I survived Snomageddon.

Hope you're all still following along...

. . .

We got close to 19 inches in Salem, MA this weekend. And as a first-time homeowner, I got to shovel my very own driveway with my husband. After 3 hours and almost nowhere to throw the snow because we live on a very narrow one-way street, we managed to get it done. There are 3 six-foot piles of snow on our property: a pile on either side of the driveway on the sidewalk (no way in hell that sidewalk is getting cleared because that's where everyone else threw their snow) and another pile behind our little white picket fence behind the driveway. My shoulder, arm, neck, and back are killing me today.

Afterward? Sledding at Mack Park in gale-force winds. My first attempt down the massive hill? I hit a rock, went airborn, and then rolled the rest of the way down the hill. It was pretty painful. My second run: a lot of fun and very very fast. My third and final run? I probably managed to get up to 30 mph, spun around backwards, and hoped to G-d I didn't take out any of the toddlers trudging through the snow at the bottom (I didn't, and only just barely). Then it was home to the fireplace and homemade chili (my best chili yet, actually).

[insert pictures that I have yet to upload from my camera

of said Snowmageddon here ]

. . .

So... the radio silence for the last two weeks. Yeah, about that.

Remember how I was in a bit of a funk? The funk just got way worse. I don't think I've ever been so gloomy for the holidays before. I think part of it was because I stopped my birth control for two weeks; I was finishing an antibiotic the week I was supposed to start them again, but since we all know the tale about antibiotics and birth control pills, I figured I'd just start them the following week since the penicillin was rendering them useless anyway. Apparently this put my hormones in a tizzy like no other, so I'm just starting to feel normal again.

I had a lovely Christmas with my family, if abbreviated. The plan was to drive down Christmas Eve morning and get Chinese with Larry's family. Then we'd head up to my sister's with my parents and spend Christmas Day with my whole family and my new niece. Sunday we'd tool around, maybe hang out with some friends in the ol' South Jersey, and take our time heading back to MA on Monday, since Larry and I both had the day off.

So... our house was a mess and we decided to leave at the ass crack of dawn Christmas morning and head straight to my sister's. We never did clean Christmas Eve and got Chinese at this place called Fantasy Island that we've passed many a time but never stopped by to eat. We make it to my sister's in 4.5 hours and play with Willow while we wait for my parents to get there. We have a delicious ham dinner, we open lots of presents, and we got to Skype with my Obachan and Uncle Yusan in Japan. And then I checked the weather report for home since Larry mentioned we might get "some snow."

"Some snow" had turned into a blizzard warning and coastal flooding watch, so we stayed for a cup of coffee, said our goodbyes, and got right back into the car and drove back home. We got home at about 12:30am Sunday morning. By the time we woke up on Sunday, it had begun snowing a full two hours earlier than forecasted. The grocery store was a zoo, but we stocked up, came home, and I made chili while Larry baked some skillet cornbread. We lit a fire, we vegged, and Mother Nature dumped 18" of snow overnight.

. . .

No news on baby-making, in that, we have no money to afford anything and the timing just isn't there. I'm kind of sad all the time right now, randomly. It's frustrating because I put on this great show of being an advocate and championing hope to all who read this. But I don't have a pot o'gold at the end of my infertility rainbow. I'm still waiting. I'm still praying. I'm still bitter and sad and jealous and tired.

I know going through donor selection is going to be hard, that going through IVF and hopefully pregnancy and birth will be hard and that parenting an infant is no cakewalk. I get that, should we be blessed enough to have a child, I will not suddenly start pooping unicorns and lollipops and everything will be grand. I know, I know - but I just want to be a mom. I want to make Larry a dad. Forget means, forget funds, let's just get this show on the road.

And right now? Right now I'm just sad all the damn time. My motivation to write has virtually disappeared. I've even found it a struggle to "read" (I use quotes since I'm listening to audiobooks right now), and I find that when I'm listening to a good book, I write better and with more frequency. But even now I've grown weary of dear Simon Vance reading The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest. I suppose that's a statement for my entire state of affairs: I've just grown weary period.

Mercury can't get out of retrograde fast enough.