A Fetal Attraction

I'm moving!!

2009-01-28T22:07:00.000-08:00

Well, the time has come for me to leave this happy place. This is my third blog, I had one at LiveJournal, a Xanga one, a Blogspot one (this), and now... I'm at wordpress! Actually, I bought myself a domain!!

Since I didn't want to keep Fetal Attraction forever (because I pray to god I'm not obsessed with babies forever because I'll HAVE one!), the new address you can find me writing on is: www.ambergontrail.com

It will be the stories of life, love and struggle. The name is a play on the favorite computer game of kids of the 90s: Oregon Trail. I switched to Wordpress because it's more fun for me, and there are a ton more options for additions.

Please follow me over to my new site, I promise to entertain as per usual!

A rant

2009-01-20T13:05:00.000-08:00

Another day at work, made even more intolerable after a three day weekend of Paul's basketball games, cuddling, and lazing about. Now, it is Tuesday, last night's dinner still needs to be cleaned up, the trash needs to be taken out (the reason dinner wasn't cleaned up), more laundry needs to be sorted and washed (then folded and put away), and the house needs to be picked up. Such a tiny place makes it so easy to get cluttered. A bit of clothes on the comfy chair makes it look like a hurricane hit. I've been trying so hard to get motivated but all I seem to be lately is tired, hungry and headachey- all of which can be traced back to the fatigue! I'm too tired to make food or get food at work, which then gives me a headache. When I get home, I take out Woofie then he and I both retreat to our couch, and fall asleep together. I'm afraid I'm creating a sloth-like dog.

Wanted to add: This "rant" isn't directed to my wonderful cousins, L and K. I love you guys, and am just frustrated at myself and my current inability to be patient. XOXO

Unfortunately, this miserable sleepiness isn't related to a fetus (zygote, embryo, baby, hatchling, little one). No, I've been trying to put this TTC business on the back burner for now, if not because of our searching for a new apartment, but for sanity. Yesterday was the first day since March of 2008 that I slept in and didn't take my temperature at all. Of course, I did use a couple ovulation predictor sticks (but failed to actually read them once I "baptized" them), which would have just reinforced my belief that I am actually ovulating today. So, as another chance goes by, willingly (mostly) this time, I am wistful.

There are some differences between my husband and I, not of the obvious kind (female/male, short/tall), but more the kind that no one other than us knows. Well, and now you. When I'm stressed out, unhappy, or just plain blah, I require a little bit of "Sexual Healing" as Marvin Gaye so lyrically put it. When Paul is any of the above, he just wants a back scratch and a snuggle. This difference is truly unfortunate at the moment because I'm feeling a bit of melancholy and stress, and Paul is just stressed beyond belief. So, I'll take one (ha!) for the team and resist molesting my husband. If only our go-to methods for instant pick-me-ups were one and the same...

It's been especially hard to avoid things baby at the moment. I happily went to the Manhattan Beach Mall for a birthday present for my twin cousins on their second birthdays. One had already been bought, and now I am done. Perhaps I'll add a little book or something to each to give them something cute to play with, since I got them both clothes. I hope family doesn't resent me giving clothes to the babies, it's just so hard for me to NOT buy clothing, because every tiny blouse or sweater seriously hurts me to pick up and hold. In Janie and Jack, Paul and I were strolling the aisles to find something handsome for Luke, our little man. Although I had already picked up Bree's gift, I couldn't help but mosey over to the girl side of the store, with heart-breakingly adorable dresses and tights, tiny hats and silly t-shirts (Mommy's Lovebug" was one), each one so delicate and soft. Poor Paul must have witnessed the pain in my eyes because he just let me wander the rows, touching each item I passed, telling him which one I'd get if I were buying for us. Finally, we had picked out Luke's gift, and Paul had already walked out of the store, but I just couldn't leave. The magic of baby-land is transfixing to a woman who is longing to be a mother, that it's quite terrible to be around something you love so dearly. On the one hand you envy everyone who has gotten there before you, whether or not they've been trying as long as you have- and you just can't tolerate being around people who are "luckier" than you (in your mind, at least) and have what you want. It literally hurts to be so close to something you want so incredibly bad, and still have it be unattainable. On the other hand, you love the babies and anything else related; the clothes and toys, even the mundane things like diapers and bottles (BPA free, of course), that despite how much it hurts to see the bellies of your friends growing, you just can't pull yourself away. It's hard to know which is best for you: ignoring your pained insides and punishing yourself and husband later with the talks of "Why not us?! Why??", or possibly hurting friends and family by not being more forthcoming with why you can't come, or why the congratulations are hard to eek out. You want to tell them that it's not really you who is being this bitter and mean, no, it's the evil person who had taken over last year when those daily acts of temping and charting just became too much to bear with an intact mind.

At this point, I've gotten terrible. If I see a person complaining about anything pregnancy related, I just ignite. When people are panicking about their ability to parent or whatever (perhaps with good cause, but I'm obviously far from logical lately), I just want to tell them to stop it. Just stop. I'd be more than willing to take your baby belly and cradle it gently with my hands, because I've been reading, I've nannied, I've been taking my pre-conception prenatal vitamins. I have done the research on cribs and strollers, miracle blanket vs. swaddle me, SIDS risks and why having a fan in the baby's room reduces the risk by something like 75% (something about airflow keeping the CO2 down)... I KNOW this stuff. So, I'll say it again, this time to someone other than my poor defeated husband: "Why not us?!"

Soon enough

2009-01-18T23:09:00.000-08:00

It seems the New Year has given me the lazies. All I've been doing lately is working, searching Westside Rentals and Craisglist for apartments to rent, and yes, reading the Twiglight saga. Both apartment hunting and Twilight are major distractions, especially on Craigslist. I go to look at the apartment listings, then I stroll on over to the "Missed Connections" searching for the woman who called out my husband in 2007. Yes, a woman actually posted a "Paul from Venice, where are you? I've been wondering how you've been." thing. Turned out it was his ex. And yes, I replied, "Paul is actually getting married- to ME. He's doing just fine, thanks." Paul got a kick out of it, so I don't feel bad, but it makes me stalk the boards just in case she got the urge to ask again.

Once I'm on Craigslist, I then go to the hilarious personals. Man those things are funny. From there I go to Rants and Raves, and then finish my tour back at the apartment listings again.

So, no apartment found yet, still putting aside rents and deposits, trying to find the right place- one that accepts dogs. Now really, who doesn't love a dog like Woofie? Who wouldn't want to see that furry little face every day? Oh well, soon we'll be relocated and Woofie will be adored as he should be. :)

As for TTC, we're still just hanging in there. Every now and then, I get the weepies, and want to just curl up and sleep. Mostly I'm trying to keep myself optimistic by planning on what I'd do with our second bedroom, cribs and bedding, wall decals and adorable rugs. Ah, what I'll do.

So, things are still in limbo, waiting for babies, waiting for deposits, waiting to leave here.

Moving

2009-01-12T11:09:00.001-08:00

Ahhh, sorry it has been so long since I've been here. Christmas and New Years have passed, and now I'm in the thick of completing year-end along with all the fun of quarter end as well. Paul and I are doing well. Just a few weeks ago, we pretty much decided to move into a two bedroom apartment. One of those spur of the moment things like, "We're going to get a Playstation 3, and we're getting one TODAY."

Unlike the Playstation, this would affect our whole life- at least for the time being. We'd been tossing about the notion of moving for quite some time up to now. We're unhappy in our current apartment; it's dark and the building is frustrating- with upstairs neighbors alternating their fights with loud sex (which, by the way, makes me wonder why some people are okay in a relationship like that), and on a loud boulevard with only street parking available which is nearly impossible to get depending on the hour. As I'd said, we'd been debating moving to a bigger apartment (all the better to decorate), but couldn't quite justify the hassle of moving and paying higher rent. That was until we received a letter from our landlord- he's raising our rent to $1,125.00 per month. For a crappy one bedroom with a fridge that doesn't work, a shower with tiles falling constantly, and a hole in the cupboards. So that was pretty much the last straw.

Now we're squirreling away all our money for the first month/pet deposit, and as soon as that's done- we're OUT OF HERE! Part of me is sad, as this was the first place I moved to outside of my parents' house and the first place we called home after being married, but it's just not feasible anymore. I know that Paul would love to have a second bedroom for friends and family who may need to visit- and I would love to get to decorate a "baby's room" when the time comes. While we've been TTC in this one bedroom apartment, I'd been a little sad when I saw everyone posting the recently decorated baby's room pictures, knowing I could only decorate "baby's corner". Now that we'll be moving, I'm starting to get happier about it all happening, and just thrilled knowing we'll have a second bedroom. A whole different space!

So now we're thinking places to move close to Dad and our friends, because that's what really matters- well, that and my lazy ass being able to get home on the bus. :) Immersed in planning of our layouts and how exactly we'll give our notice, we're thrilled. As Paul said, "Now there is a light at the end of the tunnel." And yes, we'll have to file change of address forms, and change all our billing, and spend a few more hundred dollars a month, but in my opinion, it's worth it.

All I Want for Christmas

2008-12-24T11:05:00.000-08:00

I don't think I've blogged much about TTC lately, and trust me, it's a conscious effort to not drone on and on about it. I'm thinking I'm at the point where I'm focused on getting pregnant, but so tired with myself for not actually being pregnant. Is that even possible?

I'm staying away from my TTC forums, lurking on the bump.com, and failing at NOT reading anything baby related. Last night I wrapped most of the gifts for the kids in our families- folding those little baby shirts that I pored over for at least an hour to choose the right one (while at Culver City farmer's market, no less), realizing how tiny those little things are- and oh, how tiny the people they will be adorning are! I couldn't help but rub the soft material on my cheek, knowing and hoping that by this time next year I'll be folding my very own onesies and baby shirts. Yes, then I walked over to my secret drawer in my dresser, where I keep the only two things I've allowed myself to buy for our future baby- soft Carters onesies festooned with ducks. Never before have I felt an attraction to ducks- no, I'm more your giraffe/monkey/hippo kind of gal, but oh, these ducks. Tear your heart out with cuteness. On one we have a white background, with ducks all over, with yellow neckline and arm and leg holes. The other is white, with the same yellow neck and arm holes, but instead of the smattering of duckies, this one has just one duck, directly in the center of the chest- soft and yellow, with a wing you can flap up and down, made of the softest material known to man, almost like down feathers.

At least once a month I pull these onesies out, and lay them on my chest, pretending it's a real baby. When I'm around babies or toddlers, I just want to pull them toward me and hold them, breathe in the soft baby smell. Unfortunately, the babies/kids I'm around are getting big enough to not want to be held, and want to run and stomp with their cousins. It's so strange to me, I remember being at that age, having my cousins around to play with for holidays and celebrations, and now I'm watching a new generation do the same. Time really flies when you're not paying attention.

I really must put a stop to this searching for baby gear- for I already have our stroller picked out, which crib we'll buy is already ingrained in my brain, and just now, I have found an outfit Paul would adore:

Cute strikes again, with this Polar Bear ensemble by Bon Bebe, on sale for a mere SEVEN DOLLARS! I'd buy it myself, but Paul doesn't want us to jinx ourselves, which I can understand. Still it's SEVEN DOLLARS! See, I've seen cute things before (my cousin Lisa sent me a link ages ago to the dachshund themed outfits at one of those too cute for words baby stores, and although I wanted them all so badly- and they were also on sale, I resisted), but this- this polar bear set is a sign. The polar bear is Paul's favorite animal in the whole world. And part of me, the silly makes-no-sense part of me, thinks that if I had it, if somehow we owned something this cute and this perfect for us, that perhaps we'd get lucky, and get pregnant. I know, it's ridiculous.

So, as we pass into 2009 (!), I hope that new and better days are coming. I hope I'll spend most of 2009 pregnant, and that at this time next year, I'll have a polar bear wearing baby to bounce on my hip. You hear that, God? I'm putting in a request, please. If not God, can you hear me Santa? I've been especially good this year, minus the few random snarks I let come out here and there.

My Pantwiener

2008-12-18T12:24:00.001-08:00

Somehow, someway, my pants arrived at the store with the outline of a cartoon penis (ala Superbad) on them. And after wearing them for weeks (not all at once), I only noticed today.

Getting Down to Business (repost)

2008-12-18T08:26:00.000-08:00

As most of you know, I blogged as Mrs. Kiwi on Weddingbee. Today I received a comment on a post from over a year ago, written just two weeks after our wedding. I honestly had totally forgotten I'd written it, but when I went back to see what the comment ("thank you") was referring to, I felt kind of proud of myself, because I'm very glad I wrote (and read) this post below.

Mr. Kiwi and I have been married for two weeks now. People are still coming up to us and telling us how much they enjoyed the ceremony, and how beautiful the wedding was (pictures are coming, I swear). Other than that, nothing much has changed. Sure, there is the whole having to change my name over thing, and the “how’s married life?” questions to answer (wait: there is supposed to be a difference?), but that’s about it.

It’s strange because this is one of the hugest decisions you will likely make in your life. Despite what the celebrities are showing us, splitting up isn’t so easy after a marriage, and who goes into a marriage relying on the idea that divorce is always an option? I said it was strange because although it is such a huge step, the actual marriage part isn’t as different as I thought it’d be. The “Hot Thread” post from yesterday got me thinking about this little (big) thing called marriage.

Much like the poster, I also experienced some major what-ifs. Mr. Kiwi and I have been together for four years as well, with things between us more of a steady love, and less the “on-fire” type of love you seem to see all over the place. We’re getting married, right? Should we be more excited? Since day one of our reunion, I’ve known we’d end up married. Apparently, so did Mr. Kiwi. I’ve mentioned that we dated a decade ago, and throughout the years apart we grew up and became a little more stable, and wanted someone with the same ideals.

A year after we began dating we moved in together. Three months after that we got a dog. We were now part of a routine, and we had our own little family. Sure, the passionate times of the first year or so had faded a bit, but what replaced it? Growing up in a home without parents who loved each other led me to be scared of any relationship that wasn’t full of passionate embraces and breathless nights. I didn’t want to turn into a cold couple who didn’t exhibit any signs of romance, because surely that couldn’t be good for your life in the future, right?

Glancing around at various friends and family, I tried to see if there was a difference between the marrieds and the dating or soon to be marrieds. I couldn’t find the difference that I was scared of seeing, certain couples are more loving in public, and others a bit standoffish. Although it is possibly pointless to compare yourself and your BF/FI/Husband to other couples, it actually helped me. While it doesn’t help you to compare your coupleness to a previous romance (which I did), I think that we can learn a lot from what we’re surrounded by.

My rambling point is, don’t be afraid for your future. Just because you may have to decide that “we should probably have sex at some point this week”, your relationship isn’t in danger. Once the wedding has passed, once all the planning has finished and your lives are back to normal, you’ll see what you had been building all along. Most people say they’re marrying their best friend- think about it for a sec- isn’t that what you’d want for the rest of your life? Someone that knows you backwards and forwards, someone who will hold your hand during a scary movie, and console you when your frog has died? So you’re not steaming up the windows three times a day… realize that love evolves. For me, all I want is someone who will evolve with me.

A Few Observations

2008-12-15T08:55:00.000-08:00

1.) The cartoonist for the "Marmaduke" cartoons is a terrible artist. It actually pains me to read the cartoons. Maybe it's my OCD talking, but can't the man take the extra second or two to color in the rest of the woman's shoe??

2.) This picture makes me laugh extremely hard. EXTREMELY.

3.) I have weird sex dreams involving people who aren't my husband. It's slightly off-putting, especially considering I have either a.) never met these people before, b.) haven't seen them in eons, c.) aren't even my people (You know, Paul has his people, I have mine?). I don't know if it's my conscience or not, but they always end at the "good" parts. When I wake up, I feel guilt!

4.) Some people are absolutely horrible. Someone broke into Paul's school, and stole the money boxes that were holding the money collected for the teacher's Christmas bonuses. The principal was apalled, yet for some reason decided to not let any parents give more money- so there will be NO BONUS for the teachers this year. Hopefully, and this may sound greedy, parents will contribute directly to the teachers. I think it's unfair that because the school was reckless with their collections containers, the teachers will not receive a bonus. SUCKS. Who would steal from a school? Heathens.

5.) I'd much rather bake than cook. Last night I made a Giada De Laurentis dish (and hated myself for it) for dinner, and wanted chocolate chip cookies instead.

6.) I like it when it rains, when I'm at home! At work the toes of my shoes get soaked and I freeze in the office, for some reason my boss likes it 60 degrees in here all the time. NO THANK YOU.

So far that's all I am pndering this morning!

I'm It!

2008-12-11T08:19:00.000-08:00

Looks like I was Tagged by This Casita.

Here are the rules:

1. Link to the person that tagged you
2. Post the rules on your blog
3. Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself
4. Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs
5. Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.
6. Let your tagger know when your entry is up. (hehehe, tagger)

Okay, six random non-important things/habits/quirks.

1.) I have a very real fear that someday Paul will leave. Either due to illness, choice or something else I can't fathom at the moment. I'm not quite sure why, Paul has never ever threatened to leave, if anything, he threatens to stay. Even though I grew up with both parents in the same house, I have an astonishingly strong fear of abandonment. Who knows why these things happen.

2.) I am absolutely terrified of clowns. All clowns. Ones from Outer Space, or perhaps Cirque Du Soleil , even the creepy one who blows up balloons on the 3rd Street Promenade. I don't think I ever liked them, to be honest, but once I read Stephen King's "It", my terror was cemented.

3.) For being the most non-athletic person, I am so competitive. I hate losing at games, and even take away the instructions for video games (I also don't read them, but that's just laziness on my part) so Paul won't read them. I'm horrible. Sadly, I tend to lose most of the time anyway, which vexes me to no end.

4.) I cry super easily. Like, sappy commercials make me cry. When a book ended in a way that was not pleasing to me, I cried. When I think about how much I love Paul, I cry. I cry at those ASPCA commercials every time. I always cry at Juno, Armageddon, Love Actually, the ending of a Charlie Brown Christmas, and many songs.

5.) For years I'd see a "ghost" standing by our bed at night. I can tell you exactly what it looked like: black shadow only- no discernible features, wearing a black hat, like a bowler hat. It all started back at Paul's old home he rented in, his roommate's sister spent the last few painful months there while dying of cancer. Strange things happened in that house from orbs in pics to a battery operated thing that moved on its own for a week- with no batteries in it. Just WEIRD THINGS. Anyway, Paul was given his roommate's bed when she got a new one. At night I'd see the figure standing beside my bed, and I'd just think it was Paul (?), so I'd go back to sleep. THEN, one night still at the old place, I got tired of wondering what Paul came over for and asked him, "Babe? Are you looking for something?" I actually asked it out loud. When I heard him snoring beside me, I freaked out- pushed off the dresser next to the bed and slammed into Paul, shaking and whimpering. I couldn't fall back to sleep. So now speed ahead to us moving into our apartment... it's still happening, just sporadically. One night I actually got so scared I hid under the covers, shaking and sobbing. Just sobbing my eyes out. It was the weirdest thing. The last time it happened, I saw the face of the "ghost". No longer black, it was all white- including the hair, and it had the angriest face I have EVER seen. We finally got a new bed though, and I think it's a good sign that "ghostie" hasn't appeared since then.

6.) I have recently started biting my nails like mad. It was a habit I had given up, but now it's back! Ugh, I disgust myself.

Now, I'll add the rest of the tagging later, I have to go to bed!

Little Things

2008-12-04T13:59:00.000-08:00

I'm a little bummed today. Our Disneyland passports are expiring next Friday, and we won't be able to go by then, and can't see spending the money on it until we pay off our Hawaii vacation (which was technically not too expensive, just the plane bill), which we put on credit. Yes, foolish, but we had rationalized our spending on that one vacation for many reasons I won't list here. One of them is not extending our passport until it's paid off. Hopefully I'll get a year-end bonus and I can apply that to the credit card, which will drastically cut down the bill.

Anyway, I'm not sad because we won't renew our passport before the year is up, I can understand why. I'm sad because Christmas is my favorite holiday, and spending one day of the holiday season at my favorite place is something I look forward to every year. It's when I get an ornament for our tree. We have years of ornaments from Disneyland, from the proposal ornament to our wedding ornament and this will be the first year I wasn't able to get one. So I'm not even really that sad about not going to Disneyland for Christmas (even though it's absolutely MAGICAL), and even though it would have been possible, if Paul would take a day off (like he did last year!). No, I'm just wishing Paul hadn't promised me we'd come back and get an ornament for our tree before the year ended, because I would have grabbed one while we were there.

I'm not from family with a lot of traditions, and that's why I cling to the Disneyland ornament tradition. I think about our children placing our fragile ornaments on their trees when we're gone, I think of our kids fighting over which ornament they get to hang when they're young. I can picture our daughter, studying the "Just Married Ornament" hoping for her own someday, and well... I was kind of hoping to go back and get one that states it's the "Our First Year Married" ornament. Oh well, I guess I'll have to work extra hard to pay off that bill, and hope that it's not too long before we're back.

Haven Kimmel

2008-12-04T12:28:00.000-08:00

I want to be Haven Kimmel when I grow up. I was already a fan of her first collection of essays about her life: A Girl Named Zippy that when I found she had written a follow up called "She Got Up Off The Couch" I got right on that and started reading.

Some of what she says is just hilarious, heartbreaking and pensive. There is one paragraph in particular I MUST blog about. She's talking about her brother, a decade older than she.

"... I loved him, loved him, a little girl is helpless against her love for a brother. ... From a distance he seemed both cold and receding, a man whose most familiar feature was his back as he walked away as fast as he could. But there are pictures of him, many of them, holding me as a baby, standing with me as a little girl, and the eye of the camera sees what nearly everyone but Elaine (his wife) missed: a tenderness so wounded it had grown ferocious and fixed as the evening star. Really, I barely knew him. When our family's darkest days arrived he could not be reached, he demanded to be left alone, he wanted no part of it, and for years I believed he hated us. I thought he simply wandered into the wrong family in the first place, like a toddler at a strange picnic who grew into the handomest of princes but remained bound by name and history to the peasants who lured him with potato salad and a tricycle."

So many parts of her novel make me cry with laughter, cry with sadness, and this last part, just made me feel like there was someone out there who had the same brother I did.

Friendships

2008-11-25T12:53:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a great day. Not only did I get new boots and a new purse in the mail, but I also got a haircut on Saturday, and it feels great. Not too much shorter, just enough inches off that it feels healthy. I also spent yesterday evening with an old friend of mine, Rina.

Rina and I were classmates since kindergarten, and best friends throughout high school. I loved being with her family, and we always had such a good time together. Around the end of high school, we began to drift apart. When I got a job post high school, we grew even further apart. At one point, we just stopped talking altogether, and went on to live our lives. I always wondered about her, searched for her a bit (I'm savvy at online stalking), to no avail.

