Assvice: Invent your own!

Why thanks, I think I will! I've decided that taking really long hikes with your beloved man boosts fertility--and fast! Yes, even faster than relaxing, chewing on those magical Peruvian roots, stuffing your craw with vandium, or submitting an adoption application.

Like all these myths and rumors, however, I don't have to bother with actually proving my claim. So get out there and start making shit up! It'll at least be a hell of a lot funnier than the stupid junk people foist off on you. Hmmm... "My cousin's accountant hit her thumb with a hammer, and wham! She was pregnant!" "I heard from the secretary at work that her friend drank poodle blood after trying for fifteen years and delivered the next morning!"

But seriously, we had a wonderful weekend. It's been eerily warm here in the ol' Heartland, and we embarked on not one, but two 10-mile + hikes. We tromped merrily over hill and dale through the forest, so strangely silent at this time of year despite the spring-like temps.

Then we played music and jammed with our buddy, a man of few words but many notes, and watched the Muppets and ate popcorn. Perfect!

It's funny, thinking about starting treatment. As I've written before, I don't feel like, "Joy! This is most certainly going to work! We're saved!" I feel more like, "Western medicine, the ball's in your court now. You've got the proof and the drugs and all that. Hit me with your best shot!" There's a feeling that I don't really have to do much anymore. If I want to drink a splash of coffee, whatever. If I want some cocoa almonds, fine. No more endless supplements of borage oil and vitex, no more fretting about my diet and how it's impacting my hormones. I can let go, do what feels good, and leave the work to evil C and friends. Oh, and to my body. I know my body will do what it can.

Damn it, letting go feels good! Especially when I just ordered this amazing chocolate cake from our best little hip bakery. It's my guy's birthday, and I can't wait to celebrate with him.