“We didn’t even realize we were making memories, we just knew we were having fun.”
Winnie The Pooh
Over the years I have heard a lot of stories about how friends and family met their significant other. What moment they remember thinking….”This is the one I want to share the rest of my life with.” My sister, Serena, was going to a party at a friend’s home wearing jeans and a gothic t-shirt when she spotted Travis across the crowded room. Seeing him dressed in sharply creased Wranglers and a fancy buttoned down western shirt, she turned and headed back home. You don’t live in the western most western town and not have a Sunday-go-to-meeting cowgirl outfit. Appropriately dressed for the occasion, she joined her future-to-be’s crowd. Six months later they rode off into the sunset together. My friend Kevin, on the other hand, spent days, weeks and months exchanging thoughts, opinions and the minutiae of daily life on line. He knew this was the one before they actually shared the same space.
My parents first date was a ‘this is my last date moment.’ They were set up by mutual friends who were already dating. My mom’s roommate, Katie, told her boyfriend, Don, to bring a decent friend to share dinner. Mom said the word ‘decent’ was specifically used because they both knew Don had a lot of questionable friends. Mom was charged with cooking and from her limited menu of delicacies she decided to fix tacos. Not tacos with rice or tacos with refried beans, but just simply tacos. Mom dressed in her finest apron opened the door welcoming Don and dad. When my parents first locked eyes on their introduction, my mom knew he was the one for her. She can’t describe it, she just knew. My dad on the other hand was a bit slower on the uptake. He remembers approaching the table and seeing 50 tacos standing at attention on a strip of paper towels that stretched the length of the table. In front of each chair was a paper plate, a napkin and a bottle of Dos Equis plugged with a lime. Dad was studying minimalism in architectural school and thought mom had hit the nail on the head. Nearing his twelfth taco, mom, with sheer delight, remembers him saying, “These are the best tacos I have ever had, I love this woman.”
Taco power lives on. To this day my parents laugh whenever mom makes tacos. She has upped her game and now includes a side of refried beans. I have yet to cook tacos for any man I have dated, because once I do, our fates will be sealed.
Moral: 1) Sometimes you just know you are meant to be with someone. 2) Only fix Tacos for someone that you are willing to share your life with because there is no going back.
Feel free to share your memories of meeting your love either in the comments below or emailing zsmisadventures@gmail.com.
“Hard times don’t create heroes. It is during the hard times when the “hero” within us is revealed.”
Bob Riley
On Saturday morning, as I was laying in my lair surrounded by ASU plush paraphernalia, contemplating whether to start one of the many Herculean tasks of adulthood, such as laundry, I decided to go on a mini adventure to escape the monotony of those earthly duties. I overheard that there was a cause that might need my attention and that timing was of the essence. I got up, chugged my hazelnut coffee and made sure to eat every last lucky charm for the added power. I was dressed in my yellow Good Vibes T-Shirt and black shorts. I slipped on my pink flower-power flip flops and was off to conquer the world.
I entered the secret code to briefly expose my lair to the outside world, then stepped out into the unknown. As I strode out, I heard the continuous churning and clacking noises of a heavily armored machine slowly making its way towards me looking for it’s next meal. I knew I had mere minutes to accomplish this mission. Fail and my lair might become overrun with rodents. This was not a fate I was willing to settle for.
I turned to free Mr. Blue from his entrapment. He would be safe and feel relieved once the machine was able to devour his insides. Mr. Blue did not agree. We had a tug-of-war battle as I attempted to free him. I remember thinking that I only had seconds to complete my mission. So I gave Mr. Blue one last power jerk, with all the super power strength a bowl of Lucky Charms could muster. My maneuver was so physically precise that Mr. Blue actually became airborne for a split second and landed with the perfect motion of a sledgehammer on my toe.
I screamed and cursed the villains of the universe. Mr. Blue feeling sorry for his actions, apologized in his own way. He let me swiftly limp with him to the curb. I let go just as the angry machine stopped, its arm shot out grabbing Mr. Blue, and with one ferocious motion lifted, dumped and slammed him back to earth.
While retelling the saga to my father, he just smiled and shook his head, ” You and your flip flops. This is why we always wear real shoes, even when taking out the trash.”
