Well, the biggest news of my life currently is that I got new glasses. They're rather large and green and purple and I probably shouldn't be allowed to go glasses shopping by myself anymore. But I really do love them even though I keep chuckling at my reflection whenever I happen to catch it.
The second big news is that I've finally begun to investigate the grand mystery of why I continue to have no offspring. Most people who read this know me and most people who know me know I have been trying to get pregnant since the dawn of time and have never had the slightest hint of success. (And if you didn't know that, please don't be offended. It's an odd subject to come up, even among friends.) My biggest objection, both to the treatment of infertility and to the hopefully happy result of that treatment, is the fact that it all seems to involve many total strangers viewing a part of me that I like to keep covered, the part of the female anatomy that I believe is formally referred to as the hooha. Of course, the only thing worse than having it inspected by a stranger is having it done by someone you know, and I work in a tightly knit medical community in a small town. (Last year I had to go to the ER for a female problem, for instance, and the surgeon who did the consult was my friend's boyfriend. A good guy, totally professional, but I would probably consider the possibility of bleeding to death as a reasonable alternative to going back.)
Today's hooha inspector was a lovely radiology technician who was good enough to tell me that she herself tried for two years and went through two failed artificial inseminations before she had her daughter who is now a freshman at USF. Then, she told me how she got pregnant. In a lot of detail. Actually, I didn't mind that part too much. When I did my maternity rotation for nursing school I met a couple dozen pregnant women and new mothers and I always had to inhibit myself from asking how it happened. Because, you know, the answer is pretty much always the same. Anyway, the radiology tech said that after two years of trying she went back to Ohio to her husband's parents' house, the house her husband had been conceived in, and boom, it just happened, during a thunderstorm.
I thanked her very much when it was all over, because I do appreciate advice, even though Jeff's parents sold the house they had back then so this particular advice didn't help me much…