The Verdict is IN!

Finally, the test results have come in. I am fine. Not a problem. No diabetes, or thyroid problems! The bad news is: I'm just plain fat. :D Since there is no chemical problem, I will have to get down to the real problem: my huskiness is caused by an overdose of goodness doctors refer to as cupcakes.

I must stop eating the things that taste good to me, and eat more of the things that ARE good FOR me.

At least it's good to know what was ailing me: too much crap!

Amber's Ring is... done!

The pictures of my ring are in! Keep in mind my stone is an "F" color, and the pic in the top left is NOT what it looks like in real life. It's usually very vibrant.

Without further ado, my RIIIIIIIIIING!!!!!

Apostrophe Abuse

I heard about this great website for anal readers and editors. (I wonder if this post would pop up on search engines due to the word "anal") It's Apostrophe Abuse! I love it! This place gives hope to people like me who cringe every time they see an apostrophe where there shouldn't be one. Like 1980s. There should not be an apostrophe there, like this: 1980's. It's so common. 1980 isn't claiming anything, is it? Didn't think so.

Anyway, enjoy the site, my anal readers.

I can write pretty

Sometimes I wish I could just sit down and write a book. Not like, "Wow, I've written so much in this comment to you, it's like a book!". More like, "Once upon a time, there lived a girl named Amber..." Of course, my book wouldn't start with "Once upon a time", since people don't write like that unless they're being ironic.

Of course, had I a choice about the kinds of things to write about, I'd probably choose my childhood, and my teenagerhood. Is that even a word? To be authorish, I suppose I should learn the difference between actual words and invented ones, since I know people like me would most likely go through the library versions of my books and underline misspellings and typos. Yes, I do that. And yes, I realize it's a problem.

Perhaps I should wax poetic on my Dad's various forms of embarrassment, calling me "Amberella", and wearing MC Hammer pants to my birthday party. With no shirt. Talking about the various hookers on Hollywood Blvd., with my girl scout troop in the backseat, in transit to see "Aladdin" at the El Capitan Theater. I love my dad so much, though, that I wouldn't want to write anything that may make people think badly of him. I'm very protective of this man, ya know?

I'm thinking my downfall to literary triumph would be two-fold. My inability to take anything as constructive criticism, and my adoration for everyone I would write about. Well, make that three-fold... I tend to hate in such a consuming manner. Hey, I'm a Scorpio, I do everything passionately, including keeping grudges and sending daggers of death from my piercing brown eyes. Ha, I'm so modest.

Am I alone in thinking I should re-think this whole "writing a novel" thing? My dream is to become the female David Sedaris, hmmm... I think that position has already been filled by his sister Amy, although I doubt that's allowed. Nepotism at its finest. :)

If I should miraculously contain each thought and use it to its potential (and learn when to use its versus it's), would you read me?

New Ring Images!!

My CADs are in! (Computer animated drawing, I think)

Front, with two diamonds on the basket on each side. The prongs will be thinner, split and clawed.






And the side




I can't wait!!

Cousin It.

I'm thisclose to murdering my second cousin and her asshole of a boyfriend. Can you imagine a guy who looks like an asshole? God, that's disgusting. Anyway, let me begin at the beginning. *wavey dream lines*

My cousin Ashley was a promising student at Chapman University. Until she met Kevin. Now she's a 20 year old drop out who has moved in with her 20 year old dropout boyfriend. Living in sin (and in secret until recently) I have no problem with. No, I have a problem with lying to everyone who cares about you, and virtually ignoring any and all advice that the boyfriend who TREATS YOU LIKE A DOG should be kicked to the curb. Ashley doesn't see it. Isn't that how it is when you're in your first "real" relationship?

This Kevin gentleman (used looser than a Reno prostitute) has absolutely no respect for Ashley's family, and is either always with her, or when he isn't, is on the phone with her constantly, telling her what to do. Until now, this hasn't bothered me too much. She's an adult, let her make her own mistakes, right? I'll still love her when she's torn apart after realizing what a massive douche-bag he really is. Why is it suddenly that it's affecting me?

Despite everyone telling them that Kevin was not invited to our wedding, he STILL tagged along with Ashley, who was a reader for us. When he showed up at the reception, he seated himself at an empty table, one that had my boss at it. He chatted up my boss and passed over a business card, what that business was, I don't know. In fact, I didn't even know about this passing of the card, I had no idea until...

Shoot to a few weeks ago, I get a phone call from Ashley. She's giving me the spiel about how she's "taking a break" from school, and is instead working for her boyfriend's company. She sounds like a cult member, telling it, "It's really fun, way more fun than animation. We go from office to office asking if they need help. Kev gave your boss his card at the wedding and we're hoping we'll get to see you soon." Poisoned Kool-Aid, anyone? I dismiss the call as a one-time thing, and forget about it. A week later she calls again, and I missed it. I didn't even bother to call her back. Another week or two goes by and she calls while I'm at work, telling me that Kevin "lost" my boss' number (LIAR! He never gave Kevin his card!! LIAR LIAR!) and would I mind giving it to her? Quick thinking me told her that I'm not allowed to give out numbers and I take down Kevin's phone number, but let her know that I'm not comfortable with this whole thing. Well, I write down three digits, close enough, right?

