My cats are smarter than I am.

DC experienced a 5.6 magnitude earthquake yesterday. I was at work, standing on my too-tall high heels, in the middle of a heated 'strategic discussion'. I just kept on talking. My coworker silently dove under his desk before anyone could even say 'I think it's an earthquake'. My boss finally said - I think we need to get down. So I started to get under my desk, but then the shaking stopped so I just looked like an idiot in my heels and skirt trying to get under my desk.

My cats, according to my husband who was home with the baby at the time, ran under the couch before the rumbling even started.

My cats are smarter than I am.

It's been awhile. Here's a novel.

So, the husband and I had been trying to start a family for over 3 (yes, I said THREE) years. We did all the painful and highly embarassing tests, only to be told that there was nothing wrong with us. We were given plenty of expensive, invasive and risky medical options that did not sound appealing. Especially in wake of the fact that there is nothing wrong with us.

I cried, alone, many a night and during many a shower. I've felt like far less than a woman because I could not get pregnant. I thought about leaving my husband, so he could find someone who would be able to give him children. I was depressed. I was angry. I was hurt. And I kept it (mostly) to myself. I didn't want to burden my friends or family with my emotions, and my inadequecy. I threw myself into work and school. It's how I coped, and no one else knew what I was feeling or why I was doing what I was doing. I think that most people just thought I was stressed over work and school. Work and school I can handle. Not being able to have a family, now that's devastating, heartbreaking and life altering. I hope that none of you reading this ever have to know the feeling.

The husband and I had researched adoption for a few months. It is scary, and we both quickly realized just how much time and effort, as well as money, it takes to adopt a child. And after that point there was the potential of emotional or physical concerns with the child. Not that I wasn't willing to do all of those things and help a child through any issues they may have; I guess I just wasn't quite ready to adopt. See, the thing with trying to conceive is that it may or may not happen any given month. With adoption, as long as you keep on working on it, fighting for it, it will happen - you will have a child. Maybe not immediately, and hey, let's be honest - it could easily be years - but there is no more 'chance' involved. I have never once thought that adoption would mean that I loved the child less, or that my family wasn't a family - and I don't want you to think that's what was going on here. In fact, I always thought quite the opposite. If I adopted a child, that's a child I WORKED for, that I FOUGHT for. That child would be just as much, if not more, my child. And that, my friends, is scary.

So in March we decided to think about it some more. Take a break from talking to each other about it - and just really think about it, marinate on our own thoughts for a few months. And to think about it with the caveat that maybe we should wait until I am done with my master's degree to actually start the process. That would give us about 2.5 years of breathing room. Silent sigh.

March 2010 was an extra busy month. I traveled to Colorado for a week, and to Texas for a turn and burn. I had midterms, I had spring break, work was extra stressful and sucked a lot of additional hours of my life away. I didn't even get to celebrate my Irish Christmas (St. Patrick's Day).

Then came March 24th. I realized I was a little 'late'. I thought that if I had a pregnancy test in the closet, I'll take one in the morning. I had a cheap generic test in there, from god knows where, and for god knows how long. So I took it, and I went downstairs to let out the dogs, slurp some coffee and smoke 2 cigarettes - you know, my morning health ritual. I went back upstairs to jump in the shower and get ready for work. I was brushing my teeth and I glanced at the test sitting on the back of the toilet. I thought, 'Hmm, that's weird, there's two lines'. Wait, what? I ransacked the closet, looking for the cheap, generic box to make sure I was reading it right - and it wasn't something crazy like two lines is negative, one is positive (hey, you never know!). I was reading the test correctly. I've never seen a positive pregnancy test before, except in pictures and in the movies. I was shaking so much that I couldn't call the husband. It took me awhile to calm down enough to call...and all he could say was 'I don't believe you' over and over again. I have to say that I totally understood that sentiment.

So all day I was on Cloud 9, with my little bun in my well padded oven. And then The Fear set in. What if it goes away? It took us so long, there is no way this pregnancy is viable. What if it was a false positive? It happens...well, not really, but I guess it could - and if it was going to happen it would happen to me. I had to wait three weeks for my first ultrasound. Then the nice technician lady showed me my beautiful little blob on the screen, complete with strong heartbeat. I was so relieved, and so happy - walking around with my little bun in my ever-increasingly well padded oven. And then The Fear set in. What if there is some awful chromosomal abnormality, and my body rids me of it? Every twinge, every time I feel temporary relief from a pregnancy symptom I think - this is it, this is the beginning of the end.

I am now 11 weeks pregnant. My risk of miscarriage is down to 5% (that's pretty low, although obviously odds are not usually in my favor). A week from Monday I have an ultrasound, and you can bet your bottom that until then I will be walking around worrying about my little bun in my well padded oven. After that ultrasound I anticipate approximately 24-48 hours of some Cloud 9 walking and relief from the worrying.

