Official Story - The Ring Arrives

It became clear in the weeks following our foray into designing jewelry that we were indeed amateurs. Sophie was very patient with us as we revised and tweaked the renderings. It was not easy to find words that would communicate our vision into an art form that was both meaningful and beautiful. After much back and forth, a wax model was created and I was called in to give one final inspection before the casting in metal could commence.

The ring structure was exquisite. We had wanted a three cord strand to represent the marriage equation: Man + Woman intertwined and connected by God = Husband and Wife. (Think chemistry rather than calculus.) Sophie had sorted through tons of tiny rubies to find the reddest ones to embed in the top of the ring. The stones sparkled and greeted me with enthusiasm for their share in this new adventure. I knew their tiny glittering was the perfect choice to remind me to be a good wife, one who would show God’s love to Phin. It seemed serendipitous that the ruby is the birth stone for both Phin and me. (Although I am now convinced that any type of precious or semi-precious stone will represent the month you were born, depending on the chart referenced.)

I was delighted with the little green wax model and did not want to take it off my finger. The store was closing, so with resolute fingers I slid the wax from my hand. Apparently my grip was heavy handed and the wax model snapped into two pieces. Sophie assured me that this would not impede the casting process and once made from metal, the ring would be structurally sound. The metal of choice was palladium, and I am now wondering how much of Phin’s hereto unknown fascination with Iron Man influenced this decision!

One week later, Phin called to let me know that my ring was ready and needed to be picked up by me. It felt strange to be the first to see it and take it home. The ring was perfect – so unassuming but delicate and beautiful. The frustration of having it in my possession but not being able to wear it was demonstrating my patience. For the first time, I felt an urgency and huge desire to be engaged. Perhaps some may wonder if at night when the shades were closed and doors locked, I took the ring from its small cushioned case and practiced wearing it. Well, that I will never tell, but I had another question that I wanted to answer, and it was with eager anticipation that I awaited for Phin’s arrival that upcoming weekend!

Official Story – The Non-Engagement

My heart had completely changed in the months of the dating contract. I had gone from praying that Phin and I would not end up together to feeling fully confident that it would be the best thing in my life if we did. Even knowing this, the thought of facing that yes or no moment was still frightening. Phin promised me that he would not ask until I was ready.

It began to get easier to talk about future plans and dream together about our future life. Every once in a while I could even talk about how I envisioned a wedding, but often these discussions would end with Phin reassuring me that there was no hurry.

One Saturday over a late breakfast, Phin casually asked, “Would you want to design a ring together?” Who could pass up an invitation like this? I love designing, and although my jewelry design experience had been limited to safety pin bracelets, a ring sounded like an exciting fun challenge. That afternoon we decided to check out a jewelry boutique that specializes in facilitating the design process. We wanted to get an idea of how complicated it would be to buy a ring designed by us.

The place was intimidating with small work spaces set up, but once I saw the latte machine and comfy couches, I was ready to put on my creative hat. We looked at other designs, and an image of what I wanted formed in my head. Phin was amazing at being able to capture that idea and draw it on paper. Before long we had several sketches of an idea for a ring that was full of personal meaning for us. I was excited to see what the next step of the process would be.

Sophie, a design consultant, was called over to discuss the practicalities. She offered some suggestions and with modifications we soon had a concept that was ready to be modeled. Before she could send it over, however, she needed a deposit on the ring. I was so caught up in the creative excitement that when Phin asked if we were ready, I eagerly assented.

“Congratulations on your engagement,” Sophie said as she took Phin’s credit card.

“Oh, we aren’t engaged!” I declared emphatically, the significance of the last two hours slowly dawning on me. Sophie tried to dismiss the awkward moment with a bright smile as she walked away. I looked at Phin wondering how he was taking my declaration.

He had an understanding smile on his face and leaned over. “You do know this means that we are getting married, right?” he quietly asked with very calm patience. I nodded and it didn’t feel scary at all. From that moment we were officially getting married, although not yet engaged.

Official Story - The Option to Renew!