Recently one evening, I was talking online with my friend Will, who actually had a crush on Rina back when we were Sophomores in high school- a crush that wasn't reciprocated. Will asked me if I had seen her around or heard anything about her. Other than hearing about this place she worked at some point, no, I hadn't heard anything. We searched on networking giant, Facebook, to see if we could find anything. We found someone in my grade, in our city, with her first name and a Japanese middle name. Could it be her, Will asked. I remembered that middle name, and said YES! My stomach was a ball of nerves just thinking about getting in contact with someone I had previously been so close with, the ending of a friendship that had no real reason it ended. Will, being bolder than I, sent her a friend request. Meekly, I sent her a message with the usual, "Hi, how are you? You look great!" theme.

Weeks went by and I heard nothing. Figured she probably didn't give a crap about me, which was fine. I got emails from Will telling me that he hadn't heard from her either. Time passed. Suddenly, I got a friend request from Rina. Wow, she completely bypassed the exploratory email! When I accepted her request, she sent me a message saying, "Wow! You're MARRIED!" Side note: I hear that a lot from people I knew back in the days. Why is it so hard to believe that Amber Brown got married? Is it because I'm insane? Maybe.

Anyway, we traded messages back and forth, catching up on the small details when she mentioned possibly getting together. What? This is moving too fast for me (Perhaps THAT'S why people are shocked I'm married? I can't make a decision?)! Still, I agreed and we set up a early evening dinner to catch up. I planned out carefully what I'd wear: my new brown boot cut cords, my teal v-neck sweater, my brown leather Coach bag, my Bulova watch, and my kickass new black boots. I wanted to look cute. I even went to far as to get my hair done. Okay, I'd needed a cut for ages, and decided now was a great time with Thanksgiving on the horizon as well. All day I was nervous, wondering how we'd act. Would it be awkward? Would it be like nothing changed? Would we be fake?

The time finally arrived. I clomped down the office's stairwell in my 4 inch high boots, and prepared to meet my past face to face. I heard a car beep, walked further out there and watched a girl walk away from the car. Tiny, asian, peppy. Could that be Rina? She turned around and yelled, "Amber!?" I waved and yelled, "HI RINA!" we stomped over to each other (we were both wearing heels) and immediately hugged. We got in the car and began to drive (She picked me up because I'm a loser who doesn't drive). As we gabbed about what's new ("You're MARRIED! OH MY GOD!"), we realized we really didn't have a set plan, and ended up at the Promenade. We settled on a deli and got comfortable.

We talked about the last ten years, and what we'd been up to. We remarked on accidental run-ins with former classmates, and the random relationships we had with old classmates ("No WAY you dated that guy!"), just the little things. We talked and talked, laughed and exclaimed over things each had done over the time that had passed. I haven't laughed like that in ages! Oddly, there were no other patrons in the deli with us, and we were making a bit of noise, talking and gossiping as we used to.

Most people who know me know that I don't have very many friends, much less women friends. I'm one of those people who has a ton of random "How's it going" friends, but no real good friends to hang out with. All throughout dinner we brought up things we had done together, things we remembered, people we remembered, and brought up the back stories of other events in our friendship. I had a great time, and we promised we'd meet up again really soon, possibly Monday. How cool would it be if I had Monday get-togethers with her?

This whole thing is so interesting to me. It's like how I got back together with Paul. He already knew so much from my life, because at one point he was part of it. This makes it so easy to be YOU around them. Sure, I dressed all cute, but it wasn't stuff I didn't already own, ya know? It was nice talking about things so far in the past that even Paul wouldn't know about it- but Rina did. We had a history, we have a friendship to build on. That's really cool.

How I Spent My Saturday

2008-11-19T10:37:00.000-08:00

After a long day of shopping with my dad, I came home exhausted, but still anticipating the night ahead: possibly baking the Sprinkles cupcake mix I picked up(and making my own buttercream) or baking the pumpkin cobbler recipe from Williams Sonoma. Unfortunately, something else was in store for me.

Falling on my face. Literally, falling on my face. Luckily my knee would break the fall, and no bloody gashes or abrasions would mar my pretty face/hands. No, my knee would take one for the team, so to speak, and cushion my fall.

The night began like any other Saturday night, with me begging Paul to go out to eat because I hate cooking on a weekend, especially since I had just spent all day slaving away at the malls. Ha ha.

Finally, after harassing my dear husband long enough, he gave in to trying out this new Mexican place a few blocks away, enough blocks to not want to walk. So I put some yoga pants on (Paul had just washed them, isn't ge a great husband?), and being lazy I decided to forgo the actual act of putting on shoes, and slipped on a pair of crocs (mary jane style, which is still no excuse for being an adult and owning crocs, I know) and headed out with Paul.

The Mexican place was on a street that has a popular bar (Paul's been there many times as his friends hang out there) and a few good Chinese places, so we had to park around the corner and across the street. As we were walking to the restaurant to order our food to go, we passed by a store called "My Baby Jo", a vintage store that has some pretty cool stuff, including a vintage cardigan with kittens embroidered on it that i couldn't take my eyes off of. It was precisely as I was looking back at the sweater and calling to Paul, "Honey! It's a sweater with KITTIES on it!" when my stupid clunky croc hit a ledge in the concrete (the cement had been broken, so there was a hole AND a ledge) and I pivoted onto my face, spreading out like a water balloon on contact with a sidewalk. My purse was still somehow on my shoulder, only like the rest of me, it had sprawled out across the sidewalk.

It took seconds to fall, but felt like milliseconds. One moment I was coveting a sweater, the next I heard a smacking sound and felt the ground on my face. Paul was standing beside me, looking down at me with his mouth open, incredulous. He told me to get up, because I had beefed it in an alley and a car was waiting to turn. Since the option of being swallowed into the ground was unavailable at that time, I had to have Paul heft me to my feet, as I started to black out. That damn vasovagal syncope began to rear it's "medical oddity" face, and I got woozy. My knee hurt, my hands stung and I was about to be sick, right across the street from where Paul's friends hang out. On a Saturday night. The horror.

I told Paul I was going to black out, and he made me breathe in and out as I staggered to the restaurant, only a few yards away. We got inside, I leaned on the counter and laughed my ass off. It's one of my coping mechanisms- before I began to pass out when hurt, my go-to move was laughing in the face of extreme pain. Ha ha on YOU, sprained ankle! Now the joke's on me, "you laugh at my pain?", the ankle said, "I make the blood drain out of your head and you fall down. How do you like THAT?"

We ordered our food to go and I sat down to inspect the damage. One busted knee, two red, stinging palms and a swimming head. Sadness. More than anything I was angry because the pants were newly washed, and now I had to go and get blood and bits of skin on the inside. Way to go, Amber. I couldn't bend my knee, and it was starting to swell already. My leg began to hurt from my knee to my hip bone, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for myself. I really began the pity party when Paul started laughing at me. "Why didn't you call out or reach for me? I feel bad that I didn't catch you", he said. I had to remind him that had I KNOWN I was falling I could probably have done something about it, ya know? He marveled on how bad my hand-eye coordination is, and said, "You know, most people could catch themselves". I said, "Most people aren't morons, then".

Finally our order was ready, and I hobbled back to the car, Paul's hand on mine with the reminder to not look at anything other than the floor. It was then I saw the shattered remains of a packet of saltines, one of four that I had filched from Dad's lunch that day. Seeing it on the floor like that, its plastic wrapper looking so dejected and unloved, I actually contemplated picking it back up. Heck, I knew where it had been (before the sprawl), and I'll be honest, I was quite looking forward to snacking on it at work the following Monday. Still, my paranoia about bending down and eating floor crackers got the best of me, and I apologized for wasting its precious salty life and moved on. Slowly.

When we got back to the car, Paul immediately put the food in the backseat, and grabbed the first aid kit out of the trunk. Not just any first aid kit, this one is one Paul created for all the various sports injuries he has to deal with. So, he swabbed my knee with alcohol (oh my god, I almost passed out again from that pain alone), covered it with a large bandage, and then grabbed an instant ice pack and saran-wrapped it to my knee. Seriously. He has a neat little stick thing that the wrap goes on so it's easy to wrap knees and ankles and such. If there is ever an accident, you can trust my husband- fluent in first aid!

At home, I hobbled up the stairs to our apartment and fell onto the couch, where my loving husband laughed at me ("I'm sorry honey, it's funny!") and brought me my food, drinks and silverware. The pain was no longer the burning pain of an abrasion, now it was the throbbing pain of a swollen knee, how fun this was. I took three Tylenols, one rapid release and two nighttime, and got comfortable. That night's sleep was miserable.

The next morning we were going out for breakfast so I had to get dressed. I tried to put pants on, but with a knee that won't bend and a hot day combined, I just put on a pair of denim shorts. It wasn't pretty, but at least I could walk without grimacing when the fabric brushed my knee.

Now it's been almost 5 days since "the incident", and my knee doesn't hurt as much. it's still hard to bend, but only because it's scabbed over by now, and anything that causes my knee to bend pulls on the scabs. Disgusting. The bruises are darker and my leg has stopped aching, the swelling is mostly gone. What a day I had.

fourwayfree

2008-11-12T08:39:00.000-08:00

I love music. It's like books, where you can find one that means exactly what you've been trying to say, without actually saying it. That's why there existed the Mix Tape. When tapes began to fade away into obscurity, Mix CDs came about (and I made quite a few of those myself), and now you can literally send people itunes song lists. Gotta love technology.

Today Laura and I were talking about a friend of hers who has an indie music career, selling music on MySpace and CD Baby. That reminded me of my old high school crush, Genji Nakano, who also has a band named FourWayFree, and a page on CD Baby , where you can hear/buy some of his/their beautiful songs. When I hear them, I remember our high school days, hanging out with him, adoring him from afar while he dated around, so sure that someday I'd get him for my own (and I kind of did, later).

As I listen to the first few words of "Gasoline", "You said, is she pretty, would you like me better if I looked like that", I am taken back to the days when he used to call me at night, playing the piano (he had this knack for playing a song without even needing the music) and singing me little songs. How do you not fall for a guy like that? Anyway, "Gasoline" plays and I just nod my head, YES. This song is what every woman wants to hear, "Trust me, she's not you". Even though Genji and I have more than lost touch (aside from one day he gave me a ride from the bus stop, one of those random things just happen oddly), I'm so proud of him, I know he wanted this for as long as I've known him.

These songs bring me back to the era of mix tapes and going to school all with the sole intent on seeing that one person. Then I remember his comment in high school, "Your cousin is beautiful, did you know that?" Ah. Yes. Thank you, I did know that. It doesn't hurt as much now as it did then, because at the end of the day, I was the one he used to joke with and call late at night. Still, what is better? Being the beautiful one, or the one to rely on for advice? Ha. Ahhh, I guess you never grow out of being completely self-conscious.

Okay, okay, enough reminiscing about the days of old, the days of high school (how did that become days of old?? Good lord), the days when we used to hang out and joke and watch tv together. As the last edition of the Culver High newspaper read, "We'll always have breakfast" (they let you give little "shout outs" to people who meant something to you). Inside jokes are the best, no?

Congrats Genji, I wish you and the boys the very best of luck, and thanks for "Gasoline", it really touches my heart.

Readers: you should really listen to their songs, they're fabulous. And I'm not just saying that from the point of view of a girl who used to love one of the singers!

Forgive me, for I have sinned.

2008-11-10T10:23:00.001-08:00

I have a confession: I have eaten two cans worth of French's Fried Onions in as many weeks. I had bought the first can with the intention of making the world's best side dish ever- the Green Bean Casserole. Then I got hungry. And ate the whole can (shared a few rings with Paul, though). Had to go to the store and get a new can. And ate it yesterday for breakfast.

I'm disgusting.

And now I'm out of stuff to make green bean casserole, and I'm afraid to buy more cans.

Can't hear you, lost my voice

2008-11-10T08:54:00.000-08:00

It's been five days since I've lost my voice. Well, technically, I haven't lost it. It's just not up to it's usual... ability to work. It kind of sucks. I feel perfectly fine. No coughing, sneezing, any signs of any sickness at all. I just HAVE NO VOICE. I'm speechless. For those of you who know me in actual life, you know that this is one of the worst things to happen to me! I talk all the time- to myself, to other people, to the radio, on the phone. I feel otherwise normal, which is probably why it surprises me whenever I attempt to talk. My voice sure would have come in handy this weekend, when I was treated to lunch at The SOUTH PARK STUDIOS!

Remember I mentioned the parent at Paul's school who is a producer for South Park? Well, since Paul was coaching as well as working the football playoffs on Saturday, he didn't want me to have to be there all day long like he was going to have to, but he knew I wanted to watch his team play what would probably be their last game. So I asked the wife of the producer who lives near us if I could get a ride home with her, as she had asked me millions of times if I needed a ride to just call her. She told me she'd love to have me, and if I wasn't pressed for time, we'd go to lunch (she and I, and her 11 year old daughter).

After the game (they lost, sadly), we got ready to go, and she asked me where I'd like to eat. We tossed around a few ideas, and her daughter mentioned, "Why don't we have lunch at South Park?" Inside I was thrilled, but didn't want to appear too stalkery, and said nonchalantly, "Yeah, that's fine with me". They get Gourmet Catering there, and since a large portion of the staff were vegetarians, there was a good chance I could get something good to eat. We showed up and saw it was Mexican day, and I ordered a lunch of vegetarian enchiladas and rice. With a side of cookies and fruit. :) I poured myself a glass of lemonade (they had pitchers of iced tea and lemonade), and followed the daughter into the studio, where I saw all sorts of memorabilia and framed posters celebrating their 10th anniversary and things like that. I met various people working there, sound techs and animation gurus. We settled into the producer's office and ate our lunch. As we were eating, guess who walked in? Trey Parker, one of the creators of South Park. Of course I was stunned, and shook his hand, and tried to speak, but all that came out was a horrid, "Nice to meet you" interspersed with squeaks and croaks. Fantastic. So that was appalling. To make me feel better, the daughter took me on a tour of the studios, where I saw the room dedicated to CANDY, the drawers filled with gums of all kinds (sugar-free and regular), the tubs filled with individual cookies and snacks. There were two refrigerators, one for the regular food items, and the other for drinks only. It was heaven. Before we left, the producer took us into an editing bay where we heard/saw the rough shots of this upcoming week's episode. Running on Wednesday, they were not even close to finishing, so they've been pulling all-nighters trying to get it done.

It was seriously one of the funnest places I've ever been, and when I was saying goodbye to the producer he said I was very lucky, as not many people have met Trey Parker! It was a lucky day for me, for sure.

On another note, as I was washing dishes last night (oddly enough, even though I FEEL normal, this voice thing really exhausts me. When I try too hard to talk, I feel this pressure in my ears and throat, and it's just not FUN! I mention it now because I've been very lazy dish-wise lately- I've had no extra energy at all), I began to think about how I want to be a writer. I'm almost 30 now, why not finally get started on that novel I've always wanted? After posting this , and this and then this , I thought about our relationship, and how many things happened to get us here. I then thought that despite my preference to be a poor man's David Sedaris, writing short non-fiction stories about my life, I may do better writing this story as fiction that well, isn't fiction. So, I'm going to start on that right now.

Why I love my husband

2008-11-04T10:29:00.001-08:00

There are a trio of special days this week, yesterday was our anniversary, today is election day, and tomorrow is my 29th birthday. It's funny when you think about it, how things are so different between your family and your husband's family. Take for example, our anniversary.

Now, I'm not making a case out of this because I dislike my in-laws. I adore them, but as with any new family members, you're not really sure where you stand. As of November 1st, I've been with Paul for five years. His mom and I are quite good friends, always chatting via email, and going to family things together. Paul is eight years behind his brother, and 7 years behind his sister, and is often treated like a child, despite the fact of being the only one to move out permanently when he was 18, and paying for his own high school education at a private school, and actually helping to FUND his sister's wedding, while in high school. It's odd to me, that although he may not have a college degree, he's the only sibling who has worked his butt off for ten years doing whatever he can to provide for himself, yet they still treat him like a charity case. It's easy to lord your college education over your brother when you didn't have to pay for it yourself. Maybe if he had been given the chance, Paul would have gone to UCLA, or CAL like his siblings. He wasn't given that chance. That's why it incenses me to think about how he's treated. When it comes to dinners with the family, we were recently upgraded from napkins to rolls, because how can we screw up bread?

The difference between our families is obvious to me, but he tends to not think about it. My family called, emailed and sent cards on our anniversary, recognizing that yes, one year of marriage is a milestone! Congratulations, you two! Even my blogger friends left us congratulations on various forums. Paul's family? Not a peep. Not a card, email, phone call, text message. Nothing. It kind of breaks my heart, because I've seen the contrast in how our anniversary was celebrated, and how my brother and sister in laws anniversaries are celebrated. They get cards, phone calls, VISITS, and my MIL will take a day off work to go visit them, and take the kids off their hands for a little alone time. And perhaps this is childish of me, as any anniversary is special, but isn't a first anniversary more special than a 6 year anniversary?

I hate to sound self-absorbed, I really do, but I feel bad for Paul. It seems that no matter what he does, people don't recognize how amazing and loving he is. He's by far the most emotional of the siblings, easily hurt but not quite willing to say anything, and part of me really wants to say something to his mom, because she's the list keeper in the family, she's the one who makes the big deal of things. Why can't Paul just get a little bit of recognition that he needs? That he DESERVES?

We talked about this last night at dinner, how although my brother is now living in Australia, my dad now has Paul as a surrogate son. Sure, he's a lot sportier and manly than my brother was (no offense Shawn), but I've heard my Dad gloat about Paul, and it makes me happy and sad for Paul. Dad likes to tell people about his son-in-law who is a teacher. He's a coach, and inspired by John Wooden. He's a good guy, 6 foot 4! Huge! A big teddy bear, he says. Paul's family? "He's just baby Paul". No one brags about how he's instrumental in children's lives. Not a peep about how he's supported himself on his own, after his dad passed away when he was 19. No, they just criticize him about his weight, and lack of college education.

Sometimes I just wish we only had my family. I'm not saying his family doesn't love him beneath the hurtful comments, but how hard is it to tell your son, or your brother than you're proud of him? That's all he needs. And perhaps a little "Congrats on one year" would have been nice too. After all, we are the only siblings to have paid for our entire wedding ourselves. Sure it wasn't a fancy Yacht Club shindig, nor was it a Bel-Air Country club fete, but it was in our budget, and we were able to save for years to put it on. Now how about a little recognition for how hard Paul works for this, in-laws?

On this day...

2008-11-03T09:05:00.000-08:00

On this day in 1912, Ora Durham was born. She was to become Ora D. Brown when married, have four children, six grandchildren, and four great-grandchildren, with three more on the way (seriously). Also on this day, ninety-five years after her birth, her youngest grandchild would be married. That would be me.

As most people know, Grandma was the only grandma I had growing up. Past the age of 7 or so, she was the only grandparent left as well. She sure made of for the lack of grandparents, by being everything and everywhere for us. Even though she had passed on in 1996, there isn't a day that goes by without thinking of her. It's because of that, Paul and I decided to get married on her birthday. Now I have something to share with her for the rest of our lives (other than the fact that I was born two days after her birthday).

On this day last year, at this very moment, I was walking with my dad down the aisle. We'd had a momentary freak-out, when he pulled his bedazzled sunglasses off his eyes (he'd picked them up without anyone else knowing, when usually I'm there to tell him which ones are feminine) while we were waiting for the "great unveiling" of the bride and father. He was unsure of where to put his glasses, so we had to hustle for a bit and cram them in his inside jacket pocket. I swear, literally at the last second before the doors were opened, my dad was stuffing those glasses into his pocket.

Now that it's taken me a half an hour to get here from the last paragraph (ah, the joys of blogging while at work), at this very moment last year, I was sitting on the chairs at the altar, tears silently falling down my cheeks. I had just passed by my aunts and uncles, my cousins and nieces and nephews, all people who had seen me grow up, and now were watching me get married- the baby in the family. I saw my aunt Sharon crying (although smiling as she did it), and when I saw that, I knew my Grandma was watching. I knew that she was proud of me, and proud of who I was about to marry. As the childrens choir began to sing the songs we had picked out, I heard a girl's voice begin singing "The Rose", a song that brings me to tears every time I hear it. Hearing that angelic voice singing at our wedding just caused the tears to begin to flow, and my vision to blur. One of our altar servers (who was also the star player on Paul's A Boys Football team) saw me crying, and began to make faces and mimic a scene from Napoleon Dynamite, with "The Rose" spelled out in sign language. With that, I started laughing, shoulders shaking as I mouthed a "Thank you" to one of my favorite students ever.

At this point you should know that Patrick wasn't just asked to be an altar boy. No, we had specifically chosen him when we got engaged, and had also invited his family to the wedding reception. For weeks leading up the wedding, he would do the countdown whenever he saw me. "Hey Amber, 3 weeks and 4 days until the big day!" His mom would tell me about how excited he was to be going to the wedding, and taking part in such a huge day for us. I never thought about it, but at Paul's school he's a bit of a celebrity, and our wedding was announced in the church's weekly paper, inviting all members of the parish to attend. The church can hold hundreds of people, and we had at least 300 there, students and families who had come to watch and celebrate with us- watching their beloved "Coach Paul" finally tie the knot.

So many things happened that people didn't see. Another family at Paul's school, of Polish descent stood in the vestry with my dad and I, waving at us and smiling. After the wedding they would come up to me with a bouquet of red and white roses, telling me that it's a tradition in their culture to give the bride roses for her wedding. They're already one of the sweetest families ever, and that just added to our adoration for them. When Paul and I were standing outside the church, finally married, one of his kindergartners was standing outside with her friend, and the friend said, "Which one is the bride?" and the student said, "The one who isn't Coach Paul, duh!". Things come back to my memory, and I just smile- it was the best day of my life, despite how ambivalent I am about that dress (which I will be trying on tonight before I finally box it up).

That day was so special for us. We became a new family, we got to celebrate with all our family and friends, and Paul's team won their first playoff game- without Paul. Patrick's mom (who is now art teacher at Paul's school) told Paul that it was amazing to see so many people who had gone straight from our reception (leaving in the middle) to their playoff game, all dressed in their fancy church/wedding clothes. The boys were dressed in suits, and quickly changed in the school's bathrooms to be ready to win one for Coach Paul, as were my orders to each of them as they came up to say goodbye at the wedding. Another of our altar servers, Marty, said to us when we came up to the teenager's table, "This food is GOOD". His own mom had gotten married there just 7 months before, and had the same food, so I said, "This is what your mom had, what did YOU eat?" Apparently she had given him chicken fingers, the kid's plate, and he was honored to have the grownup's food. It's little things like that that we'll remember for a lifetime.

