Tree Photography, Celebrity Hating, and other coping techniques

 The work week has a way of snapping you into focus, away from your personal issues. I suppose that's why they pay you. This is not your time, quit your bitching and get to it.
  The weekend is your time. This has always been a good thing. This weekend, the challenge we face isn't blocked out by meetings and project plans. Our reactions to infertility stress are manifesting in interesting ways. It feels like an intro to pyschology class in this house. Shannon has developed a rather intense hatred of Gwyneth Paltrow. This exchange with Ellen Degeneres sent her over the edge last night while watching E! News:

Shannon woke up in a complete rage at 9:30am cursing Gwyneth. Diet Coke was required more quickly than normal.
I have entered into a rather intense flowering tree photography obsession. I've begun stopping randomly while driving to take pictures of blooming trees. Here was last night's addition:

 I've become totally infatuated with how spring has exploded around us. I keep catching myself marveling at the rebirth around me. I am a walking, talking, photographing cliche.
  We both admitted to our strange behaviors and so decided this morning we needed some traditional therapy, so we headed to the mall. Retail therapy is particularly effective in our family.
  Afterwards we took Brady to the park. Brady either loves something, or hates it. Brady loves playing fetch with a tennis ball. He does not love water. The first time he saw a body of water he just dove right into it and sunk like a stone. Thankfully the body of water was a pool and people were in it so they grabbed him and pulled him out before he swam to the bottom. I'd say hate is his personified emotion towards water.
  At the end of the park there is a pond that Brady will put his nose or his front paws in, but no further. While the other dogs leap in Brady looks at us to move on. This isn't for him, and he feels self conscious. Today when we reached the pond I threw the ball in just a few inches into the water. Brady reluctantly stepped in to get it. The next time I threw the ball a little further than I intended, too far for him to get without going over his head. As I hurriedly took off my shoes Brady ran to the edge of the furthest rock outcropping. Shannon called for me to stop: "Let him go, let him figure it out". Brady ran back and forth along the shore searching for a spot that he could stand and retrieve. Shannon and I stood silently as he tried several points without success. He did not turn around and signal he had given in. He calmed down and paused. Then, blindly stepping out a paw, found a rock under the surface that he couldn't see. He was now 6 inches away. He took his other paw and stepped blindly out, searching for and finding another high rock face under the surface. His head was immediately over the ball. He judged the ball in the water, and made a first strike, missing his grip and causing a splash. He took another lighter attempt, but the ball bounced back out. His third attempt was true, and he turned and ran out of the water scared but triumphant. We both clapped and congratulated him. Brady shook off the water, and we all walked on together.