Today's Seminar

This might become a regular feature here at Ameliabee, seeing as it is a regular feature in my life. There is a group of guys who sit on the Other Side of the Cube Wall from me. Several times a day, they all gather in one cube for spirited discussions in what I have taken to thinking of as the "Man Seminar".

Today's Sessions Include:

8-9 am--How Drunk Was He? Memorial Day Observations From Modern Day Men

9-10 am--Small Group Session: How many times did YOU puke this weekend?

10 am - 1 pm--Break for "work"

1-3 pm--Panel Discussion: But Is It Racing? Dragsters, and Other Two Vehicle Events. (In the interest of time and budget, no powerpoints will be permitted)

3-4 pm--What About Monster Trucks? Exploring Bias in the Racing Community

Condolicious!

I finally have some photos of the condo!

Just click on the photo at left to take a peek.
I only have photos of the model at present. We close in a few weeks and then I'll have photos of the Real Deal to post. Still don't have the new vehicle in our posession...but once I do more photos too!

All the news that is....

April was amazing. Not necessarily in a good way, mind you, but amazing nevertheless.

Quick rundown:

April 1—my 39th birthday! And how did Ameliabee celebrate turning Very Nearly Forty? By having emergency dental surgery, of course. Yes, yes, I know that if I actually visited the dentist on a fairly regular basis, la, la, la. If I didn’t have such a paralyzing fear of dentistry so bad that typing this is difficult, I would. But…I do have said fear, and hence our story.

Basically, I was in a lot of pain (which I was attributing to TMJ) for a day or two. It was so bad that I had the telephone book out and was looking up dental clinics as I lay awake from the pain and throbbing in my head. When Mr. Ameliabee came downstairs in the morning (I slept on the couch as laying down made the pain worse) he yelped and dragged me upstairs to look in a mirror. The entire left side of my head was swelled up to the point that I could just barely open my mouth and left eye. Also, the pain was so bad that I was dizzy and threw up a little.

So…off to the emergency dental clinic to wait for several hours. To give you an idea about the pain, I was actually glad to be there instead of hyperventilating like I normally am. (Truly, my dental-phobia is so bad that I’ve considered having them put me under completely to do fillings and such. Yes, I am that crazy.) Anywhoo. A few hours, 12 Novocain and 5 antibiotic shots later I was minus one tooth and carrying a prescription for Vicodin. The infection was so bad that the swelling in my face didn’t go down for 4 days. Made for some lovely afternoons at work, I can tell you.

So that was April 1. Then, my very dear friend got very very sick with a rare neurological condition. I won’t go into it much here, because that is her story to tell, not mine—but the short version is that she got some horrible medical care, and some wonderful medical care, and is now heading up the long road to recovery. Spent time hanging out in the hospital, hanging out with the kids, etc. I have to tell you, these are great kids. I know that they were very stressed out with Mommy suddenly gone, Daddy hanging by the end of his rope and Crazy Ameliabee hanging around all the time, but they hung in there. Truly, they are the cutest and best kids around. Bar none.

Through this excitement I have an even greater appreciation for parents (though oddly not my own, which I suppose is a Whole Different BlogPost)—and am more secure than ever in the knowledge that I would not be able to do it. I just don’t have enough to give to kids, I’m not stable enough to be dependable, and I’m just not cut out for it. Thankfully, with the aforementioned birthday the possibility becomes more and more remote by the day. One of the things I love the best about these particular friends is that, even though I love their kids and love to play with them and take care of them, they have never, not once doubted our decision to remain childless. They trust our self-knowledge and believe us when we say that we couldn’t do it. Which, considering how much unsolicited advice I get about this topic from family, co-workers, and random people in the grocery store, is a welcome change.

Now, onward to the Big News!
As you can guess from the above ranting about kids, I am indeed not pregnant.

What I am is a New Homeowner! Yep, it’s true. Mr. and Mrs. Ameliabee are moving to our very own, brand-spanking new condominium! It was such a truly great deal that we couldn’t pass it up, our lease was ending and, why the heck not? The whole thing was kind of a spur of the moment decision—but then again, all of our major life decisions have been made this way: marriage, moving to Wisconsin, buying a car, moving to Ohio, now the house.

And a car. We are single-handedly jumping starting the economy up in here! With our move to the ‘burbs, we need to have another car so we shall hopefully be the proud owners of a 2005 Scion within the next week. Photos of both house and car to follow, once I have both in my possession.

