Condo boom or societal shift in urban living?

The last few weeks, I've encountered a number of articles discussing the proliferation of condos in Toronto. Don and I are continously waffling about our next steps in the world of real estate, so any external validation of our current station in life is welcome. That's why I enjoyed reading that "Toronto parents are learning what New Yorkers and Parisians have long known: no backyard needed." - National Post, Saturday, January 28th, 2006

The reason? Because the City is their backyard. I couldn't agree more.

Of course this doesn't mean we're married to the idea of condo life with chilluns, but it does add some weight to the possibility...

Yes, it's true. A house is a different beast that has a few plusses over the condo. Backyards, basements, attics, cubbyholes and alcoves, front porches, street hockey, trick-or-treating... and that's all good. That's what I grew up with. And if we could afford a nice 2 story brick house in Bloor West Village or Roncesvalles Village, we'd buy it in a snap. But the truth is---if we want all that, we'd have to make sacrifices---namely in terms of location. The idea of Port Credit or Lakeshore Village (south Etobicoke) has crossed our minds more than once. But then we think about what we'd lose...

High Park a mere 3 minute walk away, the exhilaration of the "Red Rocket" whizzing into the station or streaming along Roncesvalles, the Polish bakeries, the weekend brunch culture, the glee of grabbing an Eye Weekly or NOW as you hop on the subway, the organic food market in High Park, the street festivals, the intermingling of different languages on the streets, in the restaurants, on the bus... the omnipresent CN Tower, the sound of plates smashing on a hot summer night on the Danforth, the unpredicatable nature of independent business springing up---often in a clever, new fashion using old space---breathing life into this addictive organism that doesn't stop giving...

These are things I love and would want to share with my child. I'm just not sure I'd find them in a big house at the southern tip of Mississauga...

*The pic above was taken last October. Taking a coffee break in High Park---right after we visited the High Park Zoo. Yes, it's true. We have a zoo that's a 10 minute walk from our condo.

A pile of inspiration

Finally managed to fix our computer, so I can post the pic of the fabric and mags that I hope to do something crafty with.

Tomorrow is my first pay day on the new job. Might just have to reward myself with a trip to the St. Lawrence flea market on Sunday...

Another day, another dollar

Feeling a bit sluggish at work the last few days. Physically and mentally. Not a good time for such feelings. This is a new job, must make good impression, I tell myself. (Look, I'm speaking in fragment sentences. Even my writing is sluggish).

Maybe I have a case of circumstantial depression brought on by the fact that our new leader is Stephen Harper. Yeah, that must be it. I'm sure i'm not the only one that's come down with this "bug."

So I'm on the 1500mgs of Metformin. Three a day with meals. Thankfully, I've experienced zero side effects. I'm on day 12, so weez be gittin' down to bidness in a few more days.

Get Metformin. It pays.

I can only hope that Metformin will do *something* for my flawed reproductive system. After meeting with Dr. Greenblatt on Wednesday, she confirmed that my blood levels indicate "high risk" for type 2 diabetes and Metformin was the answer (in addition to a few key lifestyle changes, like avoiding 5 sugary cookies in one sitting).

So, it's two months on Met and then Met plus Clomid after that. After THAT, we'll move on to injectables. Yay. This means needling myself in the gut. On the bright side, my Google-ing efforts have turned up some promising success stories from PCOS women who took Met or a combination of Met and Clomid.

Don and I attended an adoption seminar put on by the Adoption Council of Ontario yesterday. Wasn't prepared for the warm and fuzzy circle of infertiles introducing themselves (I thought we'd be able to hide in an auditorium or something). Don did our introduction, which was a variation on every other person's response: "Hi, I'm Don and I'm here with my wife Sarah and we're just here to educate ourselves on the ins and outs of adoption."

Learned a few things about private vs. public vs. international adoption. Still not ready to get the wheels in motion but at least we'll be one step ahead of the game, if and when we do.

Heeeere chicky, chicky, chicky...

Apologies to my hordes of fans for the absent posts of the last few days. I know you've come to depend on their riveting content to get you through the day.

Fear not. I'm back.

And I'm employed.

