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the renegade bride

“the wild, wacky adventures of a bridal industry insider +newlywed + new homeowner and (in practice)renovation-maven. Whee!”

March 8, 2010 Im a not so nice potential bride.

I admit it. I am a complete and total jerk. In starting this blog and discussing whatever comes to my pretty little head, I have inadvertently hurt the most important person in my life, my boyfriend. I never meant to do that, but I did and so I openly and publically admit the fact that I was insensitive and rude to go on a rant  I can’t rush this process and I have no control over it, and at this point I’ll count myself lucky if he still wants to be married to a raging bitchahol that likes to go off and post about how sulky and selfish that she is. On a public blog.

I apologize to him and to you all for reading it. The post in question has now been deleted, so don’t go looking for it, it’s forever lost to cyberspace and the internet munchkins and eat up mean, disrespectful, and rude posts.

Boyfriend, I love you and I’m sorry.

March 4, 2010 i heart you, monique lhuillier

I am in love with Monique Luillier. In my opinion, her wedding gowns rock, and I want to have one.  Let me confess that I am NOT a fashionista girl. I don’t lust after clothes, I don’t go to websites and think “I want this” on a regular basis. The only clothing site I go to and lust after stuff is Banana Republic but I usually leave crying on the inside because I can’t afford anything there. Also, they make clothes for small, skinny, beautiful people and I’m afraid if I were to try to mount these beautiful things upon my husky body then they would rip.

Anyway, so I love Monique L– we’ll just call her ML for now on, because her name is kind of hard to spell and for years I pronounced it wrong. I added some imaginary “R” in there. It’s pronounced Lilly-eh for those who are interested. But if you’re not, I understand.

When it comes to gowns, I like lace. I also like a bit of a cap sleeve, and I like bows.  This dress makes me swoon a little:

FFI does not like a)lace and b) sleeves very much. I’m sure he also doesn’t care for the $$$$ price indicator (basically a mil) .He’s more into the Ruched thing. He sees lots of brides and these are the dresses he always says he thinks are pretty. He may like this dress, but it’s not really my style:

I like this one….

Look at the back. Totally lovely:

That’s so pretty. I also like this “classic” ML dress with the big sash. I’d like for my sash to either be butter yellow or sage green, I have not decided yet.

My most favorite of the ML’s is the Swan Lake gown– one my M.L. barbie proudly wears. I love this gown. Remember that movie “honey I shrunk the kids” where in the sequel they made things really big? Man, I wish i had a big zapper thing to make this dress my size and fit me. DREAMS.

So freakin pretty.

Either way, I don’t think I can afford the real deal so I’m considering having my dress made. It will probably be a combination of all the above components (sans Ruching– i think it will make me look like a lovable but fluffy fat little piglet). Now, I need to go about finding out how to make this happen– I want great quality and to work with someone with vision and expertise. Thoughts?

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March 2, 2010 I talk too much (seriously)

When I was in grade school, I wrote a little blurb for my school literary magazine.  I drew a picture to accompany this little blurb, which was a curly headed me (I did not have curly hair, but I really wanted a spiral perm.  It was “hot” in grade school to get spiral perms, and the most popular girl in school– Crystal Chair– who I despised and called “Glass Seat” behind her back, had one and she was beloved by all the boys and envied by all the girls. She was kind of a bitch to me, thus the moniker Glass Seat, but you get the picture). In my curly hair, I had a big floppy 80s bow that would have been pink if the drawing was in color. My little paragraph said something to the effect of “I get in trouble because I talk too much! I say whatever I think and sometimes hurt people’s feelings, but I don’t mean to. ”

This little paragraph is still so true. I am a very opinionated person. Sometimes I type things out on this blog (and publish things) that I later (within minutes) go back and delete. I don’t want to come across as being mean, because I’m inherently not a mean person. I’m just kind of spontaneous in my commentary. I also like how a blog makes you feel all safe and anonymous and like you can say anything. That, I have learned, is not really the case.

I am all about free expression and saying what’s on your mind, but sometimes I think I can go too far. Often, I think I’m just being sarcastic or joking, but then I lie awake at night wondering if I hurt so and so’s feelings, or if the snarky comment that was intended for a good laugh was really a big insult. It seems silly to worry about this– I’m an adult and while I should be responsible for my own words and actions,  I ought to also have the self assurance and self confidence to know that sometimes it’s cool to speak your mind. Besides, as someone wise once said- if the people around you don’t like it that you spontaneously say whatever comes to your mind, they don’t have to be your friend.