The care free fun of dating under the rules of the contract lasted approximately one month. Although in the dating world six months can be a long time and seemed appropriate when we began, it became clear that the option to renew signified a much deeper commitment (perhaps even talk of the “M” word). I realized that I only had five months to devise and implement an evaluation (refusing to call it a test) to determine if I wanted to share my life with anyone in general, and specifically with Phin.

About this time Phin had a similar revelation and came up with a very logical approach for his assessment. He made a list of topics that in his mind needed to be discussed and resolved prior to any further commitment on his part. (Apparently my reluctance to answer any question head-on caused some serious unease.) He let me know what these topics were and I was not worried about being compatible in the areas of his concern.

My criterion was much more difficult to ascertain. I felt like I had a solid understanding of Phin’s character, but was unsure of how our personalities would interact in the long-term. His natural reactions in various circumstances needed to be analyzed, and as I did not want observation to alter behavior, I kept quiet on the issues/personality traits that were important to me.

Not surprisingly, the not knowing which events I would find significant proved to have an un-balancing effect on Phin. In light of this, it was perhaps unfortunate that canoeing was the first adventure where I consciously assessed how we functioned as a couple. It did not bode well that by the time we hauled the canoe out from the water, I was convinced that next time we would paddle around in separate kayaks.

Although nowhere close to life in the ordinary, an international trip seemed like a fun way to discover if our differing quirks could find a harmonious rhythm. Being constantly together for three weeks, meeting my family, and dealing with the unexpected in travel gave us plenty of opportunities to enjoy the companionship while grappling with the uniqueness of one another.

In the end, I found it did not matter if there were more checks in the pro column of my mental compatibility chart. Phin had shown me a heart that was willing to work towards being compatible, which is much more reassuring. Although any thought of a proposal with “death do us part” consequences was still mildly terrifying, I did come back from Europe confident that I wanted to renew the contract indefinitely.

Official Story - The Contract

The next time I saw Phin we were both at a conference north of the border in the wild town of Vancouver. I was working on an essay about roundabout design and agreed to meet Phin for coffee to take advantage of his proof reading and editing skills. It was a night of great conversation in which we mostly avoided the serious talks about us. The late hour and caffeine finally kicked in and contributed to a tongue slip in which I admitted that I secretly thought dating him would be tons of fun.

The next day we took a walk around the city where the sidewalks were shoulder to shoulder with people. It was easy to tell what line of discussion was percolating in Phin’s head, but voicing any questions in the crowds was difficult. For my part, I thought it was clear that the topic was off limits, and to avoid answering the inquiring look coming from Phin, I glanced at the guy walking next to me. To my surprise my gaze locked on that of a giant lizard peering around a fellow pedestrian’s neck. I was just not expecting a lizard to be giving me such a soul searching look, and my shock took the shape of a jump to the side. There was no room for such a jump on the crowded streets, and I landed in Phin’s arms.

It seemed like people on the streets continued walking around us without missing a beat, while Phin and I were suddenly stopped by my surprise tackle. His laughing eyes were much kinder than that of the lizard, and he had to ask, “Will you go out with me?”

“I can’t,” I sadly replied, and he slowly put me down. It was clear that he didn’t understand and I tried to explain, “Dating you would be great, but I’m not ready for another break-up, and I’m not convinced that we would be good together for life.”

“It sounds like what you want is a dating contract that will automatically end in 6 months,” he replied wryly.

“That’s exactly what I want,” I exclaimed excitedly. Then after looking at him, I realized, “Oh, you were only kidding?”

“Well,” he replied slowly, “if you would consider dating me and we have the option to renew after 6 months, I would be willing to discuss a contract.” Just then we happened upon our colleagues and had to say our group goodbyes. Phin gave me a professional handshake and with a straight face promised to keep in touch. A few days later, over a 9 hour phone call, we hashed out the fine print of our contract – We were now officially dating until the end of February with an option to renew.