So, on this day last year, I became a wife. And on this day last year, I was given a whole new set of memories to cherish, and today I will taste the top tier of our wedding cake, because I'm sure it's going to be pretty terrible. Good thing we're going to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner! I'll have to pick up a tasty cheesecake for dessert.

Oops

2008-10-22T08:39:00.000-07:00

Paul has been playing a video game called "Star Wars Battlefront". It's got the most annoying soundtrack with a lot of "Beepbeepbeep... boopboopboop" noises that are liable to drive whoever isn't playing insane. Lately he's been very courteous about that noise, and mutes the game when he knows it's going to appear. This is quite lovely, and I truly don't even care that he's playing that video game or one like it.

Since he's been on a scary movie kick lately (all in the buildup to Halloween), we've been trying to rent movies from Netflix that are scary or spooky. Unfortunately we had given Dad "Run Fatboy Run" before we set out on our spook-athon, and had to get that back and watch it before we saw got our next movie.

The movie was really great, I adore Simon Pegg! I set about putting the movie in it's sleeve and sealing it- then sent it in yesterday morning. When I got home after my flu shot (which hurts like a bitch right now, btw), I saw we had another movie, a 1987 gem called "The Monster Squad", one of those movies from your past that you can't believe finally made it onto DVD. To keep our movie rotation going, we watched "The Monster Squad" and had it all set to send out today. Paul decided he wanted to play "Star Wars Battlefront", but what's this? "Run FatBoy Run"? Why is that... uh oh.

I mailed Paul's not-made-anymore video game instead of the movie. CRAP. So I called netflix to notify them of the error and the guy said we'll most likely get it back. I felt a little better about it, but man, how guilty do I look? I had just complained about it and then sent it in. Dang.

This morning I got an email from Netflix, saying my envelope had been received, but empty. CRAP. So I call again to tell them that it's been sent in with a personal DVD instead, and the girl tells me that she'll make a note of it, and hopefully they'll find it. I KNOW there was a movie-ish type of thing inside that envelope, so it wasn't empty, but perhaps someone stole it! I know, I know. Totally insane. I guess I've never really gotten over Paul's wedding band (v.1) being stolen from UPS.

Keep your fingers crossed that his video game will return!

Stay tuned for next week's episode....

2008-10-21T11:40:00.000-07:00

On the brighter side: does anyone watch "How I Met Your Mother"? I love this show, but MAN, it seems every episode ends with a cliffhanger! I haven't watched last night's episode yet (DVR is waiting for me!), but I don't know if I can take it! I've never been good with cliffhangers, and have despised season finales for that very reason- most end in cliffhangers- Jim and Pam anyone???!!!

I think it's part of being impatient. I just can't sit there and wait a week, month, or season without needing to know what happens. In part, I've started reading ahead in some of my books. If I suspect an ending that I find unsavory, I will actually stop reading the book. I'm serious. I will put it down, give it away, return it to the library. I want everything to have a happy ending. I wonder if that means that despite my TTC rants and raves that I'm characteristically an optimistic person who just wants the best for all?

Eh. I just want everyone to be with the person they love, I think.

Still clicking my heels together

2008-10-21T10:46:00.000-07:00

It's funny to me, at the moment I feel like I don't belong anywhere. I mean, I have my family and friends, and I belong with them... but I don't have a distinct group I belong to. When I was at Weddingbee, I was getting married. My group was engaged women planning their weddings (some in public on a national site, others in private), waiting to be "wife" instead of "girlfriend" or "fiance". Then, months after our marriage, I became a TTCer. And now, months after that, I'm not really associating myself with anything anymore.

I'm not chipper or upbeat enough to be a contributing part of the TTC group that I was previously a member of. Instead I've turned bitter, unable to congratulate all those who pop in momentarily to share in TTC, and then find themselves pregnant on the first try. When one of them announces a chemical pregnancy or a (god forbid) miscarriage, I wonder briefly which is worse: to know you're capable of getting pregnant, yet suffering a loss like that; or after ten or so cycles, not yet finding yourself pregnant with no possible explanation as to why. Maybe that makes me a horrible person, if so, I apologize for how I seem to you readers- especially those of you who have suffered such devastating losses, but being on this side of the fence leaves me with many questions to be answered. Therefore, I find myself willingly leaving the TTC thread, because I couldn't POSSIBLY be trying any harder to get pregnant. So while the new girls appear sporadically, all excited with the newness of TTC, I can't share in their joy. A shiny, new basal thermometer and a perfect looking chart on Fertility Friend is all novelty to them. For me, I've had to extend my FF membership past when I thought I'd be done, and have since bought another basal thermometer. It's not fun anymore. So I can't congratulate and wish them a happy and healthy nine months to these gals who breezed in and sneezed and wow, pregnant my first month!, or worse yet, had accidental pregnancies because they thought it'd take longer (as evident from me, the crotchety old hag rocking away in her chair muttering "Someday it'll be my turn... someday...", while renovating her cubicle in TTC hell), and are "making do". I hate that I'm that person. I'm bitter! I'm usually upbeat! What the hell has happened to me? TTC has ruined my life.

So now I don't belong in TTC worlds, nor do I belong in the world of the almost marrieds, I definitely don't belong in the world of mommies and daddies, as being around babies right now isn't really the best choice for my remaining mental health. Right now, Doctor Amber has prescribed many alcoholic drinks, a trip to Disneyland (nine days!) and a kind and loving husband who wants nothing more than to help give her that dream of a baby. Until that happens, I'm going to retreat back into my dark and musty corner, and continue to make baby name lists in my head. Henry? Sounds like a winner.

Forgive the rants and gripes. I'm on a fast train to Angry and Bitter town, with a quick stopoff in Pityville.

At the tone...

2008-10-17T08:55:00.000-07:00

I love my husband very much. Despite that, sometimes I want to punch him in the face. Yes, it may sound mean and unwarranted, but hear me out- he's a horrible waker in the morning. Hm. Me thinks "waker" isn't a word. Well... I've just made it one. Anyway, my husband is optimistic, since he sets his alarm for 5:30am every Monday through Friday, with full intent to actually get up at that time.

The problem is, nine times out of ten he'll hit the snooze button at LEAST twice- both times making sure I'm nice and panicked when that alarm starts blaring. I have just enough time between each snooze to fall back to sleep enough to be rudely awakened with the next alarm.

I'm a little more realistic, I set my alarm for 6:11am, when take my basal temperature and get out of bed. Every morning, like clockwork. Pun greatly intended. I've never been a snooze button presser, and from what I remember from 4 years of living with Paul, he's ONLY been a snooze presser. He claims it helps him wake up. I say you should just set your alarm for the exact time you want to wake up, none of that waking up in installments junk. Because I'm so used to my own schedule of waking up exactly when the alarm starts to make a noise, when his alarm goes off and keeps going off (because it's not enough to wake me with his snooze, he also has to keep the alarm going for at least 30 seconds) I get thrown off, and think it's MY alarm that's going off, so I turn MINE off. Bad news.

It's funny to me because it's been like this every weekday morning of our lives together, and I never really paid attention to how mean it is to snooze when you're sharing your bed with someone who has a schedule to keep as well. Since he's such a great guy despite all this snooziness, I think I'll keep him. And keep my eye out for a better alarm sound!

Abandoned

2008-10-15T12:53:00.000-07:00

Wow, long time no post! Sorry for the teensy break there, I'd had a couple of off days, a cold and a busy schedule.

I'm close to a couple of gals from my weddingbee blogging days, and recently one commented on the toughness of marriage. Part of the reason we are close is due to the time we got both got married- now that there are often new generations of Bees, certain generations tend to stick together. We're both at the same place in our lives- celebrating our one year anniversaries (18 days until mine!), and getting used to the day to day grind without the chance for the party at the end of the tunnel.

Right now I'm feeling frustrated. I'm an adult now. Now I'm the person who gets called when her mom is in the emergency room, when her dad loses his job, and when the dog has a skin infection. I have real life responsibilities now and I'm not sure I'm okay with this. Saturday night my mom calls asking for my brother's phone number in Australia, because she was told by my aunt that he was worried about her and her shoulder. Now, I hadn't told him about it because Mom asked me not to, it's not my decision to make- it was all taken care of and she's fine now. So, I tell her it's at home, and I'll call her with it later. At the game, I shoot off a quick email on my sidekick telling him a brief, "Mom's okay, her shoulder is taken care of and she's taking her pain pills and doing exercises, don't worry about her."

The next day I get an email back from him, basically saying he had no idea she was hurt until she called him (she figured out the number by herself), and that he doesn't have time to worry about her anyway. What? Well, his daughter caught a cold from her first day in daycare (she's 10 months old), and they were so worried they took her to the hospital (gotta love the ER care in Australia), and NOW they're both sick. So he tells me he has no room to worry about mom and that "He's just done". Even though I send him a quick, "Sorry to hear about the baby, hope she feels better soon", inside I was incensed. I guess he figured "out of country, out of mind, out of life".

Since he's moved, he's been almost like a figment of my imagination. I have a brother? And a sister in law I've met once? Really? I don't talk (email) to him more than once a month. We don't share any news. I sent him a postcard from Hawaii, and that's the most I've done. I know it's both ways, but come on. I've sent him onesies for the baby and things like that. There was that issue with the photo albums that my parents got (each) as well as my aunt, the baby's great aunt. Did I get one? Nope. I feel like an only child, since he doesn't seem to give a crap about what else people are doing in our family. My dad's side gets teary when they talk about how he shuns them. Join the club, family. You're not the only one. There's nothing worse than knowing you're alone in something, even when technically you shouldn't be.

I have a niece I've never seen. I may not see her for years, because I'm sorry, planning my OWN damn family comes first. You want your child to know your family? Make a goddamn effort. Send pictures, write letters, let us talk to her. Don't just send us a freaking link to her flickr pictures. I have best friends in this country that I consider to be more family than my brother. My friend Tricia knows about how hard things are right now. Laura is part of my daily conversations about life. And these are people who weren't even raised with me. They don't share my blood, yet I'd be more than thrilled to be an "Auntie" to one of their babies.

It feels like my brother was trying to escape something here. Yeah, it was a pretty hard home to grow up in, but he hasn't tried to talk about it, he'd rather ignore it than help me figure out what went wrong. I have to think he intentionally found a girl to marry that wasn't in the US. He met her online, the girl could have been from anywhere. I feel abandoned, and it just makes me sad. God bless Paul, he's been the strongest person for me to lean on,and this isn't even his family. Well, technically, it is now, but it wasn't a requirement. My brother has created his own life somewhere else, and it seems to me that I'm not part of it anymore. When we hear from him, it's usually in response to emails we send- and those feel almost like being tolerated by someone who dislikes you.

I have four other nieces and nephews, eleven first cousins, and four-going-on-7 second cousins who are like nieces and nephews. I'm surrounded by love, so why does his dismissal of us feel like such a hit?

The Upside of Having a Cold

2008-10-07T11:27:00.000-07:00

Our one year wedding anniversary is coming up. We'd hoped to be pregnant by then, but in the meantime I'd been trying to think of reasons I was glad it hasn't happened yet. Stupid little things like: oooh, at least I can enjoy a margarita, even though I don't drink. So I'm starting to drink more. It's a filthy cycle, I tell you. I'm almost taunting myself here, with these insipid reasons why it's good I'm not pregnant: at least I'm not pregnant in the summer! Good thing I'm not pregnant right now, Woofie has allergies (?). Then it started becoming: Good thing I'm not pregnant right now, I don't know if I wanted another May baby in the family. All these little things that hurt to say, trying to make myself feel better.

Today is a low day for me. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I was sidelined with a pretty bad cold this morning, one that had my throat hurting (Hey! Good thing I'm not pregnant this morning, I couldn't take any medication!), eyes watering and uncontrollable sneezing. The past couple of days have been just a sea of routines; going home, taking Woofie out, talking to my dad, making dinner, eating dinner, watching a movie... then my mom's dislocated shoulder was tossed into it and it turned into, "God, this is hard, I hope she'll be okay (hey! Good thing I'm not pregnant, that x-ray would not be good to be around)". Then her friend tells me, "You need to start having babies, your mom promised to quit smoking when you get pregnant." Great, so my Mom's inability to have some damned willpower has now deemed me the person who will get her to quit smoking, all I need to do is get pregnant. Because you know, it's easy.

So yeah, now I'm at work, spewing my misery of TTC around to the other ladies TTC with me, the lucky ones who have only been at it a month or so. When people say the first year of marriage is the toughest, I wonder if they were also TTC.

As I mentioned in my title up there, at least with my watery eyes and runny nose, no one at work can tell I'm crying. So there is an upside after all.

A Very South Park Christmas

2008-10-06T09:26:00.000-07:00

Ahhhh, "South Park". A bastion of both political satire and commentary on the superficiality of entertainers. It's also a lifesaver for my family. I know, I know, what kind of family would consider "South Park" a lifesaver? With its lowbrow humor and often disgusting content (which I find endlessly hilarious, so sue me), it's not what you'd call family entertainment. At least, not in families other than my own.

Let's go back to 1996, my cousin Ellen and I were in our senior year of high school, I had just turned 17 on November 5th. Our grandma had been sick for going on 3 years now, which was both good and bad- good because we got more time with her, bad because she was changed- our grandma was gone and a shell of her remained. Christmas was coming up, a holiday our extended family used to spend at Grandma's house. I had gotten all the gifts for my friends and family, carefully choosing those gifts that were the best fit for each person. It was a Wednesday afternoon two days before Christmas break began, and my mom and I had just returned from Target. We had a message on the answering machine. It was Ellen's sister Amy, three years older than we are. The message was chilling, "Hello? Mark (my dad)? Can you give us a call? Grandma's gone." You could hear the tears in her voice, and then my Dad's voice as he picked up the phone in the midst of the message being left. Then the phone rang- it was my Dad calling to tell me to get over to my cousin's house.

That was probably the worst Christmas of my life. Spending your holiday break numb inside, waiting for the inevitable tears to fall. I couldn't understand why everyone else in the family was crying, and I couldn't. I loved her too, I missed her, I wanted to be back in her arms again, smelling of rose lotion and Coty powder. It's funny, how now just writing that phrase brings tears to my eyes, yet back in 1996, I was a stone. It wasn't until her funeral, when it all hit me. Ellen stood at the podium and talked about our grandma and what she had brought to our life. I sat there, alone in the pew trying to keep my sobs as quiet as possible, only succeeding in making them echo throughout the room. When I saw the parents I had baby-sat for, neighbors of my grandma, sitting in the pews, I cried harder. This was it. Grandma was gone. She wouldn't be leaving tomatoes on their back porch anymore. She wouldn't wave across the street to me, while I walked the halls consoling a teething 2 year old.

What does this have to do with "South Park", you ask? Well, as I had mentioned, Grandma had passed away about 5/6 days before Christmas, and we were all just so down. It was like the world was in color, and we were all in black and white. What to do for the usual festive holiday? The gifts were bought and wrapped, and yet the joy was gone. My cousin Mike was working for MTV at the time, and they had received a demo of something they had ultimately passed on. So, Mike brought it home to us, and showed it to us on Christmas day. It was the "South Park" Christmas card (aka The Spirit of Christmas), a precursor to South Park.

For some ridiculous reason, MTV passed on this goldmine, and Comedy Central picked it up. "The Spirit of Christmas" gave us a Christmas filled with laughter and crudeness, just what our family needed (as evidenced by our Thanksgiving choice of entertainment: "Kingpin"). There were horrible references to Santa Claus, and disgusting references to a pig, and there were smiles on our faces. Amazingly, my cousin Mike and South Park had saved Christmas- our very first without Grandma.

Luckily, one of the producers of the show is a parent at Paul's school. Paul coaches his kids in various sports, and we've been invited to their house for various holidays. Their daughter Milan (who actually has done a few voices on the show) looks exactly like me at that age, and their son is a sweetheart. After 10 or so years, I was able to thank "South Park" for what they did for us all those years ago. And yes, we did make fun of MTV for passing on that opportunity.

It's not often you can say a cartoon (especially such a foul-mouthed one) saved Christmas, but it did. And that's why you'll find "South Park" being DVRed every Wednesday in our house. I owe them.

Sun through the clouds

2008-10-06T08:52:00.000-07:00

Good morning all! I'd like to welcome all the new readers who have followed me from WeddingBee. For those of you not in the "know", Weddingbee has been sold to eharmony. You'll find a variety of posts on the site regarding the sale and subsequent loss of many Bees, both old and new. I'm not going to go into my say of things, but I think people should know that we Bees shared our lives with readers by choice, and it's also our choice to leave. I'm not making any grand gesture of leaving the hive, my time there had ended a long time ago, and there are no more posts in me about our wedding, or married life. Well, none I'd be willing to share on a site with national readers. No, I'm much more comfortable here, in my cozy baby-obsessed cave with temperatures and bitterness towards other people who manage to get pregnant before me. (hint: laugh at that please, I'm joking. Kinda. :) )

Anyway, a new day has begun. In honor of that, I have these:

Chocolate and peanut butter chip cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. What do you do with 24 cupcakes? Also, I wasn't told the silicone cupcake liners had to be greased first! Now I decorated all these pretty cupcakes and I have to tear them out of the silicone liner. Suuucks.

This weekend was a busy one. I originally woke up at 7:25am on Saturday to go to Paul's flag football game. It took me a good minute to shut off my alarm and stagger out of bed, exhausted from the lack of sleep I had this past week. When he saw my face, puffy and creased from a horrible night's sleep full of nightmares about my mom's arm snapping off (WTH?) he told me to go to bed and he'll see me a little later. So, I gladly went back to sleep, and woke up at 11am!! Good lord that was a long sleep! Paul called from the road, and asked if I wanted to go to the USC football game that night. Since I've never been to a college football game (actually, never been to a football game that wasn't high school or 8th graders), I said sure, despite being a UCLA fan! So I got bundled up because it was looking rainy, and took the dog out and went to the market to get stuff to make for dinner. Annnnnd tater tots. Because although they're really just formed tubes of reconstituted potatoes I love them anyway. Ask Napoleon Dynamite. You can't have any of my 'tots. So, we left early for the football game so we could grab a bite on the way. Once we parked it was a good 20 minute walk to the stadium, with drunk collegiates staggering into my way every 5 to 10 feet.

It was worth it, when we saw the view from our seats:

After a nice snack of cheese popcorn, cotton candy, a soft pretzel and water, I was all set to go home. After all, I'm only there for the food!

Sunday we had more football games, and I made dinner of enchilada pie and those cupcakes above.

I had a fitful sleep, as nothing is less conducive to sleep than a tossing 300lb husband who is "sick" and wants someone to talk to him, because he can't sleep. Again, I awoke from nightmares- this time involving my boss' son, who I used to babysit back in the day. Someone was messing with him, and in trying to protect him I was beaten up. What is up with my sleep lately? I didn't eat late, or anything weird, I'm just having the oddest dreams!

When it rains... well, you know

2008-10-03T08:25:00.000-07:00

Just a quick pop in here as I'm at work and exhausted and would like to take this spare moment to take a quick nap. Yesterday was a sack full of crap. We had a gas leak in our oven (which is why it never turned on), a majorly backed up sink and a visit to the emergency room.

First things first: I left work at 1:15 to hustle home to let in the oven repair guy. Dad had gotten there at one, because the plumber was supposed to be there between 1 and 3pm. Of course, isn't it always the tail end when people come in? I had just arranged for Dad to head over to meet the plumber when the oven repair guy called me and said he was going to be there in 15/20 minutes. Eeeep! So I begged my boss to leave, and he said he had made other plans, and apparently we absolutely MUST have someone here to answer the non-ringing phone. The second he took off, I texted my boss and gave her a quick scoop of info, got permission to leave and took off myself, managing to make the buses just in time to get home before the oven tech.

After being told that my oven was completely broken and that it was leaking gas, I told him to do whatever he needs to, and I'll be sitting on the couch with dad. He finished up and left, and we proceeded to wait for the plumber, who was finished in all of ten minutes.

Dad and I went around buying stuff to bake, then I came home and waited for Paul. When he finally got home, we got a phone call from my mom who was in the ER with a busted shoulder. We were there until eleven, standing beside my mom, who was in major pain. She had slipped on a puddle of oil and dislocated her shoulder. They drugged her up and popped it back in, and went home with a friend of hers, since there's no way she'd be comfortable on the couch with a dog fighting over her spot.

I just spoke to her, and she's feeling much better. And now, I must take a nap, well wishes for my mom please!

Sometimes Life Gets in the Way

2008-09-30T09:07:00.000-07:00

It seems like I've been a selfish person lately. Everything is poor me, bemoaning the lack of a new life beginning for us, and not celebrating the new ones already created by family members. I've been wallowing so deep in my own muck that I've neglected those I love, and haven't been supportive. It's not that I'm not supporting them, it's just that I'm being a total bitch and keeping it to myself. Not quite sure why, but I think the time has come to get over myself and my failings and rejoice in the successes of others- K and L, my wonderful cousins.

I'm very happy for you both (and your kids and husbands, of course!), and I just can't wait to see you all soon. Please forgive me for my terrible attitude of late, A happy and healthy 6 months for the both of you (is 6 months right?). Let me know if I can do anything for you both, even though I STILL don't drive. God, I am a horrible lazy bastard.

A New Title

2008-09-25T13:47:00.000-07:00

As you can see, I've changed the name of my blog to "A Fetal Attraction". While I had originally thought I'd just start a new blog that was pregnancy/TTC/baby centric, I then thought about what this blog would be without all the baby talk. So, I've decided to name this blog what my life is all about right now: a fetal attraction.

Perhaps it's because I'm sick right now, or maybe it's because that damn mouse is still in our kitchen (where the dog sleeps) and we have yet to hear from the landlord, or maybe it's the fact that ovulation is coming up in a few days, but I'm feeling a little down.

I hate the fact that I'm afraid of our kitchen (although it's now at the cleanest it's ever been, yay me!), and that every day there is a MOUSE in our private space, who could possibly bite Woofie. Speaking of Woofie, he's got this skin issue right now, patches of dry skin with missing fur in some spots, and you can tell he's just itchy. We've bought medicated shampoo, an instant relief rinse, and he's been flea medicated. It kills me to see how annoyed he is by his itchy skin. I've got him on doggie supplements and I'm vacuuming the house constantly (I swear, with this mouse, everything is spic and span!) to try to make him a little more comfortable, but so far no go. We'll take him to the vet if it gets worse.