When it comes to this wedding thing, I’m pretty darned opinionated about what I want and don’t want, and I don’t think I’m going to be easily swayed. I also don’t think I’m going to have a hard time voicing it when I disagree with someone’s style or ideas if they don’t mesh with my vision, and I might have a few “hell no” moments. Brides to be and wedded wives– how did you navigate the terms of talking and speaking your mind in the planning process?

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March 1, 2010 Food, etc.

Let me begin this by saying I love food.

Growing up, food and cooking was such a part of the fabric of my life that I just kind of took it for granted. While other kids were eating Hamburger Helper (which consequnently was banned from consumption in my home– I’ve never even had a Sloppy Joe), I was eating Filet Mignon. My mom is a gourmet chef, and for awhile growing up she owned and operated her own  catering business. I spent holiday seasons watching my mom decorate cheesecakes, ice sugar cookies, and package up treats gallore.

My sister was more the “doer” in the kitchen, always standing alongside my mom and asking how to do something– while I would quietly sit, observing. When I became an adult, I didn’t cook on my own for a long time, but once I started in earnest I found I’d absorbed a great deal in my observations, and that I’d managed to learn to be a decent enough cook by watching.

In conjunction with my cooking skills came a small degree of food snobbery. I also blame my mother (while well-meaning, its going to spoil your kids if you take them to 4 star restaurants when they are 10) but I am glad that she made me a food snob. I have a deep appreciation for the finer cuisine in life (while balancing out quite nicely with my love for Taco Bell).

When it comes to food at home, when I cook , I hate to do pre-packaged meals. I like to come up with new concoctions (Ask FFI) and I don’t like to have spaghetti sauce from a jar that I don’t fool with to make it my own. I’m a big fan of Semi-Homemade, love all the shows on the food Network, and sometimes like to pretend I’m on my own cooking show in the kitchen.

The downfall to life is that I’ve got a beyond full time job– I leave at 7, come home after 7 most days, and by the time I get home I’m so not enthused about being creative in the kitchen. I do a lot of staring at the refrigerator, hoping food is going to pop out. FFI offers to cook sometimes, and I’ll share a little secret: he is not the best at the culinary arts. his favorite “seasoning” is hot sauce, which he likes to add to everything he cooks. Unfortunately, hot sauce is not the perfect companion to any and everything in a pot, so we’ve worked on reigning that habit in. I think that the problem is that when he sees me cook in the kitchen, I’m all about adding a little pinch of this or that to add flavor– a well trained and honed skill based on trial, error, and constant observation through  tasting.

I really appreciate when he tries to cook, because it’s one less thing I have to obsess over. He made this spaghetti one time that was killer, with little meatballs and everything– I was super proud of his kitchen skills that day. But, we both came to the conclusion and understanding that for the most part, he’s much better at the warming up of things that he can find in the freezer or refrigerator, which he does a brilliant job at, and I do not fault him in the least for being skilled at the process of freezer to oven.

The thing is– FFI is a bit of a food snob himself. On our first vacay the first year we were dating, we went to a 4 star restaurant in Vegas.  The restaurant was called Picasso and we had an amazing meal (I still dream about it). I saved the rose that was in a vase at our table and still have it hanging up in our bedroom as reminder of a stellar dining experience. We have gone to a lot of nice places, and we kind of feel like we should bring our love for the finer aspects of fine dining to our wedding reception– I’ll save that for another post– but I am worried that our guests will see us as food snobs instead of foodies. I have a friend who says I like “fancy” food, and usually when she says this she crinkles her nose in mad distaste. I dunno– what do you think is too fancy for a wedding reception? I welcome your thoughts and feedback on this issue.

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February 26, 2010 We have winter to thank: Cocktail Friday

I don’t know about you, but I am totally over winter. I don’t like the cold (I am shivering right now with a sweater and a coat on). Where’s my 50 degree Feburary days? I long for the sweet days of winters past, when it would maybe snow like once instead of this stupid constant flurry and threat of snow business. What is up with that? I mean, this is the SOUTH people. In the south, it doesn’t snow constantly or maintain a freezing temperature. We have good days and bad days, and the 50 degree days are those that feel most like “winter.”

I’m ready for spring. Spring is a happy time where I can frolic in the fields and plan my imaginary wedding. Instead, I have to shiver and think about how the only warmth I’m getting tonight is from my cocktail and my dog, and also FFI, of course.