The Official Story - The Butterflies

For me the dating process has never been much fun. Of course there are moments/days and even weeks of joy, but with a hard squint one can always glimpse the circling shark fin indicating a future heartbreak for someone. At the end of the “Craters of the Moon” weekend, I left Phin with a bit of unease. It really seemed like he was in collusion with Someone to pull off the perfect trip - complete with sunsets, a full moon, adventurous exploration and even waterfalls rivaling Niagara to lure my cynical self into unclear waters.

I had always felt perfectly comfortable being with Phin. In fact, in my opinion, we were a little too comfortable with each other since there was no stomach knotting excitement in our interaction. As we sat on the craggy rock watching the sun disappear behind the purple streaked mountain, I was surprised to discover a fluttery excitement. It was so great to share this beautiful moment with someone who had turned my hazy ideas into an actual adventure, creating an exceptional day. The flutters took the shape of butterflies, and one bold creature had the audacity to ask, “Could this be the guy who would help turn thoughts for an extraordinary life into realistic daily living?”

I quickly smothered this butterfly with explanations of nature contriving a romance. The whole episode would be classified as an isolated dip into dating. However, I was soon to learn that once the butterflies are let loose, it is difficult to cram them back into their cocoon – especially ones this audacious.

We Interrupt this Program...

I have recently been swamped by "to do" lists (one of which contains -update the blog), and I also got ambushed by a cold. When I came to work today this cheerful creature was giving me a motivational cheer! "Ready... OK!"



Don't worry - I plan to get back to the series soon - at this rate there may be a wedding before the full story of "HOW" is truly answered! Don't be surprized if the story is fully revealed at our 25th wedding anniversary party!

The Official Story - Part 1

Introduction

It did not take a psychiatrist to diagnose my commitment phobic condition; I was able to do this part on my own. The cause and cure were a different matter, however, and I resolved to get some expert advice. After several false starts I finally managed to make an appointment with a counselor and even went so far as to attend one of the sessions we arranged. I had a vague idea that counseling would be fun. After explaining my situation, the counselor would expound on my thought processes giving good reasons for my behavioral patterns. I would leave with a new understanding of the way my mind worked and a game plan to become “normal”.

This was a couple of years ago, and I still remember it as being one of the most painful hours of my life. I had not realized that I would be expected to talk about myself the entire time and answer questions I would rather not even think about, let alone discuss out loud. I was not the only one having a difficult time - about 45 minutes into it, the counselor looked at her watch and with beads of sweat forming on her brow announced that this session was worse than pulling teeth. Perhaps if I had continued week after week, I would have gained some incredible insight. Instead I decided my commitment troubles were only mildly inconvenient and learned that therapy was not for me. I decided that if I was to ever share my life with someone, he would have to be amazing and convince me to commit without much help or encouragement from my side. Secretly I prepared to live a life complete within myself.

Phin and I had known each other for a while, but characteristically I had managed to keep him at a “friends” arm length away. He lived in Idaho and to make conversation I once mentioned that visiting “Craters of the Moon” was on my life to-do list. He immediately invited me on a camping trip, and after agreeing but never committing for three summer’s in a row, I found myself in a position of no excuse. It was a weekend where my job took me to Boise and so one Friday afternoon in July, we set off in his monster huge truck for adventures in the desert. I was slightly concerned about the camping aspect of the trip never dreaming that the moon landscape would be the launch pad for our colliding lives.




Author's Note: Originally this was supposed to be a one sentence introduction, but the story got away from me. I'm afraid the series may be longer than I had anticipated!

The Exciting News!

Phin (almost his real name) and I are getting married (and yes – to each other)!!!!! Thankfully, the narrative did not follow my three day plan which some of you might remember as going something like this…

1. Meet the guy the day before my 35th birthday
2. Get engaged on my birthday
3. Get married at 35 and a day

No wonder I was always a little scared that I would accidentally get engaged and married and spend the rest of my life wondering what happened. Eventually I would be forced to escape my messy life by disappearing into the wilds of the south pacific islands.

