I've noticed in the last year or so--although I suppose it's always been true--that my verbal autopilot is crap. If I begin a sentence and my mind wanders partway through, it may not end the way I intended. And so it happened, when I started out attempting to let Nick know that our littler pup wasn't interested in the Flagyl we were giving her to clear up some diarrhea, I heard myself saying: "Winnie really was not up for taking her Clomid." After the last word left my mouth, I just laughed and laughed. I am, as it happens, the most fertile female in my household, as both Winnie and Kitten have been fixed, and so Clomid wouldn't do Queen Floppyears much good. But oy, where my mind goes! Got a kick out of that.
This weekend was fabulous. We spent it with three of my cousins, their two husbands and one boyfriend (one of the above per cousin), their two sons and one daughter, plus their one dog and our two. Plus an aunt and two uncles who arrived in town on Sunday. Cute kids, great conversations with people I adore whom I hadn't seen in over a year, and just plain old ease, love, and support. Sigh. I'm a lucky girl.
A photo to share:
No joke, one of the listed possible side effects for Prometrium is "worry." Not anxiety, not mood swings, just *worry*. Seems almost quaint, doesn't it?
Oh, and my temp this morning was up 0.59° from yesterday's. Guess I'll have to find something else to *worry* about (dammit, Prometrium liner-notes-writer, you caught me!).
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