Stuff I Can Still be Grateful For

Hello ladies of infertility (pretty sure we could make a dirty calendar with that title).

I've always kept diaries, even though when you're 30 some may consider that a little odd.  One of my best friends, who we'll call T, came over the other day, saw my current diary, and said "what the hell is that?" To which I replied "a very sad, handwritten book" (meant to be read in the manner of the crazy roommate from "Bridesmaids", who he had just recently met and said was delightful - which makes me happy because I can't tell you how many celebrities have been ruined for me by personal stories.  But that's another entry.)

ANYHOO.

A long time ago I went through a phase where I ended every entry with a few things I was grateful for, mostly because Oprah told me to.  It was just an experiment I quickly abandoned, but I'm yanking myself out of a rough patch so I thought it'd be helpful to maybe list out a few things to be happy about.  Maybe I'll do this every once in awhile, on here, just to try to make things a little lighter for myself.


Things I'm grateful for, today:

• That dog poop is not invisible.  I have two dogs, one of whom is a giant puppy who can hop 6 foot fences (the other is a corgi-mix who would be lucky to hop over an ant hill).  So Luna, giant puppy, when she goes outside is on a very long cord that's pegged into the ground.  When she inevitably wraps herself around a tree or a potted plant and I have to go barefoot into the backyard to rescue her, I am grateful that poo is something that one can see, and not something one would merely smell and feel squished underfoot.  

(Phoebe the corgi on the left, Luna the giant puppy on right).

• That toilet paper is cheap and available everywhere.  (Dunno why we're grateful for bathroom things, today, but we are). I'm reminded of this because the other day I was behind someone who looked mortified to just be running into the store to buy toilet paper.  I love these people.  Like I would think you're less disgusting if I thought you didn't use any.

• For ant spray.  Normally I'm a peaceful person, but every spring/summer my house is overtaken by tiny ants (sure, a classier bug than roaches or silverfish, but endlessly irritating)  and I want them dead.  Scratch that, I want it to be like Natural Born Killers where only one ant survives, and goes back to tell all the other ants not. to. mess. with. us.

• Quentin Tarantino movies.  It's not that I like violence in particular (okay, sometimes - see above reason to be grateful) but they've been rather soothing at a time where scary & ridiculous is about all the viewing I can handle.  And I'm telling you ladies, the man can write.  Best dialogue writer there is, I say.  And none of the women in his films are sad or barren, they're all just kicking ass and taking names.  The only time there is any woman with a sad baby-story (Kill Bill & Kill Bill 2) she's not sad and mopey.  She says "fuck this, I'm handling this with a samurai sword".  (I'm telling you - if this does not sound like the kind of thing you'd normally be into, you're misjudging it.  Go check a movie of his out).

• Awesome new lady friends. Not to get too schmultzy on you, but the last couple of weeks I've tried to immerse myself in my fellow sad ladies online, because the chipper-fertile ones in real life are driving me to consider getting myself an alcohol problem.  I've chatted with loads of women who are totally delightful, and a few that are kick-ass unbelievable women who I would knock up myself if I could.  (And I'm so happy to have met them, right now, that I may give it a shot trying to knock them up just for shits & giggles.  Seriously, let's run away together).

• For people who are shocked when celebrities come out of the closet.  Because it makes me laugh Every. Single. Time.  "Anderson Cooper gay!  What?"  "What do you mean there are rumors about Tom Cruise, John Travolta, Kevin Spacey?"  "Ricky Martin isn't gay, he's just confused!"  Girls, if he's too pretty and you can't imagine him on a couch, scratching himself, muttering about work and growing fur in strange places, he's gay.  Fact.  And he's still delightful.

Happy fourth, everyone.  When I was younger I loved this holiday - mostly because I harbored vague white trash dreams of watching fireworks and having sex with some yahoo in the back of a truck.  Today I am mostly grouchy and plan on avoiding the whole thing altogether, although I am pleased that mother nature is smiling down upon me and it's a lovely 70 degrees outside.  Still avoiding festivities like the plague.  I'm an American, it's my right to be grouchy, damnit.