2 days in at the Cancer Society and it's feeling pretty good. I'm a tad overwhelmed with the details (i.e.: 10-page spreadsheets devoted to 70 some-odd marcomm products and their inventory status), but I'm incredibly grateful for the return to stability---even if it is just a maternity-leave contract.

And as a nice little bonus, I'm told there's "something in the water" there because the marcomm ladies are getting preggers like it's going out of style.

Tomorrow, I FINALLY meet with Greenblatt to discuss my zany bloodwork and whether or not there's any hope in hell of this hen ever laying a golden egg.

I remember the thirty-five sweet goodbyes

... when you put me on the Wolverine up to Annandale.

For those who don't know (or appreciate) the lyrical allure and top shelf musicianship of Steely Dan, the above is a quote from one of their best tunes, "My Old School."

Last night I was reminded of how much I love these guys. I went out for dinner (Ethiopian!) with my pal Melissa, dropped into the Gladstone Hotel for a beer and then headed across the street to her man friend's for more beer and a peek at his record collection. (*Did I mention that Atom Egoyan and Arsinee Khanjian were quietly lapping up Ethiopian goodness right across from us?).

Anyway, collection was impressive. To peg Dave would be unfair, but he's a Little Feat/ Allman Bros./ Neil Young type. Sorry Dave. The plaid flannel shirt didn't help your case. :)

There was plenty of tasty Steely Dan goodness and it felt great to slap on the vinyl with a little Hockey Night in Canada and a bowl of corn chips.

The whole night out just reminded me of how little Don and I get out.

Belated New Year's resolution? Take in this fine city on a regular basis.

She's here.

AF arrived this morning. I was strangely happy to see her. 50 days without a visit is a damn long time, Aunty! Just for you, I've got the Waldorf salad and a game of bridge lined up for the afternoon.

Darling Don is away for a day in Ottawa. His good buddy Owen's wife, Sandra, decided at the last minute to surprise her hubby with a birthday present of Don's presence. So she flew him in, just so they could watch the Sens and the Leafs battle it out on the tube together.

While I was a bit sad to see him off this morning, I'm going to find some joy in a little solo time today and tomorrow. Job starts on Monday, so I'm in personal psyching mode. Tidying the house, figuring out the first impression outfit for Day One, and partaking in random nothings like reading the Globe and Star, petting the kitty and doing a little knitty is what will comprise my Saturday.

It's a "feeling fat" day, so it's a good thing I'm in hibernation mode. Alright, maybe it's not deep-down good, but it's superficially good and I'm cool with that for today.

She's crafty! She's cold as ice!

As I was sitting there at the Knit Cafe casting on for the first time ever, I realized how long it's been since I actually learned how to do something. A sad revelation really. I've put my brain on hold for too long. But, boy did it feel good. If our computer wasn't actiing up, I'd show you all a picture of my robin's egg blue scarf (I'm about 12 rows in). Alas, it's not possible until our "Nerd on Site" arrives to fix things today.

In addition to learning how to knit, I also chatted with one of the founders of the Knit Cafe and told her I planned to learn how to sew as well. It turns out she's a textile artist who is affiliated with this cool biz, Ruckus. I told her I want to learn the basics (cushion covers, simple bags, maybe an a-line skirt). Anyway, she offered to give me a lesson or two and I plan to hear from her in the next few days. Can't wait! She's even going to recommend a good place to get a used machine.

Good news about my Mom. She found out that her cancer is HER2 negative and this means it's the less aggressive form of breast cancer and therefore the chemo will be shorter and less aggressive. Her first treatment is tomorrow and I'll be thinking of her every minute of every hour.

Only two more days of "freelance freedom" as I've come to call it. My old friend the 9-5 grind welcomes me back on Monday.

Creative endeavours

Ok folks. Time to talk about stuff other than rotten eggs and makin' bacon.

I've found myself incredibly inspired by all the crafty blogs out there. Soulemama, Little Birds, Bird in the Hand and Tania are but a few of the awe-inspiring women out there making lovely things in their spare time.

I know I've got it in me to make my own charming little things but I wish I knew how to sew godammit! Oh well, I guess I'll have to learn.