The real story is one that clearly shows God’s love and grace. I am not finding myself “accidentally” engaged, which in itself is a huge relief. In the next few weeks, I will chronicle an answer to the question, “How did this incredible blessing happen?” Details will be provided in a series of mostly non-fictional anecdotes, including the events of the actual engagement (as soon as Phin and I get our stories straight)… so stay tuned!!!

Recap of a European Excursion

First stop with sister, brother-in-law, and dad (not pictured): Rome

A trip with my dad to see Martin Luther's Hideout: Wartburg Castle

A fellow sightseer at a German castle: Hohenschwangau

Two of us in a magical place: Neuschwanstein

Freezing our feathers off in the City of Lights: Paris

January Giraffes in Germany!!

Actually the January Giraffes were not able to make it to Germany, but I did!! (And the calendar page was completed before I left - Good thing these lovely Giraffes have some night owl tendencies!!)

Look Who's Coming to Dinner

A dinner theme I could get excited about: Crock Pot Dining. There was very little cooking involved in my pot of choice, but it was heavy on the croc! The easiest way to tell the difference between a crocodile and an alligator is not the shape of their noses, but a good look at their salad composition. An alligator salad will be made with fresh fruits, while the crocodile salad leans heavily on vegetables. (A fun fact you can now share at your crocktail parties!)



This croc was a perfect gentleman and stood in nicely for my out of town beau. The picture, of course, does not do him justice; he needed the red-eye reduction setting on my camera.

Sculpture Park

“What do you think the title of this piece is?” I asked Phin. We were staring at what I considered to be giant iron canoes – the first stop on our sculpture park tour. I love this park and was eager to share the experience with this particular guy. He enthusiastically joined in the game with a guess of “Waves”. We were both a little right according to the description; “...suggest tidal waves or profiles of battleships.” Phin took exception to my calling canoes battleships, but admitted arrows may have once been sprung from a paddled canoe. That was enough for me and although appreciating art is not a competition, I secretly gave us each 1 point.

We continued down the gravel path, with satisfying crunches creating musical accompaniment. At each piece we would imagine a title and then compare with the label given by the artists. Some of the monikers were more engineered terms than artistic names such as Two Plane Vertical Horizontal Variation III. I’m sure this is why I quickly recognized the wisdom of enjoying art without keeping score: Phin, an engineer to the core, was a much better guesser than I. The secret challenge was dropped, but perhaps a trifle too soon.

“Log Jam,” I declared thinking the tripod holding three enormous dangling tree trunks was something out of a Paul Bunyon story.

“Security System,” countered Phin. I was not following that thought process and went to read the plaque.


“It’s called Bunyon’s Chess,” I announced excitedly, since I really had been thinking of Paul Bunyon. I glanced at Phin to see how he was reacting to this title, and saw him starring quizzically at the security light, adjacent to the structure. He turned to see what I was laughing at, and that is when the true sculpture, Bunyon’s Chess, caught his eye. He still maintains that “Security Device” was one of his favorite pieces of art in the park.

Our walk led us to a path of unbridled whimsy; Alexander Calder would have approved. We meandered through the grove looking for the hanging hammocks, but only spied two of the supposed three. We got lost in the Stinger, which reminded us both of the Gravitron from our childhood fair days. It did not take us for a spin with centripetal forces, but lured us in by being “deceptively sweet but slyly intoxicating.” The cartoon firecracker set loose on the hill by Wile E. Coyote, surprized me once again by turning out to be Typewriter Eraser, Scale X.
We took a turn at being part of the surroundings when we sat statuesque on what I believe were Eye Benches I, but could have been Eye Benches II or even Eye Benches III.

We ended at my favorite sculpture, and the only one I can ever remember the title of since it is spelled out in plain English, Love & Loss. We arrived on the side of “Loss”. I stood there contemplating how loss is often a part of love. “Is it worth it?” I thought to myself. I was still pondering when Phin took my hand. We walked down the sidewalk steps of the letter “s”, and as we turned, the perspective of the sculpture changed from “Loss” to “Love”. It is too soon to tell if this change is reflected in my own life, but I do have to say- the potential is exciting.