As I said before, I'm ovulating this Monday, most likely. How do I know? Well, judging from my last year's cycles, I have a 28/29 day cycle with a 13/14 day luteal phase (the days between ovulation and your period) which is pretty typical, and this means I usually ovulate on the 14/15th day of my cycle. It's like clockwork. Which would make it easy to get pregnant. Ahhh, not so, apparently. Yesterday my dad's doula friend gave me a whole box of pregnancy, breastfeeding, childbirth and postive birthing books, and I sure did send myself into a deep hole reading about pregnancy day to day. So the books were sent into the closet where they could relax until needed. Paul's starting to remark on how many movies and tv shows are centered around babies. I've noticed it for months, and I can see how our so far unsuccessful TTC is affecting him now. Makes me feel bad.

And now I'm sick. It's kind of weird to be sick when it's still hot outside and the sun's shining brightly. Still, all the aches and pains from yesterday (along with the sneezing and fever) are gone, and now we're moving on to chest cold. At least I'm not aching!

A bunch of this stuff has caused me to kind of pull inward, venturing out only to go to work and errands with my dad. At work, I prefer to just stay inside instead of getting lunch and will often go from the morning coffee (of which I am now making myself!) to 4pm without food. I just don't feel like being social, I'd much prefer to curl up on the couch with my itchy dog and one of the hundreds of books I have lying about the house. I'm sure I'll come out of this self-imposed cocoon, but until that happens I'm just going to have to get used to cleaning the house for fun- since that's what I do now. Weird.

Anyway, that's a little update from us. Hopefully things'll pick up soon.

Eeek!

2008-09-17T08:30:00.000-07:00

Last night I prepared a Mexican supper, complete with homemade rice with tomatoes and cilantro and homemade tostadas (vegetarian beans), we had two loads of laundry in the dryer, and another two waiting for our turn at the washer (man, I hate having to share two measly washers and dryers). We had just finished our meal, and started to watch "Jumanji" that we had DVRed previously, when I turned to say something to Paul and saw a large brown mouse pattering across our kitchen floor. As if in some kind of horror movie, I silently pointed past Paul and gaped, just shaking. Paul stared at me wondering what on Earth I was doing. Finally, I managed to gasp, "MOUSE!" And shoved Woofie the dachshund (who I may add is a HUNTER by nature) toward the kitchen. The dog had no idea what we were doing.

So, we got up quietly in time to watch it scamper back into the wall somehow, we're guessing it got in through the dishwasher. Nothing makes you feel creeped out more than seeing some kind of vermin traipsing across the very floor you were just standing on- BAREFOOT- not more than an hour ago. So, despite our fatigue from all the other things we were doing (I was making the beans, frying the tortillas, cutting the tomatoes, shredding the cheese and making guacamole all at the same time), I got to work scouring the kitchen, since now I just felt so... skeezy. I put away all the leftovers, washed all the dishes, set them in the rack because the shoddy dishwasher hasn't worked for a bajillion years now, and set about cleaning the stovetop, mopping the floors, cleaning beside and under the fridge, and putting away the dishes once clean and dry. I had just folded up Woofie's blanket and sprayed the floor with bleach when I did something to my back. I have a feeling it was something to do with my sciatic nerve, as it was mainly on my left side, and radiated down my leg. It got so bad I couldn't even walk. So that was fun.

We'll talk to the landlord tonight about that huge problem (hello, anyone read Princess Bride? Sucker was a R.O.U.S!), and then go about getting that vermin out of our apartment. I'm telling you, living off one of the busiest streets in Los Angeles has a definite downside. Our front gate is facing a small side street, but our bedroom/kitchen windows face the big boulevard. Another downside: the two tylenol pms kicked in and I fell asleep, only to be woken up at 1am or so with a group fighting (in Spanish, no less, the night's theme continues) and crying literally right outside our bedroom window. Being nosy, I usually would get up to see what was going on, but due to the tylenol I had taken, I'm pretty sure I would have been mighty unstable on my feet.

Ahhhh, the joy of apartment living. How do you go about getting rid of a mouse? Would they call an exterminator in? And if so, does he spray poison, or set traps? Would we need to take Woofie out that day? All things to ask the landlord, I suppose.

Discouraged

2008-09-16T09:12:00.000-07:00

I've been a member of a forum for diamond lovers, but it's not strictly about diamonds. There are separate areas for posting questions about stones and settings, for posting pictures of your new stone/settings, an area to just "hang out", one for all the ladies in waiting, who were waiting for their proposal to come. I originally joined as a Lady in Waiting, even though my story wasn't so much about anxiously awaiting a proposal, since I chose my own stone and setting. After I was proposed to, I then moved on to the Brides World Wide area, where we posted wedding planning questions, pictures and updates. Since I was asked to be a blogger for Weddingbee, I pretty much spent all my wedding planning time over there, and didn't really post on the BWW forums as much. In the diamond world, when you're done with the wedding, most people move to the TTC forum, where you chat with like-minded ladies who have the research bug as well- the whole reason we found the diamond forum to begin with- a need to know MORE. When you get that BFP, you move to the "Expecting" area, where you commiserate with other pregnant ladies, and THEN once you have the baby, you move to the Mommy thread. Yeah, it's like a little world in that one forum!

Today a fellow TTCer got her BFP. Yesterday another one got hers. A week before that there were three, count 'em, three new BFPs. I am now the longest residing TTCer, and it really is the most depressing thing possible. It seems like everywhere people are pregnant, and I sit here with my cramps and mood swings (can you tell?). I never really thought about how long it would take to get pregnant, but still, I just keep getting lapped by the other girls who come into the TTC thread, spend one cycle there bemoaning their lack of a BFP, and then voila! Pregnant, adios, I'm moving on. I feel like the older dog at the pet store, just sitting there while the puppies come in and out like a revolving door of newness, pleading and hoping that someday I'll get my ticket out.

Every month an egg works through like clockwork, mocking me with it's regularity. I know exactly when I ovulate, I temp every morning, examine every fluid (gross, isn't it?), and purchase insane things called pre-seed. Yes, it's come to that. I don't even know what to do anymore, other than sit here wringing my hands and marking off dates on the calendar. Every month another cycle comes by, and I tell Paul, "If we conceive this cycle, the due date would be..." And yet again, that month goes by fruitless.

Somewhere along the line I became that girl. The one with the permanent frown lines between her eyebrows with eyes constantly brimming with tears, the one who everyone makes hold the new baby, because then I'll want one, they say. If only they knew that holding that baby and smelling her sweet head just makes me ache inside. Of course, we can't tell them the truth, because should we do that, and things take longer than they are already, I couldn't bear to have to explain over and over WHY it's taking so long. I've become the one who instead of congratulating the recent recipients of the positive pregnancy test, pulls away from the crowd and keeps her misery inside. It's not that I don't have anything nice to say (ahhh, the words of Thumper, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" thankfully don't ring true in this case), it's just that I'm a bitter old woman. :) I don't feel like being nice. I feel like being a bugger and simply emanate my angry bitterness.

I've said it once, I'll say it a million times- I'm a horrible person. Somehow, in my Grinch-sized heart (pre Whoville makeover), I do manage to feel happy for the pregnant, I do. I'm not truly self-obsessed. I just can't immediately congratulate them, because I'm too immersed in my own pathetic misery, and need some time to formulate a reply that isn't focused on my "Lucky you, I wish I could be so lucky" mentality. Still, once I do manage to give them the congrats they rightly deserve, I may bow out of the TTC thread, it's just too hard for me. Again, don't you know it all revolves around me? I must say, though, if any of those friends complain about being pregnant (again, they've done it before), they'll be hearing from me. I may even have to revoke their children and raise them as my own little Mexican babies. We'll start a soccer team. The incredible sporty family. I can see it now.

Once my friends have been pregnant for some time (and the pain has lessened), I'll gladly lurk in their lives, watching as their bellies get rounder, and they pick out nursery furniture. I'll search all over for that perfect stuffed giraffe, and the right kind of bottle, and possibly a soft blanket the baby will never part with, so I can say I had a part in it. I'm really not that terrible after all.

An Anniversary, of Sorts

2008-09-11T13:50:00.000-07:00

Nine years ago yesterday, something momentous happened. Shield your eyes, those of you who want to retain the vision or image of a pure, innocent Amber.

Done?

Okay, nine years ago yesterday I lost my virginity. *gasp* Although I had plotted it to be the day before it happened (9/9/1999, how much more perfect could you get?), things don't always work to plan. My virginity had long plagued me, all through high school and beyond. It was almost a joke amongst all my slutty friends at the time. Who will it be? After a while, it almost became somewhat of a nuisance. Okay, I'm tired of writing the word "virginity", let's call it... Margot.

Margot and I had started out like those neighbors you have that you don't really notice until something interesting happens, like the cops are called, or their dog gets loose. She didn't bother me, I didn't bother her. Even when the boys started asking after Margot, I still ignored her presence. Until that fateful day in my junior year, when I was a teacher's assistant, and roaming the halls with nothing to do. I ran into a friend, and talked with him for awhile. The next day came, and all of a sudden the existence of Margot was questioned. What? First of all, should I relinquish Margot, you think I'd do it at school?! REALLY? That's what you think of me? Secondly, I do have morals, you know. I'm not about to just lay Margot out for any friend passing by. Of course, you know how it is with Margots, people don't believe you. Even your friends begin to doubt you.

That's when I started to debate- what AM I waiting for? Oh, yes, a steady boyfriend who doesn't call me Knobs. That would be nice. Hey, call me choosy, whatever. At one point, I think even my mom thought I'd asked Margot to walk the plank. Sex-ed gave you gobs and gobs of condoms, and some of us didn't use them all to water balloon our fellow students. Ahem. Well, not ALL of them. That little conversation with mom went like this, "Um, Amber, you DO know condoms aren't 100% safe, right?" Me: "OH GOD, MOM! Don't even TALK about that with me! And get out of my ROOM!" Yes, totally mature.

As the years went on, friends said goodbye to their Margots, and bothered me about mine, asking all sorts of questions: Are you waiting until marriage? Not that I know of. Is it a religious thing? I don't have a religion, so I'm going to say no. Are you scared? Of what? No! Pretty soon after graduation, I had my first job. Working at Jamba Juice really helped you "get out there". I had dates all over the place, but nothing serious, no one to make me think: this is the one. At that point it was a novelty for my co-workers, almost a sideshow. Meet the incredibly Chaste Woman! I was just trying to find a steady guy who wouldn't immediately drop me, in LA, you'd think it would be easy! Well, it was TWO full years after graduating from high school, and good ol' Margot wouldn't leave. I stopped thinking of her as a virtue, and started thinking of her like some kind of virus. Guys thought I was an oddball- an almost 20 year old virgin? In Los Angeles? Of course, while it was a novelty, no one wanted the kind of commitment I would need to give Margot the boot.

Until I met A. I had met him the previous year, at a party for my good friend. I thought he was Mr. Right. He wasn't Mr. Wrong OR Mr. Right, it turned out. I guess lying to him and telling him I was half Armenian (the friend who brought me to the party was Armenian, as it was an Armenian party!) didn't really set the stage for a good healthy relationship. Annnyway. We had met in 1998, and he bugged the crap out of me. I couldn't stand him. Then we ran into each other a little later, and hit it off. We began dating, which was hard, given the distance- he was a student at UCSD. So, months passed, and we got along really well. Our friends liked each other, and we were happy. So, I sent him an email one Thursday night telling him it was time to evict Margot. I got a call the next day, he was in town. Wow, that was some speedy drive home!

The actual act I will keep to myself, but it was a Friday night, and it was in a car. Yes, in a car. A two-door. Every time I moved, I hit my head on the overhead light, turning it on and off. It was like a freaking disco in that car. Still, it was finally over with. Our relationship lasted a good three years, until he told me he had met someone new- and get this- She's MEXICAN! Damn! So, it ended, I finally got to stop lying about my race, and we both moved on and married other people. He married the girl he left me for, so that's nice. As you all know, I married Paul. Sometimes I want to email A to see how he's doing, and to break the "I'm really not Armenian" news, but it's been such a long time since we've spoken that now I think it's best to leave things alone. We had many good times, and I was able to stop being such a headcase about Margot.

If you speak to my parents, I'm still a virgin. Despite being married. I'm sure it's best for us all to just let it go at that. It's funny to me, because now that we're trying to conceive, when I actually DO get pregnant it'll be like, "Oh my god, now everyone in the world will know I've had SEX." Apparently, I'm still a child!

Paul

2008-09-11T09:58:00.000-07:00

My dad brags to people about his son-in-law, and how great of a teacher and coach he is. Dad, who isn't sporty in the least, will go to games just so he can sit there with me and cheer on Paul's (MY) team. Since Paul is the "least successful" of his siblings (and I say that because of how it's been said to US), people don't brag about him, they don't praise him for doing a job he LOVES, and doing it well, at that. I think our marriage came along at the perfect time- Paul's dad has passed on, and my brother moved to Australia- a father needing a son, and a son needing a father. When I tell Paul about how my dad likes to brag about his son-in-law changing children's lives, I can tell he gets excited about it. For once, someone else recognizes what a fantastic person Paul is, and what a great difference he's making to this world.

Although Paul is very busy with work, and quite often brings it home with him (and by bringing home work I mean various viruses and all the other factors that occur with children), I'm so glad to have someone who obviously cares so much about other people. The bad side of being a teacher/coach's wife is the attachments I form. It's easy for Paul, he's been doing this for over ten years, and while this is going on my 5th year as number 1 team supporter and fan, I can never get used to saying goodbye to these kids when they graduate. It's widely known that I cry at every graduation ceremony, every "last game of XXXXX's elementary school career", because I just get so attached to these kids. Being around all the boys (Paul coaches mostly boy teams) on weekdays, weeknights, weekends and holidays you start to learn about them all.

Paul isn't a normal coach. He cares about these kids, sometimes too much. One boy in particular was growing up with only his mom, older sister, and younger sister to guide him into adulthood. His mom was working at least two jobs, his older sister had a job, and he was to take care of his younger sister. He was at St. Mark's because of a gift from a God-Mother type, who wanted to make sure he made it to high school. The boy had a father, although he rarely saw him. For one summer basketball season, Paul noticed the student was running awkwardly, and asked him what size his shoes were A 10 and a half, he replied. Gently, Paul asked, "and what size do you wear?" A twelve, he replied sheepishly. That day, Paul worked out a deal with a friend who works at Footlocker, and bought the student a nice pair of basketball shoes. Not wanting the kid to feel like a charity case, Paul pretended his brother got him those shoes, but they were the wrong size, and did he want them? The kid took him up on his offer and took the shoes, and played so well that season. This boy would be a constant source of worry for us over the years. There would be days that he'd come to school with no lunch, having had no breakfast. He would act out against other teachers, and when brought to talk to Paul would break down in tears because although he's not around much, his father hadn't gotten in touch with him in over a year, and he was afraid he was dead. His sister attempted suicide, and his mother began having heart palpitations. A twelve/thirteen year old boy, left to parent himself. There would be nights that I'd beg Paul to let me invite him over for a nice hot dinner, and a calm place to study and just be a kid.

I think his father figure was Paul, and although I know Paul can handle that, it just breaks my heart to think that he's probably in a public high school, where the teachers won't care as much as we do, because he's just another of the 34 students in their class. They won't notice that he's worn the same shirt three days in a row, won't notice that he hasn't eaten in three days. Even though we know he's acting out because he's scared, hungry, tired, and just weak from all the pressure put onto his 13 year old shoulders, I worry that the school will see just another troublemaker who takes school for granted. Even though he's been gone for a few months now, I worry every day that we're the only ones who can help him, which may be irrational, but I can't help it.

So although I say Paul brings his work home with him, sometimes I wish he really would bring it home, so I can stop worrying about whether or not the kids are doing okay.

Selfish Me

2008-08-20T11:40:00.000-07:00

Yes, I've been away for some time now. We have passed yet another month with the frightful appearance of AF, or my period in less childlike terms. The reason I'm here right now is a selfish one, and one that will surely come off as highly bratty.

I'd like to reserve a name. Technically two names, a first and a middle. Now, I know sharing your future children's names aren't "done" in this day and age for fear of the name stalkers (People who will take the names you've so carefully chosen for your children, and then act like they came up with it themselves), but I must put this out there for anyone who is reading or listening:

I stake claim to this name. Paul and I have had this choice in our hearts for the 5 years we've been together, we've made up nicknames for it, and have imagined the child who would possess it. Since we're not yet lucky enough to have an infant in the works, I'd kindly like to have any of my friends and family take pity upon us, and let us keep this name for our own.

Ready? It's Piper Jane. PJ for short. She'll be a dark haired, light-skinned little girl with blue eyes that quickly turn a light brown like her parents. She'll possibly be a little chubby, because how can she not coming from parents like us? It's only realistic to assume so. When she gets older, her hair will turn longish and wavy, to be sloppily parted in the middle into pigtails, since she is her mother's daughter. Piper will love to read and be read to, and will relish being her grandpa's girl. She'll hopefully take after her father, and along with a propensity to care too much, will be able to catch a ball without having it bounce off her forehead first. We hope she'll be smart, giving and loving, trustworthy and energetic, and most of all, happy.

I know it's unfair to try to lay claim to a name for a child that hasn't been conceived yet, but we've already put so much love and happiness into that name that it would be a shame to have to give it up due to a uncooperative uterus.

The Queen

2008-08-06T09:08:00.000-07:00

I had my x-ray done on Monday, and it was quite uneventful. Didn't do much other than sit around waiting for my name to be called, put my foot up on the table, and "Don't Move". They will call my doctor, and I will hopefully move on to a new course of treatment.

I'm pretty sure I'll need an MRI, since judging from the x-ray tech's response to my ankle ("Wow, it's still not looking very good"), something is aggravating it, and needs to be taken care of. Despite my ability to hurt myself constantly, I've never had real surgery. Yeah, I did have that cataract surgery almost ten years ago, but I didn't really have much recuperating to do after it. Just wear the dark glasses, take my antibiotics to ward off infection, and DON'T RUB. The idea or arthroscopic surgery (when there are two teeny incisions made into the area, one of which is used for a camera) just creeps me out. The bright side, the surgery will be less invasive due to the small cameras, and recovery time will be shorter than regular surgery. The downside- I do not take well to being under the knife. My last eye surgery had me waving about like the queen of England (the doctor's words, not mine) so much that my arms had to be strapped down!

Hopefully the news will be good, and I will not need surgery. Fingers crossed!

You've Got Mail

2008-08-05T10:09:00.000-07:00

Today I got nostalgic, in an effort to distract myself from ticking the days off on my calendar. When I get nostalgic, I look through old emails from past friends and boyfriends. Yes, I keep them. It's the only thing I have left from my past that I keep- no letters or pictures, no gifts or clothing. Paul has never asked me to remove anything, and I don't keep them to think of what could have been. I keep them to remember myself of old. They help me fill in missing pieces, and give me dates to recollect. I'm a very sentimental person, and reading these old emails just make me think of the days that were spent with that person, and how much I've changed since then.

In my collection (so to speak) I've been broken up with, propositioned, loved, missed and berated. I've been left for other women, I've been told that I'll be notified should the person's current relationship fall through, and dropped from a best friend's wedding. Oddly enough, I look back at these past conversations and shake my head or smile. What things I agreed to, what situations I tolerated for years upon years. In that one email box I have three long distance relationships carried out, with two of them ended via email. What kind of person would end a relationship through email? The same person who will tell you that despite waiting four years to date you, after one month WITH you he has found someone new. It's not you, he says, it's me. Actually, since you waited for all those years to be with me, once you got the "real" me, you bolted. So me thinks it actually WAS me.

I wonder, knowing what I know now about myself, what would I do differently? Would I have told that one guy No? No I won't wait for you while you try to see who else is out there. No, I don't mind waiting for you to get back from Iraq- just please come home safely- what's that? You met a new girl? Ha! Isn't that just spit on your neck kick you in the crotch fantastic? It's amazing to me how little spine I had back then.

As I peruse the emails by name, I see witty comebacks from myself, and the few times I FINALLY got to say what I thought. Sure, it was post-breakup and they had moved on by then, but I GOT THE LAST WORD. Perhaps it's because of that, or maybe it's because I'm this person I am now because of the few morons I dated- but I wouldn't change a thing. I like where I am now. I love my life, and my husband. If I had stayed with that Marine, or that guy I completely lied to about my race (He thought I was Armenian, like he was), or the 13 years older than me guy with a kid, where would I be? I could be in San Diego, or Santa Rosa. I could have a step-son, or in-laws who had no idea I was in fact, Mexican. I could have been living on a base somewhere, biting my nails waiting for my husband to come home. Or, I could have been divorced and heartbroken. Instead, I'm a block away from my dad, mere minutes away from family- with a husband who loves me and a dachshund who gets excited whenever I come home.

Despite this TTC ordeal, I'm pretty lucky I ended up where I did. I only wish I had some email record of this.

Ahhh, more doctor visits in my future

2008-07-31T12:28:00.001-07:00

Here I am, a few days past the doctor's appointment. On his orders I am now to take 4 advil and 2 tylenol every eight hours- while it sounds like a lot, he said, it's a prescriptive amount and fine. Also on his orders, I have been given a form to take to the x-ray imaging place to have an x-ray on my ankle done. He's concerned about the swelling, and since I had told him I actually sprained it last month- I'm sure he'd be more worried to find out I actually sprained it three months ago. Should the x-ray be negative for a fracture or break (funny how that works out- negative in the medical world is GOOD, but in the everyday world BAD!), I'll have to have an MRI done should the swelling persist.

As it's been three months now with it still swollen, I have a feeling I may need that MRI. I'm not too happy about that, because should the MRI catch something tendon-related, I would have to have surgery. So that's upsetting.

Still, it's a good thing I'm not actually pregnant, since I'm sure all these meds and radiation can't be too good for a fetus. Hopefully it really is a fracture!

Another Day

2008-07-29T11:10:00.001-07:00

Gosh, I just seem to be lacking in posts lately! There really isn't much to say, sometimes life gets too busy and you don't have a chance to really talk or type as much.

Although I've said life is busy, there really isn't much going on. Just working (my boss is out, so I'm doing work for two people!) and getting things done around the house. Paul has had this summer to himself a bit, not traveling like he used to. Now he goes to work and is home before I am!

Today I have a doctors appointment for my asthma and my ankle. The pain is mostly gone from my ankle, but there is still swelling and a bit of pain when I move it a certain way.

We're still trying to get pregnant, now that we're moving to another month of trying. Everyone please wish us luck for this cycle! (and don't tell Paul I asked for it!)