Here are just a few things I hope will find their way into my creative endeavours:

• Vintage fabric
• Good Housekeeping and Better Homes and Gardens imagery from the 1930's
• Tongue-in-cheek tip of the hat to old-school domesticity
• Ducks and bunnies because Don and I love them
• Vintage advertising
• Powerful quotes and lyrics
• A mix of utilitarianism and frivolity
• Priddy flowers and yummy cake

Wouldn't it be grand if all hours of the day were dedicated to crafts and cookies and being with the ones we love? The answer is YES.

Neg on the preg

So I took a pregnancy test last night. As expected, it was negative. It's CD 46 and AF has yet to show her face.

Finally got my bloodwork back. Just as my Mom suspected, it looks like I could be hovering on the edge of a diabetes diagnosis. I have yet to talk to the doctor and get their professional assessment of the results but this is what I discovered on my own:

My insulin level was 916. The reference range is "up to 210". My glucose fasting was 6.8. The reference range is 3.6-6.0. The lab put "HI" beside each result in the "Abnormal" column of the chart.

In addition to this curve ball, it also looks like I have low prolactin (5), low luteal phase progesterone (1.1) and high luteal phase LH levels (22).

I had planned to get some loose ends (with my freelancing) tied up today before I start my new job next Monday, but I'm just not in the mood.

In the powerful words of Scarlett O'Hara, "Tomorrow is a another day!"

Heath and Jake brokeback my heart

Movies are always a good escape from stress, so Don and I took in Brokeback Mountain last night. We were both quite moved to say the least. And dare I say this movie will make more than a few women view sex between men on par with how men view girl-on-girl action. It was pretty damn hot.

But back to being to moved... this was a very tender story about two lost souls who find more than just kinship with one another. The heartbreak comes from the fact that they had to live a secret. Pursuing "normal" lives with wives and children to keep up appearances, means they can be nothing more than periodic "fishing buddies."

Heath Ledger's performance is a prize winner.

Unfortunately, our theatre experience was tainted by a shocking number of audience members who were clearly homophobic. A naked jump off a cliff into the lake or a playful tossle around the campfire illicited completely uncalled for laughter. In one of the earlier scenes where Heath's character says to Jake's "I ain't no queer ya know," I heard a full-grown woman say "Liar." I even saw about 5 people walk out, coats in hand, when they realized this movie wasn't John Wayne material.

A sad state of affairs indeed.

Finally got a call from Mt Sinai today. Apparently they haven't received my bloodwork results from the lab. Nice.

I tried to brew up a little more optimism today. You see, I've noticed that my basal body temperature has been elevated a few degrees higher than normal for the last week. If luck was on my side and I managed to ovulate around Day 31, it's remotely CONCEIVEable that we could be pregnant. This would have to continue for approximately 10 more days without an appearance from AF to make a pregnancy test worth taking. (FYI: I'm on CD FORTY-FOUR!).

It's HIGHLY unlikely that we're pregnant but you take what you can get.

Pollyanna, where are you?

Okay, so my optimism waned a touch yesterday. Forget a touch. It was a motherlode of lost optimism. I just have this gut feeling that I'll never be pregnant. Call it the "anti-maternal instinct." I know we owe it to ourselves to try a few more tricks with the RBU but I just feel like there's too much working against us. PCOS, possible thyroid disease, possible diabetes. My inordinately long cycles. (I'm presently on day 42). And I can't help but remember being told as a young teen that I might not be able to have children because of the medication I took for epilepsy. (*Note: I've been off the medication since Grade 11 and the Dr. at Mt Sinai says it bears no relevance, but whatever---I've carried that possibility with me since I was about 13).

Combine this all with the fact that even if I was blessed with pregnancy, women with PCOS have a 45% chance of miscarriage!