So, despite the cold I’m going to embrace this chilly friday and declare that Fridays will forever be about commemorating the start of the weekend with a cocktail. You know Sandra Lee on that Semi Homemade show, how she always has a cocktail concoction? Well, I’m going to rip off her concept and make Fridays all about cocktails. Later, we can all vote on our favorite to be my signature cocktail at my wedding.

Let’s kick off this weekend with something that is delicious and commemorates the Winter Olympics, which ends this weekend. I chose two, depending on your tastes. The first is pretty sweet and  is called a “Canada Dream” and is made as follows:

1 oz apricot brandy
1 oz amaretto almond liqueur
3 oz orange juice
ice cubes
Shake all liquid ingredients with ice and strain over ice cubes. Serve with straw.
I don’t really like Amaretto, so I’m going to try this one: The Olympic:
1 1/2 oz brandy
1/4 oz triple sec
3/4 oz orange juice
1 dash lemon juice
Shake well over ice cubes in a shaker. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass, and serve.
I’ll let you know how they turn out.  In the meantime, enjoy my graphic:


Let me know how your cocktails turn out

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February 25, 2010 To Know or Not to Know: That is the Question

When we first started talking e-rings, FFI expressed that he was adament about getting me what *he* wanted to get me, a process where I had no feedback whatsoever. I was cool with it, because he was pretty serious and seemed to have a plan in mind.

I had been wanting to go by Shane Co for awhile because of the commercials. I like how that guy makes you feel, kind of warm and fuzzy and like its some mecca of engagement rings. Anyway. We went there kinda before we were talking seriously about rings, but after we both knew we wanted to eventually tie the knot. He brought a friend with him and I tried on a lot of different things, with several different stones. I have always been a fan of the more antique/intricate settings, things like this:

I like filigree and detail. At the same time, I like more custom/unique looking rings, but I kept telling FFI that I wanted something “simple.” That always seemed to make him laugh, since I kept trying on rings that were in the 10k range. Not. Simple.

After that little experience we put things on hold for a bit. Then, we started to play a game where he’d sent me pictures of rings and I’d tell him what I thought about them:

I responded that i liked it, but I really liked this:

I love the split shank because I have really fat fingers– and the split shank has a “slimming” effect

He sent me this one:

To which I had all positive comments– it’s gorgeous. Imagine it as an asscher. Swoon

I don’t think he is a fan of the split shank, but he did send me this one day– and I told him I thought it was “too busy”:

It just looks kind of clunky, but that’s just my opinion.

So, we have played this game on and off for the past year or so– just at random, he’ll send me a ring, which seems like teasing, but at the same time it lets me know that he’s thinking about it. And we’ve looked at so many rings that I have no idea what direction he’s going with everything, and while I like the not knowing, I’m getting antsy. I don’t want to be one of those girls that pick out their ring, because I don’t want to spoil the surprise. But, part of the surprise is surrendering to the not knowing anxiety that follows. At least if you pick out a ring together you know he’s going to be buying it that day or soon thereafter, so you can fabricate a timeline in your mind. My timeline is arbitrary and self-imposed, which means it has a strong liklihood of disappointing me.

I’ll be sure to share with you the crazy times I really thought we were getting engaged– mostly things I’d concocted in my mind where all the “signs” pointed to promising hope of engagement. I have to say that all of those times, I was more concerned with how he was going to do it and how I was going to react to the asking and not the ring. It’s almost as though the ring itself– for all of our little games, exchanges, and back and forth– doesn’t really even matter. And that’s kind of nice. Besides, I told him that he could always propose with a twist tie or a candy pop ring, and that’d be a-ok with me.

And I really do mean that, which is refreshing. I’m cool with not knowing what i”m gonna get (or if it’s edible or not). How about you? Were you/Are you the kind of girl that needs to know? And do you think that if you don’t and you don’t like the ring he gives you, that you’ll have an issue with it?

