The Wait: Update Two (4dp5dt) — Yeah, I’m Weird


I’ve been waiting my whole life betting on a change

See it coming, getting better, getting better now

Feel the shake, shake steady of a soul to the flame

Come in closer, oh, come feel the love on the inside

Electric current in my veins lets me know I’m alive
I burn, I breathe, I blink, I change
Wide, wide, wide, wide open
And it’s a fine, fine, fine, fine world
And this is my, my life I’m hoping

Will be a fine, fine, fine, fine world

I heard the Sugarland song, Wide Open, while driving the Malibu Canyon on my way to my second lunch outing this week.  I have one scheduled every day for what I like to call: Operation Distract Terry.

The Malibu Canyon drive is unlike any other drive in Los Angeles.  It’s in enough proximity to Los Angeles, to be considered Los Angeles, yet it isn’t.  It’s other-worldly beautiful.  Whenever I drive it alone, the majesty of the drive will illicit a conversation with God, even if I’m singing.  Today it was God, Sugarland and me.  Wide open, we flowed through the canyon; absorbing the tranquility of the pristine mountain peaks and the valley below; as the voice of Jennifer Nettles escalated through the speakers. I tried to emulate it with the sun roof open.

As I bounded out of the car, Wide Open remained my daily rhythm.  The song making my heart dance and spirit soar whether I was editing, bookkeeping or eating lunch.

You ARE weird, she said.

I know, I smiled.

I was not going to write today, but after lunch with my friend Katherine, I suddenly had a lot to say.  Whether anyone wanted to read it or not is still up for debate, but I had to write.

Katherine is one of my biggest “fans.”  She says my blog is like a soap opera — in a good way.  I am still not sure what to make of that word fan.  Most of my “fans” (if not all of my fans) are my friends and family. Fans are people painted and screaming at football games.  I love all of these people.  I only mention it because Katherine is not the first person to say it.  I struggle with the word (over-thinking it), but love the fact that some people enjoy the writing; or perhaps just the journey.

This week I am on a lunch tour to distract myself from every little cramp, pull, tug and twinge.  Yesterday it was Cheryl.  Today Katherine.  Tomorrow Haley.  It is officially 4 days past a five day transfer (4dp5dt); I do feel some mild cramping and tugging in my lower abdomen.  I imagine they are in there burrowing in deep, hell-bent on sticking around. Stubborn like their mother.  Athletic like their father.

I have felt this before many times.  It can be due to the copious amounts of hormones I am on, but it can also mean something more exciting.  I focus on the more exciting thoughts while honoring the less exciting ones as possible.

After eating a ridiculously healthy beet salad, I finished lunch with two decaf cappuccinos and pushed the cramping and tugging out of my mind.  Not completely out, but to the periphery, at least.

In other news, we have eight embryos on ice (aka: frosties).  Eight.  Nice.  (Sigh of relief.)

As we’re talking at lunch my friend Karherine asks me lots of questions about writing.  Had I ever done it before? Had I ever thought about it?  How did I get here? 

When I began to realize people were actually reading what I was writing, I did a lot of personal introspection on the subject.  I’ve always loved writing, but how did I get here?  And the bigger question … what took me so long because this is magnificent fun.

I find compliments hard to absorb because I am not a trained writer, so despite loving it, I have so much to learn.  As I watched Oprah’s interview with Ayana Mathis (author of The Twelve Tribes of Hattie, which I just finished reading) I was humbled once again.  I am writing drivel.  She is writing velvet prose.  Her sentences float off the tongue with an elegance and grace I have yet to even contemplate much less master.

She writes literature.  I write about my uterus.  We are worlds apart.

Writing is certainly not a career for me at the moment, and I have no idea if it ever will be, but it does bring an inner peace I have not felt in a long time, if ever.  Just allowing myself to do it opens me up, let’s me out. Wide Open.  It’s a passion I have either unlocked or uncovered.  Whichever one it is, now I need it.  It’s like a really good drug.  As I write this, I think how much we should all dig to the depths of ourselves in order to unearth the passions in us — unleashing a euphoria generally reserved for really good drugs.  Sans drugs.

There is a cape for each of us, we just have to figure out what color ours is and start flying.

That’s how writing feels for me.  Like I’m flying — without a flight plan.  I’m having a good time wading through the words.  Putting too little and too much thought into it, depending on the day.

Perhaps infertility served a deeper purpose in my life?  Opened me.  Made me more receptive.  Wide Open.  I would rather have not had it, but sometimes I think it’s better to look at what you gained from something rather than ponder what you lost.  From where I sit now, I’m not sure if my glass is half empty or half full — I’m just so happy to have a glass at all.

