31, 13

Good morning, interwebs.

I have been lurkey as of late, I know.  Forgive me future mamas, for I have lurked.  I have been silently in your front hedge with night vision goggles and a jar of vaseline, but I haven't made a peep so you and I don't even get the benefit of you being creeped out.  I'm working on it.

I am not... depressed.  I've had fleeting thoughts of "holy shit me in an alternate universe I would be 7+ months pregnant right now" but seeing as how I am mostly a cold hearted robot I still don't have anything to offer that thought, really, other than numbness.

I haaaave been having one of those marriage-renaissances that are awesome.  Bub and I are one of those weirdly happy married couples (don't get me wrong, we're fucking miserable jackasses in all other regards, but together we're happy... like that pair of old curmudgeon old men in the muppets.  We should all take a moment and be glad they found each other. ::bowing head in silent gratitude::).  Just one of those periods where I can't get enough of him.  Last night we spent a good hour naked in bed chitter-chatting about nonsense such as the HR lady in his office who every time she takes a sip of her drink, regardless of the beverage, looks at the bottom of the bottle and swishes it around.  I don't know if I'll ever be able to sleep again not knowing why she does that.

Those are the kinds of random, unplanned, not particularly exciting yet totally spectacular moments that make me think you know what, I'm happier just with Bub than most people are with their husbands and a brood of kids.  Someday should we have a state-of-the-art Bub-Stork hybrid, I'm thinking that'll put the kibosh on uninterrupted nudey time discussing people's crazyisms, and I'll miss it.

Mostly I'm sick of, and I think we can all collectively groan here which is part of why I love you, the endless barrage of happy news streaming through the common devil we all share known as FertileBook.

I'm thinking this is maybe just the silence before I take 2013 and make it my bitch.

Tomorrow I turn 31 in the year 13.  That's gotta be lucky, right?  Inverted numbers, 13 no less?  And my lucky number is 4.  It has to mean something, surely.... Okay fine but if I were wearing my super thick glasses instead of my contacts and was using a pointer to gesture instead of a cigarette you all would think this was brilliant.

This is how 30 started - such promise.

Ahh, there she is, innocent little drunken Jenny on a cold afternoon in January of 2012. Starting the year off right with drag queens and blow job shots.

30 was the year I lost 30 lbs.

30 was the year I had my first IVF which ended in early miscarriage.

30 was the year I celebrated my 6th wedding anniversary and 9 years of being with Bubba the Magnificent.

30 was the year I started a blog.

30 was the year a naughty mutt named Luna tapdanced her way into our hearts.

30 was the year Towanda the Honda died, and she was replaced with the Batmobile.

30 definitely had some positive moments for which I am grateful, but 30 was overall not so hot.

30 will pale in comparison to 31.

31 in 2013 is my year, people, I am fucking due.