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February 25, 2010 Weird Morning

This morning I started out with high hopes and plans for productive success. I was woken up early by a smiling FFI, who I could not be angry at for disrupting my sleep, because he’s adorable. I am generally pretty possessive about my sleep, and like to get any extra tidbits in that I can, but I went to bed (read:fell asleep on the couch after a glass of wine) pretty early last night because I found the Olympics dull and boring. Perfect sleep material. So, got up, coffeed myself, showered, went upstairs to grab a book and…

— got swept into the vortex of yearbook reading. How the hell did that happen, you ask? I ask the same thing. I’m not particularly attached to high school. I didn’t attend my dreaded 10 year reunion, and I don’t plan to attend any of the others that follow. I didn’t even get all my yearbooks– just sophomore and junior year. That was mostly economic in nature, because even 10+ years ago the things were a mint, but anyway… So I was getting this big book on top of the yearbooks, and one of them just kind of slid to the ground, so I was like, “oh, i have no agenda or need for productivity this morning, hows about I look at these people from my past that I very rarely, if ever, see or hear from.”

There’s something about looking at your old yearbook. It kind of makes you feel like you felt in high school: the world was so infinitely big, everything seemed full of so much promise and untapped potential. I looked a lot different back then, with long red hair and I was thin (thanks to a diet that consisted of 20 fat grams per day– I was crazy!), and most of the little messages from friends told me about how I was “insane” or a “wacky chick”. That’ll be on my headstone one day, “She was a wacky chick.”

I forced myself away from nostalgia and headed on my way, out the door and into the world. I decided it was a good morning to stop in at Starbucks (is it ever NOT a good morning) and apparently my desires for fresh brewed java were in concert with like, the whole of downtown as the place was PACKED with caffeine-seeking office workers. The line was like 20 deep. Ever the addict, I patiently waited for my coffee, and as I patiently bided (or is it “bid’) my time, I noticed that the people in front of me were the rudest. people. in. the. world. No joke.

It was a couple in their mid 50s from someplace other than here. The wife happened upon some “small world!” coincidence with a people a few people back from me, and had to strike up a convo from a distance.  Her husband took it upon himself to order for her (she was so kind to shout out the order to him: a tall misto, nonfat, no foam, )and then proceeded to take the order of the “small world!” friends she had discovered. There were like 10 people ahead of her as she placed this order, but whatever, I decided it was cool. She was just being friendly.

Approximately seven seconds after ordering, she decided to start complaining about how long this whole process was taking. Blah blah “i didn’t order anything that complicated, what’s the hold up”– well, lady, probably it’s the 10 other customers that are ahead of you.  A few minutes later, when she “FINALLY!!!!” gets her drink, the barista reiterates the order to which rude lady says, “Well, I wanted the foam, but whatever.”

I wanted to take those little free music download cards and toss them at her. She was such a nasty lady that I wanted to start a rousing applause when she and her little ragtag group of rudekins left the store, but then they decided to sit down and “catch up.” I did a lot of glaring that went largely unnoticed. Some people.

Rude people are really the bain of my existence. I have no patience for them. I get really irritated and start trying to reason with them (which never works) and then try the saccharine sweet southern tactic where you’re so nice that you hope it will make people nice right back (sometimes a failed attempt). The final straw for me is when they keep being rude and you just can’t even take it anymore, and  then you just have to get violent.

I realize this blog has nothing to do with engagements or weddings. It’s a kind of boo post. You are welcome to not tell your friends about it and shun me in comments.

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February 24, 2010 Yay! for absolutely no motivation

Today, I feel like a slug. Or perhaps a great bear woken up from hibernation early. I got a craptastic night’s sleep (still trying to figure that one out– I went to bed at a decent time, but woke up hourly to toss and turn and ruminate over the state of things). I woke up in a less than happy mood. I’m cold, in particular, my hands are freezing, and every single project I start to work on ends with me throwing up my hands in mild disgust and walking away. It’s that kind of day. I blame the sleep situation.

To top things off, I’m hungry. Over the past three weeks, I’ve gained 3 lbs. No real reason other than my sudden and ravenous hunger. No, I am not pregnant, but thanks for suggesting it. (what is up with that, btw– how if you are of a certain age and discuss how you are hungry, then people just auto-assume that you are with child).  I’m no Dr. Quinn but I think the reason for terrible hunger  is that a) it’s cold, and I like to eat when it’s cold, b) I’ve been feeling blue about this lack of nuptials on the horizon officially thing, and c) I’m a lard lover.

I love lard. No joke. Cheese, butter, cream. Oh God, Cream. It’s so freaking wonderful. I like cheesy things, fried pickles, hot wings, cream cheese on toast. Oh, the thought of this deliciousness. I want some now. I have not had lunch yet but I am thinking that I should have some stunning combination of all the a fore mentioned goodies.