At this point, there is familial strife. Ashley's very divorced parents have called a family meeting regarding her asshole boyfriend and her dropping out of school. If her parents choose to meet, it must be a very big deal, ya know? Ashley proceeds to bring her boss, ahem, BOYFRIEND to this "family-only meeting". Ash's mom, who has never been the voice of sanity and reasoning tells him to hot-foot it out, and take his attitude with him. He talks back. Ashley's dad tells him he'd better learn who he's talking to, and to get himself a new attitude, since he KNEW it was a FAMILY meeting. Kevin leaves.

The other day at work, I left early. When I came in the next morning, Kevin called on my office line, asking to change his meeting time with my boss to an earlier hour. Are you fucking kidding me? How the hell did this smug bastard find out the number? I pass the message on to my boss, and then spend the rest of the day seething about my cousin, her dipshit boyfriend, and their utter LACK of professionalism and respect for family (why would you let your boyfriend USE your family like that, knowing how I feel?). All night I'm laying in bed, wondering what to say to my boss to let him know how we feel about Kevin.

I decide to send him an email telling him just what I think and what I know about him. I wax poetic on Kevin's shitheadedness, his utter lack of respect for elders, his condescending nature, his WEDDING-CRASHINGNESS, and above all, his creepy cult-like hold on my cousin, and the odd business he's running (although not able to pin down what it is exactly, he does). I tell my boss that I have no part in their deal, as I don't even like him, so if my boss is trying to help me out by helping a friend, not to bother, as he is NOT a friend.

Once I do this, I feel better, and boss-man and I laugh a great deal about how stupid this kid is, with his completely backward sense of thinking (he called to cement the appointment time, and mentioned he was bringing in a co-worker who was a great family man, "isn't that great?". Boss says, "I don't really care about his personal life"). Then I called my mom to bitch/snitch on my cousin and her piece of shit assfaced boyfriend. Have I used enough colorful expletives to correctly show how I feel towards that son of a bitch? When I finish telling Mom all about the crap that douche is pulling, she's pissed. How dare they take advantage of family like that, she says. Apparently they don't give a crap about how this could negatively affect my job, as Kevin may say or do something to make me look bad. And you know what? She's right. HOW DARE THEY. So, when I cool off a bit, my aunt is getting a call. She's Ashley's grandma, and a witness to all the crap he has pulled. I just know she's going to call Ashley, and I HOPE she'll call Ashley's dad about it.

Now I'm pissed. If I'm correct in my thinking, and boss-man turns Kevin down so fast his greasy little head will spin, and that punk-ass tries to BLAME me, or worse, tries to use me to get to him again, I swear on all things holy, I will sic my 350lb husband on him.

Can you tell I hate him?

I wish I may

I'm starting to feel the twinges of "I wish I had..." to do with the wedding. It's actually very distressing, as I really had thought it was exactly what I wanted (minus the hatred for my dress, and the pretty shitty DJ), and what we had planned. If you ask my darling husband, he'd tell you it was perfect- wouldn't change a thing. You really must love him for that. All he'd wanted was his wife, his friends and family, and a good time. When thought of that way, what else could I ask for?

Perhaps it's a woman thing, having to dress up all aspects of ourselves to keep ourselves happy. Dress up the venue for the wedding, or dress up our house to look nice, get nice shoes that make us feel good. Now that I sit here wondering what else could have made me happier, it's just small things, like a different DJ, or a few different decorations, favors that weren't the same as my sister-in-law's wedding. I think it's a good sign that all the things I'd do differently are just dressings. I'd not want a different groom, or a different ceremony. I would probably invite less people, but that's only because we had that one big wedding, and wouldn't miss it if we had a hundred less people. Of course there would be people I would want to be there with us, like my brother and sister in law, and the new baby, and people from before who couldn't make it would be with us. Still, as long as the marriage license was signed and we were official, there really wouldn't have been anything I'd want to change.

As I sit here watching my beautiful husband sleep on the couch beside me (he'd hate me to call him beautiful, but whatever, it's MY blog), I feel blessed to have him, this larger than life character. When you have someone like that in your life, are lucky enough to have him after losing him before, you really can't ask for much, can you?

Grandma

Last night I sat down to finish a book I have been reading for a few days. Man, it was really not the best book to read while I was lazing about on the couch with Paul. In this book, a woman is 34 and currently living with her 90 year old grandma in New York. Her grandma reminded me so much of my own, a real fireball with a sweet heart and deep love for her family. At the end of the book, her grandma died while the woman was out on an audition, one in which the girl was supposed to eulogize her fictional grandmother.

