Get Fuzzy

I have a Get Fuzzy calendar on my desk at work. I'm usually at least 5 days behind in reading them. Lots of times, I keep the comic because I love it so much and it makes me laugh out loud. A few weeks ago, ok, make that a month ago, back on July 5th, the comic made me think of our IF journey. It went something like this:

Setup: Satchel, after weeks of trying to grow seedlings, but always gobbling up the seeds or losing them during some other mishap, is sitting at table, looking glum, staring at a pot of dirt.

Satchel: My seeds aren't growing at all . . .

Rob: Well, you could talk to them. I've heard plants respond to that.

Satchel: Ok...I'd like you to grow little guy ... of course, your odds of survival are like a hundred to one ... and Bucky will probably rip you apart as soon as you poke above the -

Rob: On second thought, don't talk to it.

I have a tendency to be guarded and to want to protect myself during the 2WW - but what if my little embies need some positive energy and need me to talk nice to them? What if I worry about miscarriage and genetic disorders and placenta previa and they pick up on that? So, I'm trying to remain positive, even though from where I sit, the view looks a lot like Satchel's - a pot full of dirt with no clue there's a seed under there.