For Lent * we decided that we were going to give up laziness and embrace an exercise regime. The main reason is that I’m too selfish to give up alcohol, here read as “coping mechanism”  for NOT BEING ENGAGED YET and I don’t like to give up my glass of wine or my favorite drink in the world, Terrapin Wake & Bake Imperial Coffee Stout. Yummy.

You should  try it. It’s a high gravity beer, which means it’s extry delicious. Ok so back to Lent– a few years ago I gave up Red wine & Chocolate. It was so awful that I was contemplating  throwing myself off a cliff  ** about halfway through. I totally get what Lent is about (sacrifice, penance, and being closer to God), but that doesn’t make it any easier when you are dying for some chocolate and a glass of wine. Literally. Last year we did an old school fast, where you basically starve yourself so that you are near hallucenation by the time you eat dinner, which worked out pretty well. This year, we decided it was an awesometastic idea for us to give up laziness and to exercise. And not just any exercise– we decided to do something called P-90X.

If you’ve not heard of it, I suggest you stay up late one night and check it out on the infomercials. It’s this intense workout that is supposed to make you cry and scream out for your mother. Since I have no physical aptitude and a confessed strong hatred for exercise (it’s true– i hate the stuff), i thought this a perfect lenten sacrifice. The only problem: we have yet to start P90X.

Maybe it’s the utter lack of motivation or that we still need to aquire some of the essential items for the workout regime, like the bar thing you put in your doorframe to do pull ups (torture) or the resistance bands because i’m too weak to lift up dumbbells. Meanwhile, I keep packing on the pounds, and I am pretty sure that when the “deprivation season” (aka engagement) comes then I’ll really be whining a lot on here about healthy foods like Salmon <– disgusting, and how I need to do seven more crunches before noon. Excersise is DUMB!

So we’re behind. It’s a 90 day comittment whenever we do start, and when we’re done  we’re supposed to look like supermodels. I, for one, highly doubt this transformation, but  I kind of hope it really happens. We’ll see. Meet Jody, she’s a real person that turned into a total hottie after P90x. The image on the left is Jody in 1988 on a hiking trail. The image on the right is Jody like seven days ago after p90x ripped her abs and stuff:

Arent’ we proud of Jody? I made this graphic of my own to motivate me to totally make it happen. Thanks to the P-90x promo materials for providing me with this amazing image:

*= I’m Catholic

** = suicide is one of those “deadly sins”. Tricky!

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February 23, 2010 On being 30 and Not Engaged

I’ve talked a lot about being 30, and you probably think I have some complex. I don’t really, to be honest, I looked forward to turning 30. I think women in their 30s and 40s look amazing– they have grown into their features, they know themselves, they know what they want out of life and how to get it (or so I’ve imagined). The issue with being 30 and not engaged is that it  seems like you have some mark of unused, spoiling flesh or something. I have some things set in my mind, like how I think we should enjoy being married a few years before we embark on project PARENTHOOD!, but if we wait too long to get married i might pass on the genetic code of an old, decrepit lady. My FFI is younger than I am (yeah, i’m a cradle robber, sue me!!) and he boasts some pretty impressive genes: full head of hair, robust youthfulness, energy, enthusiasm for life, not prone to eat at 5 pm like i am because i’m basically geratric compared to him.

True story: He was helping me at a wedding once where one of the ladies asked if he was my SON. Not my boyfriend, not my little fling, not even my brother, but my son. I’m not that much older than him (3 freaking years people!) but apparently I look old enough that I can be called Mommy. By him. The experience was awful– I had to fight back tears and then have developed a “I’m thirty and I’m old as dirt!” complex, so thanks, Lady. You know who you are. I still have nightmares about you.

Anyway, so I keep thinking that this is my timeline:

30: Please God, let me get engaged before my 31st birthday.

32: June 11,2011 get married. I’ll be a fresh 32, so hopefully I’ll look like Jennifer Garner at 32. Besides I plan to do an entire year of hard core pilates and skin care treatments that make me look young and glowing. I’ll also pledge to drink a gallon of water a day (gross) and eat crap with antioxidants and even stomach those disgusting Omega III pills. If it weren’t for a natural, glowing beauty then healthiness would be totally out of the cards for me.