And that is about it. Whew!

Not dead...

Just a really quick post to say that I've not gone away forever...things have just been interesting in Ameliabee land this April, and I'm still catching up and catching my breath.

Some possible big news to report soon, but I don't want to jinx anything until I'm sure all is a done deal. Yes, I am that superstitious and No, I'm not pregnant. Thank goodness.

More to come very soon!

My Humps

As if I needed another reason to love Ms. Alannis Morissette, here it is.

Her version of "My Humps."


Manages to make fun of the original for being vapid and dumb, while also conveying the sadness inherent in a the kind of girl who would want a life defined only by her desireableness.

It is still good even if you haven't seen the original...but here it is just in case:
"My Humps" by the Black Eyed Peas.

Excuse me?

Seen on a truck in Marysville this afternoon. I'll be he has lots of dates...

Leave-Behind Brochure

I'm going to break my own rule and blog a little about work. I don't normally--you never know who is reading your blog, and who they might know, and I'd like very much to keep my job.

So, in very general terms now...I work for a rather conservative company, quite a change from the free-wheeling non-profit world I came from. One of the things they tell you on your first day is that they absolutely monitor email, they burn email files to a disk every day and they monitor internet usage.

So, just keep this in mind as I tell my little tale, 'K?

In each workgroup of the building, there is a central copy room. About 30 people print to the same copier and go there to pick up printouts. Early yesterday morning I printed a document and wandered to the copier to retrieve it. I was greeted by a big pile of printouts from various other people (a common occurence). As I flipped through to find my sheets, I came upon a co-worker's printed out eBay receipts. Not a great idea, seeing as personal internet use is heavily frowned upon, so I decided to drop them off at his desk.

Until I noticed what the receipt was for.
--Wet Look Latex Panties, Black
--Wet Look Latex Panties, Red
--Latex Hot Pants
--Latex Thigh-Highs
and on, and on, and on, and on for about 8 pages.

I dropped the papers. Some of the floated under the copier. I crawled half-under the copier to retrieve them. I wondered what Mr.Latex would think upon finding me in this position. I panicked about that and bonked my head on the copier. I sat on the floor rubbing my head. The vice-president came in to get an envelope. He looked at me like I had clearly drunk my breakfast out of a paper bag. I stuffed the papers back on the copier and fled.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want Mr.Latex to get in trouble, which if his supervisor found the Panty Pages he most certainly would. On the other hand, I was embarrased for him and didn’t want to let him know that I’d seen evidence of his Panty Purchases.

Of course, I managed to get in the elevator TWICE with Mr.Latex today. What kind of work appropriate small talk can you make with someone, when the only thing you know about them is that they purchase an alarming number of very large size slutty underpants?

I was still feeling a little embarassed about trespassing on Mr.Latex’s private world of Panties until about 2 pm. I went back into the copy room to get another printout. I’d waited a little too long and it, like all orphaned printouts, ended up on the table, which is always madly strewn with paper left on the copier. But this time, there was one little pile all neatly stacked up. I looked in the pile for my papers and found….you guessed it, Mr.Latex’s eBay receipt. 6 hours later, and it is still in the copy room. Apparently, Mr. Latex never prints out anything that doesn’t involve lingerie or he too would have seen this. And, judging by the neatness of the pile, many people were looking for a printout, looked in the pile, were horrified, neatly stacked the papers on the table and fled.

I decided to throw it in the recycle bin for him—I don’t want him to get in trouble, but I wasn’t going to hand him the incriminating papers either. Eeew.

So, my tip of the day—
If you print out something incriminating or just plain icky at work, know where that paper is at all times. Don’t leave it in the copy room, the bathroom or the cafeteria. The preceding has been a public service announcement from Ameliabee, who is now going to wash her mind’s eye out with bleach. Thank you.

This year the Myositis Foundation is asking everyone whose life has been affected by Myositis to send an email to Oprah Winfrey and Ellen Degeneres, and encourage both ladies to devote a show to this relatively unknown and devastating disease.

I did send an email to the Mizzes Winfrey and Degeneres, and I also want to share my experiences with you, my faithful readers.