Moral: 1) A toe can break if run over by a Recycling Trash container. 2) Flip flops are not a substitution for safety shoes.
Please feel free to follow and share your own courageous tales in the comment section below or email to zsmisadventures@gmail.com to possibly be used in a future blog post. If you have any ideas of what adventure my mother and I can do together that I can document in this blog, please let me know in the comment section below. Thank you. Stay Whimiscal.
If you accept your misfortune and handle it right, your perceived failure can become a catalyst to profound reinvention.”
Conan O’Brien
Recently, I attended a training seminar on improving cross departmental communication skills. About half way through the morning session we had to change classrooms because the AC was not working. In an Arizona summer, it would be like continuing the class in an oven. You wouldn’t sweat, you would cook. After hours of purposeful discussion about what makes an effective communicator, we broke for lunch. A few of my co-workers opted to explore the local eateries, while others like myself had brought our lunch and would remain within the air conditioned building compound.
After the group with red cheeks and damp skin walked in and took their seats and sighed, the instructor asked: “How was lunch?”
Usually this question is met with responses of, “Good”, “I am now ready for a nap,” or “Eh, I’ve had better.” This particular afternoon prompted a head turning response, “Someone fell on my car and, no, I did not hit him. You want to see the dash camera video for proof?”
“Yeah,” was the group response.
While our classmate reached for her purse and rummaged for her phone, she described her eventful lunch. She stated that she had parked in front of Church’s Chicken and decided to put her windshield sun shade up on the car. It’s something Arizonans do to keep their steering wheel from melting. She was just about to open the door when she heard a loud thud. She immediately peeled back the sun shade to see a man slide off the hood of her car. She said she was startled by what happened and was happy to see that several patrons were already surrounding him and one motioned for her to back up. As she backed up to give them more room and saw them sit him up and give him a glass of water to drink.
She parked, observed her hood and was pleased to see that no dent resulted. After, she returned to the growing crowd to see if any further help was needed. She heard people surmise that he had passed out due to dehydration. He was drinking water while waiting for the paramedics to check him over. Another patron told her that he had a backpack on and was able to land on it and not his head when he slid off the hood and onto the concrete curb. So the backpack may have saved him for severe head trauma. The class was spellbound by the video footage.
After she was done telling us about her lunch, everyone remained on the edge of their seats as laughter erupted, when another coworker asked, “That was your car?” She had seen the whole incident and confirmed that person did indeed keel over and slammed his head on the hood of her car. “Thought he was dead the way he slithered to the ground,” she added. She reported that the man appeared a bit shaken up and was taken by the paramedics to the hospital for further testing.
My response to the “How was lunch?” question might have been, “Messy.”
The plastic veil covering My Teriyaki Bowl tore off while in transit and dumped the contents all over the interior of my colorful new Galactic lunch satchel. Bottles of water and a container of apple sauce were covered in rice and teriyaki sauce. Parts of chicken were stuck in the zipper and the chocolate chip cookie did not look inviting. So I spent my lunchtime laughing as I tried not to scream about my unfortunate situation while cleaning up the gooey mess. After watching the Church’s Chicken Fiasco, my ‘Oh, Woe is me’ lunch time was a waste of woefulness.
Moral: 1) Stay hydrated. 2) As long as no one passes out on your vehicle during lunch, it’s a good lunch. 3) Being present for a stranger in a time of need, can make a difference.
Please share your lunch time stories in the comments or email zsmisadventures@gmail.com and those stories may be shared in future blogs.
I have had the pleasure of riding the light rail to and from work for almost 3 years. I was originally drawn to riding the light rail because it meant I did not have to deal with five lanes of traffic moving at 35 miles per hour and the one driver darting from lane to lane hoping to get to work 2 minutes earlier than the other 2,000 people headed the same way. I was looking forward to having more time to relax and silently mediate while I prepared myself for the work day ahead. I was thrilled at the possibility of meeting people and making friends, maybe even meeting my ‘Prince Charming’. I later found out that the light rail, while a wonderful form of transportation, is not a place to meet a Prince. It is a place where stories begin.
