Speaking of Natural Friends...

It's always amazing to me that I have become such fast friends with my fellow bloggers. One in particular has become a wonderful friend.

NATUI is in the Atlanta area, visiting her parents for the Christmas/New Year holidays. And she, being the sweetheart she is, drove one hour north to my humble abode, for an afternoon of Swedish coffee, gabbing, and watching our kids play together.

NATUI's hubby is Swedish and when she packed up her brood for a visit to Sweden and her in-laws this past fall, she made a little bit of room in her suitcase for some yummy Swedish coffee:


Now, I'll admit, I visited the Lindvalls Kaffe site and saw the description for this particular blend of Lindvalls coffee (Brygg). Um, yeah. There are words like "uttryckt," nedstigande," and "tillagningen." Wow. Obviously, my Swedish is non-existant. Oh! Wait! There's Finland! Yeah, I know that word! And I know that when I took my first sip of this coffee, I said, "Aaaaaahhhhhh!" Now, that word, I understand!

And it was also easy to understand the ease of our conversation over mugs of Brygg and the sounds of our kids quietly playing. LittleBird and LittleMan meshed so very well with Miss-Miss, Bubba, and J-man, like they were old friends just catching up for the afternoon, having known one another for many years. I loved LittleMan's emphatic descriptions of the toys he discovered in the living room and LittleBird's "Um, excuse me?" intro to all of her questions.

It? Was a wonderful afternoon. And we? Need to get Mr. NATUI transferred to Atlanta. FAST!


NATUI and J-man read Hippos Go Berserk!


LittleBird takes in a Miss-Miss/Bubba story moment.


We need to get more chairs for our table...


And two friends. Together again!

P.S. I found a Swedish to English site. Uttryckt is expressed, nedstigande is descendants, and tillagningen is cooking. And the coffee blend? Brygg? Means bridge. Yeah. I'm still scratching my head. NAAAAATUI!!!!! What does it all mean?!?

It's True Blog Love, People

Well, it's official. We are officially out-of-bounds, in unknown territory, testing out deep waters. You see, I hooked up with NATUI yesterday. No, not that kind of hook-up. Just keep reading.

Did we do lunch? Yes.

Did we exchange crazy kid stories? Yes.

Did we talk about the latest drama occurring in the People's Republic of Blogistan? Yes.

Did I go with her to her annual appointment with Dr. Miracle and stand by her side while she endured a Pap smear, pelvic exam, and vaginal sonogram to check the integrity of her ovaries since Mr. NATUI was unable to make the trip south (effing job) for said appointment and moral support?

Hell. To. The. Yes.

Yes, my friends and fellow citizens of the PRB, NATUI and I are no longer just blog buddies. We are more than that. We are true. blue. friends in fallopian tubes.

Allow me to explain. When you take a yearly trip to see Dr. Miracle, you get a hug, a kiss on the cheek, a question of "How are the kids/husband/job/you?", the usual breast exam, PAP smear, and pelvic exam. The difference between our Dr. Miracle and other OB/GYN docs is that your blood is drawn for a full hormone/triglyceride/lipid/insulin panel, and you receive a vaginal sonogram.

Yes, the dreaded vaginal sonogram. Not the pretty pelvic sonograms you see on TV where Insert Actress Name Here is placed perfectly on the exam bed, gorgeous make-up, cute maternity clothes, pelvic transducer gliding over her lubed-up belly, actor and actress smiling at the monitor and at the fake images of their TV show baby. Um, no, that's not even close to what I'm talking about. I'm talking about a vaginal sonogram transducer, a long, angular, plastic probe (covered with a latex condom and some lube - not kidding) that is not-so-ceremoniously placed in your vagina, up to the cervix (and sometimes past the cervix) and moved around to get perfect measurements and to look at your ovaries. That's the sonogram I'm talking about.

Now, some of you fellow bloggers who have been pregnant in the last ten years know what I'm talking about when I say vaginal sonogram. At times, when trying to ascertain precise cervical measurements during pregnancy, a vaginal sonogram is needed. I've had pregnant friends who wondered aloud, "Gee, Heather, I had a vaginal sonogram when I was pregnant with my baby and I don't know what you're complaining about. I didn't think it was all that bad."

Heh-hem. Yeah, um, be quiet and allow me to describe.

NATUI and I both suffer from endometriosis and ovarian cysts. Endometriosis makes the lining of one's uterus extremely tender. When Dr. Miracle inserts that vaginal transducer and begins looking around at your ovaries (this requires him to push that damned thing waaaaaaay the hell up your cha-cha) (yes, I used cha-cha-thank you Cartman), he's looking left, he's looking right, and each time he changes direction you. come. off. the table. Oh, yes. My last lovely sonogram was this past February. I'm due for another in September. I had more of these sonograms than I can count during my fertility treatments and both pregnancies. And every time Dr. Miracle changed direction yesterday while looking at NATUI's ovaries, she came off the table and I crossed my legs.

That, people, is love.

So, the next time you hear about bloggers getting together to share blog love?

