A wee update on my lovely belly piercing -- and thanks for the comments!
I broke into heavy cramping yesterday which felt a lot like labour pains, and started passing large fleshy blood clots (sorry, it will get less graphic from here!). Lucky me, apparently the doctors left a bit of placental material inside me (actually, it was probably hiding behind my 6cm fibroid) and I started the miscarriage which I was supposed to have a few weeks ago. Charming, I must say. So, on my GP's advice, I had a hot bath, took some mighty strong painkillers (thank god for the modern age of medicine), padded myself up, then sat up into the night watching Quo Vadis on Turner Classic Movie Channel, distracting myself with Peter Ustinov's fabulous Nero-tic caperings in front of a burning Rome.
About 2.30am I started feeling relatively normal, and today I'm almost a new girl, albeit fairly tired.
I have high hopes for the success of our trip to Brisbane on Wednesday. I should have finished the antibiotics by Friday, which means that there is a large bottle of red wine waiting for me on Christmas day. Then to Woodford! I can't wait to see Vince Jones performing in the Big Top on Monday night. He comes to Canberra regularly, but I very rarely catch him. If it means I have to travel 22 hours to see him, so be it. Other highlights I can spot so far on the schedule are The Happy Sideshow (things.... just.... get... better!), Rumpel the Clown and Stringmansassy. Yay!
If I don't get back here before Christmas, I wish you and yours all the best (and good health -- gawd knows we all need it).
Monday, December 20, 2004
Saturday, December 18, 2004
I'm having fun today
You Are From Saturn |
 You're steady, organized, and determined to achieve your dreams. You tend to play it conservative, going by the rules (at least the practical ones). You'll likely reach the top. And when you do, you'll be honorable and responsible. Focus on happiness. Don't let your goals distract you from fun! Don't be too set in your ways, and you'll be more of a success than you ever dreamed of. |
Magic Merry-Go-Round in Space
In my quest for distraction, I just pressed the 'Next Blog' button onscreen. I thought the next blog was a permanent sort of thing, like Blogspot has a list that is static and we have proper next-door neighbours. But no! It's more fun than that. I don't know why it's taken me this long to work it out. I suppose it's because I tend to roam through people's blogs like a long chain letter, from familiar to new, rather than use the magic button on my dashboard. The first time I ever did it, way back when I set up the blog, my neighbour was a very sweet but utterly boring Christian minister, which put me off pressing the button again.
Today I thought I'd see what he was up to, only to find a porn video site offering me views of Brittany Spears and Kevin Federline rutting like rabbits sans the personalised tracksuits (I presume!) and loads more, like Paris Hilton and anyone who moves. In amused shock, I clicked back to my own blog, and then clicked forward again to see if I'd seen right, only to find a Spanish weblog! So I've missed out on a squizz at Kev & Brit, although I suspect they'd be pretty easy to find again if I had the inclination. What fun! I'm going to have a random spin thru cyberspace, which cheers me up no end. I'll let you know if I find anything worth mentioning.
(I know a lot of you will be going 'duh' at this point, but I'm not a habitual websurfer; I tend to use it in place of a ciggie break, five minutes at a time, now that I have taken on a healthy-lung lifestyle!)
Today I thought I'd see what he was up to, only to find a porn video site offering me views of Brittany Spears and Kevin Federline rutting like rabbits sans the personalised tracksuits (I presume!) and loads more, like Paris Hilton and anyone who moves. In amused shock, I clicked back to my own blog, and then clicked forward again to see if I'd seen right, only to find a Spanish weblog! So I've missed out on a squizz at Kev & Brit, although I suspect they'd be pretty easy to find again if I had the inclination. What fun! I'm going to have a random spin thru cyberspace, which cheers me up no end. I'll let you know if I find anything worth mentioning.
(I know a lot of you will be going 'duh' at this point, but I'm not a habitual websurfer; I tend to use it in place of a ciggie break, five minutes at a time, now that I have taken on a healthy-lung lifestyle!)
Friday, December 17, 2004
Holey Moley
Warning -- girlie inner bits discussion.
One of the reasons why I've been lying low in my bolthole is because I have been pregnant and very sick with it. It was a complete surprise to discover that I'd fallen pregnant -- only a week after consulting my gyno about fertility problems. But the pregnancy was trouble from day one. I felt about 50 years old, and I kept bleeding all the time -- even on my wedding day, which was the only small blemish in an otherwise perfect event. Still, if it was going to get us to parenthood, I managed to keep my chin up and hope.
Alas, this week it all went completely wrong. We discovered that while my body thought it was 10 weeks pregnant, and the gestational sac was still growing and sending me hormones, the embryo itself had died at 6 weeks and 1 day (so specific!) which means the bleed I had 2 days after the wedding was the culprit. Bummer.
