The whole point of the blog...Part 2

Here ya go, Michelle. I finally got around to Part 2. :)

OK. We left off at the ridiculously large tank sitting in the hallway. That was where the fun part started.

We had a general plan. We were going to try to create a relaxing atmosphere...we lit some candles, turned on some classical music CD...created some general ambiance. We stood there, observed our romantic scene, and smiled. Then we focused on the task at hand.

Now, we must have some general ground rules for this post. First, you've all gotten the talk about where babies come from, so use that conversation to fill in some of the blanks. While avoiding TMI moments as much as possible, the story is funnier if you know that I was...well...dressed for the occasion. Try not to imagine that in too much detail, please. I'm going to avoid embarrassing myself anymore than that. I think that's sufficient.

So, we have our candlelight, our romantic music. Trust me, although we have tried to set the scene, there is nothing romantic about it. So. I sit down on the bed with the 20 sheets of paperwork that came with the tank, reading the directions out loud. The gist is, you carefully remove the vial from the liquid nitrogen, trying not to freeze your hands off. You set the vial on the counter for 20 minutes to thaw. Then, well, refer to your birds and bees.

So, we walk over and remove the lid to the tank. Imagine opening the door to a really cold freezer, a frosty mist billows out. That's what happened when we opened the lid. So yeah, this stuff is really cold.

The wife reaches for the metal stick that is holding the vial. I scream "Don't do that...that's liquid nitrogen!!". She stops...looking frightened. I guess with the candles and calming music, she wasn't expecting to get yelled at. "Hold on!"...I run out of the room.

I come back into the room wearing my Isotoner leather gloves. Yeah, that's attractive.

I start to reach in to grab the metal stick. At this point, I'm not sure that leather and liquid nitrogen go well together. I stop...[lightbulb]...and I say to the wife "go get the tongs out of the kitchen".


The Wife: "Tongs?"

Me: "Yes, tongs. We need something to grab hold of this stick with."

The Wife: "Our good tongs?"

Me: (exasperated) "Yes, our good tongs. If need be, we can throw them away and get a new set"

The Wife: "But we just got those for the wedding"

Me: (More exasperated) "Don't you think that this is an important enough occasion for the good tongs????"


The wife dutifully leaves the room and comes back with the tongs.

So, we pull the really long stick out of the tank, to finally get a good look at the marinade. Just for reference, I took perspective shots with my deodorant (it was the most convenient thing around that would convey size to all of you).

Here is the tank and my deodorant:

Here is the vial with my deodorant:




I know, holy crap that thing is tiny!!!

So the vial is on the counter, and we are waiting for the timer to go off. See what I mean? Soooo not romantic.

Timer goes off - we go in to inspect the vial. Seems thawed out. So we have the vial, and a needle-less syringe. No people, we didn't actually use a turkey baster. The wife leaves the bathroom, comes back with latex gloves on. Now we truly have a science experiment.


Me: "Are the gloves really necessary? You are only touching a vial and a syringe."

The Wife: "YES!! I don't want to touch that stuff!"

Me: "Uhhh...it has to touch me. You could pretend this isn't so gross. That could be our kid there."

The Wife: "That's different. And its still gross. I'm wearing gloves."



I sigh and the discussion ends.

So, birds and bees, birds and bees, birds and bees.

I'm lying there as you see on the movies, with my legs up in the air (like that'll help...I think we watch too much TV). The wife reaches for the remote control.


Me: "You are not turning on that television!" (I hate TV)

The Wife: "Yes I am, what else are we going to do for a half hour?"

Me: "I don't know...talk...bond...this is supposed to be an important moment!"

The Wife: "Fine. But I was hoping to catch Seinfeld"


There was an evil eye from me, and eye rolling from the wife. Yeah. Romantic.

[Just to keep from getting yelled at by the wife - she wasn't serious about the TV. She just tries to drive me nuts...and is usually quite successful at that endeavor.]

We settled on getting the computer so the wife could show me some picture of what she was thinking about for decorating the nursery. That conversation seemed more apt for the moment than a Seinfeld episode at least.

So, as we all know, tries number 1 and 2 didn't work. But I will always look back at that first try and giggle. That's what memories are made of.