A Poem from the Past

So many twisted feelings, thoughts and perceptions,
Snapped and unraveled to send me reeling.
The mirages of life - denial and depression,
Come to entice with offers of impractical romanticism.
I gratefully accept and tie some more knots,
Before discovering the spiraling has not stopped.

I want to find truth, but not if it means
Landing on that bottom rock of reality.
Now panic sets in as my desires are divided,
Am I searching for true life or only its allusions?
Thoughts of the nebulous haze filled with intangible meaning
Make me insane and I must find something solid.

Stretched out on that rock that was so dreaded and feared
I find peace and true meaning, but not without tears.
Emotions experienced in their purist essence
Are powerful in the extreme and bring painful healing.
Bruised to the core and with no strength left,
I am currently on this Foundation, at rest.

Life as a Contradiction!

A hypochondriac who hates doctors…

A hermit who does not like to be alone…

A person who can’t sleep but can’t wake up…

A habitual time waster, but can’t patiently take 5 minutes to brush the teeth – must multi-task…

A person who gets cheered up by grumpy people (even when that grumpy person is herself)...

A person who loves to be active (tennis, skiing, hiking, etc), but hates to exercize...

A person who loves relationships, but tends to sabotage them...

A person who loves life, but finds it frustratingly difficult...

Yay!!! Yay!!! Yay!!!

Finally - I got the letter we have all been waiting for...

Night Time Lullaby

I am lying in bed at 11:40pm thinking I will get an early start on sleep. Ha!! The polka music outside my window is enough to keep anyone awake. Can I really be hearing polka music? Something does not seem right. Germany is now an ocean away, but I must be dreaming that I’m back at the Hofbrauhaus in Munich. Dreams, especially ones this real, usually indicate a sleep state has been reached – yay! I cautiously open one eye to check my surroundings; small desk, Roman Holiday poster, round bed, and… polka music. No I am not sleeping, but I can’t muster up any disappointment. After all, polka music is always festive and makes one smile even if accompanied by rolling eyes and shaking heads.

Philosophy with a Hermit Crab

Despite his name, Ewan the hermit crab was usually a cheerful sort. He lived close enough to other crabs so that a chat over coffee was not an irregular occurrence, but far enough away to avoid urban claustrophobia. I would sometimes meet him on the beach for a light dinner. He would munch on his tiny seaweed morsel, and I would eat on my salad until my mouth was tired of chewing.

After one such dinner, we sat watching the tide come in. There was never much talking between the two of us, but we enjoyed a comradely time of thinking. I began skipping rocks, but somehow was irritated as the rocks skimmed the water leaving small splashes and ripples of disturbance. These ripples were disturbing the calm glassy water, it was true, but doing it in such a way as to create intricate and symmetrical designs that could seemingly go on forever. I threw in a fat round rock, obviously not the skipping kind, but it made the most satisfactory plunk; causing a commotion in the water that was felt all the way to the sandy bottom. The splash was big and irregular and even came with the sound of “kerplunk” that had no illusions of elegance and was gone in a matter of seconds.

On this particular night, my mind was restless. I was tired of thinking and not coming up with answers, or even worse, just finding new questions. I looked at Ewan who was sitting next to the driftwood, calmly collecting rocks. I knew he had answers, and so I risked a question. “What do you think about life in general?” I asked knowing that this was no skipping stone, but that Ewan was wise enough to get a few hops out of it if he wanted.

“Well, some parts of life are good,” he slowly replied, “and other parts of life are bad.” It was like he deliberately threw a big fat boulder into my mind. The “kerplunk” effectively stopped all further line of questioning. All the subjects he could have touched on with such a wide open question were swallowed up in the splash. We packed up to go and had a lively debate on the merits of claws verses fingers. The questions of life will come up in my mind again, but sometimes it is a relief to enjoy the sand, sun, water and other aspects of life without a full dissection. Incidentally, Ewan is a little sad that he cannot eat olives off the end of his claws as we can with our fingers.

Waiting...

