Memorial Day 1995

was the day this astrological forecast appeared in the paper Sir William and I bought to find out when Don Juan was playing at the theater.


We had been dating for about a year and a half. I was quickly running out of patience wondering when he'd hurry up and propose already! I had graduated from college a semester earlier and was working at a job I enjoyed. This particular day, we both had the day off and a full schedule of activities planned. Little did I know just how significant my horoscope in that paper would be.

After an exhilarating day of brunching and lunching and matineeing and sightseeing and trespassing and swimming and hot tubbing, we dried off and changed back into our clothes for an evening stroll up to one of our favorite spots where the view is breathtaking at night. As I emerged from the dressing room with wet hair, I noticed an unfamiliar bulge in Sir William's pocket.

Panic! The bulge was the size of a ring box.
Danger! What if it IS a ring?
Caution! Is this what I really want to do?
Emergency! I think I'm hyperventilating!
Get a grip! This is what you've been waiting for, isn't it?

As the reality of what I believed might be happening sunk in, Sir William took my hand and led me up the cobblestone path to our lookout. Crickets were chirping in the warm evening breeze as we walked past stately silhouettes of saguaro cacti. We left the paved walkway and stepped out onto the manicured lawn of a golf course green open to a sparkling panoramic view of the city.


The anxiety I had felt a few minutes earlier had faded and I felt prepared to answer the question I had waited so long to hear. The man of my dreams pulled me close and reached for his pocket. I held my breath and then...

the sprinklers came on!

He did propose on his knees later that night, shaking as he held out a red velvet box with my diamond tucked inside. It was that moment when this Libra discovered the sun, moon and stars had lined up just for me.

Pain in the Necktie

Have you ever been to church or some other event and noticed a cute couple who've coordinated their outfits? His tie matches her dress, or somesuch? Somehow it evokes a feeling of blissful unity and I admit, I love it.

We had the pleasure of sitting next to such a couple in church last Sunday. His lavender satin tie matched her floral blouse. It was lovely. I asked the man if his wife had coordinated their ensemble and was surprised when the answer was no. He responded that in fact, HE had matched his tie to HER outfit. I was astounded. How does this happen, and why isn't it happening in my life? I needed to know, so I nudged my spouse and said: Did you hear him?! He coordinated their look. HE did! Waddaya think about that, hmmmmm?

We stood there an awkward moment in front of this outfit coordinating, fantastic oddity of mankind and I began to feel a little ashamed. Because while my husband isn't necessarily style savvy, he does some really nice things. For example, I'm pretty sure he's the only man on the earth who turns his dirty clothes right side out before putting them in the laundry basket. (Sorry girls...he's mine!) As I considered some of the other thoughtful things he does, Sir William leaned over to the man and whispered:

If I coordinated my tie with her outfit, I'd have to change ties FIVE times before leaving the house.


...Oh, yes he did.

Wanna guess who's clothes will be folded wrong side out, henceforth and forever?

It is Mother's Day

...and for my efforts, I received carbs on a stick.

I am trying to be gracious about this, but that I'm now writing about it only suggests that I have failed in this endeavor.

Two days ago, The Squire received a suspicious phone call from his father. I observed them discussing something quietly. After the call, he nonchalantly asked me if I'd ever had an Edible Arrangement. Now if you're unfamiliar with the Edible Arrangement, do let me fill you in. These are fruit flower shapes on a skewer, dipped in chocolate and arranged in a keepsake container. And if that doesn't impress, then let me say further they shave pure 24 karat gold into the chocolate and deliver them in Ming Dynasty vases, for I can think of no other reason why these bouquets should be so expensive.

Anywho, when the question was raised whether I had received such a gift, alarms went off in my head that this? is what they were going to surprise me with for Mother's Day. Knowing I needed to nix this plan pronto, I replied:

No honey, I haven't had an Edible Arrangement. Those seem really nice, though I'm dieting right now and trying not to eat that kind of thing - waaaaayyy too many carbs. If you're considering a gift for Mother's Day, you'd be better off doing something different.

Somehow in his 12 year-old mind that translated: That sounds nice/fruit is good on a diet/chocolate isn't a carb/I'm not sure what she just said, but I am male which makes it genetically impossible for me to ask for clarification.




So the family has been enjoying my Mother's Day gift.

Someone should.

Who's sorry now?

This year for Easter we thought we try something new. Instead of filling Easter baskets with enough candy to induce a diabetic coma, we opted for non-edible gifts. Among the items were sugarless gum, iTunes cards, toothbrushes and two new board games. Board games have become Sir William's tradition with the kids. They have been known to set up the Monopoly board on a Friday night and will continue their game all weekend long. I love that it's time they can spend together without iTunes, iPods, iPhones and all the other distractions that start with a lowercase i. I especially love that the tradition makes it possible for me to have a few rare hours of uninterrupted bliss where iRead, iShop, and iNap. For you see, not all lowercase i words are of the Devil.

Yesterday I was invited to play one of their new games. They seem to have so much fun together, I decided to give it a whirl. It was my first time ever to play the game Sorry. Now I'm sorry we ever purchased it. My inner Dr. Phil has concluded those Parker Brothers had some serious family issues as the entire premise of the game is to be vindictive and obnoxious to your opponents. Since we have plenty of that around here without the aid of a colorful cardboard square and some plastic pawns, I had a hard time enjoying it. When I'd finally heard enough Sweet Revenge!-ing and Vengance is Mine!-ing I expressed my dissatisfaction.

Me: I can't believe we bought a game that promotes bullying!

Sir William: What? We didn't buy a game that promotes bullying. We bought a game that encourages apologizing.

Oh, he's a spin doctor, that one.