the type to mince words, I took it as a compliment indeed. Especially since I can really tell a difference around my belly.

Especially after the weekend, though most of the weekend’s change was food, not sprog.

We ate lobster. We ate a lot of lobster. Like 2 pounds, each. (20 hours later, I’m still nearly comatose with gastronomic bliss/protein overload) And butterflied leg o’ lamb (one of my faves.) And lots of cheese and crackers, and lots of yummy yummy things like BLTs and eggsalad. And now I’m eating lots and lots of dried apricots in an attempt to convince my poor progesterone-inflicted bowels that digestion is actually in their best interests.


And yes, I’ve pretty much decided that given my food preferences, my risk factor for listeria/salmonella/e.coli is pretty high, but then, so is the standard working level of my immune system, so I’m going to trust it’ll all work out in the end. I’m one of those people who never gets food poisoning at the company picnic, or has to worry if those leftovers in the fridge are slightly off, because my stomach of iron won’t react. So I’m having a hard time getting worked up about what I can & can’t eat. Actually, I’m being really good about avoiding mercury-fish like tuna or swordfish or other top of the foodchain critters. But the way I figure it is that if I’m going to get paranoid about everything I eat on the off chance I might get sick, I’m not going to be able to eat a thing. I mean, they just put cilantro on the don’t eat list, and a girl’s got to draw the line somewhere. So I’m officially not worrying too much.

Oh, and I went to the grocery store specifically so I could buy a pickle from the barrel they keep at the deli. Stereotypical, and probably not the most hygenic, but oh so satisfying!

I’m going to start photographically recording my expanding belly this week. Because I am a glutton for punishment. I also just bought a prenatal workout dvd on Amazon. Will report back on results of both the recording torture and the workout torture, even if the only results apparent are that the boy has a great opportunity to laugh at me every morning.

Let’s see, other things to report? The massive bruise/welt/blood blister from the PIO vein-nick of the other night is still pretty horrific – both in looks and in feels. Not sure if I’ll be brave enough to direct boy to use that injection site again tonight or not. I’m already nervous about Thursday & Friday, since boy will be out of the country and I will have to inject myself. I am a wimp, and not particularly limber, and I just have a feeling that it’s going to be awful. I’m dreading another bleeder. Can’t wait to be done with these.

And despite (or maybe because of) sleeping for almost 10 hours a night both Friday and Saturday night, I managed to have a couple of hellacious pg related dreams. Well, last night’s was more of a PIO related dream. Just a pure anxiety dream about getting to the pharmacy in time to refill my prescription, before they closed but after work, and whether I’d be able to, and what the supposed equivalent of pessaries would be if I couldn’t get there in time on Tuesday, would I be stuffing, like 35 of those damned little blue pills up inside me, is that even possible? and maybe I could get to the pharmacy tomorrow morning instead, and what if I shatter the vial I’m finishing up right now – I don’t even have a pharmacy that’s open on Sunday to get an emergency dose for tonight, and maybe…


Hoping for no dreams tonight. And a clear shot to the pharmacy in the morning, so I can put that fear to rest.

The main reason I’m looking forward to my last RE appointment is that I’ll be able to bring in my gigantic shopping bag full of needles, empty ampules, and other drug paraphrenalia and hand it over to the safe-disposal gals in the lab. Looking forward to having my bathroom back!

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No news being good news, and I have nothing to report. Feel fine, got lots of sleep last night. My need to pee all night long seems to have gone away – much to my relief. I’m sure it’ll come back, but really, this is far too early for my bladder to be acting up! There’s not much different, volume-wise, in there. Skin is still abnormally clear – I could get used to this. Still feel bloated, though, and hoping this doesn’t last the whole time, but fearing it will. Need more fiber. Had a salad yesterday that tasted better than my yummy-delicious pasta – which is rather unlike my usual preferences. So I went & bought some ‘healthy’ food for lunch, though if we go out to the beach this afternoon, it’ll have to wait til next week to get eaten. Damn the luck that forces me to drink a milkshake to be sociable…

Fiance is still preoccupied and acting odd. Hoping, selfishly, it’s not me/my condition, but something else completely unrelated.

And I’m at a loss as to what to post about that would be interesting to anyone but me. I want to keep this journal up, but it’s tough when I’m not having symptoms, problems, or feeling much of anything besides giddy and delighted. Giddy joy does not necessarily translate well to a blog post…

But I’m feeling it, nevertheless.

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The nurse at my RE’s called up to offer congratulations and to ask that I maintain the restrictions & meds. protocol in place at least until Monday.


This is RE code double-speak for no sex, and, baby-making-without-sex-related irony aside, the lack of which is just killing me.

I know this is code, because I forced her to clarify for me. Really? Not even like gentle, happy, congratulatory sex?

She laughed and said it’s the same question everyone asks. As soon as they get the congratulations & the HCG numbers, they’re asking about the restrictions. Damned sex-starved pregnant ladies. We’re a randy bunch, it’s true.

Argh. Double argh.

All minor frustrations aside, she said my HCG levels are right where they should be – and she agreed that it would be nice to get blood drawn a couple more times before we leave on Thursday, just so we all have an idea of where we’re at on this.

And since it’s now official, I called my mom – to boyfriend’s dismay, I think. But, mentally at least, she’s been right there with me through this process, I couldn’t leave her out of the celebratory period. So she’s celebrating right now. As excited as I’ve ever heard her, which was something to hear. I really enjoyed telling her good news for a change. Being my mom these last few years has to have been a bit of a bummer.

So, at least for today, she’s happy, I’m happy, everyone’s happy. Even my RE is happy, since I just upped his numbers for the year, one way or the other.

Going to go cook now. Scallops, not lobster. Yum.

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