After a huge graduation weekend replete with family love, friends love, and gifts and awash in sugar, gourmet food and champagne, we capped off the weekend with a day trip yesterday to attend a funeral.  At which the minister chose to say barely one sentence about the departed, who was a much-loved and connected 58-year old mother, wife, daughter (she left behind parents too) who died very suddenly Tuesday morning; and instead spent 45 minutes "preaching the gospel."  Now "the gospel" takes 5 minutes if you "present" it completely and 10 minutes if you take questions or beat around the bush.  This guy started with Adam and Eve in the garden and didn’t stop until most of the people in my pew were asleep.  In addition to his content, which was all-jargon all the way and not (in my view) terribly useful to Christians or anybody else, he also had a big smile on his face even when busting out stock phrases like "oh, yes, we are grieving…" and kept the big smile on when telling the shocked, shattered front two rows of family members just how they could / should find comfort in the Bible.  I am embarassed to be a Christian today because of that guy. 

Anyway, the graduation letdown is in effect today.  I have beautiful weather and plenty of things to do so I can’t complain.  I actually went all the way into the getting-my-doctorate question already, because of course I decided I really want to, even though that is insane.  Luckily for everyone, there aren’t a lot of programs to choose from, and I’ve missed all deadlines to apply for the only one in this city that could work.  There are good reasons for me to go on and get the Ph.D. or the Doctor of Music, but plenty of other good reasons why this isn’t the year to do it. 

One of the biggest is that I feel worthless when not "accomplishing" something and I have to confront that. 

So the hope was that by the time graduation was over I’d be on day 2 or 3 of my FET cycle and only about 10 days away from transfer, but my body isn’t cooperating and my period is 4 days late today.   Despite my reproductive decrepitude, I’m quite regular in that department.  Since I’m a) me b) 44 and c) have been on Lupron for almost 2 weeks, being pregnant isnt a possibility.  But having a late period gives me the same approximate feeling as I used to get in early high school, when if any reasonably attractive, not-gay guy would initiate a friendly conversation with me, I knew it was probably some kind of set-up.  I was the very-fat girl in high school who guys would play tricks on, like have one of them fake asking me on a date while the rest watched and then hooted with laughter.  Yes, I have the last laugh; I also have the scars.

Anyway … thus endeth the whining.  I am, in fact, the luckiest person I know in so many ways.  My body will eventually pick a day and get this party started, and if I can muster up the strength to thow away the leftover cookies … and cake… and brownies, I will be just fine. 

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