Knowing and feeling all of this, I'm more and more inclined to get the adoption wheels in motion. Don on the other hand, is not so keen. He feels we haven't given it a fair shot. The truth is, he's right. But that hasn't stopped me from exploring all the international agencies in town---some of which have horrific names like "Mission of Tears" and "Precious Pearl Adoption." Some strike lightening bolts of skepticism when you visit their Web sites. First off, shitty Web site design always makes me vomit. But then there's the Christiany-y Christian crap and the mailing address that makes you think it's Auntie Maureen operating out of her kitchen in drab suburbia. (i.e. 1254 Firwood Court, Ajax, Ontario).

BUT... there are some credible ones too. With lots of cute pics of chilluns who have found homes. Should we go down this path, I'm thinking it will be a wee one from Bulgaria or the Ukraine that we pursue. This would be rather appropriate considing our neighbourhood (Bloor West Village/ High Park) has a large Ukrainian community. The pics above are from Caring Homes for Orphan Children, a Toronto-based agency dealing in Ukrainian and Bulgarian adoption.

But I guess I'm getting ahead of myself a bit here. I'm expecting a call from the RBU today with results from all those blood tests I took, plus an appointment with Dr. Greenblatt to discuss next steps.

Next entry? The pluses and minuses of adoption.

A baby story

Alright, I admit it. I can't pull myself away from the TV when TLC's "A Baby Story" is on. All these New York and New Jersey moms giving birth just sucks me in. The last few days before delivery devoted to final nursery prep, prepping siblings for the impending arrival, the requisite water breaking, the howls and moans followed by the oozing of love when the little one is plopped on the mommy's chest and the dad sheds a tear while he compensates for his sensitive behaviour with a little "Hi there, buddy." And of course, the name of the baby that appears on the screen, usually when they're sitting on the scale. (Of course, sometimes the whole experience is trashed with a shitty baby name, like "Trinity Faith" or "Braeden Blake."

I'm sure I'm not the only fertility-challenged woman that watches this show. But while some may feel the hot, molten lava of envy, I actually get a bit of joy out of seeing these little creatures come to be---even if I'm never able to do it on my own.

So, I'm on Day 40 of my cycle and I'm sure Aunt Flo is due any day. My last cycle was 40 days. My doctor at Mt. Sinai isn't back in the office until Jan. 10th, so I'm having a minor meltdown about how I'm going to get my Clomid upped. I'm also itching to know the results of my glucose fasting, progesterone etc.

My Mom is convinced I'm diabetic. My dad was diagnosed with borderline Type 2 last year and according to my Mom, I "get a look in my eye" when I want sugar. And PCOS is linked to insulin resistance, so we'll see.

The year of the egg?

Oh please, sweet, sweet gods of 2006---allow me to lay an egg or two this year, will ya?

The optimism is still there but as I've told (explained to) Don, I can't play the Trying Game for crazy amounts of time. A little meds, a little IUI, a little egg donation perhaps. But if nothing happens for us by the end of summer, we begin slogging our way through the adoption process. It's crazy to think that if we're unlucky with conception, we could be looking at potentially another 2-3 years before our small fry arrives. Ok, it's not just crazy. It's frustrating, ill-inducing and just plain unfair!

Okay, somebody slap me back into sweet, good-naturedness. Cranky grovelling is not the way to start a new year.

On that note, here's a list of things that will make 2006 365 days worth living:

1. My brand-new Braun hand blender (the soup possibilities are endless)
2. Other people's babies
3. My first trip to California in May. Hollywood Homes tour. Price is Right. A cocktail at the Beverly Hills Hotel. Strong potential of witnessing petulant celebrity behaviour. Can't wait.
4. The vision of a new me, thanks to the new gym in our condo that we plan to frequent 4 days a week
5. Pesto, arugula, salmon, sushi, Heuvos Divorciados at Easy, SlimFast Peanut Crunch Bars, Red Rose tea, Indian food, my new Donna Hay cookbook
6. Discovering the glories of owning an iPod (slated to receive one for my birthday in Feb.)
7. Knitting (if I can grasp the art)
8. A new Prime Minister named Jack Layton?
9. My new job at the Cancer Society
10. Being there for my Mom while she fights the fight known as breast cancer

Got my haircut yesterday. Shampoo girl sure had a big pile to sweep up. I've attached a pic, to show the new do. It's totally low maintenance, which I love.

Perfect for motherhood.