Fa la la la la

2008-07-22T10:42:00.000-07:00

Well, the fat lady has sung, and my period finally came. It was an odd cycle, that's for sure, perhaps due to the traveling and the sunburn. Whatever it was, it is NOT welcomed back next cycle! If we manage to conceive this upcoming cycle, the due date would be at the end of April. Good month, I think.

Anyway, onward and upward to another cycle. No more sadness and no more despair.

.

2008-07-18T08:51:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time since I blogged last. I've been very busy reading and working. :) So, my period is now three days late, which is very odd- I'm NEVER three days late. Despite that, you'd think I'd be thrilled. No, the super sensitive pregnancy tests are negative, the second one taken this morning.

Last night, as I was bemoaning my lack of continuity this month, Paul said, "Honey! Maybe you're pregnant!" When I replied (although very hard to say), "No, I'm not." He said sadly, "At least you could humor me." I had to tell him that as much as I wish I could humor him, I had already taken a test and it had a very dark line clearly stating a negative. I felt kind of bad, seeing him let down like that.

So, another day to come.

We're back!

2008-07-07T13:16:00.000-07:00

Aloha! Paul and I are back home, exhausted, burned and so tired of traveling. While a vacation is fantastic, there is nothing like being able to come home to your comfortable bed with nice sheets after a long night of traveling.

We returned very early on Saturday, and since we managed to sleep a few hours on the plane we weren't so exhausted. My dad picked us up at the airport where he drove us to his house where we picked up a very insolent and shy Woofie. I immediately ran over to his crate to let him out, and he gave me the most distrustful look! I supposed it's a rude awakening to be picked up by your "parents" after having spent a wild and crazy week at Grandpa's- where he lets you chew on pinecones in the house and go to bed late every night!

Still, as we dragged a reluctant Woofie to the car, Paul and I began to yawn. And yawn. We were hungry, as we hadn't eaten for 12 hours at that point, but we were also starting to get pretty tired. When we got home, we dropped the bags, got into bed and slept for another few hours. Poor Woofie seemed to be sleep deprived as well (Thanks Dad for keeping our dog up at all hours!), and napped constantly over the weekend- must be tough to be a dog, right?

Anyway, the trip was good. The flights out weren't too bad, the food was great, the sun was PAINFUL, and our condo was magnificent.

Here is the view from our condo:

As I mentioned, the food was great. I ate banana pancakes three times!

I was pretty good food-wise. I didn't eat a lot of crap, we made our own dinner three times (enchiladas, lasagna, and kabobs), and feasted on the shave ice! (crappy pic, but my flavors were watermelon and peach, and paul had black raspberry and cherry)

I got pretty badly burned the first day there. When I get burned, I get an allergic reaction with hives, swelling and a pebbly texture to all exposed areas. It's seriously unattractive and painful. The heat coming off my face was intense, and I was miserable. My shoulders are still beet red and itchy, and it's so annoying. Because of the burn I managed to get (The sun in Hawaii is seriously NO JOKE- I had on SPF 65- MULTIPLE applications), our trip consisted of a lot of night swimming, painful attempts at sex (I have a feeling this cycle was a bust), and a lot of walking and shopping. After the first day, I kept myself covered up, which made the humidity and heat even worse- a cycle of hot face = rash = hot face from scratching. It was terrible. I feel so guilty about ruining Paul's vacation with my misery, keeping my fantastic husband from the beach. I hate it.

Kauai was really one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. The greenery, the rains, the beautiful ocean waters. I just want to cry thinking about how I was unable to partake, which means Paul was unable, too. There are roosters and hens everywhere, at some times this was a delight, at others (5am), not so much. One night we sat out on the cliff overlooking the pacific, sitting in Adirondack chairs at 10pm. We looked up at the stars and just marveled about how we were able to see them so clearly. As we looked we caught sight of a shooting star! It was incredible. Just incredible.

Hopefully I'll upload the pics soon, and post them. I'm still working out my exhaustion!

Race

2008-06-25T12:59:00.000-07:00

Do you remember being that one girl who either had a bra before others did, or DIDN'T have a bra when others did? And do you remember wishing you could hurry up and be like the rest of them (or in my case, wish you could slow down to meet them)? That's how I feel right now.

I have friends buying homes, having children, and settling down. I wish they could all just slow down and be like us! Still trying to conceive, I want to tell my pregnant friend over there, hold in that baby for a few more months so I can catch up to you! My friends who are buying homes- Wait until I can find a cheap house around here, since there's no way we're leaving Southern California, I want to go through this with you!

Perhaps it's because of my lack of girl friends, that I wish the few I had would progress right along with me. I'm being selfish again, aren't I? When we were getting married, I longed for any friends who were doing the same. Now we're the only married couple amongst our friends, and since a baby is now hopefully next on our list, I'm going to be alone with that as well. Don't get me wrong, I'm super grateful for the family and friends who have gone through what we have (and I appreciate the hand-me-downs, as well), but there is nothing like a buddy to commiserate with during the actual hard parts.

Oh well, I'll get there. And when I do, I can either be the advice giver, or the advice taker!

Notes from Me

2008-06-25T12:29:00.000-07:00

Not much going on here, just counting the days until Hawaii (three!!), hustling to get all my work done, month end, and quarter end done, and trying to get all things around the home in order.

I know she's probably soooo busy right now, but Beth- your invitations are stunning. Seriously. I rubbed my cheek on one page, and I plan on sending you the RSVPs (yes, late) from Hawaii (which is okay, since we knew I wasn't going anyway).

Anyway, to Beth, if she has time to read this: Have the best wedding of your life (hopefully you'll understand this). Enjoy the day, remember those who couldn't be there (not too much, though, it's all about the present!), and be blissfully happy knowing all the details and do-dads you've been slaving over will be appreciated and adored (Or I'll have to come over there).

Happy Wedding, Beth!!!!

From a distance

2008-06-18T10:26:00.001-07:00

Everyone is allowed a little down time, right? Not like, "powering down" and taking a vacation, but just "I honestly don't feel like I can pretend to be happy anymore" downtime. Like, I'm feeling down. I've always been impatient, never would patience be considered one of my virtues. Despite that, I don't believe I'm OWED anything in life, I don't DESERVE to have everything I want.

I have a great husband who I love, a great dog I love, parents who support me, extended family who loves me (and I love in return), but I feel like I've been moving along in my daily life with a lump constantly in my throat, a tight feeling in my chest. I'm not quite sure why I feel this way, perhaps it's hormones? I don't know. All I know is that I'm tired of the waves of jealousy and envy that flow through me. I'm tired of forcing myself to be chipper, and fed up with having to be the usual Amber. Sometimes I do want to cry about random things, and yes, I know it's okay to stop being happy for one day (hell, more than one).

I think what bothers me is that I don't like this feeling. I hate myself for being jealous of friends who have everything I want. I wasn't raised to be bratty, I was happy being poor but loved. Why now, is it different? Why can't I just be HAPPY without being envious? I love my friends very much (even those I haven't met in real life), and I swear, I am supportive and will back them up should other people try to cut them down (I'm a walking and talking hypocrite), but still, I envy. Is there a difference between a friend being envious and an enemy? I hope so.

So for all the people I seem a little distant to: I'm sorry, I'm busy wallowing in self-pity. I'm having an adult sized temper-tantrum. Pity party for one. This is me, being down. I apologize, because I'm as tired of this as you are.

Life is What You Make It

2008-06-18T09:22:00.000-07:00

Those who know me know that I'm usually optimistic. Sure, I crash every now and then, but mostly I try to be happy. I'm not quite sure why I'm like that, perhaps it's just part of my "baby of the family" role. With only ten days left until our Hawaii trip (and yes, I am VERY excited), I'm anxious with the money issue (our spending whilst there), our scheduling plans, and our poor poor Woofie who will be spending the week with Grandpa. With my dad losing his job, he's had a lot of time on his hands, and I think he's lonely (oooh, Karen, perhaps he can spend some time with you and the kidlets some day?), so Woofie should cheer him up. When we had him watching Woofie for our brief honeymoon in Vegas, he offered to keep him a little longer. Once we took him home, my dad mentioned a few times, "Ya know, it's kind of empty here without the sound of Woofie sneaking around looking for scraps. You don't realize how used to him you get." So, I assume that dad will just fall in love with our little guy all over again. I'm sad to admit that it's a treat for Woofie just as much as it is for dad, this vacation away from mom and dad, as he gets to go to bed later, and get up later.

In the last couple days, I've found out four friends of mine are pregnant. Isn't that a shock? Yes, I love the idea of being Auntie Amber, but I so long to be "Mommy". So it's slightly disheartening to hear about these ladies who weren't planning, but somehow got pregnant, while I'm waking up at 6am every morning to check my temps, and plan my life around what could possibly happen. I'm being selfish, but I just want it so badly.

On other news, Paul has already asked for Halloween off. He plans on using the day as an anniversary trip to Disneyland. :) We had a great time there a few years back on Halloween, and this year it should be great.

Anyway, that's it for now.

Eureka!

2008-06-10T08:26:00.000-07:00

Fear not, I have found my candies. Yesterday I tried out the local Rite-Aid, and what did I see? FOUR medium bags of the mint crisp m&ms. And what did I do? I bought them all.

The insides are very light and crisp, the mint not too powerful, the candies are perfect. When I came home lugging four bags of candies, Paul just laughed. I suppose he knows me well enough, eh? I plan on saving these guys in a tupperware container in a cool dark place. Who knows when they'll be gone forever? Listen to me, it's like I'm creating an earthquake kit, only it's just candy. Quite sad, isn't it?

I need you, Minty!

2008-06-09T08:02:00.000-07:00

As anyone who knows me knows, I LOVE candy. I'm a candy freak. Paul's students come to me knowing I'll have some kind of candy or gum in my purse, and they just love to see what they can find.

It comes to no surprise, then, that I'm always on the lookout for new kinds of candy, special limited editions and the like. Along with candy, I'm a huge fan of mint. I'll try anything with mint and chocolate. This is why it's KILLING me that I'm unable to find the new Indiana Jones themed Mint Crisp M&Ms. It's funny because my favorite M&M was always the crispy ones, the ones that are no longer available. :(

Now, there are the new "limited edition" mint crisp variety, which is nearly impossible to find. I've looked everywhere: CVS, Longs, Albertsons, Rite Aid. NOTHING! Can anyone help? Tell me where to look!

Six Words Isn't Easy

2008-06-04T11:10:00.000-07:00

Well, I have received my first tag ever. Karen over at Mummy Blog (love the babies!), has tagged me to answer the question, "Which six words would you choose as a memoir?" If anyone knows me, I'm a jabberer. Wow, I don't know if that's a word, but whatever. :) Anyway, I can barely make a six word only sentence, much less sum up my whole life in six words. Luckily I've only lived 28 years, and have no kids to claim, and really, we all know one of those words is LOVE.

So, it is with trepidation that I accept this challenge, Karen!

Now, my six words:

Struggle, laughter, loss, joy, scapegoat, love.

I would like to reserve the choice to change these, since the rules aren't really stating I shouldn't!

My reasons why I chose these:

Struggle: I had very bad asthma growing up. Because of this, it was a struggle to breathe, to play sports, to do well in school since I missed so much of it, to be NORMAL. When I'd have an attack, I was incapacitated for days. I missed out on school assignments, I wasn't able to play sports like a normal kid, and it was just so hard to see what my sickness did to my family. All because of my illness, many things were affected- our bank accounts, holidays, birthdays... a chance to be at the LA Zoo with Sesame Street, but noooo... I was not breathing. DAMN.

Laughter: despite the unhappiness of my parents, we had a great deal of laughter in our lives. Our extended families, both maternal and paternal, were usually quite jokey, with many inside jokes "outsiders" (used loosely, as many who started as outsiders quickly became insiders!) had a hard time understanding. We were/are a close family, and I think a big part of that is due to the laughter. There were many hardships our families faced, and in my humble opinion, I think laughter helped. Three or so days before Christmas, my grandma passed away. Christmas day was usually spent at her house, the family gathering together for our annual get-together. Needless to say, that Christmas after her death was not a good one for us. My cousin Mike brought something to cheer us up: the rarely seen South Park Christmas Card (he had connections). That Christmas we watched the filthy-mouthed children on the program and laughed harder than we had been able to for years. It's ironic, as one of the South Park producers is a parent at Paul's school, and I have been able to thank him and his buddies for giving us a reason to be happy that Christmas.

Loss: I think every life is tainted with loss. Whether it be a sibling, a grandparent, a pet, a friend; due to death, fighting or distance. I know my own life has been touched. I've lost a few pets to death, both long time pets and sick birds that landed in our yard. I've lost friends to misunderstandings, and sadly a few to death. I've lost my brother to a whole different country on the other side of the world, along with that I've lost the ability to get to know my niece as well as I'd like. I've also lost my grandma, the matriarch of our family to an illness that robbed the family of the essence of her many years before her death. I'm not angry about losing people or pets (although one frog's death haunts me: RIP-ibit Frogwarts!) or friendships, after all it is part of life. As you can see, it was a big part of mine.

Joy: I've been told that I have a joyful personality. Even when I'm down, I try to bring others up. I've always been happy, always had a smile on my face or a laugh in my throat. Sometimes I feel it's my personal duty to make people happier. Maybe this is why I love Disneyland so much, people are always happy there (give or take the tantruming children and the exhausted and snippy parents). I love to make people happy. I love to laugh and to smile, and to make others laugh and smile. Although sometimes I get down, it's easy for me to get up again. Sometimes, though, this need to make others happy leads me to:

Scapegoat: Growing up in a turbulent family, I learned to project any and all squabbles to me. Someone was fighting? Oops, look what I dropped on the floor. Someone else getting punished? No, I was the one who ate that candy. I still do that sometimes, deflecting. I do it at work, I do it with friends, I even do it with my parents.

Love: Needs no explanation. I am loved, I do love, I have loved.

Now, I tag you, Tricia, Beth, Limoncello, Anita, and Pinkblot.

If you aren't interested, that is okay. I know many of you are busy, are planning your own weddings, or helping to plan others' weddings. You don't have to do this, I just know many of you are so eloquent and have so much to say. It's harder than it sounds!

The King Of Kong

2008-06-04T09:26:00.001-07:00

A fistful of quarters. One of the best movies ever, I swear! This movie is a documentary of the battle between good and evil, right and wrong, modest and smug, Steve Wiebe and Billy Mitchell. Yes, this is a documentary about the top score for Donkey Kong. Sounds silly, and while it almost is, this movie is fantastic.

Anyone who grew up in the 80s knows Donkey Kong. They know all about getting to that final level, which is unattainable for a majority of us. Billy Mitchell scored the top score in 1982, and had yet to be beaten. Until Steve Wiebe came along, a man who had lost his job, lost his ability to play his beloved sports due to injury, and needed a boost. So, he took up Donkey Kong in his garage, and set his sights on beating the record.

Now, I'm not going to tell you the ending, but this movie is seriously a delight to watch. Karen, you listening? :) I think your husband would like it!

Sun Shines

2008-06-04T07:55:00.000-07:00

Despite the cloudy, overcast day today, the sun has been shining on me for the last couple of days. I truly believe Sunday was such a great day for me. No, Paul and I didn't so anything special, we didn't go anywhere fancy (although Dad and I did have a great time at the Cheesecake Factory on Friday!), and really spent a majority of the day lounging about.

No, the good news began Friday night, when Paul spoke about certain dates, and possibly taking a vacation. Stop the presses. What?! Well, that parent I spoke of previously forcefully emailed Paul dates and locations we could travel to. The locations are as follows: Acapulco, Cancun, Dominican Republic, Mazatlan, Puerto Vallarta, and Kauai, HI. The dates ranged from mid-June to August. Each trip was for 8 days and 7 nights. A week long vacation, offered to us. We checked out flights to Kauai, which is our dream trip, and we couldn't find anything less than two thousand dollars. This was on Friday, after we received the dates and everything. So, I checked out my fellow Bee (Miss Lovebird) who is getting married in Cancun and saw that it looked just like Hawaii, but down below a bit. :) Sooo, we looked into it, and saw flights for 1600 for the both of us. And well, we made the decision to go to Cancun June 28-July 5. Until we realized we needed passports. DANG.

So, I checked and found we could either expedite the passports and get them in three weeks (possibly), or go to the passport agency and get it ASAP (for a fee of course). We were all set, had Paul's mom searching for his certified birth certificate, when we found out it was missing. We began to think everything was against us for this trip. Until I decided to search for fares to Kauai again, one last hope. Well, we found flights for 1700.00. We'd spend at least 300 dollars on getting passports and birth certificates, so we bit the bullet, let the kind parent know we're accepting Kauai for the week up to the fourth of July, and booked the tix.

We are now taking a trip to Kauai, our dream honeymoon, for a whole week. This is such a dream for us, and yeah, it's a bit of money for when Paul won't actually be IN school, but we figured that this may possibly be our last vacation if we get pregnant- why not actually take this couple up on their offer, since we'll never get this lucky again. We will be staying at the north shore of Kauai, in a 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom condo with two decks and a kitchen. Welcome to heaven. Luckily, we'll be able to cook dinner a few nights, and hopefully make breakfast a few other times. There is a Wal-Mart and Costco on the island, as well as a bunch of other markets, which will save a bit of money there.

In other news, I've been rationing my Advair asthma inhaler, since I wouldn't be covered by Paul's insurance until July, and I needed two puffs a day. Then, we received insurance cards in the mail, one for each of us. I was perplexed. So I had Paul talk to his insurance lady at school and she said it was a miracle, but I'm insured as of June 1st! Now I can call to have my prescription refilled, and I won't have an asthma attack in Hawaii, free to breathe.

In other good news (see what I mean about the sun shining on me?), after months of our garbage disposal being kaput, I was on the phone with my dad, who mentioned all garbage disposals have reset buttons. When I found ours, I hit it and gave the switch a flick. It was actually making noise now instead of just dead silence. My dad mentioned it may have something stuck in it, and recommended I get a broom handle or something and use it to move around the blades (turned off, of course). Well, I used the handle of our plunger, and got those blades a movin'! He said many times that's all that needs to be done, instead of needing a new disposal, as the machine can get bound up easily. Well, I turned it on after moving the blades around, and what do you know? I WORKS! I AM A MASTER OF PLUMBING. I was sadly so proud.

Anyway, that's my update. Good news abound. Next month at this time, I'll be in Kauai, hopefully making a baby. Yes, I will be ovulating at this time, which will also be our 8 month married anniversary (well, on the Third). Couldn't be better timing. And yes, you DID need to know that. :)

Amber's Head

2008-05-30T11:23:00.001-07:00

As my blog title states, this is real life. While I'm a fan of television and sitcoms, reading books with endings that could never conceivably happen, life is not fiction. No, though I haven't blogged for a while (discounting the previous post), it's not due to some unfortunate happening, it's more that life is catching up with me. Working at an oil company in this time of recession and astronomical gas prices (don't blame me!), there really isn't much for me to do at work. You'd think I'd take this spare time and blog, right? Well, there is really not that much to blog about.

There really isn't anything interesting in my life right now. Paul's school is coming to a close, leaving me heartbroken yet again; after years of saying goodbye to students, you'd think my heart would toughen up a bit. No, that is not the case. Every year I grow attached to the students and either despair losing them this year, or celebrate yet another year with them (if they are younger grades). The graduation will commence (ha) in a few weeks, and we are invited to a few grad parties. I must remember to stop choking up at the ceremony. After all, the last time I was in that church, hearing "The Rose", was at my own wedding. And yes, I did cry THEN, too. I love these kids so much, the boys were invited to our wedding! The were altar servers at our wedding! Every year it's the same thing: support them, love them, help them, say goodbye. I don't know how Paul does it.

In other not-so-good news, my dad has lost his job. It's quite painful to watch your 62 year old father floundering without an idea of what he can do to be able to make a living. I've always been proud of him for maintaining a steady income despite not going to college and getting a degree. He's a wonder with his hands, and quite honestly the smartest man I know. It hurts me to know that he won't be able to retire, as he hadn't quite built up enough income, nor has he had a retirement account set up for himself. There really isn't anything that induces a more helpless feeling than knowing you can't support your parents should the need arise. Well, I'm sure there isn't until I have children, I can't imagine having to watch your child have an asthma attack while knowing there is really nothing you can do to help them (my parents had to do this for me). So I'm feeling helpless, yet trying to keep a happy face for him, to show him it will all work out okay. We're going to the Cheesecake factory tonight, I told him it would be my treat. :)

Let's see... what other news is there? This conceiving thing is hard work. With all the accidental pregnancies out there, who knew there were only like, 2/3 days you could really get pregnant? It's okay, I suppose, as I know we want to go to Disneyland again before our passports run out, and I'm pretty sure Space Mountain can't tolerate a pregnant woman. :) I often switch between being selfish and wanting to use our passports 'til the end, and just feeling a pain in my heart whenever I see a baby or child. I have no doubts that I can love my child to bits. I have no doubt that Paul and I will raise our children with very much love and support. So I suppose that's good, right?

Anyway, that's where I've been the last couple days. Not so much in a place, more inside my own head.

Ryan's Roses

2008-05-30T07:55:00.000-07:00

In Los Angeles, Ryan Seacrest has a radio show. On this show he does a thing called "Ryan's Roses", where people who suspect their significant others are cheating call the show and they have an intern call this significant other and offer them free roses delivered to anyone they want. The just need information for the card, and the flowers are theirs. Most of the time, the person IS actually cheating, and the person being cheated on is still on the line, waiting to hear their name on the card, but instead hearing someone else's!

This show is truly painful to listen to, but I have to listen! It hurts my stomach, but it's like a car accident, you must watch it! Anyway, this morning was a particularly bad episode, as a girl called asking Ryan to call her ex-boyfriend, who she had just seen at Carl's Jr. the other day. She felt sparks, she said. So, they call the ex-boyfriend who instantly knows that he's being called from the radio show, and wants to know if it was his GIRLFRIEND who was calling about him. Well, Ryan said it was actually his EX-girlfriend who he had seen at Carls Jr. The girl gets on the line and literally begs this guy to give her another chance. On the radio. Couldn't have been more humiliating in my opinion. The guy sounds nervous, and says, "I HAVE a girlfriend, I was just being nice." The girl then says, "She'll never love you like I do." The guy then points out they've been broken up for a year and a half, and it's really time she move on. The girl then says, "Yes, okay. But if you change your mind, my number is still the same!" In response, he said, "Yeah... I'm good."

This may have been the best (of the worst) ever. While I may have had my share of pride-less moments, at least I can say I've never begged anyone for anything. Unless you count cookies and candy. Then yes, I'm guilty. I'd also like to say, if any of Paul's ex-girlfriends ever tried that, I'd kill 'em.