An unintended consequence of riding the light rail is that I have formed stronger bonds with coworkers. Our first conversation over morning coffee are my “Tales of the Rail.” I have enjoyed getting to know a few of the daily commuters who fit the personality and uniqueness range of the characters on Seinfeld. The light rail is a mini daily adventure that I would not trade for anything.
While most days the trips consist of sitting on a train in silence as everyone is looking at their phones, listening to music, or napping, some trips, however, are a kaleidoscope of scenes from movies that leave me pondering relationships, values, and the imperfections of the human mind.
One such eyeopener happened the first week on the rail. I walked into the front of the train wearing my green power suit, 5 inch heels, and a smile from ear to ear as I had just locked sights on the last seats in the back of the train facing the direction of travel. No riding backwards I remember thinking as I slid into the seat. My second thought concerned why does my butt feel wet. As I lowered my head, I began to theorize, “I bet I just sat in water, what else could it be.” As I scooted towards the aisle, a familiar odor started to rise in the air. With my senses on high alert, the whiff my brain interpreted was not of water but of urine. I immediately launched upward. A few people asked why I had jumped out of my seat. They were not surprised when I told them I sat in a puddle of pee. While they were aware of the odor coming from my direction, they just weren’t sure which of the two seats it was on.
My unspoken reply, “Thanks for the warning.”
I found a spot to stand against the wall furthest from the passengers. I texted a friend of mine, Roy, who told me that I should feel relieved that I was on my way home from work and not going there. Good friends always put a positive spin on the most repulsive situations. I laughed at his efforts. I put lotion on all exposed skin and sprayed cologne over the rest in an effort to ward off the loathsome thoughts of any new boarding travelers.
As soon as I got home I put on disposable latex gloves and peeled off my clothes. Holding my green power suit between thumb and forefinger for the last time, I walked straight to our portable dumpster. The sickening thoughts were a part of the clothing and I am more comfortable with ‘out of sight, out of mind.’
The first week on the light rail taught me to ‘Look before you Plop.’ It strengthened a bond with a coworker when I asked her to smell me one morning when I came into work. A gentleman sitting behind me on the light rail appeared to have poop on his head and, it was possible, that I too might smell like feces. She assured me that I did not. While relieved, I still put on little spritz of Eau de Parfum.
Moral: 1) Humor lessens the power of revulsion. 2) Cherish those who are willing to smell you. 3) Look before you plop.
I would love to hear your transportation adventures. Please share in the comments below or email them to zsmisadventures@gmail.com. They might be used in future blogs.
“It is funny how sometimes you don’t see the obvious things coming. You think you know what life has in store for you. You think you are prepared. You think you can handle it. And then boom, like a thunder clap, something comes at you out of nowhere and catches you off guard.”
Cynthia Hand
One of my favorite memories of growing up on a Caribbean island, besides spending most of my days soaking up sun on the beach, was having family come to visit. I enjoyed escorting them on a boat ride to our resort’s private island, lounging on the white sandy beach and jetting them across the deep blue teal waters on a jet ski. I enjoyed seeing their faces when they realized that Aruba was not a tropical island, but instead more like the desert areas of North Scottsdale, Arizona.
My Grandma Claire and Aunt Roni came to experience our island tour of 1996. The first day of our family tour starts on the western end of the island at the always windy California Lighthouse, where we had our annual kite flying contest. We travel from there across the desert where I point out the uniqueness of the only bush or live vegetation within sight. While guests are awe struck at the barrenness, my dad will note that this is where he taught me to drive. He always adds, “And she ran over this bush. The only darn thing sticking up out of the dirt for a square mile.” We then go to enjoy the beauty and wonder of The Natural Bridge. The Natural Bridge was naturally formed by limestone. It was about 25 feet high and 100 feet long. (1.) It unfortunately collapsed in 2005.
From the bridge we head to the Casibari Rock Formations. After climbing around on the rock clusters which are high enough to get a 360 degree view of the island, we were intent on driving through Frenchman’s Pass on our way to Baby Beach. Frenchman’s Pass was the source of a unique childhood memory. A year earlier at this little clearing in the trees we come across two stray kittens. One ran away when we stopped, the other came to check me out. We instantly bonded and I cuddled with her all the way home. Frenchy was my first pet and an international traveler.