32-34 enjoy the bliss of newlyweds

35: give birth to our child with little to no “you waited too long to have babies” health defects. Like, an extra nose– that’s totally going to be my kid. People will talk. They’ll be like “wow, she waited til she was 35 to have that kid and now, he’s got an extra nose and his skin is an odd color. Weird. Did you hear that she didn’t get engaged to her serious BF of two + years til 31?! I know, so tragic…”

Poor kid, but I’m like a hypocondriac of worst-case scenarios. What would you call that– worstcasescenariodriac? I totally imagine the worst, it keeps me up thinking about it, all of the “what’s the worst thing that could happen.” I’m not kidding when i say that i always have the worst that could happen, happen.

ANYWAY, so looks like i’m going to be having a multi-nosed kid. Actually, FFI is going to start rethinking this whole engagement thing to an old lady and find someone younger with better genetic code and naturally toned abs. Damn you, imaginary woman that is going to steal away my younger, wonderful boyfriend. Damn you!!!

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February 23, 2010 E-ring Lust, Pt. II

To carry on from yesterday’s post prefacing my e-ring desires, I will now delve into the particulars.  As for cut, I really want an asscher cut stone.  The unique square shape really intrigues me, it’s so elegant while being so markedly different. ❤

Lovely, right? Well, I became a big fan of frequenting a website & forum called Pricescope ; the ultimate resource for eye candy, in particular with colored stones and unique e-rings in their forums ; I like to go to the “Rocky Talky” department, but I diagress. This site is awesome to learn all about gems, gemstone cutting, and the best independent designers in the land. Here, I learned all about the asscher. For the indepth version, visit this page— for my cliff notes, read on:

Asschers are considered a fancy shape cut, but in essence it’s a square emerald cut. The main issue with an asscher is that it’s easier to see flaws or inclusions in any step-cut stone, they look smaller in comparason to round stones (i.e a round brilliant carat looks larger than an asscher carat) and in order for the cut to look right, there’s a certain proportion that has to be followed with the table percentage and depth percentage.  The table is kind of the most important part of your stone’s cut– it’s the flat surface you look down at; if the table is too small, the stone will lack brilliance (sparkle). Since the asscher is a more difficult cut to achieve the proper table ratio for ideal brilliance, it’s often a bit more expensive when the stone is perfect.

From Pricescope, Lovey’s diamond asscher ring:

Now the above pertained primarily to diamonds.  When we started talking about e-rings, shapes, sizes, colors, I let FFI know I was really into a) sapphires, b) asschers, and c) the color yellow. We were having this conversation on 09/29/08 (forever ago, duly noted ladies) and no, I don’t have an amazing memory, I have gmail chat transcripts. Evidence. He said, hey, check this stone out from Jeff White, WhitesGems:

To which I about died. It looks like a perfect little yellow sunshine. It’s awesome. It’s made from a local gemcutter  (yay) and then we found out that it had already been sold.  Already sold. I was upset, but I said “hey, we’ll find another one. Right?”

Well, after some research I discovered that sapphires are very difficult stones to cut into the asscher shape because of their table. Go ahead, do a google search for “sapphire + asscher” and see what you don’t come up with: sapphires cut in asscher shape.  I found a few blues, but blues aren’t my thing. You know when you have those kind of “once in a lifetime” moments where you wish you’d gotten something but you hadn’t and now you’re going to mope about it forever because everything is going to be compared to it? FFI, if you are reading this, know that i’m not totally serious– you know I’ll love anything you get me, as long as it’s yellow and a sapphire. 🙂

So, I let the asscher go. It’s like looking around the corner at Walmart and hoping to see a unicorn. I started to consider other shapes, like Cushion cuts. In the meantime, I continued to lust after my sapphire ring with the perfect asscher cut stone. In that process, I stumbled upon the fine, fine work of Mr. Leon Mege, an independent designer in NYC.  I found this ring, ignore the mad number of stars in making it, I have expensive tastes and I know it, I’m working through it!


Sooo pretty, right? I created my own version with a yellow sapphire in my favorite friend, Photoshop:

Disclaimer: Leon Mege did not put in the yellow sapphire image, I did, so all errors are mine and my sole responsibility 🙂

Despite my creativity, we’ve yet to see or hear of another yellow asscher sapphire, or a yellow cushion cut sapphire in that same shade of brilliant yellow. I try not to be too depressed about it, because I know I’ll love whatever FFI gets me all the more, because he is all about getting me the ring he thinks I’ll love, and I know that he will do an amazing job. I can’t wait to see what I do end up wearing on that lonely finger. Until then, I haunt the interwebs, in search of my new dream ring until my dreams come true 😀

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