As I sit here, I'm thinking - when will I stop worrying? Maybe after the bun graduates from college. Then again, I'll have to worry about the bun getting a good job, if the bun is leading a happy life, and potentially his/her little buns, too.

I've never been so very happy to be so very worried about something in my life.

PS - In case you were wondering or concerned, smoking and coffee consumption have not been an option since I saw that second line. It's amazing how that happens. I didn't think I could live without either, and now they both seem like teeny-tiny sacrifices.

I saw it on CSI.

I'm short on time lately - work is killing me, I am trying to get all my schizer together to get back in school and, well, I like to drink wine on the weekends with this guy...so sorry to be negligient!

*This is a real conversation I had recently* I am not proud...and no, I don't remember how it started.

Ranger: Would you give someone your panties after sex?

Me: No way - it's a trophy, and personally I consider that demeaning.

LWITW: I would never!

Ranger: Why not?

LWITW: Because my DNA is on them. Someone could rob a 7-11 and frame me!

Ranger: You think someone will rob a 7-11 with your dirty panties?

LWITW: Yes! And then I'll go to jail. I saw it on CSI.

Me: I've got nothing.

Happy Friday :)

DC handles snow as well as I handle tequila

So we are on the verge of a major winter weather event. This morning I grabbed my coffee, my bagel and my newspaper and headed to the basement to watch some news and do my mandatory Sunday morning lazy time. Every local news station had hit their panic button. A few regular new stories followed by - at ten minute intervals - the weatherman appearing and talking about the 6-8 inches we are getting. One news anchor said it's time to stock up on milk and bread. Because yes, people, with 6-8 inches of snow you will be buried in your home for weeks! Weeks! Maybe even a month.

Ok, I know 6-8 inches is a good amount of snow. But I'm from Chicago - 6-8 inches will probably get you a snow day, but it's certainly not the end of the world. My husband is from the Boston area. When it snows 6-8 inches they call it 'spring'. I guess I'm just not a fair judge of winter weather. So I called my BFF in Atlanta, who had just gotten some snow from this storm. I asked her if she was doing okay and she thought that maybe I was drunk or thought I was talking to someone else. She said it wasn't bad - and she was still alive - and no awful things like suffering from spontaneous diarrhea had happened as result of the weather.

On to the tequila. When I was younger and dumber I loved doing shots of tequila. It inevitably ended with me making out with strangers, jumping in the back of some random guy's pick up truck to go to a 4 am bar, or running away from 'that crazy guy calling my name' who happened to be my dad. Good times. Yes, I know my parents must be proud of me.

So, DC rest assured, you are not the only one who can't hang.

Nicknames

When I'm on the metro, I've taken to nicknaming people I see often on my daily commute. I imagine most people do this, and if they were to nickname me it's either orange backpack or doghair coat lady. Those lint rollers I bought at Ikea really suck. But I digress.

There's the guy who always has a ton of stuff. He has a huge briefcase with papers and files sticking out of it, his coffee, his full edition of the newspaper, and his lunch. I call him everything but the kitchen sink man. He runs up to the train and cuts in front of me to get a good seat...when it's usually pretty empty at 6 am at my station anyway. Whatever kitchen sink. You do your thing if it makes you feel better.

There's the woman who is super slow on the escalators and wears skirt suits with nylons and white socks and sneakers. Now, if you actually wear sneakers for comfort wouldn't you think you'd be able to move just a bit faster than me in my heels? She goes by molasses in my mind.

And then there's the guy who is about 5'4, wears huge glasses, and has a backpack the size of himself. I like to call him moleman. Moleman actually seems like a very nice guy, he always has a smile on his face and I feel guilty for nicknaming him...but I can't help it, I'm an awful person.

These are three of my favorites. I wonder if anyone has better nicknames out there?

I was tagged

First off, I want to thank this lady for tagging me. She's an amazing person and I am truly lucky to have gotten to know her over the past year.

The rules:

A) Choose a minimum of 7 blogs that you find brilliant in content or design. Alright, so I'm still pretty new - not sure if I'm going to tag anyone yet but I'll play along :)

B) Show the 7 winners names and links on your blog, and leave a comment informing them that they were prized with "Honest Scrap." Well, there's no prize.

C) List at least 10 honest things about yourself.

1. I love Domino's pizza. Why is this honest? Because I am from Chicago, and people from Chicago generally snub chain pizzerias because, well, Chicago is known for its pizza. But I still love it, always have and always will. It doesn't replace some of my hometown faves, but it's a different kind of love - sort of like Taco Bell. It's not really Mexican, but it's still good stuff.

2. Most days I feel like I have no idea what I am doing or how the hell I got here. It's like I got wrapped up in this life and it just kept gaining momentum and carried me away. It's not a bad thing, I just don't feel like I deserve a lot of the good things that have happened to me. I guess it's just plain dumb luck.