This trip with my grandmother through Frenchman’s pass felt more like an action thriller than a stroll through memory lane. As we came to the small clearing in the tunnel of trees spanning the road, it started to appear to us that we were not the only ones occupying this very isolated and confining dell. One by one men with machine guns started to come out from behind the trees and bushes that were surrounding us. One of the men started to walk up to the car. This was when I started to hatch a plan to escape capture, my Aunt clinched her purse to her chest, and my brother shouted, “Take my grandmother, I’m too young to die.”
My grandmother in a solemn and calm voice announced, “There are men all around us.” And after a pause to catch her breath, she continued, “and they have guns.”
My mother did a car chase maneuver only completed on TV by professional stunt drivers. The engine roared in reaction to her flooring the gas pedal, the tires spun in anger throwing rocks and dirt in all directions as the car whipped around in a half circle and launched us out of the clearing while covering the armed stranger in a blanket of dust. I remember my mom yelling as we cleared the tunnel of trees, “That is where we got Frenchie.”
After returning home we explained to my dad the near death experience we just had. He just looked at us and laughed. He was kind enough to inform us that the Dutch Marines were conducting maneuvers around Frenchmen’s Pass that day. It appears that the information was spread through word of mouth, but missed us.
The next day the three ladies were walking along the beach while I was at school. In the distance they spotted what looked like a battalion of men coming towards them. The earth seemed to vibrate beneath their feet as the long file of Marines ran by them. Only an older man with sandy brown hair glance in their direction. Mom said that my grandmother put her hand over her mouth and whispered, “And they have guns.”
Moral: 1) Mom’s instinctively know how to protect their young. 2) Make sure you pass on tidbits of information when men with guns are around.
Please feel free to share your travel stories in the comment section or email me at zsmisadventures@gmail.com to have your story possibly referenced in a future blog. Don’t forget to hit the follow button if you enjoyed this blog.
” The charm of the moment is in the spontaneity of it, like road trips are the best. So are the unplanned moments.”
Pragya
Hope everyone had a safe and memorable 4th of July while celebrating the separation of the thirteen American colonies from the British Monarch in 1776. It is notable that John Adams is said to have written his wife, Abigail, stating ” I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival.” (1.) He was not wrong.
One such place that is known for its fourth of July celebration is Laughlin, Nevada. Desert USA notes that the firework display over the Colorado River is one of the “most spectacular and exciting in the West.” (2.) I concur. Twenty five years ago my mom, Claire, my grandmother, Claire, my aunt, Roni and I went to Laughlin on a spur of the moment trip to see the 4th of July spectacle for ourselves.
It started as a joke between my mother and my grandmother stating that it would be fun to go to Nevada to win some big money. I told them I had just read that Laughlin was the fireworks capital of the West. We were discussing fireworks displays we had seen as we went to breakfast that morning. Mom mentioned how lucky we were when we found a parking place right in front of the entry. As I climbed out of the car, a $5 bill blew right across my path. The sun was shining and it felt great because it was only going to be an unusually moderate 75 degrees that day in Scottsdale, AZ. The conversation at breakfast turned to how lucky we were feeling and then that a trip to Laughlin calling. We were all ears.
We piled in the car around 3 PM with our overnight bags and were off. Our luck started to waver when we would start going up various hills and the air conditioning in my Aunt’s car would shut off. I say waver because downhill it would start blowing cool again. Even though we vacillated about continuing, we are not ones to turn around. When we arrived in Laughlin a few hours later and went to the counter to check into a hotel room, I heard the desk clerk tell grandmother that there were no vacant rooms in their hotel nor any hotel in Laughlin. She was further informed that if we wanted to stay there next year we should start calling six months in advance to reserve a room. Disappointed, I followed the ladies to the casino. No luck there either, we did not win big. Aunt Roni hit three cherries on the penny machine and that was about it.
At around 8 PM we went out to the parking lot and saw the fireworks over the Colorado River. The firework display was memorable with all the colors and designs lighting up the sky. We watched with great amazement as the 2,000 firework’s blast finale went off causing all the car alarms in the parking lot to go off. As the smoke cleared, Laughlin was one big honk fest. We all jumped when it started and then could not stop laughing.