Reading and Tears

2008-05-27T08:18:00.000-07:00

I swear, sometimes I just don't know why I keep reading books by Elizabeth Berg. The latest one I've read is called, "Dream When You're Feeling Blue", about the Hearney family, set in 1943. The story centers around the three Hearney girls; Tish, Louise and Kitty, and how their lives are changed when the war begins. As each one has their "boys" they write to, you're just waiting for that shoe to drop, to find out which one didn't make it, as the odds weren't good. Needless to say, it was a tear-jerker, and while it was absolutely fabulous writing, my heart just hurts.

The story was a fabulous one, and I totally recommend it to anyone who enjoys stories like that, but beware, you'll get into it! I read it in three days, and finally finished it over my Subway sandwich this morning. Now I must delve into my stash of previously read books I keep under my desk, and try to find one that won't make me cry.

Update

2008-05-18T21:42:00.000-07:00

Sorry it's been quite a while since my last post. Last Monday Paul and I went to Disneyland, and managed to stay there about 12 hours! It was really lucky for us, the weather wasn't super sunny or warm, and a heavy mist fell on the park for a few hours after we arrived. We went on about 16/17 rides, picked up new pins and a wallet for me, and had a fantastic breakfast with the characters before the park opened. Since we didn't have to worry about overheating or waiting in long lines, we really had plenty of time to tour the park and go on rides we haven't been on ages!

It has been so hot this week in LA, and I've noticed I have a problem forgetting seasonal temperatures. When it's cold I'm wishing it were summer, when it's (almost) summer, I'm begging for cold! It was a beautiful day today, but Paul and I spent it inside, napping and watching movies. This evening we took Dad out to Bubba Gump Shrimp on the pier in Santa Monica, where he had a great time and ate plenty of food.

Paul's school will be out in a few weeks, and I'm really looking forward to hopefully taking a small vacation during the summer. A parent at Paul's school has kindly offered us a chance at a trip this summer to go somewhere, since Paul's been teaching her son math- and his grades have improved weekly!! So here's hoping we don't lose that chance.

Anyway, I'm going to take my tired hiney to bed, hope all are well!

Soul

2008-05-08T07:53:00.000-07:00

I'm starting to believe I'm a glutton for punishment. Almost all of my favorite books and movies have some sort of painful twist in them. Last night I realized I was out of new books to read. Since the last time I ventured to the library ended in demolishing my right ankle (feeling better, still grossly swollen), I was unable to get any new books. This means I must scrounge around in my bookshelf for any books I haven't read in awhile.

The book I picked up is by Elizabeth Berg, called "Until the Real Thing Comes Along". I first read this book at least 6 years ago. It's about a woman who is 36 and in love with her ex-fiance, who is now gay and her best friend. The woman, Patty, always thought she'd be married with a few children by that age, and decides that she'll take what she can get, and talks her best friend Ethan into making a baby with her. When she finally has her child, she's miserable, as the man she loves has met another, and she just can't move on. The title is in reference to her plan with the best friend/ex-fiance. They'll have this baby and act like a couple (minus all the sexual bits) until their real thing comes along. While the story was not related to any of my personal life, the book really touched me. This particular excerpt says it all, "he took me out to dinner to a very nice place to break off our engagement and told me it was because he was gay. "Oh, Ethan," I said, "that's okay, I'll marry you anyway."

Sometimes we find ourselves in places and situations we really wish we weren't in, yet, we don't see that until later. I've been "Patty" before. I spent a few years of my life with a person who was waiting for HIS real thing to come along, and sadly, I was content with that plan. Finally, she came along, and I was alone. I'm pretty sure I was reading this book at that time, and just nodding my head and thinking, "I know that feeling, I'm feeling that right now!"

I don't know if it's because of how many years were wasted after Paul and I broke up the first time, but I can't bear to have a couple not together. If she loves him, and he loves her, what's the problem? This issue has caused me actual stomach aches, this drama of mine. Ross and Rachel, Jim and Pam. Still, real life has led me to believe that no matter what, these "destined in the script" couples won't be allowed to be together.

I'm constantly doubting my own marriage, thinking somehow I'll be punished for squandering so many years with other people, while MY real thing was somewhere I couldn't find him. I don't doubt I love Paul, or that he loves me. No, my doubt is directed above, to Him, if such an entity exists. See, the problem is, I don't really think I'm that good of a person. I can be mean, and hold grudges, I'm sometimes petty and judgmental. Why should I get everything I crave? I think this is what propels me to my hypochondria about my health. It's like I'm just waiting for that anvil to come tearing out of the sky like a Looney Toons cartoon. Somehow, I keep thinking it'll all catch up to me, and He will realize, "Waaait a minute, Amber hasn't gotten what's coming to her yet? Okay, here we go..." It's funny to me, not raised with any sort of religion, where did this guilt come from? I'm not a murderer or a dog abuser, I never eat grapes without buying them first. I refuse to jaywalk, and will always wait for the light to turn to cross. Despite that, I have a problem believing I'll be allowed to have a second chance with my real thing, to be happy. How often do people get second chances? And it's not a tiny second chance, it's a chance at love. A chance at family. A chance to make it right.

Now I'm just hoping Paul's deeply loving and good soul will be enough to cover us both in case of accidental Amber-ness.

Deep Thoughts.

2008-05-05T15:03:00.001-07:00

What is it about pregnancy, or trying to conceive that makes you insane? I mean, I'm not even pregnant yet, and already I'm having overwhelming fears of having troubles. I've got no symptoms of having trouble conceiving, as we've only really been trying for a month or so... but my moods tend to swing around violently. One day I'll sit there and think, "Well, my fertile days are coming up, I'm sure if we can manage getting the appropriate parts in the appropriate places, I'll end up pregnant." Maybe it's the media (ahem, Ashlee Simpson, Jessica Alba- Jamie Lynn Spears, anyone?) or friends of mine "catching" pregnant accidentally that leads me to believe that it's easy. It can happen as easily as one, two, whoops!

Then I go and visit on The Nest, where I see women who have sex DAILY and are still not pregnant. What the hell? So I'll sit there during the day and think, "DAMN, It's going to take us YEARS." Then I think, "Ha, when I get pregnant this week, I'll be laughing at myself later." And THEN I think, "Don't jinx yourself, idiot!"

Something tells me I'm going to birth myself an ulcer.

Baby Gladiator

2008-05-05T09:13:00.000-07:00

Despite being a coach, Paul isn't very competitive. I think being married to me brings out a bit of his inner "winner", so to speak, and that's usually just when we're playing a board game or video game. It was surprising to me then, when I spoke with his older cousin Michael (who is really a year and a half older, maybe two years) on Saturday. They were the best of friends growing up, kind of like my own cousin and I. There were a lot of parallels in his life with ours.

For one thing, he's short but has a tremendously tall wife. When we go out in public together, our matches look so odd, shouldn't the shorter people be with each other? Like us, they got married last year. Also like us, the man is the sweeter of the two! It seems that there was a bit of competition between us as couples, who had the better wedding, who had the better dress, which honeymoon was best. This is all complete fun, and not really as "Anything you can do, I can do better". It did keep us on our toes, though. Usually, we get their hand-me-down electronics and things like that. They're always buying new furniture, and new gadgets, new cars... whatever is newer they want. At first, Paul and I were a tad envious. If only it were that easy for US to just spend money hand over fist, and still be able to borrow a couple thousand to pay for a wedding like they did. Can you sense the bitterness? It's not like I don't like them, I adore them, and wish we saw them more, it's just really hard to see when all your pennies are going to the wedding fund, ya know?

Saturday rolled around, and I received a call from Michael. We started talking about televisions, and he mentioned wanting to wait until they got the stimulus check to buy a new one. Perhaps I mentioned our new 40" LCD TV we got to go along with the Blu-Ray PS3 we had (both of which were budgeted for, and also on sale), and then HE mentioned wanting a 47" LCD. Oh the competition. He also mentioned friends of theirs having a house in Maui, with a few bedrooms, and we were invited! We'd only have to pay for flights! It seems that while it rains, it pours, as a parent at Paul's school is offering us a vacation because Paul helped her son all throughout the year. All places were open! I'm thinking of Hawaii anyway, as I've always wanted to go! I mentioned to Paul that if we are actually pregnant when we'd like to go (July), it could be our babymoon.

Then, on the topic of family and vacations, and being out-spent by way of competition, Paul said "That's one thing we have to do first, we NEED the first baby." Ha, how sad are we? They get engaged first, move in together first, get married first... BUT, we actually met first! We win! Someone slap me. Again, we are all competing in the friendliest way possible. We're always happy for them to do things, and yes, we are very excited to see them become parents, as they've both never dealt with children or babies. Lucky for us, that's one area we're both very confident in.

Okay, okay, we are pathetic competitors. What would life be without a little competition with your loved ones?

Email haunts

2008-04-28T10:03:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite things to say is, "Like is like that", when people are complaining about something or another. When I took a look at my sidekick this morning, to glance at the emails I'd received over the night, I had to think "Well, life is like that". It appears the dreaded ex (anyone remember Clueless?) has decided to do his annual "check and see if Amber is willing to have random sex with me" email. Yes, he is aware I am married (although his last haunting was before the wedding happened, so he may just be a complete moron and not be able to count), but I have a feeling he seems to think his impact on my life may be greater than it really was.

Let me explain... A few months after Paul and I reconnected (I really don't like that word), DE (dreaded ex) came back into town from San Francisco where he lives with his son. He asked to meet up with me, and with permission from Paul, I agreed. This man (up to Paul), was my great love. The one that left me heartbroken and just plain broken. Still, every now and then he buzzes around to make sure I'm still dating/engaged/married, and as he said in the recent email "that you're still alive". When he came back into town, we met up, and I made sure I looked crappier than usual- why tempt the man? Ha, I'm so conceited. Actually, I think I was sick, and I really wanted to meet with him for some closure. Some "Oh, what the hell did I see in you?" treatment. What I got was, "Ya know, if you weren't with that other guy, I'd totally ask you to sleep with me". Wow, how can a lady refuse such an offer? I nearly died. How did I let THIS peach go? Perhaps he thought he was being funny (doubt it), or maybe he thought his power over my heart was so great I'd be like, "yes, I will gladly toss away a bright happy future to have one lovely roll in the CAR with a man who refused to commit!"

Needless to say, I told him his chances were slim to none that I would do that, and got out of the car, wishing him well. For some reason, he can't seem to realize I don't want any more contact with him. Despite his cavemanity, and his sleazy tactics, he does hold a place in my heart, and I don't want that around me. I want to live my new life with my husband, and have it be happy and loving. I don't need a guy coming back into my life asking me to invite him to my wedding (for real), or asking me if I'd like to meetup soon.

In case you're wondering, I'm never welcoming, and I'm sure my response to his email is ammo enough to keep him coming back. Still, the last time I responded it was to tell him that I'm happy now, and I have everything I wanted. Which means he's not part of it. Meaning, I DON'T WANT YOU IN MY LIFE ANYMORE. I suppose the right thing to do would be to ignore him, right? It's so hard to resist rubbing in how happy I am, which according to his last email "I've never been treated as well as I was with you", he isn't.

Cleaning House

2008-04-24T10:50:00.000-07:00

Our landlord is having a termite inspection tomorrow. Which means we've got to hustle to get all our junk together so he doesn't get mad that we store a pizza oven in the closet. Orrr the bread maker. And the electric griddle. We sadly have more storage space in the hall closet than we do say... the kitchen! Anyway, as I set about limping through the house collecting laundry for Paul to do (ha, bum ankle finally has a use!), I put one of my favorite movies of all time on: Knocked Up.

While I'm in the bedroom sorting laundry, I usually put on a movie; Superbad, 40 Year Old Virgin, Knocked Up, maybe a cartoon or something. Anything that will keep me laughing, and doesn't need to be consistently watched, lest I miss a plot turn or something. Anyway, since trying to conceive, I've been inundated with movies and tv shows that focus on babies and pregnancy, all things I'm trying not to think about- because I'm just not sure what's going on with my body right now.

Damn you, Knocked Up- for making me stop laughing at the story and start thinking about how much harder conceiving is for me than it was for them. Oh well, no time for mopey Amber, it's time for Gimpy House Cleaning Amber. I come prepared with spray bottles of Windex and Clorox clean wipes.

I'm just the Aunt

2008-04-24T08:23:00.000-07:00

I've mentioned my niece Ivy before, who lives in Sydney with my brother and sister in law. From the few pictures I've seen of her, she's absolutely adorable, and it just breaks my heart to know that I won't actually SEE her in quite some time. There are many factors to this: the cost of flying to Australia, taking time off, having somewhere to stay in AU (no room at their home) which costs more money, not even counting if I actually get pregnant by the time we'd have all the money saved (and which we'd end up using for our baby). Luckily for my parents, my brother and SIL are doing everything they can to make sure they get tons of baby pictures in their inboxes.

Unfortunately for me, I must not register on this list of important people. The other day my dad met me in the car with an album sent by my SIL's sister (still following me?), the other aunt, Robyn. In this snapfish album were pictures of Ivy, from 5 minutes old, to Easter Sunday. Since I'm always trying to make sure things are "even" for my parents (mom and dad each get the same thing, no matter what it is), I wasn't sitting there thinking, "Oh wow, I hope I get one!". Instead I was thinking, "Oh man, I hope my mom gets one." That evening I called to tell her to check her mail, since we both got invitations to my aunt Marcy's 50th anniversary party, and to slyly check to see if she got an album as well. When I called to tell her my foot wasn't killing me as much, I fished for some info on her mail pickup. She did get the same album! Then she told me my aunt Marcy got one, too. Wait, what?

Now I feel pretty bad. You'd think it would be something special, right? From one Aunt to another? Not Aunt Robyn to Great Aunt Marcy. Perhaps it's silly, as I didn't want an album to begin with, just wanted to make sure my mom got one. Now that I know they are handing them out willy-nilly to all other relatives, I DO want an album. It feels really bad to be the one "forgotten". Everyone else gets phone calls, and letters, and pictures. I get nothing. For crying out loud, this is my first niece, do I not get to be a part of her life?

So now I sit here like a girl without a prom date, hoping my album comes in the mail someday. Until then, what am I supposed to do? I feel a little forgotten.

Joke's on me

2008-04-23T12:28:00.000-07:00

You'd think that in my being a huge fan of Scrubs I'd be delighted to share a trait with the main character "J.D." (Zach Braff), right? Well, not this particular trait! In the last season or two, J.D. has fainted while he pooped (a word I dislike). No, I do not do this, but what he suffers from is called "Vasovagal Syncope". After my fainting spell yesterday, it appears I, too, have this disorder.

From Mayo Clinic online: Vasovagal syncope is triggered by a stimulus that results in an exaggerated and inappropriate response in the part of your nervous system that regulates involuntary body functions, including heart rate and blood flow (autonomic nervous system). When some sort of stimulus triggers this exaggerated response, both your heart rate and blood pressure drop, quickly reducing blood flow to your brain and leading to loss of consciousness. A person who has fainted due to vasovagal syncope recovers quickly, usually within seconds or a few minutes.

Yes, I am like those fainting goats after all. Before a faint due to vasovagal syncope, you may have warning signs and symptoms, such as:

* Pale appearance to your skin
* Feeling of warmth
* Weakness
* Lightheadedness
* Nausea
* Yawning
* Sweating
* Rapid breathing (hyperventilation)
* Blurred vision
* Field of vision "blacking out" or "whiting out"
* Difficulty hearing or ringing in your ears

The signs and symptoms above may precede either a near faint (pre-syncope) or total loss of consciousness (syncope). But in either situation, you recover or regain consciousness on your own. Adults who faint often have a history of fainting during childhood.

It pretty much states that I can feel a faint coming on with those warning signs, almost like migraines. This is relatively common, and all I must do is try to avoid the trigger (try not to fall down?) and to immediately get as close to the ground as possible, to avoid further injury from fainting. The condition usually corrects itself once the person is on the ground, which allows the blood to rush back into their head.

So yeah, I faint when I get hurt. Now I'm pretty afraid of labor/pregnancy.

Another one bites the dust.

2008-04-23T08:36:00.000-07:00

I may have set a record, folks. I've managed to fall down and bust an ankle twice in 4 days. The fall on Saturday night wasn't nearly as terrible as the fall yesterday afternoon, and also not quite as public! My left ankle had already returned back to normal when I stepped out of the car and onto the pavement. A few steps more and I was really on the pavement. I'm not quite sure what happened, all I know is that one moment I was walking with my bag of past-due library books talking to my Dad, then the next moment I heard a crack and I was on the ground with my hands 'round the mess that was my right ankle.

For some odd inexplicable reason, my body is incapable of dealing with pain. Anytime I hurt myself I laugh and grow faint. My vision gets dark and I start sweating and getting dizzy, I can't hear because my ears are rushing with blood. To be honest, it's a little scary and quite embarrassing. A couple feet away from us, a pair of girls yelled out, "Are you okay?! That looked REALLY bad!" Yes, thank you, I'm okay. I'll just limp/ooze over to where the handicap ramp is, and lay my head upon one of the bars while my Dad runs our books in. While he's gone, my vision gets darker, my foot starts to throb, and my stomach threatens to evacuate the hummus and tabbouleh that I had just eaten. It was not pleasant. My dad comes back out, and giving me his arm, helps me into the car. He notices the cold sweat beading on my forehead, and we just sit there awhile, me breathing in and out as if I were in labor. Finally, the pressure in my head starts to clear and I'm shaken, but still conscious. I text Paul the message, "Think I just sprained my ankle. Almost blacked out." Gotta keep your husband informed, right?

All my plans for doing laundry and picking up a salmon filet for Paul to eat with our steamed artichokes had gone out the window. Instead, he picks up the healthy Taco Bell (beans instead of meat), and wraps my foot. He tells me I need to stay home, and I would need crutches. I'm at work today and limping. See how I listen?

After a treatment of ice, wrapping in ace bandage and advil (I'm allergic to Aleve), my foot is still purple and swollen. I never really realized how much I love my ankle bone- until I can no longer see it through the disgusting mass that was my foot. Not pleasant at all, this sausage foot.

Hopefully it'll be better for the Dodger game we're going to on Friday, there are a lot of stairs to walk down to get to our seats. I'd hate to take a fall in front of all those people, too, being all unstable-like. Wish me luck and a speedy recovery (and yes, I'm aware that shuffling at work won't accelerate the recovery process)!

Bits n Pieces

2008-04-21T10:10:00.000-07:00

Not much going on here, just really sitting around and checking calendars and cool stuff like that. :) I spent last weekend at the Renaissance Faire with my mom, aunt and cousins. It was actually really fun, and I came away with some lovely things. When we were heading out to dinner that night, though, I misstepped and completely fell on my hiney. My foot was really swollen (along with my sunburned lips- I tell ya, sunscreen, chapstick WITH sunscreen, doesn't matter, the lips still burn in the most disgusting way), and I spent the first night away from my husband since we got married. He wasn't missing me too much as we purchased a flat screen LCD tv the Friday before (as well as a new camera, which was useless as I had left it in the car at the faire), and spent the weekend cleaning up and watching Die Hard with a Vengeance on the Blue Ray player.

Today I am anxiously awaiting a delivery with my ovulation predictor sticks in it. Apparently I've decided to dive whole hog into this conception business, and I'm really dedicated to peeing on sticks. It was really such a bargain from Amazon.com, and it came with 20 free pregnancy tests! This is hilarious to me, giving out pregnancy tests with every ovulation stick, it's like "We're so sure you'll be pregnant, we're willing to bet 20 pregnancy tests on it!"

Now I'm sitting here, waiting for the sticks to arrive, and suddenly encumbered with a bit of dizziness- and it doesn't feel good. A few years back I was struck with a particularly bad case of vertigo, and suffered for a few weeks with nausea and a swimming head. It was so bad that anytime I get the slightest dizzy feeling, I'm fear it's going to happen again. I'm already feeling a bit better, so hopefully it's just plain old dizziness.

So many little things going on, right?

It's Time!

2008-04-15T10:30:00.000-07:00

It appears pregnancy and babies follow me everywhere. A good friend of mine recently discovered her pregnancy (lucky bitch- JOKING!), all tv shows seem to be based on pregnancy and babies (seriously- yesterday Tyra's show was about Remarkable Mothers, The Simpsons was about Marge's pregnancy with Bart, and Jon and Kate Plus 8 was on), so it's hard not to feel the urge to breed coming on, especially when it's already such a strong urge to begin with.

As of last week, Paul and I are OFFICIALLY trying for babies. We are no longer "seeing what happens", now we are actively planning and plotting, although not quite to the point of ovulation predictor kits. Friends say to just give in and stop thinking, as that's when it'll happen. Parents at Paul's school have advised me to just have a bottle of really good champagne and celebrate our love. Interesting.

I think I'll just pop "Juno" in the DVD player and see what happens. Wait. That's a movie about teenage pregnancy. Okay, perhaps I'll pop Terminator 2 in, instead. Wait- creepy Austrian robot protecting a super-buff woman and her child? Nope. I think I need a better choice. I guess I should really think through this idea of mine. Despite my deep love for "She's Having a Baby", I think the movie would terrify Paul at this precise juncture. Any good his and hers romantic movie ideas?

Tattoo

2008-04-08T10:15:00.000-07:00

I've been listening to Jordin Sparks' (why would you spell your child's name like that?) song "Tattoo", and sad to say I really like it. As a non-idol fan, I just enjoyed the song and the lyrics inside it, particularly these parts:

Don't look back, got a new direction
I loved you once, needed protection
You're still a part of everything I do
You're on my heart just like a tattoo

and then this part

If I live every moment
Won't change any moment
There's still a part of me in you

I will never regret you
Still the memory of you
Marks everything I do

Perhaps this song strikes me in a way because that's how I think of my prior relationships. Yes, I loved you once, and you're still a part of me- of my past, but it's not the same. Do we all carry bits and pieces of our past?

In my life I've had about four boyfriends, including Paul. Out of those four, there was only one other boyfriend that I was really invested in. After about two years of dating (one of those long distance), there just was no hope for us. I wanted more and he couldn't give me more. So, things ended and I found Paul not too long after.

Since the relationship began so soon after another relationship, I was hesitant to believe I really did love Paul. The ex resurfaced a couple of times, each time telling me he had made a mistake. Yeah well, so did I. I wasted a lot of time with him. Despite me deeming the time "wasted", I don't think I'd trade the time we had for anything. Even Paul knows, the time I had with that guy has shaped me into the Amber he has now, and had I not experienced it, would I have looked up Paul after all?