3. I have the sense of humor of an 8 year old boy. Farts = funny. People falling down = funny. One of my best friends accidentally discharging 2-pam through her thumb = tears in my eyes. (I still feel badly for laughing at you, but my god, it was funny...) My brother having an undescended testicle for the first week of his life and no one telling him about it until a Dr. discovered a hernia = almost-wet-my-pants hilarious. (Note: I didn't laugh at him when he or my mom told me, I was able to maintain my composure until I got off the phone). Am I evil? I don't think so...I just like to laugh at people :) And trust me, I laugh at myself. I do a lot of really stupid things, it would be a waste to not laugh at myself.

4. When I see any animal that has been hit by the side of the road, it makes me sad. When I see homeless people, I feel badly for them and wondered how they got there. I try to pretend like most things don't bother me most of the time, but they do. I'm super sensitive.

5. I love sleep. I love sleep so very much, it's my absolute favorite. Unfortunately this guy likes to "do stuff" all the time, which impinges on my sleepy time.

6. When I get really cranky, it's usually because I feel like I'm not good enough (I need to lose weight, I suck at my job, I'm not smart enough, I can't paint, etc.)...and I take it out on others. Mostly the gentleman referenced above, but luckily he's even keeled and very sweet, and puts up with my moods.

7. I hate eggs and mayonnaise. I think that they are both disgusting in smell, consistency and taste. I have finally gotten to the point where if I accidentally get mayo on my food at a restaurant I can still eat it. Which is a good thing, because I really hate to be 'that girl' that returns food. But if I accidentally get egg on a breakfast sandwich, I toss it. Luckily I don't eat breakfast out that often, so it's not a huge life problem of mine.

8. I'm pretty sarcastic in person, and I think sometimes people think I am serious. No, I don't really think I am awesome. And no, I don't think that 12 hour work day was great. It's sarcasm, and yes, I can dead-pan, it doesn't mean that what I am saying is what I actually mean. Sarcasm is a little more difficult in writing though...so if something sounds off, probably sarcasm.

9. I like my dogs more than I like most people. Which isn't saying anything really, because my dogs have unconditional love for me and think I am the best thing since Beggin Strips. And I like that they love me so much, I'm not going to lie. Maybe if you got so excited every time you saw me that you wagged your whole body I'd like you, too.

10. I have always had a crush on Conan O'Brien. More so when he was still somewhat new and pretty quirky. I think my new crushes are Steven Colbert & Joel McHale, but really, who doesn't love those guys? I guess if I am being honest, I should say I have a girl crush, too. It's Jennifer Aniston.

Alright, that's 10. I'm exhausted from all this truthiness.

Texas

I've been in Texas for the week for work. I used to live in Texas, not by choice, but nonetheless I lived here for about 2 years. When I lived in TX, I could not wait to get out. I lived in Del Rio, which is about 3 hours west of San Antonio. Didn't think there was anything west of San Antonio? Well, you are correct! I was in the middle of no where, and the town was fondly referred to as 'Hell Rio' and 'Del Crappo'.

But there were good things about living in Del Rio, and here's a few in case you were curious:

- It was the first time J and I lived together since we were together, and also since we had been married. Unfortunately, we also worked together. Which, no matter how good your relationship is (and we have a good one) is trying at times.

- I adopted 3 pets, mostly because I had nothing better to do and I *love* animals. I'm pretty sure the only reason J went along with it is because he was bored, too. Otherwise we would have just had fish.

- I was in the best shape of my life. I worked out every morning, either running or doing the elliptical for 45 minutes. Every night I went on a 3 mile walk.

- I started clipping coupons. We'd get the Sunday paper and just clip away! For three months we got free cat food just from clipping out of the Sunday paper. I love coupons now - I know it makes me seem old, but whatever!

- I had a tan (well, tan for me is a healthy color for normal people). Not because I tried, but because it was SW Texas, and if you spend any time outside you get some color.

- We made some good friends, that we would drink and play poker with on the weekends. These were the kinds of friends who you could ask to watch your pets if you were going out of town, borrow their car, lend you a hand moving, walk into your house whenever. We were pretty tight, I think it might have been the shared boredom, but I miss them.

- There was no traffic. Although the van that had no driver slowly rolling across the Walmart parking lot was pretty scary, I sometimes think that that unattended, moving van was safer than some of the drivers in the metro DC area.

- I spent like *no* money. We lived on base, and there was nothing to buy and no where to go. In fact, I forgot my debit card pin number for a week because I hadn't used it in so long. Luckily, it came to me one day and I was able to buy a churro.

- Dairy Queen and Sonic. I think that's self explanatory.

Although I was not looking forward to this trip, because of ridiculously long work days and the overall being in Texas thing, it certainly reminded me that every cloud has a silver lining. I am glad I had my time in Texas for the above reasons, but it also reminds me that I am grateful to live somewhere now where my weekends consist of more than a trip to Walmart, and possibly dinner at Chili's.