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Diary Rings

Can we just jump to January please? - 2014-11-14
A (don't kick the) Bucket List - 2014-10-28
Put THIS in your pipe and DON'T smoke it! - 2014-10-23
Max, Wolf, and the goats - 2014-10-15
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10:45 a.m. - 2010-05-16
Driving into the future.

It's been a rough ride for the last few days. But in keeping with my determination to get on with things I've been doing just that. Did my usual round of appointments, errands, and workouts. Even stepped things up with the housework and such, staying ahead of the sadness. The wedding that never-will-be was wicking me out even more than I admitted to myself, but since I hadn't wanted to beat Mick over the head with it I'd tried to stuff it down inside and be a Good Sport. He knew though. I was going to muddle through Saturday as best I could, putting on my best happy face and pretending it was just another day, but when he found out I'd finally gotten the ex to spend some time with Wolf, Mick decided to swoop me off to the one (quickly accessible) place on Earth that might help make things okay for me. Seaside Heights, NJ.

A lovely, lovely surprise and a very thoughtful one. One good turn deserves another and I brought my so-far unworn wedding ring with me. Mick had surprised me with my engagement ring on the beach at Seaside and now with us revisiting the scene of the crime (heh) I thought it might bring things around full circle if I asked him to put my wedding ring on my finger while in Seaside too.

When I took the ring box from my purse he was as bowled over as I'd been when we got engaged. Nothing I could have done would have pleased him more. Both of us crying and laughing he slid that circlet of diamonds onto my finger and 7 months after the deed had been legally done we finally married each other for good and for keeps. No party, no flowers, no witnesses, no dress, and the only music was the bass-heavy thumping coming out of the bar behind us on the boardwalk, but it was as right as we could make it. With my ring finally where it belonged we took a walk and talked and talked and talked. Settled for once and for all why everything had gone so wrong between us and totally cleared the air about weddings and expectations and what it means to both of us to be married. What a marriage is and what we both thought it should be.

Will I always be sad and sorry we'll never have a real wedding party? Yeah, probably. But it won't be this stinking cloud over everything, an empty hurting place that seemed both symbol and summation of how everything had gotten so sour and sad and fucked up from almost the minute we'd said "I do" back in November. I know in my heart that if he could take it all back and start again Mick would. I also know now that he's seen how bad it could get and has learned what it takes to make a real marriage work that in the long run I'll be far more happy having a husband who's wholly committed to our relationship and is actively working to make it good for both of us than any amount of lace and flowers would ever be.

I never went to my senior prom or got to wear a cap and gown (January graduates were just tipped a salute and shoved out the school's front door on their last day of class). And I survived. I got knocked up on my one and only romantic trip to a foreign country and it ended up turning my entire life upside down, so I'm a bit leery of honeymooning (at least until I'm through menopause, ha) and anyhow I've never been a real girl, the kind who could pilot a space shuttle yet somehow not be absurd in a floofy dress. I'm a dependable workhorse sort. A big boat of a station wagon with fake wood paneling on the side, empty juice boxes on the floor, crumbs on the dash and a moldy bologna sandwich in the glove box. I'm good for hauling the kids to scouts and taking a month's worth of trash to the dump. Nobody ever details and waxes a station wagon, you know? But they're a heck of a lot more useful than a Porsche. So there you go.


Much love from the human Buick Roadmaster, ~LA

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