Sometimes I question myself, because my love for Paul is unexplainable. Everyone from my dad to Paul's students tell me Paul's a great guy- I KNOW! That's why I married him! Still, I don't know how to explain how I feel about him. The previous boyfriend I would have said I had an all encompassing love for, but in reality I think I was just hoping for more. Comparing him to Paul is impossible, as Paul is probably the most decent and kind person I will ever know- and the other guy... well. He loved me. I can say that about him. I don't have anything bad to say about the other guy because he helped get me here to where I belong now. Because of that, he'll always be a part of me and my life, even if I don't talk to him anymore.

It seems life helps you get where you need to be, despite it causing you heartbreak.

You say

2008-04-03T10:55:00.000-07:00

Although we're not even starting to try to conceive (TTC for future reference), I'm worrying a little bit about what people will think. Most especially Paul's brother and sister in law, and a few members of our families. Why? Well, no matter what we do, we're always considered "the kids" with Paul's brother. We managed to save up thousands for the wedding, but they still won't let us pay for anything. We're treated differently from Paul's sister, perhaps because she's older with two kids, perhaps just because she's her, I dunno. I worry that should we become pregnant, BIL would think it was a stupid thing to do- what with us living in a 1 bedroom apartment and all. Paul's sister lives in a house, but it's rented. Should it make a difference? Apparently it does. This makes me sad. Sure we're not college graduates... SIL is a college grad, yet she still lets the kids sleep in her bed every night (a 4 year old and a 7 year old). I don't think degrees should count for much. I acknowledge it can help you earn more money and get a better job, but come on.

We're both close to 30 now, and I feel I would be a good mother. We're not lacking for anything, we aren't missing much, so our child would spend a few years in a one bedroom apartment, is that really so terrible? While I know many would be happy for us if babies should happen, I think more about the ones who will question us, "Did you plan this?" or, "Are you sure this is a good idea?" I'm not just sitting here thinking it could be great to have a baby to play with. No, we're thinking of which schools our children could go to. We're thinking about daycare and things like that. Granted, we won't be as well off as Paul's brother. I accept that. Our kids won't have the newest toys out, and Buggaboo strollers. I wasn't brought up rich, I never had the newest thing, but I didn't lack in anything. Our kids will have insurance, much love, and happy parents. They'll have strollers that work, beds that are comfortable, and a roof over their heads. Kids have had worse.

Still, what do I say to those family members who question our choice to have children?

Sigh

2008-04-03T08:31:00.000-07:00

Do you ever have those days where everything is just wrong? Timing is bad, you're tired, your head aches, things like that? Yesterday I had one of "those" days. It started off badly- my sex-addict neighbor and her slacker BF were up at 4:30 having loud squeaky sex... and then again at 5:30. Seriously? What is going ON up there? PLEASE, for the sake of the economy (but more so my sanity) get a job, buddy.

Then, when I was finally out of bed, I realized I had a pounding headache in my right temple. There really is nothing worse than waking up with a headache. I got myself all together and we left for work (and a bagel first). At the bagel place, Paul and I discussed Disneyland on the 18th of April, as we were planning on going, but found out it was a blackout day and we'd have to pay an extra 60 dollars or so for the two of us. I'm actually totally fine with that, but Paul wants to go on a day where we won't have to pay, as we've already paid for a passport and have yet to go more than once. So I was a little let down after that, since I'm obviously a child. Haha.

When I got to work, I turned on the little tv while I did my usual morning routine, checking the prices from the previous night to make sure everything was entered correctly. As I finished up, I was walking past the television and reached over to turn it off- and it didn't work. I reached over again... nothing. Come ON! Frustrated (and obviously in the worst mood ever), I reached over quickly to turn it off again and jammed my pinkie finger into the wooden table the tv rests on, managing to filet a bit of skin off my pinkie knuckle. Damn thing burned and bled a bit.

Throughout the day various things bothered me (as now I must seem like the most crotchety person ever), and I was stuck at work until 4:30, doing a 7am-4:30 day is just murder, as there was nothing to do. When I left, I managed to get on the wrong bus, and got off about 5 minutes later when it let me off at the bottom of a steep incline. To get home I had to walk for an hour, up three inclines and over the 405 freeway. When I finally got home, it was almost six and Paul was calling. My head was pounding and I was tired as heck and wanted nothing more than to take a nap. Paul walked in and we got into bed and snuggled for a bit, and I fell asleep until about 6:45. When I woke up I heated up some macaroni and cheese (very gross) and was about to sit down when the ricecooker/steamer/slowcooker wedding gift we got (and have used twice) fell off the counter and broke. That was it. I exploded. I'm ashamed to admit this, but I yelled at Paul since it was because he had precariously balanced it on the counter even though I told him to move it. And now it's broken. Fed up with myself, I took a shower and crawled into bed to read a book- you know, let myself cool off.

I feel a little better this morning, woke up with another pounding headache, but so far I don't hate anyone. Isn't that something we all want in life? No one to hate? :D

Grandma Approves

2008-04-01T21:29:00.000-07:00

Last night I had a few dreams and it was odd, as I remembered them all. In one, Paul had surprised me with a "baby-manicure". No idea where that idea came from, but it was basically me getting pampered because there was a baby on the way. It was actually kind of strange, but I suppose I've been so focused lately on babies and the like so it's no wonder it appeared in my dream. My other dream was kind of special, and as it was the last dream before I woke, and it left me feeling warm and loved.

I've always wondered if my Grandma would have loved Paul had she been able to meet him. As she'd never hated a soul and was kind-hearted to the bone (hmm. "kind-hearted to the bone?) I bet she would have. Still, I'll always wish Paul had gotten the chance to meet HER, just to know how amazing she was. Since I'm a big fan of the mystic and am quite the ghost-researcher, I've heard about deceased family appearing in their loved one's dreams as a way to contact or to assure the dreamer of their well-being. Even though Grandma was one of the hugest influences in my life (I often live by the rule WWGM- What Would Grandma Do?), I've never had her appear in a dream in the eleven years she's been gone. To be quite honest with you, I was a little sad about it. Last night though, she was in my dream.

I was in a strange house that seemed familiar, but also unfamiliar. My dad's side (grandma's side) of the family was there, as were Paul and I. Surprisingly, Grandma was there as well, which was so odd. I don't remember any profound words or a sign to let me know how she is faring in heaven (sometimes I don't know if I believe in heaven, but I do know that if anyone was to be allowed in, it would be my grandma), but I do know that I felt a sense of approval from her, she was treating Paul as if he was a member of the family. It may sound stupid, taking a dream's meaning as acceptance, but it was odd timing. Lately I've been thinking a lot about motherhood, and my ability to be a parent as well as OUR abilities to be parents. Sure, it may be dumb to assume grandma even had a part in placing herself in my dream, but I think she "knew" that I'm at a crossroads in my life, and I needed to know if I was making the right decision about having children right now.

Yes, it was a dream... but somehow I feel as if Paul and Grandma finally got the chance to meet- even if it wasn't real. Just like Grandma in the real world, dream Grandma made me feel as if she's watching me and is proud of me and what I've managed to do in my life up to now. Thank you, Grandma... I really needed it right now.

My very momentous occasion

2008-04-01T08:56:00.001-07:00

As you can see, on 3/28/08 I took my final birth control pill. No more hormone birth control, no more having to remember to take my pill every day, no more saying "No Baby!"

It has begun. We are no longer preventing, yet we're not "planning". We're trying to let Nature take its course, and see what happens. If nothing happens by July I'll start charting and all that crap. Until then, we'll just take our chances.

OH YEAH

2008-03-27T15:04:00.000-07:00

Last night I sat there counting my last remaining birth control pills while Paul played his new Playstation 3 in the living room. Yes, I am a good wife, I "let" my husband get a PS3. To be honest, one of my favorite pastimes is watching him play Grand Theft Auto, and the new one will be coming out in April for PS3 only. So yes, Paul got himself an 80g version, and I got myself a new career as a video game widow. Usually my job as Sports Widow takes up most of my free time, but I decided to start looking around for other opportunities to get ignored by my husband. I'm cool with it, actually. Paul is often so busy at work (and his work extends to games and practices at nights and on weekends) that he rarely gets a chance to just relax, and his video games are an easy way to do that. Of course, that has resulted in us owning: one PS1, two PS2s, a Wii, a Nintendo DS Lite, and now the PS3. When did we turn into gamers?

Anyway, I was sitting there thinking, "Oooh, I should take my pill, I was supposed to take it at 10:20 (been taking it at that time for nine years now), and it's 11pm, now." Then I realized- what the hell is the matter with me? I'm planning on going off the pill after these last two pills, what the hell does it matter if I take one late? Ooooh nooooo, I'm going to get pregnant a day earlier! The tragedy! Sometimes I worry about my sanity, people.

So after I took my minty flavored pill, I was reading a book in bed and thinking about US having a child. I then proceeded to have a mini-panic attack. I'm going to be responsible for a child. I won't be able to surf You Tube for old Ricki Lake episodes for hours on end, and keep playing the talking cat clip over and over again. No, I'll be a PARENT. I'll have to worry about things like co-sleeping, breast feeding, and never sleeping in ever again.

Hold me, I'm scared. And yet... oddly thrilled about possibly having a baby with my terrific husband, who will be the best father I could ever imagine. And then there's the thought of our Felix baby "hulking" its way out of my uterus. Their babies are huge. I fear for my ability to carry a baby sized the way their babies are usually sized. I'm afraid it'll tear through my stomach yelling, "OH YEAH" like the kool-aid man. Hm. Back to being scared.

One more strike

2008-03-26T11:32:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, my upstairs neighbor (she of the "he's too young for you" sex antics) came by to ask if we needed a crate for Woofie. As the only crate we have for him is only used as his bedroom at night (I successfully crate trained him! He even runs in there when I ask, "Woofie, is it bed time?" I ROCK.), and we don't really need anything else, I said no, and then asked how she was doing. I've noticed her boyfriend's purple car outside our building AT ALL TIMES, in the GOOD PARKING SPACE, but haven't seen him around lately. Well, she didn't mention him, but she did mention her shoulder had been acting up lately. I felt badly for her, until I was rudely jolted out of bed this morning by the vigorous sounds of a bed creaking and moaning. I look at the clock- 5:36am. WHO THE HELL WAKES UP AT 5:30AM TO HAVE SEX? Maybe I've just been in a relationship so long that I don't remember when that ever happened (not sure it ever did, I valued sleeping in too much), and I've become crotchety, but FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! I STILL VALUE SLEEP, and don't wish to be awakened by YOU AND YOUR DOUCHEBAG BOYFRIEND HAVING SEX AT RANDOM HOURS! GET A JOB, BOTH OF YOU!

And come on- your shoulder hurts????? Then STOP HAVING ROUGH SEX. CHRIST. Can you tell this is starting to get to me?

Monster

2008-03-26T10:49:00.000-07:00

I think I'm getting dumber. Yes, folks. Perhaps it's because I am just doing my average reading and my basic computer entries daily, so I'm not really pushing my brain to work harder. Take today for instance, I'm playing Scrabulous online with Laura. My most recent word? Fogie. It's not even spelled the way I usually spell it (you know, since I spell "fogey" multiple times daily), which also kills me.

Seriously, I'm having the hardest time coming up with words to describe what I mean. I LOVE words. How is this possible? It's like that Seinfeld episode where George gives up sex and gets smarter, and Elaine gives up sex and gets dumber. Only there isn't anything I'm giving up, I'm just DUMBER. Sweet jesus.

It's with that lovely intro I'd like to introduce something new: Random Thoughts by Amber. And yes, I realize this whole blog is chock-full of random thoughts, but hear me out.

~ If you have a Bloody Mary at brunch (say, elevenish or so) it's okay, but if you make one by yourself at 9am you have a problem.

~ I wish I could stop eating cupcakes. Each time I try they come out with a new kind, (like yesterday's tasty Grasshopper one), and I MUST try it. Then I'm craving another cupcake, and I decide to eat half of one. Then the cupcake half starts going dry, and I must eat the remaining half so as not to waste food. Who wants to eat a dry cupcake half? I'm saving money JUST by eating that cupcake half. Please help me, I have a problem.

~ I have ordered a subscription to Redbook. Thinking I'm now married, and I no longer need to read articles on finding a man, or keeping a man satisfied (what do I care, he's married now! just kidding...), or how to send sexy text messages... No, I need to know how to keep my whites white and my closet organized. I need to know how to balance work and family. All these things are (sadly) in Redbook, with a jubilant Kirstie Alley on the cover, or Kelly Preston "How I keep my husband satisfied at 54" or something like that. True, it's basically the same article, with a few menopause stories intermingled throughout the mag, alongside ads for hormone replacement therapy- OH GOD, WHAT HAVE I DONE? My husband gets ESPN Magazine and Maxim, and I'm getting REDBOOK AND READER'S DIGEST?!?!?!

Which brings me to...

~ Why do people make fun of Crocs? Yeah, they are terribly unflattering, but still, they are totally comfortable! Again I must wonder, what have I become? I'm extolling the benefits of owning and wearing crocs. Pushing comfort over appearance. My high school self would shudder to see me now.

Okay, now that I've depressed myself enough, I'm going to take my sensible cotton pants wearing self over to get something to eat. And I hope it won't be a cupcake. 'Til then, my dears.

Drive Me Crazy

2008-03-25T12:33:00.000-07:00

It's time for me to settle down and get married. What's that? I did that already? Huh. Okay. It's time for me to start thinking about children. What? I did that, too? So that means I'm a grown-up, right? *whisper whisper* Oooooh, yeah. I forgot. There's one little thing I've forgotten to do on my path to adulthood. Um... learn to drive. While I DO acknowledge the teensy fact of promising Paul I'd do that before the wedding, I had a lot to do! I was planning the single most important day in our lives up to now. So, he gave me a break, and insisted I must learn to drive before we have kids. Until we decided to go off birth control next week.

Paul said to me last night, "Wow! You're going to be driving soon! Are you excited?" I said, "Wha?" And he said, "Don't think I forgot, and you have to know the DMV doesn't let pregnant women take the driving test." Such a bastard. I said, "Um, pregnant women are allowed to DRIVE for crying out loud." His reply? "Yes, but they're not allowed to take the test, it's too dangerous." Let me tell you this, Paul is not a moron. I know he's trying to trick me into keeping my word. Ha. How's that for being a jerk? "Trick me into keeping my word". Nice. Anyway, I guess I must actually get down to studying for that damn drivers test.

Yes, I am terrified of driving. I don't know why, to be honest. I realize my not driving is so selfish of me, making my poor husband do all the driving. Seriously, I KNOW all this. The fear is just something I can't control. It truly makes no sense to not drive in Los Angeles. So, I will start my healing breathing exercises and get my rump studying the CA DMV book. Wish me luck (and stay off the streets!)!

Thoughts on housing

2008-03-21T11:30:00.000-07:00

Now is the time to start talking houses and grown up lives. Laura is thinking of moving to a new city, Tricia is currently looking at houses in Chicago (and is shocked to see how pricey houses are in that area, when they are glorified cardboard boxes on bricks!), and Paul and I are seeing if that teacher's grant we heard about could actually work for us. At this point, we're willing to have a two bedroom condo. Yard? Naaah, we have brothers and sisters with yards. My dad has a yard! It's cool, we can have cement-friendly children.

Still, the topic comes up about housing in Los Angeles. It's impossible to find a decent place to live under 700k. Paul and I can't afford that! It's seriously just a nightmare, and even worse knowing I could never move. Sure, Paul wouldn't mind, but I can't leave my family. Without me, my dad would have no one to hang out with, he'd spend a lot of time at home with his birds. I'm not okay with that. As I mentioned before, my dad is one of my best friends and we have a great time together. Perhaps I'd never leave because of my own needs. I need to be around my family, I need to feel NEEDED. Sad but true. Tell me this, though, if my dad drives to my work just to pick me up... he obviously values my presence just as much, right?

Also, with one grandchild already a world away in Australia, I'd love to be able to have our kids raised around the same people I was raised around, my aunts, uncles, cousins and friends.

Friends. All of us have them.

2008-03-14T14:18:00.000-07:00

Recently I've read a book by those two chicks who wrote "The Nanny Diaries" (I'm so eloquent, aren't I?) called "Dedication". It's about a woman named Kate, her high school love turned Rock Star, and her best friend Laura. The basic plot is about how Kate wrestles with the pain of a high school love story gone awry, her boyfriend leaves her the day of Senior Prom, and heads out to LA to find fame and fortune. Unfortunately for her, he makes it big using songs about her and their relationship, all the while never getting in touch with her. Her life plays on the radio, such huge moments as losing her virginity, her unfaithful parents, all the things you wish to keep private... yet he makes money off her memories.

This isn't a book review (seriously, everyone should read this book, I can't recommend it enough!), because this book made me think of my friendships, past, present and hopefully future. This book transitions between her adolescence and her adulthood, with the constant companionship of Laura. I'm sad to say that I have no real great woman friends around me. Growing up, I was content to hang with the boys and my family. I never knew it wasn't normal to have your cousin be your best friend. As I got older and started (and finished) high school, I had a lot of girl friends, some of which I was too good for and vice versa. I cut off friendships and begged others for another chance. Then I met Paul. I surrounded myself with him and his life, and made it my own. Sadly, when I look for someone to hang out with, or go to the LA Zoo with or something, I call my dad. Hey, I love my dad and we always have a great time together, but it would be nice to have a fellow wife, future mother or something to hang out with and commiserate with.

Luckly, I have my two OBFFs, Laura and Tricia. If they didn't live in New York and Chicago respectively, I'm sure they'd be real life friends (instead of Random Online Friend, like Laura refers to me as- THANKS. :) ). In fact, when I have bad news, or great news, I often turn to them. Tricia will always call me when I have a bad day, and we cheer ourselves up by talking about disgusting food items and the mouse in my kitchen (his name is Mouser, and I hope to God he's dead). Our husbands would get along so well if they would get a chance to hang out. Perhaps this makes them real friends. I hope it does.

Hopefully this post isn't insulting my OBFFs, since in my mind, I DO consider you friends. Even though I met Tricia through Wedding Bee when I was Miss Kiwi, she knows so much about me already, and I her. When I met Laura through Pricescope, we realized we had a lot in common, and a strange online friendship was made. Of these two women, we've shared our wedding photos, our lives and our fears. Just because a few thousand miles separate us, it doesn't mean it's not a real friendship. At least that's what I tell my friendless ass.

One Small Step (back) for Birth Control, One Large Step for Us

2008-03-14T13:57:00.000-07:00

Last night Paul and I decided to go off the pill after I finish this last pack. The conversation went like this (picture me in the kitchen {sadly, three steps away from the living room} and Paul on the couch, playing God of War II on PS2), Me: "So, I think I'm going to go off birth control after this pack is done." Wait for panic attack, stroke, or swallowing of tongue. Nothing. Paul: "Sounds good." What? Like, for real, sounds good? Me: "Are you sure? It's okay?" Paul: "Yeah, it's okay. Did you just see that move I did? I love this game (of course, he did just buy that game an hour earlier, so you can understand his glee)!" And that, my friends, is the moment we decided birth control has no place in our marriage. Quite the momentous occasion.

Of course, the next morning I got online to chat with my OBFF (online best friend forever, of whom I have two- a future post about THAT to follow this one) and she shared my joy in this big step called "Getting Knocked Up". Even if my poor husband couldn't really express himself as well as OBFF did, I know he understands what this means- no more naked days. Gasp!

Why me?

2008-03-11T07:56:00.000-07:00

I'm not quite sure why I haven't blogged lately, it just seems like so much has been going on. Of course, when I think about listing it all, nothing comes to mind. Isn't that always how it is? There wasn't anything bad going on, just busy life things. Today though, I'm tired and cranky- and there is nothing I can do about it.

Last night, despite being achingly tired, I was unable to sleep. Scrabble words kept running through my head, as I stayed there, gradually heating up on our pillowtop mattress. The heat wasn't it, though. At 2:45am I felt intense pain in my stomach. Had it not happened the night before (that time at 3:58am), I would have assumed the Italian food we had for dinner was bad. Unfortunately for me, the pain was the exact same as the night before. Last night I got up to use the restroom, and when I came back to bed, I couldn't help but hear my upstairs neighbor (remember her?) having quite vigorous sex with the new (younger, ooh la la) man in her life. Whatever. Her sex life is her sex life, and I'd really like to stay as far removed from it as possible. UNTIL IT DISTURBS MY ABILITY TO SLEEP. The more noise she makes the more I dislike her. It's really terrible, as we had been very friendly (not as friendly as she is with New Guy) in the past, although now I want to start banging on the ceiling with a broom handle ala Mr. Heckles on Friends.

It's not just her inability to stop dropping heavy crap on the floor, nor is it his inability to stop moaning and laughing (?)... It's the fact that I'm slowly becoming a terrible insomniac. Seriously, I'm starting to feel like the Machinist, minus the drastic and disturbing weight loss. I don't like to be dependent on medication to fall asleep, I'm already dependent enough on various meds for asthma, allergies, and all the other problems that ail me. I'm trying to wean myself from the nightly Tylenol pm (justification: I've only taken one per night), and fall asleep like a normal human being. So, with my recent frustrations with my inability to fall asleep, I also have to deal with the rudest neighbor alive.

I would like to leave her a note reading: "Hey Susan, I just wanted to ask if you could please try to keep it down from about 11:30 to 6am, as Paul and I both wake up at 6am to go to work, and it gets a little loud." In reality I want to say, "Listen, even though you don't work because you're on "disability", it doesn't mean everyone else has to stay awake because you are apparently unaware of normal human sleep habits.I'd appreciate it if you would stop doing whatever the hell it is you do at 4am, and let the good hardworking people SLEEP. And tell your boyfriend his dumbass purple (yes, readers, it is purple) car bothers me. And he's too young for you. And that I can HEAR HIM MOANING IN PLEASURE every night, and I DON'T WANT TO HEAR THAT." If only I was okay with people hating me.

"Have you lost weight?"

2008-03-03T10:34:00.000-08:00

When you hear that phrase above, you feel flattered, when you're my size. You look down and think, "Well, my jeans DO fit better." Unless you hear it from a near stranger.

It's one thing to hear "Have you lost weight?" from a friend or family member who knows of your struggle with losing weight, it's a whole 'nother thing to hear it from a person who has only seen you maybe 5 times in the last 6 months. I don't know why it's a difference, maybe it's because in saying that, they're telling you they noticed how heavy you were before. To me, it's like saying, "I didn't want to say anything about how big you were before, but now that you've lost some of the heft, I can say something now". Like they're automatically assuming you were trying to lose weight.

