My body, her life

We've settled into a charming little routine here: Judybat opines about world events. I whine about the various ways in which my body is failing me.

Just like the Scooby Gang, I've got a theory: Maybe Judybat has some much anger and frustration to express right now because she's repressing her anxiety about Segundo. (The idea of Judybat repressing anything is a little mind-blowing, but still . . . )

Take, for example, the ongoing argument in my house. If I don't get pregnant this time, our second attempt for those of you keeping track, I feel the need to hold off for a few months before hopping up in the stirrups again. It's a work thing: We have these silly little elections in Portland next November, and covering them is part of my silly little job. Getting knocked up anytime after, say, NOW would mean giving birth in late July or early August, which would mean taking my three months of maternity leave smack in the middle of the election. Which would mean, I tend to think, shirking my duties and, more importantly, pissing off my bosses. At some point, it's possible I'm going to want those bosses to help me get a job back east. So why not wait until early '06, when we can try again without worrying about timing?

Judybat thinks this is, not to put too fine a point on it, "idiotic." She says I'm letting work control more important things, dictate when and how we make decisions about the rest of our lives. To a certain extent, I agree. And yet my professional success, or lack of success depending on the day, is a pretty big chunk of the rest of our lives, or at least the part that involves figuring out where and how we live for the next 5, 10, 25 years.

What's troubling about this fight -- and it has turned into a fight on more than one occasion -- is that we disagree at all. Except for a few minor things -- whether to eat meat or not, whether to sit in a quiet room alone reading or invite a dozen people over to play games -- we never disagree. Or when we do, there's always a readily apparent compromise.

Not this time. So chalk up something else for me to whine about.