Ahhhh...Croatiaaaaaa...?

That’s generally what people say when we tell them we’re going to Croatia. You know, like they’re stumped. After the initial bewilderment, sometimes people will nod their head, like “of course”, and leave it at that (like when you're looking at modern art and trying to play it off like you “get it”), and others, will ask, very honestly, “why Croatia?” So, why Croatia? Because it’s frickin’ gorgeous that’s why. With the Dalmatian coastline, the tangles of tiny, little off-shore islands, crystal clear blue water, Plitvice National Park, Dubrovnik, etc. I think the better question is...why not? The war is long over and tourism has become the major industry. It’s a huge destination for the Europeans (I can hear my friends back home...”Gawd, she’s becoming such Euro-trash”). Floyd and I are headed there for about 10 days. It’s our first “real” vacation since moving over here and we’re doing it all by our lonesomes. We need it big time.

You see, I’ve been a royal bitchy grump these last few days. The whole 3-year thing is seeping into my psyche like a nasty, black ooze and just wreaking havoc. I’m fuckin’ depressed...like, back to my infertility struggles, depressed. Maybe even more so. At least with infertility I didn’t get my hopes up and start buying little Thor things. Everybody seems to want to try and put some positive spin on it, but you know what? Stop it. Please. And all my lovely, internetty, baby waiting, gal pals seem so...upbeat. And I just feel like a fuckin’ toad. They’re getting on with their lives, talking about diapers and such, and I’m walking around with knots in my stomach. I don’t feel like I can talk about diapers or buy baby clothes, read books about China, or make a quilt. I feel like the rug’s been yanked out from under us and every “promise” has been taken away. How in the hell did I get here? Better yet...how do I get out?

I know, I know...I need to get over it. Who am I to bitch? At least I get to go to places like Croatia. Sometimes I just need to remember that I’m the luckiest girl in the world. So I should just forget about this pesky little baby thing, and enjoy my most fortunate of lives.

So, that’s where I’ll be for a while. Enjoying my most fortunate of lives. Oh, and if anybody has heard any good rumors, like somebody multiplied when they should’ve divided and the whole 3-year thing was a silly mathematical error, please send them my way (and feel free to make something up!). If you send me good news, I’ll love you forever and think of you and your big, big heart while I’m sinking my toes into the sand.

Gawd. I’m sorry. This post started out so positive. As Floyd would say, I’m just a big crankaholic these days.