Six years ago, I received word that at age 27, my dear friend KT had become very very ill. It commenced with a frightening episode that landed her in the hospital, unable to move most of her muscles, left her exhausted and in severe pain, and stumped nearly all the doctors she saw. Finally, after many tests, including a muscle biopsy that sounded incredibly painful, KT was told she had Myositis. Don’t know what Myositis is? Neither did I! Myositis in its various forms is considered an inflammatory myopathy—a disease of the muscle where there is swelling and loss of muscle. The inflammation and muscle loss result in weakness and muscle pain. Many Myositis patients alternate between insomnia caused by the severe muscle pain and restless leg problems, and bouts of over-sleeping borne of exhaustion. In a survey conducted by the Myositis Association, 44% of respondents said that they experienced constant muscle pain, and 43% said they lived with intermittent muscle pain. 76% said they had never experienced remission.

But let me back up a second. Let me tell you about Ms. KT. I first met her when working for a Highly Respected Children’s Magazine which launched a toy catalog for Christmas. KT had worked in the customer service call center for the Magazine, and was put largely in charge of the new call center for the Catalog. She was so friendly, warm and nice from the very moment I met her, I knew I liked her. Turns out she was a heck of a supervisor too! We had a few people in that call center who were T-E-R-R-I-B-L-E. Really, truly terrible. While I longed to hit them in the head with a folding shovel, KT patiently an enthusiastically coached them…including the girl who repeatedly fell asleep, head thrown back to snore, and even the girl who told customers, “It will be a minute while I process your credit card. I mean, we have to make sure you didn’t steal it or max it out or anything. So hang on while I make sure you have enough money for this.” Again, she was patient and didn’t even attempt to throttle her with a telephone cord or anything.

Over time we grew to be friends outside of work, and I met her two Gigantic Cats, who are beautiful, and her itty bitty niece who was even lovlier. KT put up with my Ethel Merman obsession, introduced me to Krusteaz muffin mix and shared her love of Live.

We moved to Wisconsin, and KT moved up in the Highly Respected Magazine, eventually moving to another call-center based company as a supervisor. Then, she got sick.

Myositis is a disease of limits—how long you can stay awake, how long you can stay asleep, how far you can walk, how much pain you can take. I know that KT lives with constant muscle pain, at times more severe than I can fully imagine. She has seen her life go from independent career woman to living with her parents. She puts up with stares from random shoppers when she has to use a cane or wheelchair (and the “you don’t look sick” look when she legally parks in the handicapped zone). She has long periods of slow improvement which can end with a relapse, and a slide down the mountain to start over again. The frustration and disappointment must be overwhelming at times, but one of the best things about KT is that she is never bitter. She doesn’t mope around in Why Me mode, doesn’t devote her energy to longing for her old life back and thinking about what she has lost, but rather puts her energy toward getting a little better every day. If I were in her shoes, I’ve no doubt I would be a photographic negative of KT. I would be every bit as bitter, negative, angry and inconsolable as she is upbeat, positive and accepting.

I admire her more than I have probably ever told her, and look to her as an example when my diabetes care starts to feel like more than I can handle. Despite everything, KT is a terrific aunt to her gorgeous nieces, went on a Disney cruise, which I’m not nearly brave enough to try, is as supportive a sister as you can be, and still manages runs a website to raise money for Myositis awareness and education. I can't even keep this blog updated. KT, you're making me look bad ! :)

Most people, and some doctors, have never heard of Myositis. It is difficult to diagnose, and it is not uncommon for people to go years with incorrect diagnoses (including the famous it-is-all-in-your-head) before anyone figures out why they can't get out of a chair or climb a flight of stairs. There is no cure for Myositis, and for some people, very few treatment options. The more people hear about Myositis, the more money can be collected for research, and the sooner a cure can be found.

Won’t you take a few minutes to learn more about Myositis by visiting the Myositis Association? You can watch a great feature about the disease on Retirement Living TV.
And last but not least—it all comes back to Fabio. A family friend of Fabio has Inclusion Body Myositis, and Fabio discusses its devastating effects. As he points out, most drug companies are not eager to pump money into Myositis research, as the market for such drugs, 30,000-50,000 people, is relatively small compared to cholesterol drugs, which bring in over $20 billion annually. I know I make fun of the Fabio-meister, but I also like to give credit where credit is due. He is doing some good work here, helping to raise both awareness and money for this deserving cause. I can only hope that my 17,000 calls to Fabio Phone will keep him Not Believing It Is Butter for years to come.