A few hours later we climbed in the car and headed home. This time we were prepared to deal with the AC mountain climbing calamity. We all bought little battery operated fans at the hotel gift shop. Our luck returned, we made it back with no issues. We stayed awake till sun up talking about our adventure. It was a 4th I will never forget.
Moral: 1) Memories are priceless. 2) Don’t be afraid to be spontaneous.
I invite you to share your memories in the comments or email me at zsmisadventures@gmail.com to possibly have your story used in future posting. If you are enjoying my blogs, feel free to follow and get an update on Sunday’s when a new one is released. To become a follower, just hit the follow button on the right corner, enter your email, and confirm once you receive an email asking for that action to be taken. Thank you for your support and keep being whimsical.
I have never been one to pull pranks, nor do I enjoying having pranks pulled on me, but I do enjoy hearing about them. My favorite prank memory was waking to see my bed and the floor covered in two feet of shredded paper. While my brother and I slept, our dad shredded all of our end of the year school papers, homework, tests and notebooks. He wanted to give us a laugh and a chance to celebrate the end of the school year in a fun playful way. He knew how much I loved the snow, but also like the sun. By giving me shredded paper to throw around I could stay warm while pretending to build a snowman on Mt. Everest.
The only thing that he did not take into account was the mess that would be left when we were done throwing, rolling and playing in our bedrooms blanketed in slivers of paper. Shredded paper does not melt away like snow, it tends to expand and find its way into every nook and cranny. The trail of paper lead down the hallway to the kitchen area where we threw wads at dad as he left for work.
I was on the patio talking to my mom, when I heard, “O dios mio.” It was the housekeeping staff coming to clean our suite. We had been living at the resort for over five months and, luckily, knew all the staff. Before we pitched in to help clean up the mess, we had one last paper flinging battle that even included Jesse from room service. After the brief skirmish which spread paper into the living area, it took 6 people almost 30 minutes to get all the shredded paper into trash bags. It was worth the clean up effort for the years of joy and laughs that experience produced.
Moral: 1)Take time to make memories. 2) Let your inner child flourish whenever possible.
Feel free to share your favorite pranks in the comment section or email me at zsmisadventures@gmail.com and it might be used in a feature blog post. If you enjoyed this blog feel free to follow by clicking the follow button on the bottom right hand side of the screen. Thank you and hope all is well.
As a child I was fortunate enough to travel to many exotic locations, such as, the Galapagos Islands, Amazon Rain Forest, and a variety of Caribbean Islands. I was born in Arizona, but thanks to my dad’s easy going personality and endless imagination, he thought the Caribbean Island of Aruba might be fun and safe place to raise a family. While redesigning the landscaping for Scottsdale Princess Resort, Dad was asked to play golf with the General Manager of several resorts and casinos in Aruba. The GM was interested in landscape environments and implied that the boulders, native trees and relatively dry and warm climate of Aruba were quite similar to the resort landscape canvas in Arizona. The differences, he was happy to explain, were the most beautiful white sandy beaches and azure, temperate seas you could ask for. Their conversations eventually lead to a visit and job offer. Lucky for my mom, Claire, my brother, Justin, and me, we got to tag along in this new adventure.
Aruba is a small island off the coast of Venezuela. One of the original Dutch ABC islands – A for Aruba, B for Bonaire and C for Curacao. It is 20 miles long and 6 miles wide. It is so small that some maps don’t even have it marked and if they do, it is just a dot without a name. Thanks to my dad’s job with Sonesta Resorts, we were able to go on a two week trip each year anywhere we wanted, as well as summer in Arizona to get off the island and go shopping.
The first year off island, we went on a cruise to Curacao, Grenada, Barbados, and St. Lucia. I was seven years old. I had never been on a cruise ship. I indulged in the all-you- can-eat meals and the 24 hour bingo, despite being a minor. I was mesmerized that a swimming pool filled with 30,000 gallons of water was able to fit on a cruise ship. Most of all, I was pleased that I never truly felt like I was stuck on a boat. It was a kid’s exploration dream.