As a fairly recent fat girl, I had never been exposed to the hidden world of weight loss and gain. Sure, I wasn't a skinny Minnie, but I had never heard the words, "You've gained weight" or "You've lost weight!" before. Now that I am hearing it, I don't like how it makes me feel. Like I said before, comments from family and friends are fine, they've seen me at my lighter days and my now heavy days- to hear things from them is different (also, they are usually kinder with their comments, unlike random strangers).

Honestly, while it is great to hear that you look like you've lost weight, it's still quite a shock to realize other people have noticed your weight gain. Yes, I am aware it's pretty obvious when your jeans now have stretch marks, but hey, let me grieve in peace.

The Verdict is IN!

2008-02-28T13:16:00.000-08:00

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!

2008-02-27T15:02:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-26T08:56:00.001-08:00

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

2008-02-26T08:17:00.000-08:00

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!!

2008-02-21T15:27:00.000-08:00

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.

2008-02-21T14:19:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-17T23:30:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-15T10:05:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-13T11:15:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-04T13:12:00.000-08:00

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!

Doctor Doctor

2008-01-30T08:24:00.000-08:00

This upcoming Monday I have a doctor's appointment. I'm not sick sick, just the usual flu, but if we're planning on trying for kids this year, I should make sure I'm fit. Since I have gained so much weight over the past few years, it's a little alarming. There has been no change in my daily habits, no immense bingeing, less exercise, nothing has changed. This is why it's so strange that my weight should have changed so much.

When I head to the doctor on Monday, I hope to have blood tests ran (eeek), and my body basically overhauled. Hopefully we'll find the reason my weight has drastically changed, and be able to fix it. Normally I'd just assume it was a body change, and I just gained weight. If that was true, though, would I only gain the weight in my midsection and face, but no change to the arms or legs? I mean NO change. It's really a horrible thing, I am so far out of proportion, it's crazy. My dad actually told me to bring a photo from two years ago to show her the huge difference. While that didn't exactly make me feel beautiful, whatever. I need to figure out what is wrong with me, no matter how scary it may be.

Wish me luck!

Please Stop TALKING

2008-01-28T08:21:00.000-08:00

I love our upstairs neighbor, but as of 3:41am last night, I kind of hate her, too. With a sore back and neck, I took a tylenol pm (advil pm is better, but doesn't come in vanilla flavored) and fell asleep around 11pm. Let me start off by saying that our upstairs neighbor has 4 cats. Four fun-loving, jump off the scratching post onto a mirror, racecar kittites. They are CRAZY, and I should know, as I've cat-sat them many times now. Despite the sounds of racing kitties, last night was seriously miserable.

Waking up at 3:3oam or so, I got up to go to the restroom. I crawled back into bed, still slightly drugged thanks to that tylenol, and all of a sudden heard our upstairs neighbor LAUGHING. At 3:30 in the morning. Not only was she laughing, but she was walking across her apartment very quickly, and she seemed to be having a conversation. Who is on the phone at (now it was) 3:45 in the morning?? Add to all that the fact that the television was blaring the whole night, and I attempted to fall back to sleep with my fingers in my ears. It was ineffectual, to say the least.

When I had to get out of bed this morning, I was angry and sleepy. The only time I've ever had someone else disrupt my sleep was years ago- when some neighbor down the street was blasting mariachi music. I get VERY cranky when someone disturbs my slumber, even more so when it seems to be caused by someone who is unable to sleep (EVER, we think she may be on drugs) but is doing very loud things as if she's the only person in the building.

She gave us a Christmas/Wedding gift not too long ago, and I have yet to write a thank you note. I will eventually send one out, but would it be wrong to thank her and also mention how much noise she makes at all hours of the night? Seriously, it was BAD last night.

Introducing....

2008-01-25T08:49:00.000-08:00

My new niece, Ivy Jean Hayley-Brown. Man, that's a long name. Anyway, she was born at 1:30am, on January 25th in Sydney, Australia. Oddly enough, in America, she wasn't 'technically" born when we were notified. This time change thing is crazy!! Without further ado, I now present my adorable niece:

I think she looks like me. :) It's so strange to think that somewhere on the opposite side of the world, I have a niece. My brother has a child. The dude who would save all his Halloween candy until I ate all mine (and then eat each piece slowly, to torture me) is now a father. I honestly can't believe it!

It's going to be so hard now. I already miss my brother more than I thought I would. And yes, I do slightly resent him and his wife for living so far away- it's just so sad to me. My niece is going to be living her life, walking her steps, smiling the first smile, all without me there to cheer her on and give her hugs and kisses. I guess I'll have to do it by webcam then, right?

The only people I truly feel bad for are my parents. It's not quite fair that in order to see their first grandchild (which is easy for most other grandparents), they must pony up a couple grand, get their passports, and prepare to find somewhere to stay in Sydney. I guess we'd better hurry up and procreate, so the parents won't miss out on too much.

Still, welcome to the world, Baby Ivy.

Black Out Girl

2008-01-24T12:04:00.000-08:00

When I was a junior in high school I fell into a hole while helping out with the Special Games. You'd think that for the insane tuition amounts Loyola Marymount University (In LA) charges, they'd be able to fix some freakin' holes, right? Especially when there will be HANDICAPPED people there? Like, people in wheelchairs, and on crutches? Luckily for those aforementioned special gamers, I was the one (the ONLY one) who managed to fall into that tricky hole filled with dried leaves.

I must say, wearing low-top Converse All-Stars didn't help my ankle bone keep it's stability, as my dainty ankle gave up holding the fort- while I was still standing. There I was, one foot in the hole, ankle touching the ground STILL UPRIGHT. Isn't that some kind of law against nature? I don't think I should be standing while my whole foot was on its side. Seriously. Obviously, my brain felt the same way, and my battle with my pain receptors began. Ever since that fateful (and bruised and puffy) day (when the special gamers made fun of me. I walked funny, they said), when I get hurt my body instantly gets cold, I turn greenish, and I start blacking out. Why does this happen?

It's actually kind of entertaining sometimes, when I whack my elbow on the side of the car or something and black out. My dad gets a little worried, since we're pretty sure that's not a common reaction to hitting yourself, but what can I do? Rewire my internal hardware? Don't think so, buddy.

The point to this story is: I'm an odd bird. I fall down in the most random of places, hurt myself in odd ways, and once actually hurt, I pass out. I wonder if labor will be something to watch out for, black out-wise. Hm.

Geeks of the World

2008-01-23T12:02:00.000-08:00

I've long assumed I am a geek. I had an internet boyfriend when I was but a child (and I'll be 29 this November so date THAT), when the webpages weren't all cool and WIKI. No, I still had to use a dictionary for terms I didn't understand, and now that I'm older and lazier, I just go to dictionary.com. I learned to read before kindergarten, and I began kindergarten at 4 years old. I was such a tiny little thing in kindergarten, but I was still moved up to a first grade reading class- having to miss the super coolness that was fingerpainting with my kindy classmates. I sound gloaty, don't I? It's not meant to be that way.

As I grew up, I thought it was cool that my cousin was my best friend. What do you mean she HAS to be my friend? Noooooo, she WANTS to. It's only later that I realize I probably wouldn't have been her choice of friend had we not been related. Last night I recounted to Paul a story from 2nd grade.

"I remember when I was a kid- I loved this one boy in my class. Every Valentine's Day, I'd "forget" that we were supposed to bring enough cards for all, and would assume that the valentine from HIM was especially chosen for me. I mean, it had a sticker- of a FROG! I LOVE frogs! (well, at that time I made it a point to) I ignored his mother's script on the back, reading "To Amber, from Chad". Every year he was in my class, kindergarten through 5th grade, and I adored him. It wasn't until 5th grade when I saw him holding hands with my cousin, and I realized I lost that 6 year race for his affection. I was heartbroken, but what can you do? You're a 48 pound 10 year old with legs like sticks- not exactly the most glamorous."

I wore stirrup leggings with suspenders. And a puffy painted t-shirt I made myself. I thought I was hot stuff. Looking back at photos I cringe- who let me go OUT like that?

As I aged, I became a little more interested in looks and a lot more interested in boys. I tried to write them the notes of the "Gifted and Talented", trying to prove to these boys that I was more than just a pretty face- since at that point I wasn't all too attractive in my matching sweatsuit. YIKES.

When I finally got to high school, I finally had the looks that weren't so bad, but I had gotten so used to pretending not to exist that I didn't react well to being newly "boobish". With the new figure that had sprouted up I became THAT girl. The idiot who pretends to be dumb. I'm totally ashamed of that now, but whatever- what can you do when you're tired of being a geek and life finally presents you with some ammo to be a "cool girl"?

Trying to be that girl made me do poorly in school, even though I was in all the AP classes I was assumed to be the random idiot who somehow tested well. I still didn't get the attention I so craved. I wanted me a nerd, the captain of the golf team rather than the captain of the football team. I wanted to have long chats about the Cretaceous Era, and about why Gatsby was like he was... Instead, the jocks called me "Knobs" and told stories about me. I became the prudish "slut". If the jocks told it, it was right. Right? Wrong. It wasn't until Junior year when one particular senior, the class love- our quarterback (and despite my adoration for nerds, I adored him as well) signed my yearbook telling me I was beautiful exactly how I was- and those boys were all idiots. My favorite part? "Look me up someday, I'd like to know the real you." *sigh* After that, I straightened up and dressed appropriately. Sean, if you're out there: thanks, this is the REAL me.

I have to be glad to be a geek, with people like Michael Cera and McLovin (yes, he's a character, but leave me alone, I'm making a point), we're free to be geeks! I don't have to pretend to be dumber than Paul, I don't have to wear a hooterlicious shirt to make him love me. It's OKAY to read a novel at his football games.

Finally, I am free to geek.

I Heart Michael Cera... and so does she.

2008-01-23T11:32:00.000-08:00

My friend Laura and I are going to be co-wives. Despite both of us having been married in 2007 (not to each other, weirdos) , we both share an affinity for a certain Michael Cera. Annnnd while I am almost nine years older than Mr. Cera, I'm okay with that. So I'm a Cougar. I'm okay with that.

Laura and I have decided that because we're both married, and we're both going to marry Michael Cera, it all cancels out any weird illegalness of it all- since we're not bigamists, we're just... jointly married to the adorable little guy.

Okay, it sounds weird, but it's not. It's totally cool. Now get off my back, Narc.

Author's note: Laura is apparently weirded out by Michael Cera's age (he's going to be 20 in June). Now I get to keep him all for myself. And probably millions of women and girls all across the world.

I'm Hatey

2008-01-22T11:53:00.000-08:00

It could be working the day after a three day weekend, it could be the caffe mocha, it could be the acid reflux from that dumbass apple fritter I got this morning, no matter: today I am full of hate.

It all began with hearing the drizzling rain this morning while I was still lazing about in bed (can 6:14am be lazing about?), dreading getting out of bed and freezing my ass off. When I did get out of bed two minutes later, I hustled to put my warm clothes on. When I dress for warmth, I seriously don't dress for the visual appeal of it since today I wore my charcoal grey yoga pants, a baby blue long t-shirt with eeyore on it, and a baby blue hoodie, shorter than the actual t-shirt- it's quite the breath-taking look.

Once I got to work and realized I may actually have to go out in public in this, I felt a little ashamed. Then I realized I currently don't care. That began my day.

I then received a fax from Office Depot, from the accounts receivable person named "Tasmonie Nation". Hm. Is that in fact, her REAL name? Doubtful. Anyway, this was her 2nd fax, telling me my payment was overdue. I realized she sent the same notice back on the 14th, five days before it was actually due. Since I can be righteous as I had sent payment on the 18th, I gave her the ol' what for. I told her that as far as I knew, four days until the due date wasn't quite overdue. And mailing something out the day before also resulted in the invoice being paid by the due date. Sooooo Tasmonie can suck it.

After I had finished my hatred-filled email (I so hate Office Depot), I called my doctor's office to make an appointment for a checkup, so I could get new asthma medications. What did I hear? My office had moved and was no longer available to me. Instead of a quick trip to the doctor, I would have to take the freeway and then take another few hours to get seen.

Now, I called the phone number of my dad's physician, and was told that although it is the SAME branch of my other medical group, I have to call my insurance to have them switch me over to a different doctor, even though it's a PPO. I am so frustrated about this that I just feel like crying. What if I had an asthma attack?? What the hell??

I just called the old doctor's office and they said that I was right: I can go anywhere because of my PPO. Ha. Dumb bitches.

Update: I have a doctor's appointment for February 2nd! Hm. I may have to change my name with them, too.

Everyone Loves "Juno"

2008-01-22T08:11:00.000-08:00

This weekend, Paul and I went to see "Juno". My goodness, this may be the best movie I have seen in years. I'm a little strange about movies, I either love them or hate them, and that definitely holds truth with "Juno". A while back I had heard about this movie on Perez Hilton, and after recently seeing Michael Cera in Superbad (also a hilarious movie! Love me some Seth Rogen), I figured it would be a good movie. After constantly bugging Paul to take me to see "Juno", we made a day out of it on Sunday.

Although it's only an hour and a half long, this movie was FANTASTIC. My previous statement of loving or hating every movie I watch probably makes my "fantastic" review sound a little silly, but seriously, this movie is achingly good. Diablo Cody's writing in this, her first screenplay, is memorable, and leaves me wanting to know what else she has in her brain. Also: I totally want a hamburger phone.

Ellen Page is hilarious as Juno MacGuff, a sixteen year old smart-ass (love the snark that comes out of her mouth), and Michael Cera portrays Paulie Bleeker, her sweet best friend who still sleeps in a race car bed. The cast is rounded out with Jennifer Garner (who I seriously want to be), Jason Bateman, Allison Janney, JK Simmons, and as Juno's best friend, Olivia Thirlby.

The subject matter in this movie is ironically quite adult: teenage pregnancy. Juno is played so heart-breakingly real, and while joking about her "condition", you can just see the angst she feels about what she's become. Watching this movie, you laugh, and cry (well, I did, my husband is made of stone) and sympathize with the main character. Wondering what you would have done in her position, and seriously think about this: fetuses have fingernails?! Yikes.

"Juno" has received some Oscar nods this morning, most remarkably "Best Picture". Along with "Juno", there is "Michael Clayton", "Atonement", "No Country for Old Men", and "There Will Be Blood", out of these motion pictures, the box office totals for each: "Michael Clayton" 39.3 mil; "Atonement" 31.8 mil; "No Country for Old Men" 48.6 mil; "There Will Be Blood" 8.7 mil. How much did "Juno" make? The highest of the nominees at 85.3 million. Looks like the word is out: "Juno" is by far the best movie I've seen in years.

Where's the booth?

2008-01-18T11:17:00.000-08:00

I have these confessions:

B gave me that extra 1% raise because he said I was the hardest worker in the office. Out of all five of us, that's a big job. Perhaps it was a bribe to do his "Missed Calls" log bidding. Either way, I have been using the date stamp with the 2006 date, and then adding another loop to the open side of the six. Our stamp only went up to 2007, and I'm too lazy to order a new stamp. I wonder if it's more work to turn the six to an eight on the dozens of items a day than it would be to just call in an order for a new stamp. I just wasted more time blogging about the actual stamp changing than it would have been to just call.

My pants are rolling under my stomach and indenting a big ol' button shape into my stomach. It's really very painful, and I've just now unbuttoned and unzipped my pants. Luckily I have this XXXL sweatshirt of Paul's that I can wear to cover it up.

I really want to post this picture of us at our rehearsal dinner:

That was a tiramasu cake and just fabulous. My nordstrom dress was a little tight in the boob area, but it was very cute!!

Poor Paul has regretted the decision to try to conceive later this year. Not because he doesn't want the babies or because he's worried about anything- he's tired of the pregnancy porn. Not the dirty kind in movies *shudder*, but the kind that consists of books, magazines, an tv shows his wife has DVRd while she was at work of pregnant women and babies. The man probably thought he'd be done with all the books and crap lying about after the wedding. The guy just doesn't know how much I love to read!

And finally, the last confession:

I love the way Paul looks in glasses. More than I like him without glasses. It's truly a terrible thing to say, but I love the way ALL men look in glasses! I tried to beg him to wear the glasses for the wedding shots (as I did), but nope. He's too uncomfortable in glasses, and he can't see as well. Oh well. I guess I will have to settle for the times he wears them at night to play Guitar Hero.

And that, friends, is what I'm admitting to today.

My Scrubs, My love

2008-01-17T12:13:00.000-08:00

At first, I intended this blog to be called "Waiting for my real life to begin", with the address: reallifebegins or something. This is a play off of the Scrubs episode, "My Philosophy" in which the Colin Hay song is sung. The song lyrics are beautiful (and Colin Hay is featured on Scrubs an awful lot because of his fantastic song-writing!), and available here .

I particularly love these paragraphs:

Any minute now, my ship is coming in
I'll keep checking the horizon
I'll stand on the bow, feel the waves come crashing
Come crashing down down down, on me

And you say, be still my love
Open up your heart
Let the light shine in
But don't you understand
I already have a plan
I'm waiting for my real life to begin .

That's how I felt after I got married, like all the things I have done in my life have been waiting for this moment: when my REAL life begins. It's funny, though, since this is now a real life shared by two of us. Life started that day in November, and now I only have to stand back and watch it unfold.

Anyway, as I downloaded "My Philosophy" on itunes, I grumbled to myself about the lack of episodes for this final season of Scrubs. I am completely on board with the WGA strike- at least I WAS until I realized that meant I may never see the final episodes of my favorite series on television. It angers me to know that after I'd been anxiously waiting through the summer months for a hint of what's to come for J.D., Turk, Elliott, Carla and the rest of the gang, after following this series for close to 8 years (okay, maybe closer to 7 years), I may never see what happens.

I'm a gal who needs closure, needs to know that things end- whether a good ending or bad, no matter. Ross and Rachel? Love how it ended, but had it ended differently, I would have been fine- unless it was an open ending. I HATE cliff-hangers! Why? Why am I like this? Perhaps it stems from my many years of being without Paul- those 6 years of not knowing how he was, if he was married with kids or not- all the while knowing I was meant to be with him, finally I had figured it out! I missed out on 6 years of love with him, and I want everyone to realize what they could be missing- life is short, do what feels right NOW. Do it yesterday!

Back to the Scrubs topic, Scrubs is humanity. Sure, there are times when you're like, "Yeah, that would never happen in real life", but this show is sadness and happiness, just like real life. People cheat, people debate their futures, people fall in love with best friends. People die and others are born, oh, if only my life had a soundtrack as good as Scrubs. I don't know of any show on television that can make you laugh your ass off, and minutes later cry deeply. I must cry during every other episode of Scrubs, I'm just emotional like that.

All I ask is to be able to see the final episodes, for the only other thing I'm as devoted to is Paul. How many shows are this loved?

"When are you having kids?"

2008-01-16T12:19:00.001-08:00

This has to be the most commonly used phrase after wedding planning. It's also the most common thing to blog about after a wedding. I'm no different, except for one thing: I love when people ask. I am bursting to tell the people how we're waiting until late summer to start trying to conceive- sure, not even a year of marriage, but still... I want babies.

It was whilst reading up on wedding topics that I got bored. I don't care about favors and all that fancy junk. I looooved wedding planning, but we couldn't afford any of those things I coveted, so I just stopped looking. Instead, I turned to books about babies and pregnancy, all the while wistfully imagining the day when I can wear the cutest shirt ever (in case you can't see it, the bar code reads "Priceless"):

Now that we're done with that wedding crap, I can focus on the real reason I wanted to get married: to have kids. Okay, that's not the real reason, as I could have bred with Paul for a couple of years now, but because it's OKAY now. No matter what people would have said to our faces, had we had a child before marriage, they would have been mighty look down their nose-y at us. Now we can feel free to cavort nakedly with a purpose to this whole sex thing: to build one of them humans.

As I've been reading more and more, I get even more scared about miscarriages, and years of trying without result- both of which cause strife in a marriage, most likely. Are we willing to take that chance? To open up our hearts to possible pain? I think I am, I think Paul is. Are we prepared for any bad news that may come along? I honestly don't know. I do know that worrying about something like that can't possibly be good for the "good vibes" you hope to cushion your uterus with.

We currently live in a one bedroom apartment in southern California. We share it with a particularly hoggy dachshund who will always take the middle of the couch as his. I'd be lying if I wasn't terrified about the idea of impending parenthood- will we have enough room? Will Woofie try to eat it? What if we can't afford it?? Then there is the last niggling voice: what if we can't get pregnant? What will we do?

There are so many worries nowadays, all of which don't help to conceive a child. I make promises to God, to myself, to Paul... "If it works out for us, I promise to be a better person." or "I won't take anything for granted anymore". I know we haven't even started trying yet, but as a constant pessimist, I have to think of the half-empty scenario. It's a good thing I've married an optimist.

As I read the "Baby on the Brain" section at the Nest (and mock myself while doing it), I always think about how much I ache to have a baby. How we've had names picked out for years and years, and how badly I want to hand over the urine soaked test stick that has that tell-tale plus sign. I am actually looking forward to peeing on my hand accidentally, because I have no aiming skills.

of course, until August, I must take my minty-flavored baby repeller (birth control pill) every night, and just live vicariously through friends and family who are having babies (speaking of, my new niece should be arriving any day now!), and read up on how to avoid nipple chafe. This is what I have become.

Fab new hair

2008-01-16T10:58:00.000-08:00

I've officially turned matronly. Not more than a few months post wedding, and I have cut about 17 inches off my hair. I didn't even know I HAD 17 inches of hair! Of course, wanting to be like everyone else who recently married, I got a bob-ish cut which seems to not work as well on wacky wavy hair.

My hair has always had a mind of its own, flipping this way, curling that way. The only thing that kept it so sleek and straight all those years was the fact that it was about two feet long. I wish I had remembered that when I went in to chop it all off, asking for the Nicole Richie (albeit with a few more pounds) 'do, complete with side-bangs. Perhaps I'm just too lazy for a sleek bob, since I'd rather just let it air dry, instead of getting the dead arm feeling from holding my brand new hairdryer. I wish I had thinner hair (not bald spot thinning, just regular thin), so this bob would look cute on me.

I'd post a picture but my hair dryer laziness has spread into camera taking laziness. Oh, the shame. Instead, let me paint you a mental picture: round, pale face, shockingly dark black hair- snow white? Not so much. Although... I did play her in a musical once. Yeah, it was fifth grade, but I was the STAR! Anyway, my hair comes to my neck, and literally goes its own direction. Remember Drew Barrymore's hair in The Wedding Singer? That's mine. Just poufier. And with random pieces shortened.

I know it seems as though I'm complaining about my hair, but I'm really not. I think it's hilarious about how weird it is. And as long as I can ponytail it, I'm cool. It makes it really easy to handle, and it'll be a good look for headbands!