How hard is it to size a ring? For me, it’s extremely difficult. I’ve had to have my ring resized… wait for it… three times already! It only took three appointments before the ring finally fit. How is this possible, you ask? Well, on my first appointment, I was so excited that I slid the size 4 ring sizer over my finger and called it a done deal. A sizing appointment that normally takes an hour took us four hours because of the drastic size change, but I did get it back that day.

The next morning, I’d be working on things around the house and the ring would slide like crazy to my knuckle. A quick google search later and I learned that if you have your fingers pointing the floor and shake vigorously, your ring should stay put. I sat on my bed, flicking my wrist left and right. Expecting the ring to fall somewhere on the bed, I was caught off guard when it went flying across the room and hit the wall. Whoops.

I told my DF that the ring was too large and we had to go back to the jeweler to have it resized again. Luckily, they had an opening that evening and were able to finish it in an hour. The jeweler told me to try and apply a little force to get the 3.5 over my knuckle, and it went over just fine. I was nervous the first time trying to put on a 3.5 because I was afraid my finger would get stuck. 3.5 it was.

The ring fit fine… until I started working. Most people swell in the air, but apparently I shrivel like a prune. While I was working in the air, the ring would slip off with ease, not even stopping at my knuckle. I had to wear my ring on a different finger for the rest of my flights because I was afraid I’d lose it if worn on my wedding ring finger.

By this time, my DF and I had already moved back up north and there were no Robbins Brothers around. If we went down to Southern California to get it resized, we would need a car to drive to the closest Robbins Brothers. I found out that they had a location in Downtown Seattle, which would be easily accessible from the airport/linklight rail. My DF called, and sure enough, they would see what they could do.

Since the sizing I needed was a bit abnormal, they didn’t want to guarantee that they could resize it until they saw the actual ring. The next day, my DF and I were on the first flight to Seattle for the day.

The weird thing was that when trying on the ring sizer for a 3 and a 3.5, it wouldn’t budge anywhere over my knuckle. There was no way that I was getting either of them on. They re-measured my engagement ring and verified that it was indeed a 3.5. Since the band was so thin, it gave my finger more room to budge, which is why my ring fit me and the ring sizer didn’t.

Such a complicated situation, huh? Well, the actual jeweler came out with the salesperson and we were all debating on what size to make the ring now. Since it was the third sizing, we wanted to make sure it was the last one and that it’d fit. We left the ring with the jeweler and he said it’d be done in the next hour.

My DF and I went to go eat lunch and then we returned to Robbins Brothers. Finally, it was the moment of truth. When I tried to put it over my knuckle, it wouldn’t fit. No matter how much I forced it and budged, there was no way it was going over my knuckle after walking a mile in 82 degree weather (I blame it on me being the most “swollen” since I hardly work out). I had a split second of panic before the sales guy asked if I wanted some shea butter to help slip the ring on. When I exclaimed yes, he took a step and pulled out a bottle of Windex instead. Apparently Windex works just as well. A couple of sprays on my finger and the ring slid right over the knuckle. Thank goodness!

The ring still has room to move around my finger and is not tight at all, but this time there’s no way the ring can slide over my knuckle on its own. The summer is when your body is the most swollen, so I would only shrivel in the winter. I’m pretty sure I’m not using the correct scientific words, but oh well. I swell and I shrivel, deal with it.

This chicken is an easy dish to whip up for dinner in the oven. By coating the meat and wrapping it in foil, you are trapping all the juices to ensure a moist and flavorful meal. I loved the browning on the top and the nice layer that the sauce gives. Enjoy!

What’s worse: going to the doctor or going to the dentist? I think I’m more scared of a dentist now, but as a child, I was TERRIFIED of the doctor’s office. I used to hide behind the couch whenever my pops announced that it was time for my doctor’s appointment in hopes that he wouldn’t find me and I’d miss my appointment. Now, I have to drive myself to my own appointments. Shucks.

I’ve been going to the doctor’s office a lot lately. I had to be referred to a specialist on my last visit, and it was the worst experience I’ve ever had. You’d think that becoming a doctor would include having social skills and a friendly bedside manner. Nope. Not for this gal. We’ll call her Dr. Cold Hearted.

Long story short, I’ve had a growing lump on my neck for the past six months and my doctor wanted to have it biopsied because she wasn’t comfortable with the size. It started out as an enlarged lymph node the size of a pea and now, it’s about the size of three fingers across with about three other enlarged lymph nodes surrounding it. It’s been five weeks since it got huge and the lump still hasn’t gone down.

Weird, right? It’s also a little unsettling because of the size. Anyways, I went to an ENT, Dr. Cold Hearted. I sat in the waiting room for 40 minutes for her to see me for 5 minutes. She felt it, noted that it was a lot larger than a regular lymph node, and then told me she didn’t want to do anything because it didn’t “excite” her just yet. That’s right, she referred to my possible cancer lump as something “exciting.” She wanted me to wait for another month to see what would happen.

Here’s the kicker. She told me, “Because of your thinner size, the lump stands out a lot more. If you were fatter, you wouldn’t feel anything.” Who says that?! She then told me not to Google anything for the next month because it could freak me out. Obviously, I did that way before I came to see her and saw all the possible things that it could be. When I told Dr. Cold Hearted that the last time I did that, I diagnosed myself with appendicitis, went to the doctor, and had my appendix taken out that night, she was almost pissed off at me for being right that one time. That may have been a once in a blue moon kind of thing for being right, but that’s her job to find out! She didn’t do it, so what am I supposed to do now?

So, back to my doctor I went. And now I have another appointment with a different ENT doctor in a week. Until then, I’ll sit here twiddling my fingers. Ufffffffff. If you’re curious, this is what it looks like (picture on the left is from five weeks ago, the one on the right is current):

Sorry if that’s kind of gross. It is. Does anyone want to diagnose me? Thanks, internet! Hah. 🙂

Oh, but hey, make this fried rice. I’ve been making it for as long as I’ve been cooking (which isn’t very long, but still). It’s easy and a great filler.