Like all Melgreen vacations, I have found, nothing ever goes according to plan, the cruise of ’96 was no exception. My dad forgot to pack underwear. We lost half a day because port shopping areas sell trinkets and souvenirs, not underwear. When dad went to rent a car for a trip to the local mall in Grenada, he discovered that his driver’s license had expired. We got lost more than once trying to find an underwear outlet, as well as, our room on the ship.
We went to an aquarium in Curacao where we saw sharks, held crocodiles, and swam with stinger rays. We jumped off waterfalls in Granada, while hiking and exploring the spicy jungle. My brother had me jumping off the boulders into the small bubbling pools below first. I understand now that he was having me do all these dangerous stunts first, like boulder jumping, swimming with piranhas and sting rays, as well as petting a white bangle tiger to see if I would survive before he risked his neck.
I am pleased to say that I did do everything first, including making a friend with a monkey that we saw cross our trail high up in the jungle canopy. The monkey later threw acorns at my mom and branches at my dad. He left a walking stick for me to use to navigate my way thru the jungle. The monkey even left an “X” in the dirt path to let me know which way to go. My diary of that trip implies that I could not have been more happy or excited to have befriended a monkey. I felt special and everywhere we went in Granada the monkey was somewhere up in trees accompanying me. It turns out 25 years later while writing this blog, I find out, my Monkey friend was my parents and the Monkey was their participation in my imaginative experience and a way to make a walk thru the jungle more enjoyable for me.
Moral: No two family vacation stories are ever the same.
Please feel free to share your travel adventure stories below in the comments or email me at zsmisadventures@gmail.com to possibly see your story mentioned in a future blog. If you enjoy feel free to follow. Have a great Sunday!
“I smile because you are my father, I laugh because there is nothing you can do about it.”
Anonymous
I would like to start this post off by wishing my dad, Dennis, a happy Father’s Day. He has been a great co-pilot on many of my misadventures.
One of our first misadventures that I have heard about repeatedly throughout my life actually happened on Father’s Day. I was 3 years old. We were driving to the central city park, Encanto, to fulfill one of my many early childhood fantasies – being a teacher and taking my stuff animal students on a field-trip.
My pupils were anxious to get there and sensing that they may become unruly I got out of my car seat in the second row of our van in order to keep an eye on the occupants in the third row. My dad heard me lecturing my crew and saw in the rear view mirror that I was no longer in my car seat. Of course, I was too busy to hear his pleas and, I assure you, would never disobey a really important demand. In his haste to do the lawful thing, he pull over on the freeway. He climbed over the center console to reach me and to buckle me back into my car seat. As he was explaining to me that all heroes big and small must be buckled in, and I was no exception, a highway patrol officer stuck his head in the front window and asked my dad what was going on.
Dad told the officer that I had gotten out of my car seat to lecture my students and that he pulled over to address the issue and buckle me up. I assume my father was calm, courteous and kind to the officer when he informed dad that it was against the law to park on the freeway shoulder. I also assume that after receiving the ticket with a hefty fine that we continued on to the park, had an awesome field trip and a Happy Father’s Day.
Moral: Always wear your seat-belt: it saves lives, money, and field trips.
“Once in awhile in the middle of an ordinary life, love gives us a fairy tale.”
Anonymous
Claire and Dennis Wedding Day October 31st 1980Courtesy of Google Search 🙂
With the joy of wedding season upon us, I
felt the need to share one of the many misadventures of mine – daydreaming
about a fairy tale wedding. Being single in my early thirties is, at times, too
much to bear. You cannot help but wonder, is there something wrong with me?
Will I ever get to share life’s many memorable moments with my Prince Charming.
I have seen the sad eyes telling me, “It will be okay, there is someone
out there for you. Just be patient.”
Did I mention my patients is running thin. Friends
are writing dating profiles to showcase my whimsicality and the need for my
Prince Charming to know his way around a kitchen or face starvation. It is easy
to get caught up in the hype of love and matchmaking. I do want to celebrate
that I have found my nerdy soulmate with that walk down some type of aisle with
my parents. I have dreamt of an ASU themed wedding with Sparky dancing at the
reception. That vision was around the time I finish ASU grad school which may
explain the premise. I have dreamt of a proposal that is simplistic, but thoughtful,
on one knee and, maybe, a tear. My tear.
