You see, unless you're a lawyer (or, even if you are), you don't need to know anything about the Rule Against Perpetuities (RAP). It's a venerable, leather-bound, cobweb-shrouded, yellowed, Gothic-printed old theory about how people are allowed to determine the chain of succession of land that they grant (give) or devise (leave to others in their wills). Based on that description, you might surmise that I enjoyed this small corner of the law immensely, and you would be right. I may be one of two or three law school graduates in the last century who felt that way.
Oh, so you can form your own opinion - here is the rule itself:
No interest is good unless it must vest, if at all, not later than twenty-one years after some life in being at the creation of the interest.
I could have done 80% of that from memory - maybe the whole thing, given time. :D Also, I know what it means. (Does that mean it doesn't matter that my garden refuses to produce any vegetables? No? Ah, well.)
Anyway, the RAP and its associated lore include a concept called "the fertile octogenarian." As I noted on Naomi's blog, in a traditional legal education, every first-year law student must know the meaning of this concept. Her post's charming reminder of the idea made me realize that it really needed to be a blog post title.
My DH and I still haven't had The Talk about what treatment I'll do (there's currently no rush because I was already into the buildup to peak this cycle by the time I had the appointment, and during my entire next fertile phase, he will be traveling; also, I have sent some questions to Dr. L/C for further information, and heard no response of any kind), nor have we scheduled our SA appointment (we're hoping for next Friday, so we need to get on that). And we haven't had The Talk about our future, though while we have been waiting to do so, we've had several nasty arguments about it. Progress, right? No.
Anyway, in view of the apparent fact that the gods hate me, and that I cannot plan for so much of my future as would allow me to buy a couch, let alone a house, I take comfort in the fact that my chosen avocation gives me at least 60 more years to achieve a pregnancy. I guess I have all the time in the world to try different medications...