So I went to hospital on Wednesday for a supposedly straightforward D&C. Unfortunately the doctor perforated my uterus -- not one, not two, but three times! He then did a laproscopropy to check that he hadn't perforated any other organs (thankfully not), so between that and the numerous holes made by sticking cannulas in lots of veins that kept collapsing, I have more holes in me than a piece of lace. The doctor said it was his first perforation (and you know that the first time always hurts!). Lucky me.
So I feel like shit. A laproscopropy involves blowing up the abdomen with carbon dioxide gas and sending a telescope through the navel. The gas side effects make your neck and back muscles freeze up for days and your navel gets restructured. I was very fond of my neat little 'inny'. I wonder if it will be as cute after the stitches heal... My gyno had put me on the waiting list to have a laproscopropy, so hopefully this one means that I don't have to do it again. I'll just get the two doctors comparing notes about the beauty of my inner organs.
We are meant to be driving up to Queensland next week to camp at the Woodford Folk Festival. I'm hoping I feel up to it. Best Beloved has assured me that we won't leave unless I'm able to travel. I want to go only because I'm so sick of being sick! I need some fun. Badly. I'd rather be sore in a car looking at Big Things (Prospectors, Prawns, Oysters) and then sitting listening to damn fine music than staring at the mess in my house post-builders. So by hook or by crook I'm getting to Woodford. Watch this space.
One of the reasons why I've been lying low in my bolthole is because I have been pregnant and very sick with it. It was a complete surprise to discover that I'd fallen pregnant -- only a week after consulting my gyno about fertility problems. But the pregnancy was trouble from day one. I felt about 50 years old, and I kept bleeding all the time -- even on my wedding day, which was the only small blemish in an otherwise perfect event. Still, if it was going to get us to parenthood, I managed to keep my chin up and hope.
Alas, this week it all went completely wrong. We discovered that while my body thought it was 10 weeks pregnant, and the gestational sac was still growing and sending me hormones, the embryo itself had died at 6 weeks and 1 day (so specific!) which means the bleed I had 2 days after the wedding was the culprit. Bummer.
So I went to hospital on Wednesday for a supposedly straightforward D&C. Unfortunately the doctor perforated my uterus -- not one, not two, but three times! He then did a laproscopropy to check that he hadn't perforated any other organs (thankfully not), so between that and the numerous holes made by sticking cannulas in lots of veins that kept collapsing, I have more holes in me than a piece of lace. The doctor said it was his first perforation (and you know that the first time always hurts!). Lucky me.
So I feel like shit. A laproscopropy involves blowing up the abdomen with carbon dioxide gas and sending a telescope through the navel. The gas side effects make your neck and back muscles freeze up for days and your navel gets restructured. I was very fond of my neat little 'inny'. I wonder if it will be as cute after the stitches heal... My gyno had put me on the waiting list to have a laproscopropy, so hopefully this one means that I don't have to do it again. I'll just get the two doctors comparing notes about the beauty of my inner organs.
We are meant to be driving up to Queensland next week to camp at the Woodford Folk Festival. I'm hoping I feel up to it. Best Beloved has assured me that we won't leave unless I'm able to travel. I want to go only because I'm so sick of being sick! I need some fun. Badly. I'd rather be sore in a car looking at Big Things (Prospectors, Prawns, Oysters) and then sitting listening to damn fine music than staring at the mess in my house post-builders. So by hook or by crook I'm getting to Woodford. Watch this space.
Sunday, December 12, 2004
Remember to breathe...
...especially when you're too busy to blog.
Sorry folks, back soon, I promise.
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Duh...
Impossible to blog daily at the moment as I am back in Canberra with the house in chaos as my lovely builders transform everything. Next week I will post before and afters. I am sitting at my computer with piles of crap all around me; I can't get through to my printer, but the keyboard is clear. I have work alarmingly backed up, so I feel guilty blogging... but I just have to register my utter utter disappointment in David Stratton.
While we were unable to get into the house on the weekend, Best Beloved and I sat in Belconnen Mall and read the papers, then saw a movie. We decided upon Team America: World Police, as we are both big South Park fans. While we were waiting, I read David Stratton's review of it in the Review section of the Weekend Australian (4-5 Dec, p. R22). I have an SBS/ABC watcher's innate and longstanding respect for David and Margaret; I don't take sides with either, preferring (as a Libran) to consider both sides. Until now. Oh, David!
This is what he has to say at the start of his review:
"... A sharp dose of political satire would be rather welcome at the moment, but Parker and Stone have come up with a movie that makes South Park look like an exercise in sophistication and maturity. To start with, there's the questionable decision of featuring string puppets (the strings are plainly visible) rather than animated characters; the puppets are ugly and comparatively clumsy, and decidedly off-putting..."
Oh, David... Der fucking DUH!!!! I can't believe how completely you missed the point. Team America is so obviously a homage to the Thunderbirds in every sense, from the plethora of flying/underwater craft to the dashing square-jawed heros to the hidden base camp in a major American domestic tourist destination. The use of these 'unsophisticated' puppets is a perfect metaphor for American foreign (and internal) affairs. They are, actually, quite sophisticated; the strings may be visible but the faces -- and special effects -- are computer-animated. Wouldn't it be wonderful if strings were always this visible? Then we'd get a clear view at the sort of control multinationals have over political issues. I'm sorry David, but you've lost any skerrick of review credibility for me. From now on, I'm with Margaret.
