Why not?

Since this blog is titled "Recipes and Babies", I figure it's time to actually post a recipe. This is a super easy dinner that I do once in a while when I'm tired and don't feel like putting too much energy into cooking. Enjoy

Mexican Fried Rice

1 lb ground beef or turkey
1 box Spanish style Rice-a-Roni
1 can diced tomatoes with the juice
1 can of black beans drained and rinsed
1 can of whole kernnel corn
shredded cheese
sour cream

*feel free to use frozen or fresh veggies. I'm lazy*

Brown and drain the ground beef. Add to it the Rice-a-Roni and cook as per the directions on the box. It will call for the tomatoes.
When the rice is done, add in the black beans and the corn, stirring until hot.
Then I transfer it to a casserole dish, top with cheese and bake @ 350 until cheese is melted.

We usually top with sour cream and eat it Chipotle style in a bowl. Although I have used it as a stuffing for burritos and peppers before.
Easy and yummy.
Hope you like it.

Again, with the suckage.

I sort of keep forgetting that I have a blog. Well, not really forgetting as much as just not thinking about it. I'm sorry. There's really not much to say.

I want to be fucking pregnant. That's a given. I'm not. Oh, another given.
I "know" a couple of really amazing women that have gone through much more than I have on this crazy ttc journey. And to tell you the absolute truth, I admire them. I'm assure you that dealing with IF issues is not something that I could handle. I imagine it's one of those things were you just keep putting one foot in front of the other, not really certain of the ground beneath your step, but nonetheless...walking. Albeit is slowly and in fear.
I hope that I never have to walk that path. I fear that I will. I don't know why, I just do.

Mr J. and I will often joke about how nothing is easy for us. We always get the short end of the stick. If something is going to go wrong, it is going to be in our lives. If somebody drowns trying to forge the river, it will be us.

Call it trial and tribulation, spiritual growth, if you will. You know how I feel about all that? Bullshit. Completey fucking over rated, growth is. I don't want to grow. Just once. I want to not have to climb a god damned mountain. Don't want to swim the Pacific. Don't want to jump through hoops of fucking fire. Don't want to run. Just want to walk. Slowly, calmly, without obstacle. Just once.

Okay. Well. Guess I did have a few things to say. Hmm.

My apologies for the suckage.

It's been a while, now hasn't it.
Well, let's see what is going on...Oh, I know. We got a new pup! Oh my fucking god, she is so cute! She's an 8 week old, 2 lb, Shih Tzu.
Mr. J had been putting the pressure on and I finally just cracked. I don't know what I was thinking. But she's so sweet. I love her to pieces already.

On the baby making front, my body is fucking with me. As usual. One minute I'm hopeful, the next I'm certain I'm about to start. At this point, I'm so tired of the back and forth, that I don't even care. I just want this cycle to be over. BFP or BFN. Either way.



That's a lie. I want to be knocked up. The above is one of the many delusional things that I tell myself in efforts to remain sane. There are many, many more of them.
So, stay tuned.

So...very...tired.

I have been sleeping, but keep getting more tired. I think it's an emotion overdose. I need my feelings pumped.

My only sunshine.

You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine.
You make me happy,
When skies are grey.
You'll never know dear,
How much I love you.
Please don't take my sunshine away.

Pawpaw used to sing that to me as a little girl. We'd sit in the swing on the back porch of his old house...for hours...and just sing. There are so many things that Pawpaw taught me, growing up. He was a wise man. There are many other words that immediately come to mind when I think of him. Kind. Compassionate. Honest, sometimes brutally so. But probably the thing that sticks out most among all the memories, is how much he loved his family. We were always everything to him. He loved my Mawmaw like I had never seen a person love another. They raised 9 children together, so you know there had to be something incredible between them. She died 12 years ago. He still missed her everyday. Every once in a while, he'd even wake up looking for her. They were married for 56 years when she died. For the past few months, he had been telling my mom that he was ready to go. "I want to go see your Mama", he'd say to my mom. And she'd say, "Not yet, Daddy. It's not time".
Well, as life would have it, time was fast approaching.