It seems that I'm constantly thinking of my own grandmother, the only one I had ever known. I don't know if that will pass with time (it's already been ten years since her passing), or if she will always somehow be a sad spot there in my mind and heart. In some ways, I would like to be free of the pain of missing her, but I'd never want to completely lose my grandma's memory. It's a tough choice to make; remember her for the good times and bad times or to just forget completely and be free of the pain.

My cousin Ellen recently left me a comment on a wedding picture I had posted, telling me that she and my cousin Amy particularly loved that picture. That made me happy until I thought a little deeper- Grandma will never see that photo. Grandma will never see any of us grow old and have babies and get married. Sometimes I wonder if it was a good thing marrying on her birthday, since the memories will probably always be bittersweet.

When I began to walk down that long aisle on November 3rd, one of the first people I saw from beneath my veil was my aunt Sharon (Ellen and Amy's mother), tearfully smiling at me. When I saw the look on her face, it weakened my resolve to not cry on my wedding day, because I knew she was thinking the same thing I was- if only Grandma had been here to see this. Later, as Paul and I were going through all the lovely cards we had received, I began to read the card from Sharon, and I knew for a fact we had been thinking the same thing that morning, for her card read, "I know that Grandma would be so proud of you, and we know she would have loved to be here". For about the millionth time that day, I began to cry. Would I ever be able to see a picture of Grandma, or hear a story about Grandma and not start to cry?

For my wedding shower gift from the aforementioned Amy and Ellen, they had filled a stainless steel bowl full of homemade bath products, each labeled with a picture of Grandma and the words "100% Grandma Approved". Surprising myself, I burst into tears, angry at myself for being so darn weak again, but still missing my Grandma (our Grandma) so very much. I know they felt bad for making me cry like that, but it was really the best gift I have ever been given (aside from the gift of a photo album with Grandma's picture in it from Amy for Christmas), and I never want to forget it.

Hopefully a time will come when I don't fall to pieces at the thought of my Grandma's loss. I try to think of what she'd be thinking right now, and I know she'll be telling me her favorite goodbye phrase, "See you in the funny papers". I hope that means sooner or later there will be more than tears at the thought of her.

Finally

It's been a few weeks (okay, I over-dramatize) since I've posted, and finally the plague has left the Felix home. I am now slightly healthier (this disgusting cough has remained, though), and while a little weaker from being flu-d upon, I can now talk about my doctor visit.

My very kind father gave me a ride to the doctor's office on February 4th, I'd had a long day at work, and hadn't had time to eat anything. I stopped at home, checked Paul's temperature and ate a few chips with dip as a running out the door snack. This would later prove to be a mistake, though. So I get inside the new office, with my dad trailing behind me, and prepare for the wait of the century (seriously I wait for HOURS with this company). Luckily, the wait wasn't too bad, and I was directed into the weight room, where my blood pressure (good) and weight (bad) was taken.

I get seated into an room, waiting for my new doctor. When she finally comes in, I am asked all sorts of questions about me, and we decide I weigh too much. Are you sure?? This couldn't be WHY I came in, right?? Dur. She asks me if I get winded after walking a block or two. Um. I may be overweight, but I'm not like, John GOODMAN. So I tell her no. I'm a vegetarian who walks home, doesn't eat too much crap, and jesus- look at my arms and legs! They're sticks! OBVIOUSLY something isn't right here.

So, she took some blood, and then realized I can't do the cholesterol test because of those three potato chips. Great. I gave so much blood that I was thisclose to passing out. Hm. Those measly three chips were enough to screw up a cholesterol test, but not enough to keep me from wanting to fall on the floor. Interesting. I was given a TB test (I have a fear of always thinking I'm going to fail all tests I take health-wise), and made to take an EKG. My heart looks good, my blood pressure looks good, so what could possibly be wrong with me? No word yet, but I'm very anxious. I worry that it's my thyroid, or diabetes.

I'm having a very hard time waiting for this information. It doesn't help that the voicemail lines were down for the whole week post-doctor visit. Thank you, Verizon.

Good and Bad

Good news and bad news: good news first. I'm getting a new setting for my engagement ring! The one I have is starting to scrape on my (forever) wedding band, making diamondy gashes. Not quite a fan of that, so Paul and I are having a new one designed. It's going to be like this, only without the asscher, no diamonds on the sides, with diamonds on the basket, the part between the prongs. The prongs will not be as thick, but thinner claw prongs. I'm SO excited!

Now the bad news: sickness prevails around the Felix home. Paul is very very sick with the flu, and has had a fever of 101 for the last day, no matter what meds I give him. He's just miserable. I've been wrestling with a cold for the last couple of days, and I hope my weakened state doesn't leave me susceptible to his flu- since it could be deadly in an asthma sufferer. I'll request the flu shot at my dr. office tonight.

Anyway, that's the news, wish us luck for the sicks, and the ring!