I don't want to ruin the story for anyone re. Team America, but go in with an open mind and a strong stomach. There is a lot you can do with string marionettes, especially if you stuff them with cat meat. I thoroughly enjoyed this movie, especially the fact that, unlike many other movies bent on selling soundtrack spinoffs, every lyric counts. Highly recommended.
While we were unable to get into the house on the weekend, Best Beloved and I sat in Belconnen Mall and read the papers, then saw a movie. We decided upon Team America: World Police, as we are both big South Park fans. While we were waiting, I read David Stratton's review of it in the Review section of the Weekend Australian (4-5 Dec, p. R22). I have an SBS/ABC watcher's innate and longstanding respect for David and Margaret; I don't take sides with either, preferring (as a Libran) to consider both sides. Until now. Oh, David!
This is what he has to say at the start of his review:
"... A sharp dose of political satire would be rather welcome at the moment, but Parker and Stone have come up with a movie that makes South Park look like an exercise in sophistication and maturity. To start with, there's the questionable decision of featuring string puppets (the strings are plainly visible) rather than animated characters; the puppets are ugly and comparatively clumsy, and decidedly off-putting..."
Oh, David... Der fucking DUH!!!! I can't believe how completely you missed the point. Team America is so obviously a homage to the Thunderbirds in every sense, from the plethora of flying/underwater craft to the dashing square-jawed heros to the hidden base camp in a major American domestic tourist destination. The use of these 'unsophisticated' puppets is a perfect metaphor for American foreign (and internal) affairs. They are, actually, quite sophisticated; the strings may be visible but the faces -- and special effects -- are computer-animated. Wouldn't it be wonderful if strings were always this visible? Then we'd get a clear view at the sort of control multinationals have over political issues. I'm sorry David, but you've lost any skerrick of review credibility for me. From now on, I'm with Margaret.
I don't want to ruin the story for anyone re. Team America, but go in with an open mind and a strong stomach. There is a lot you can do with string marionettes, especially if you stuff them with cat meat. I thoroughly enjoyed this movie, especially the fact that, unlike many other movies bent on selling soundtrack spinoffs, every lyric counts. Highly recommended.
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
Oh lovely pussy, oh pussy my love...
The wedding was perfect. The weather was superb, the site stunning, my outfit a little bit loose due to a bit of inadvertent weight-loss. Bumblebee said 'The Owl and the Pussycat' without a hitch, Best Beloved said his vows with a glint in his eye, and I had to stop myself from laughing out loud from sheer joy. The food afterwards was just right (mounds of prawns, a fabulous whole blue-eyed cod, marinated beef and lashings of salad). The cake was one of Mum's experiments, one that worked: bottom level was mandarin semolina, the top level chocolate almond. We sat around all afternoon in the shade, looking over to the beach. None of the kids threw up, nor any adults. My lovely old Nana got progressively more pissed, saying odd things every now and again about how wonderful we all were.
At the end of the day we all wandered down to the beach where the rising full moon was a stunning pumpkin-orange in the inky-blue sky, and Best Beloved danced with me on the edge of the sand. This meant more to me than the whole day put together, because he is morally and physically opposed to dancing (not anyone else, just his own body), and I love a good sway/bump/grind/pogo. So when he started to dance me around on the sand it took a moment for me to realise what he was doing, and I held my breath (or breathed very shallowly) until we stopped. Magical! Better than magic.
So a few days later I am sitting in an internet cafe in Bateman's Bay avoiding the heat and waiting to go in to the cinema to see Bridget Adams 2. The cabin we are staying in has a fabulous view of Depot Beach, just across the road. We have been feeding parrots and kangaroos by hand, and eating good food, and rediscovering the joys of cryptic crosswords. Two more days till we go home, and it is flying by far too fast for my liking.
At the end of the day we all wandered down to the beach where the rising full moon was a stunning pumpkin-orange in the inky-blue sky, and Best Beloved danced with me on the edge of the sand. This meant more to me than the whole day put together, because he is morally and physically opposed to dancing (not anyone else, just his own body), and I love a good sway/bump/grind/pogo. So when he started to dance me around on the sand it took a moment for me to realise what he was doing, and I held my breath (or breathed very shallowly) until we stopped. Magical! Better than magic.
So a few days later I am sitting in an internet cafe in Bateman's Bay avoiding the heat and waiting to go in to the cinema to see Bridget Adams 2. The cabin we are staying in has a fabulous view of Depot Beach, just across the road. We have been feeding parrots and kangaroos by hand, and eating good food, and rediscovering the joys of cryptic crosswords. Two more days till we go home, and it is flying by far too fast for my liking.
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