Let me back up. Pawpaw had lived with my mom for the last three years. She is the youngest of all the kids, and she made her life about taking care of him. He would have been 93 next month, and was sharp as a tack. Physically, he had been struggling for a while, but thankfully when it got bad, things moved quickly. Hell, last month he made my step dad take him fishing. I say made, because when Pawpaw wants something, he does not let up. Be it fishing, or ice cream. He will be on your ass about it 'til he's satisfied.

Pawpaw saw a lot in his day. Used to tell me about his childhood, meeting Mawmaw, going to the Navy. He had a never ending bag of stories. Some sad, some funny, and some so inappropriate that only Pawpaw could get away with. I'm going to miss that. Even if it was a story I'd heard enough times to recite, I'd curl up next to him and listen with wide eyes. He was an incredible man.

It's funny, how life plays out. He had some excess fluid around his hands and feet. Mom was out of town, so he was with my Aunt, which is rarely the case. She took him to the hospital on Thursday, June 18th. His kidneys were operating at 15%. They talked about dialysis, but he was already pretty frail, and even that would only buy him a couple of months. He looked so tired in that hospital bed. He was rowdy though. Letting everyone withing earshot know just how he felt about the whole thing. I heard "This is bullshit" several times. We don't have much trouble expressing ourselves in our family. Pawpaw was no different. I held his hand, he looked over at me, and talked to me in between naps. The verdict was, that Pawpaw was ready to move on.
On to whatever lies beyond our world here. He died in his sleep at hospice on Monday, June 22nd.
Pawpaw lived a long, sometimes difficult, but ultimately happy and extremely grateful life. He leaves behind more than he probably ever thought he would. I can only hope to be like him, live like he lived, love how he loved.
I imagine, my children will curl up to me and listen to stories of their Great Grandpa Joe, with eyes wide as can be.
I love you, Pawpaw. Forever.

Real life sucks.

We're home! Vegas was so much fun. We gambled a bit and drank a lot. Saw Cirque de solei "O", which was fabulous. If you ever get a chance to see it, do so. I will say, however, that Vegas is exhausting. I was definitely ready to come home when we did. Although, now I kind of miss it. The more I think about it though, it's not really that I miss Vegas as much as I just don't want vacay to end. I am absolutely dreading the return to work tomorrow.

Ah, the real world. It fucking blows. I'd kill to stay home just one more day. Of course that would inevitably turn into another. And another. Until I find my self back in Vegas. Only this time, working as a call girl, because J done lost her job, can't pay the bills - you get the picture. It ain't pretty.

Some of you may find this hard to believe, but my OCD ass was able to leave the BBT in Houston where it belongs. I O'd last week before we left, so although I'm 9dpo, I have no idea what my LP is looking like. I thought it would leave me with slightly less obsession material. But oh, no. Instead of staring at my chart for hours, I'm pushing on my boobs to test soreness and mentally noting the number of times I pee per day.

The point? You can take the girl out of the chart, but you can't take the chart out of the girl.

Sweet sin

So my day began with what I would call a spiritual hemroid. Evangelical nutjobs yelling about sin and hell in the faces of innocent citizens just trying to get a drivers license. No lie. At the goddamned DMV. I sat on the phone with Mr. J, loudly voicing my strong opinion on the whole thing. Which in case you are wondering, is that nothing that abbrasive, and fueled by fear should ever, ever be associated with the term "god". Ever. It's those shananigans that make it difficult for people to believe in something bigger. Newsflash psycho, you're the one we all don't want to become. And you should be ashamed of yourselves.

Speaking of sin, T minus 12 hours 'til I'm in Vegas. I am so excited. It's going to be awesome. Nothing like lots of drunken sex, dirty dancing, and gambling. And just for you, raging Bible psycho....perhaps a little bit of porn.