During lunch, Katherine said (paraphrasing because I do not carry around a recorder), Do you know how when you go to a movie, you come out of the movie sometimes wanting to be the character in the movie?  You take on the mannerisms of Julia Roberts or Meryl Streep?  The voice?

Yes, I said.  We both have acting backgrounds, so of course I get this.  My husband does it sometimes, too.  I think lots of people do it if a character speaks to them in some way.  I could walk around pretending to be Judi Dench in anything … for days.

I went on to tell her about the summer I spent in New York devouring every volume of the The Diary of Anaïs Nin I could get my hands on.  Sitting in coffee shops, The Cupping Room, The Little Church Around the Corner and even the lobby of the Marriott Marquee – I could not read her inner ramblings fast enough.  I was so engrossed in her really crazy life.  Every time she mentioned an address I would write it down and plan a visit to that part of town.  Sometimes I would even put on skirts and thrift store hats from the 20’s and try to somehow embody her, even if only for an afternoon.

After I finished rambling this story — a story I had never actually told anyone before — that’s when she said it.

You ARE weird.

I suppose I am.  Proudly weird.

I’ve always been more drawn into the characters in books than in movies; you spend so much more time with them; drinking tea and getting to know exactly what makes them tick.  If the characters are well written, they suck you into their soul so deeply, it sometimes takes me days to get them out of my psyche.  I find myself day dreaming about someone who does not even exist; or who did or do exist for that matter.

I was well into one of Anaïs Nin’s later diaries before I realized she was one of the most critically acclaimed writers of female erotica.  I had no idea.  I just loved autobiographies.  I bought the first one for fifty cents at a used book store knowing nothing about her.  I instantly became absorbed in her relationships with her therapist and Henry Miller — and even her relationship with New York City itself.  She was so weird and mysterious; I was drawn to it.

I’ve never read the erotica, but let’s just say I was not surprised when I learned that about her.  She was pretty promiscuous.

Try as I might, I’ll never be that mysterious.  I’m too silly to be mysterious.  I’m too married to the love of my life to be promiscuous.  But weird?  Weird I can do.  We should all wear our weird a little more often.

Jonathan had dinner scheduled with friends tonight, so I was solo.  It was all about Sugarland.  The banjo picking bluegrass was gone and replaced with dancing around the kitchen jamming with Jennifer Nettles.   I do that a lot when he’s not home.

It’s weird, I know.

As I’m bouncing up and down I remember I’m not supposed to be bouncing up and down.  Oops.  Hopefully I didn’t jiggle anyone around too much.  Luckily these little eggs are younger than me.  (Sigh.) (Pray.)

After hitting publish on this blog, I will crawl into bed and start an episode of The Virginian in honor of Katherine.  Unfortunately, it is not one of the ones she was in, but in honor of our day, I will watch one of the many I have on our DVR — next to Gunsmoke and Twilight Zone.  Oh, and Justified.  But I have to wait for Jonathan to watch Justified.

Today I downloaded War & Peace on my Kindle.

I know, I’m weird.

Every life has a moment where sweat meets fate

On your mark, get ready, get ready now

Gonna find out fast what a heart can take

Come in closer, oh, come feel the love on the inside

Electric current in my veins lets me know I’m alive

I burn, I breathe, I blink, I change


  1. Kelly Tadlock says:

    I love everything about this!!!! I love being one of your biggest fans, and we are talking the loud, face painted, cow bell ringing, football type!!! I think (pray, hope, wish) about you and those sweet embryos of yours everyday. I look forward to reading your blog everyday…it is one of the best parts of my day!!! You inspired me to join a gym yesterday – one that offers YOGA classes!!! You just inspired me to get my Anais Nin book off the shelf and actually READ it this time! I love how you incorporate songs into your blog, I incorporate them into my life everday like that! I have always wanted to dress like Frida Kahlo ( even if only for an afternoon ) or dress my kids like Frida and Diego….you just inspired me to embrace the beautiful weird in me!!!! Chloe came home from school the other day and said someone called her “weird”. I became very defensive and upset, and asked her, “what did you do?” She said, ” I said, thanks! It’s better than being BORNING!!!” Way to go kid!!! You are not boring Terrylox!!! I can’t wait until you have some little “weirdos” of your own!!! It’s all good!!!! I love ya friend!!!! Keep on writing for you, and for them, and for all your fans!!!!! XOXOXOXO

  2. Kelly Tadlock says:


  3. Terrilox Terrilox says:

    I love you! And I love that Chloe said that it was better to be weird than boring. She is so right. I love her already. ;-)

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