I hated it when she was late. There I was; waiting… waiting… Preparing the lecture I was going to give her when she deigned to show up helped pass the time. It was not fair to be so late; we had plans and a time honored schedule of traditions! Not a minute would be wasted. Yet here I was alternating between the following:

Anger – She should stick to the schedule. It was too late for someone else to fill in! If you were expected on a certain date, you should be there – or at least send the excuses – preferably with a very large bribe attached to it like tickets to Brazil.
Worry – The lateness of her arrival might have some greater cosmic meaning such as the world is off kilter and headed for a disaster beyond our imagination (not just a fallen chandelier, but a crashing of all the stars in our galaxy).
Guilt – It’s my fault that she is late. If only I drove less and rode my bike more, she would feel more comfortable and punctual.
Depression – Was she going to cancel and not come at all? This thought kept me on my couch under a blanket and cuddled up to a hot water bottle for days.

I had resigned myself to life without her when I was woken by dance steps across my face. Even after such a prolonged absence, I knew immediately that it was her tickling my face. Once again I was charmed and in love- all the words of censor, the doubt, and the impatience were gone. I threw open the windows to let her come streaming in. Summer was here and even more beautiful than I remembered her!!!!

A Slow Run

It was odd to find herself in this situation; wearing a crazy lime green skirt over black leggings with sports socks and tennis shoes. Elle was wearing this outlandish costume five blocks from her house, and what was worse… her spastic gestures looked like she was running. Elle hated to run! It was not a passive dislike, but rather a fierce opposition. Sometimes after just contemplating a run, a 20 minute aerobic work-out would have been achieved. She must have used some huge trickery to get herself in this predicament. Elle was huffing and puffing, but the only course was to continue with her run because the quicker she took this skirt inside, the better!!!

Elle kept her eyes on the sidewalk cracks, not wanting to meet anyone. She had made it to the corner, when she saw a man walking his dog across the street. The man and his dog were crossing over to her side, but Elle continued her focus on getting home. “One more step,” she kept chanting to herself, and knew that even though her legs felt like lumbering elephants, they were making progress. Perhaps it was time to begin some type of running regiment – there had been a lot of chocolate consumption lately. It was all coming back to her now, the beginning of what had prompted this exercize adventure.

She heard the dog jingle behind her like a bicycle bell wanting to pass. Elle obligingly moved over to the side, but instead of a passing flurry, the dog just walked around her. The guy followed calmly, also in a walk, and gave Elle a long glance probably wondering who had put her running in slow motion. It was embarrassing for everyone involved. There she was, running her heart out, being out-strolled by a dog walker. Even the dog looked awkward and gave a few prancing steps as if to say, “Don’t worry, we aren’t really walking that slowly, in fact some people might consider this a jog.” It would have been more encouraging if he had not seemed to add as an afterthought, “Of course, those people are statues and such.”

Elle's one day running career was over! The running skirt has been returned to Goodwill, and a pact has been made with her shoes... "For Tennis Only!"

Umbrella Story (Part 1)

The umbrella was Sami’s favorite accessory; she loved taking it for a walk. Sometimes when rain was scarce, the umbrella would look wistfully outside for any sign of a mist. It never complained, however, as it waited patiently in its stand by the door. Sami once got tired of waiting for a downpour and so took the umbrella on a stroll, parasol-style; it was not the same.

As she drove home from work there was just the hint of raindrop splatter on her windshield. Sami dashed inside and stayed only long enough to grab her umbrella for a nice outing. The hint of a shower and turned into a downpour. She walked along the sidewalk to the beat of the falling raindrops. Tonight she was aware of being ensconced in a grey, grim world where it was ok to be sad because the universe was broken. Before the sad volcano deep inside her had time to fully erupt, she caught a glimpse of her yellow umbrella in a puddle reflection. She followed the trail of this dash of color in an otherwise dismal street from puddle to puddle, and before long there was a bounce in its progress matching the spring in her step.

She returned home calmed and refreshed. That was the beauty of her umbrella friend – it took her on walks with permission to be sad but never allowing her to fall victim to complete melancholy. It gave her life a cheerful color of hope.