Classically Beautiful

That's what my friend Susan called me tonight. Classically beautiful. I had a stressful day and didn't get enough done and had to get ready for a meeting tonight and my husband was late getting home to take over with Maya so I was rushed getting to town and was feeling very flustered. After my meeting, Susan said, "I was just looking at you from across the room when you were talking and thinking, man, she is just so classically beautiful."

That's the cool thing about friends. No matter what kind of crazy day you've had, a nice word from a friend can put a smile back on your face. :D

Respect My Wishes. Yeah!

You know how some people say, "when I die, I don't want people to be sad. I want my funeral to be a big party and people should tell jokes"? Well, I am not one of those people.

Granted, I'm not planning on dying any time soon, so don't get any ideas. However, if there are people whooping it up and laughing at my funeral, I'm going to be really mad. Hello? I just died! Why are you laughing?

Also, if I die, no one should believe it if my family says to send donations somewhere in lieu of flowers. Screw that! I want loads of flowers at my funeral. Masses of them! That's not to say that you shouldn't also create a scholarship or something in my name, befitting the huge impact I had on your life. I'm just sayin' don't cheap out on my flowers. Heh.

Don't let my husband bury me in a cut-rate coffin, either, while I'm making requests. Our opinions differ on material goods. He's a saver. I'm a spender. Be sure he knows I require a high thread count lining if I am to rest on it for eternity.

If you're taking this post seriously and you're getting mad that I'm being demanding over a death that hopefully won't happen for many, many years, you should laugh. Because I'm kidding. Except about the laughing at my funeral part. I'm totally serious about that. Y'all better be cryin' it up.

Sad

I generally try to keep things positive and amusing in my blog, but I don't have it in me lately. My husband and I have been trying to get pregnant for a year now, which for those of you not obsessed with all things baby, is the magical cut-off time between "normal couple trying to have a kid" and "ooh, sorry, you may have mystery fertility issues." I thought it would be easy, because, you know, it was with our first. Totally unplanned, in fact. And I was on the pill. But now, six years later, it's not the same.

We thought this was the month. In fact, last week I had a positive HPT. I called my husband immediately, and he was so adorably happy. However, that pregnancy was not meant to be, apparently. Now we're back to square one. And I so didn't want to tell my husband to stop being excited.

If only I were a crack whore or had a terrible home life and abused welfare. Then I'd have no trouble getting or staying pregnant whatsoever.

In other news, my daughter will be starting school next week. I can't believe she's so big and gorgeous. She lost her first tooth last month and has another loose one. She's starting to talk like me, which is funny and alarming at the same time. Poor child is just like her mama.