Yeah, whateva.

Me and NATUI know what true blog love is all about!

Reunited, and it feels so good!

Oh, yeah. That's right. Me and Not Afraid to Use It? Together again. And Fab? Me eating Mrs. Fab's soup?

Yeah, whateva. Just wrap your noggin around this sordid tale.

So, we hooked up on Friday. Lunch at the Cheesecake Factory. See, NATUI is in town for the next couple of weeks while her worldly possessions are shipped from one end of the country to the other (brave woman). Mr. NATUI has been transferred and NATUI and the kids are shacking up with the 'rents. Cool.

Anyhoo, I digress. The kids and I headed down to Perimeter mall for a fabulous lunch of toys on the floor, whole milk dribbles, and zwieback toast goobers. NATUI was a trooper. Even though she's a mom of two, this experience allowed her to say to the hubby, with confidence, "Hell, no! Three ain't the magic number!" I'm so happy to be a poster-child for oral contraceptives!

So, the bill came and went with our American Express Delta Skymiles cards.

Yes. We have the same credit card.

See where this is going? 'Cause we sure as hell didn't!

NATUI hung with the twins while I carted J-man off to the ladies' room for a diaper change. Then, we traded kids and off I went with Bubba and Miss-Miss for their diaper changes (GOD! I need to potty-train them.). While this occurred, our cards came back. NATUI signed off on one receipt, I signed off the other. Off we went for minivan retrieval and the strapping in of kids (Seriously, 5-point restraint systems? Getting my kids into the car is like getting three drivers ready for a NASCAR race.) An hour later, we were off.

Later that evening, I head off to Kroger for the requisite milk, bananas, and baby food. Swipe the card in the self-checkout, walk over to sign the receipt, look down and realize, "Hey, wait! My name's not NATUI!?!? It's CMG!"

Dudes, OK, I realize her real name isn't NATUI. Seriously. It's not on her credit card, either. Like I'm gonna reveal that here. I mean, I guess I could make up a name. Hortense Winklestein. Prudence Finkleman. Nah. Maybe not.

So, anyway, I've just hollered out that "Holy crap! This isn't my card! I must have grabbed NATUI's card by mistake! She's friggin' two hours from here! How are we gonna exchange cards?!? Yo! Kroger lady! I need to cancel this charge and ring everything up again and charge it on my card."

Her response? You're gonna love this. This is why identity theft is soooo rampant in this country.

"I can't cancel the charge. Customer service is closed. Just sign the receipt with her name."

Seriously. I kid you not. Welcome to the 21st century. I may as well go ahead and publish my Social Security number on this site. It's 2....

Really? You thought I'd just put it out there? Not bloody likely.

So, Saturday I drove to south of Atlanta, hooked up with NATUI, met her adorable little ones (heard all about Little Bird's baby doll), and had this orgasmic pork burrito at a local Mexican restaurant. We figured out our illegal charges to one another's card (my card took a trip to Wal-Mart and Kohl's) and said good-bye, double-checking our wallets.

So, which of you blogging buddies wants to hook up with me next?

Oh, What a Night!

Last night was all about the hook-up! Michelle, a.k.a. Ms. Not Afraid To Use It, has been in town visiting the 'rents and we got together at the Perimeter Mall Cheesecake Factory. Woo hoo! We hit it off immediately, talking religion, politics, love of Gene Roddenberry, kids, coffee, endometriosis, Dr. Nezhat, husbands, parents, and everything else! The two different parties seated next to us must have had a fun time de-constructing our conversations in their respective cars going home! We ate, ate, and ate some more, downing some good food, great cheesecake (mmmmmm, pumpkin pecan), and awesome coffee! Then, we shut the place down. They were turning on lights, mopping floors, and we were still gabbing. Can't wait to get together again, Michelle! I had a great time and it's too bad we don't live closer.

In honor of last night's introduction, I have for you, dear readers, pictures from my morning. See, Michelle was kind enough to bring me a bag of Starbucks' special Lake Tahoe blend. Yummy! So, my morning coffee ritual was made even more special and I just had to document it! Here, on the right, is the extra-special bag 'o Lake Tahoe Blend. On the back is a sticker, signed by Susan (the girl who bagged up the beans), stating that one dollar of the purchase of said bag goes to the League to Save Lake Tahoe. Wow! Gettin' my coffee on AND doing good at the same time. This, ladies and gentlemen, is one step away from Heaven. It would totally be Heaven if a young Sean Connery were serving me this coffee in a silver coffee service while wearing his swim trunks from Dr. No. But, I digress.

Once the beans are released from bag-bondage, they must be sniffed in the hopes that some caffeine will be absorbed through my nasal cavity. That, and it makes me feel like a true coffee-connoisseur.

Now, we grind up those babies, stick 'em in the good 'ole Hamilton Beach Brew Station, and wait for the coffee smell to permeate the house. Meanwhile, I go up to shower, and when I return, it's coffee time!






I'd say that's one satisfied coffee-drinker. Thanks again, Michelle!