That's Right. He Put A Ring On It.

Kealoha and I are getting married! Woohooo! That’s right. We’re going to get hitched. I’m going to be his ball and chain. I’m going to wear curlers and a bad robe and fuzzy slippers and he’s going to mow the lawn wearing tall brown socks and his boxers. It’s so romantic, I can barely even talk about it.  

Honestly, Kealoha is a dream come true. For real. A year and a half ago, I wrote a Letter to the Universe stating the things I was looking for in a partner. If I can find it, I’ll re-post it. The letter is hokey, sentimental, and filled with longing. It was a wish made…and somehow it’s been granted. Kealoha is, I think, my missing piece. He makes all the clichés feel real.

I could go on and on, but instead I’ll tell about looking for the ring. We’ve been talking about getting married for a while. It’s one of the reasons he moved in. We wanted to make sure that we ‘fit’. Both in terms of our lifestyles, but also with being a family.  Maybe he’d find dating a woman with kids overwhelming. Maybe I’d be annoyed with him. Maybe we’d hate each other. Maybe the kids would hate him. The opposite proved to be true. It was all easy. And I still haven’t gotten annoyed with him. So...we decided we were ready to get married. We both want it. We want the party and the symbolic gesture of joining our lives. And Kealoha said he wanted me to have a ring.

The problem was…what sort of ring? Originally, I told Kealoha to look for something and that it didn’t matter. I just said “something not traditional”. I had no idea how many rings were out there. We were sitting on the couch and he mentioned that he wasn’t sure what to do and he was a little overwhelmed, so I grabbed his iPad and said “Let me look” and started my online search for a ring.

There’s like a million things that pop up when you search for a ring. I knew I didn’t want the diamond solitaire. Diamonds to me are more about money than a commitment. Plus, I never know when a diamond is real or not. And they get caught on everything and snag and Kealoha and I decided we wanted to wear just wedding bands…so I wanted a ring I could wear in my right hand once we were married. Something classy like and simple.

I immediately searched for RING and then ONE RING thinking that’d simplify it. This is what popped up with ONE RING.

I pointed to it and said: “This is the ring I want. Can you get on that please?”

Kealoha: “You want me to give you My Precious?”

Me: “Yes. Now.”

Kealoha shrugged and said: “Okay, let me just journey to Mordor first.”

I thought that might take a while so I changed my search. I wanted either an opal or a moon ring. The moon rings, though, were a little weird. And I’m not like a Wiccan or Renaissance woman.

I searched dozens of pages, ring after ring after ring. They were just bad. Gaudy, too big, too small, too many stones. I just wanted something simple and elegant. Something that didn’t suck.

I typed in RING THAT DOESN’T SUCK and got a Facebook page called “Just because I got a tongue ring doesn’t mean I suck dick”. I asked Kealoha if we should join that page. I don’t think he answered me.

Then I gave in and checked Tiffany’s and then Jarrods and then Zales. Muther humper! I was giving in to The Man! I did try to go a non-traditional route though.

And then I found it. As soon as it popped up on screen, I knew it was right. Simple, elegant, I can wear it on my other hand and it’s an opal which reminds me of the moon and the sea and the stars.

Yes I’m getting poetic, but you’ve got to cut me some slack.

Kealoha ordered it for me. We waited….and waited…and went mushroom hunting…and last night he gave me the ring and told me that he loved me and told the kids that he loved them and asked if I would marry him. I said No. That was mean. I shouldn’t have done that. Then I said “Yes”. I keep saying yes. Don’t ask to borrow money from me right now because I’d probably say yes to that too.

The short story is…Kealoha makes me happy. Knowing him, loving him, all that stuff has been incredibly easy. I thought love would be hard work and a fight. I never imagined it could be so effortless.

And that’s truly a wonderful thing. No joke.

What's Going On...& Words That Make Me Giggle

Usually when I sit down to write a blog, I have some idea of where it’s going to go. Maybe I want to talk about words that make me giggle like an adolescent boy: cheese log, muffin, and, of course, beaver.

But today, I’m just sort of sitting down and writing. My fingers are flying and my mind isn’t quite there yet. There’s been so much going on I haven’t had time to breathe or relax…which is why my body has decided to pummel me with a cold. Seems the only thing  that will slow me down is when I have a broken foot or a chest cold. This cold’s only minor. My voice actually sounds sexy, instead of freakish.

See? Wandering.

What’s been going on? I’ve been on a  few more dates, though I said I was giving up on that. Went to a great wine tasting with quirky characters from Italy. One was wearing a shirt a few sizes too small and had one of those bellies that stick out like a happy toddler’s. He was also wearing enormous glasses. The other Italian sat at my table and entertained us with stories on how carefully he must pronounce the word “Cork” because he has a tendency to leave out the ‘r’, and when he told a woman that he had a ‘cork’ (sans r) in his hand, she looked absolutely pale. That was a good time. Not the, ahem, co*k in his hand, but the wine tasting. Just the right amount of awkwardness. And my escort did a fine job.

I’m still not sure I’m cut out for dating. The problem is that whole loneliness thing. And I really wish I could just fast-forward through the dating process and just be comfortable with someone. I’m so tired of asking men about their childhood, their job, their goals, their travel. It’s driving me bonkers. I just want to sit quietly with someone and be quiet, take their hand, lean against them. Not to mention other things I’d like to do…but….yeah…you sort of have to date before you get to that point.

And the other drama going on has been this house ordeal. I think I’ve come to terms with it. And now, it might actually still happen. I’m whispering quietly for luck. Then there’s taxes, trying to work on my book, putting up a show at Dog Story, trying to juggle time with the kids and a social life and returning to reading. I’m so busy I’ve thrown out commas entirely.

As I was walking to school today, I had a peculiar awareness dawn. I’m actually happy. I am. It’s almost been a year now since I left Pierre, and it has been beyond difficult. I left with nothing, started with nothing, broke my foot, had several major disappointments, stressed about money and work and the kids, felt my heart break over Pierre’s choice to remarry so quickly, felt it break again when I started to fall for the wrong person and then stopped myself, felt intense loneliness, even, at times, utter despair.

But the flip side? The flip side is, I’m finishing up a year as a professor of writing. My book is being published in July. My kids are happy. I’ve reconnected with wonderful friends and made new friends. I’ve laughed more this year than in the past five. I’ve cried more too, but they’ve been good tears…and I find, suddenly, that I’ve done it. I’ve succeeded. Maybe I’m not rich or famous or Hollywood beautiful, but I am living the life I want. The life I deserve.

Hmmm. This is what happens when you free write. Sometimes you realize that that thing you’ve been searching for, that happiness…well, you’ve had it all along.