I know that the wedding is just one step. I
also know that I can’t take that step without the right person and hopefully with
a proposal I can recall with fondness. I have heard about proposals made at a Comic
Con Convention while in cosplay as pictured above or finding the ring in a
treasure box while scuba diving, or in an ice cube in a martini glass. For
most, the memory of that epic question brings a big smile.
To date, I have been proposed to twice. One
was so unimaginable that I didn’t realize it was actually a proposal, the other
was less memorable.
The first proposal happened when I was a
freshman at college. I was 20 years old. I was home visiting my parents for
Spring Break when my boyfriend of 2 years stopped by. My parents were running
errands. He wanted to know if I wanted to go see a movie. When I went into my
room to get my purse, he entered behind me. When I turned around he was on one
knee with a box open asking me to marry him. I said yes, but my heart felt
heavy. As I took off his high school ring to replace it with the engagement
ring, I realized I had just been asked to marry someone, but I was not overcome
with tears of joy. I was not jumping up and down. I was not feeling the need to
share this news. Instead, I stood there with a half-smile thinking, “My
mom is not going to be thrilled.” At this point in our relationship it was
quite evident that he did not fit with my family. He was one who had to always
be right and would put others down if need be. At the time, I just wanted to be
in love and accepted, but when he asked me to marry him, I knew this was wrong.
I gave him the ring back a few days later.
The second proposal, I found out when I was
23, had actually occurred 2 years prior on my 21st birthday. I had gone to
Boston to visit a childhood friend. The day before I was to leave to return to
college at Humboldt State University, we were at Hooters laughing about our
horrible past relationship experiences. (Side note: The creator of Sponge Bob
went to Humboldt and studied physics.) During the conversation he decided to
let me in on a little secret, I was engaged to him. He spoke of the night of
our 21st birthday (we were both born on the same day) and I had come to Boston
to celebrate with him. He informed me the ring he gave me as a gift that day,
was indeed a wedding ring. I looked at him in shock and reminded him that 1)
The speech he gave before he handed me the ring was about it being a friendship
ring and how hard it is to find a ring that is not an engagement ring to
celebrate and honor our longtime friendship. 2) In order to be engaged it helps
if the people have been dating 3) He lived in Boston and I in California and we
both had a slew of bad relationships since our 21st birthdays. He reminded me
that he had his whole family around his bedroom door to listen to his speech
and after he was done, he had gotten down on one knee to ask me to marry him.
All I could do was laugh. The truth is, he did get down on one knee that night,
but only because I asked him to. We had made a pack that if by our 25th
birthdays we were not married then we would tie the proverbial knot. It was not
meant to be and I didn’t feel a spark when he asked. I returned the ring and we
haven’t spoken in 6 years.
I have a feeling that when that whimsical
soul finds me, my fairy tale will be filled with countless misadventures just
like my parents. My dad proposed to my mom over a hot fudge sundae. Saying that
while the sundae was awesome, being with her for the rest of his life would be
awesomer. Dad made a ring out of his straw sleeve of paper and happily
announced to the crowded restaurant that he was the luckiest man alive.
Just like the engagement, my parents
wedding day had a charming misadventure of its own. My dad loves sharing his
most embarrassing moment. They were married on Halloween in order to make the
date easy for him to remember. They did not costume up due to my dad wanting a
bit more of a traditional wedding. It took place in their backyard at sunset,
with twinkling lights in the trees, candles floating in the pool and surrounded
by family and friends. My dad who claims to the be cool and calm partner in
their relationship listen as the pastor started the ceremony talking about
love, commitments, the holiest of traditions, etc.
“My mind was super focused on his words,
their meaning and beauty,” he will tell you. “I was so focused that when the
cleric leaned in and whispered, ‘Say I will..(pause)..if you will.”
So dad said, “I will if you will.”
It is in times like those that make
ordinary life feel more like a fairy tale.
Moral: 1) When proposing make sure your
future spouse has a clue about what is happening. 2) Embrace the misadventures
as they can be the tie that binds.
I would love to hear about your
misdventures. I invite you to join in and share your misadventures in the
comment section or by emailing me at zsmissventures@gmail.com. I enjoy
incorporating your stories in a later post.
Lady Z's MisAdventures 