Wednesday, May 11, 2011

On Popsicles & Diamonds

Every couple has their little stories that they look back on and swoon over. This is one that my husband and I share. Well, he probably looks back and winces, whereas I giggle uncontrollably, but I'd say that averages out to a romantic little swoon, so we'll call it good.

It all started when we met back in 2002.
La la la romance la la la dating la la la. Anyway.

In spite of the fact that it was Seattle, it was an epically hot summer. I mean, it was nuts. Horrifically hot.
Yeah. It was THAT HOT.

And since it doesn't usually get THAT HOT in Seattle, no one has air conditioning. While we were sweltering away one fine afternoon, my lovely boyfriend decided to be a dear and get us some popsicles to try to take the edge off the insane blistering heat.
(note:popsicle image courtesy of, because I can't draw them to save my life)

Now, while it was only a short walk from the freezer to where I sat awaiting the promised treat of tasty frozenness, it was a long enough journey for some gears to start turning in his head.

He saw the popsicle in his hand. He saw my semi-lowcut shirt (which I had the figure to wear at the time...*le sigh*). And he had a thought.
Eddie, darling, this is where it all went wrong. You should have just let that thought go.

But no, he didn't. He reached the chair in which I sat, and he executed his badly-conceived plan...
Now, in order to explain what happened next, I must first explain a few other details.

First, I'm sure you're all aware of the concept of a kneejerk reaction:
Second, in spite of the oppressive heat, I was not wearing my Birkenstocks that day. No, I had been at work that day, and was thus wearing my customary not-slacking-off-in-the-heat footwear:
With those factors in place, and taking into consideration the height of the chair in which I sat compared to Eddie's height, the temperature of the popsicle that had just invaded my cleavage, and Eddie's unprecedented -- and not since repeated -- ability to keep a straight face until just before the attack, and...

...well, certain things were inevitable.
The aftermath, my friends, wasn't pretty.
Funny as all hell, but not pretty.

Eddie recovered, though there was much wincing and swearing.

The following day, in a preplanned and completely unrelated series of events, Eddie and I got engaged.
As I said, these events were unrelated. However, I have been known to make bizarre connections in my brain. I mean, when things happen in certain sequences, it just...makes me wonder.
With our tenth wedding anniversary on the somewhat near horizon, I've been doing some thinking. And I think I might like an anniversary band of sorts. I'm not usually a jewelry kind of girl, know, it might be nice.

So, if the past is any indicator, I know exactly how to get the diamond I want...

(And for the sense of humor impaired, no, I am not advocating domestic violence. This is just a running joke between my husband and me.)


  1. So THAT'S where I went wrong! I've got to kick a man in the nuts to get married. Gosh. Who knew? :)

  2. LMAO. Cute. Remind me to get Eddie an armored jockstrap for your anniversary.

    John and I were together for almost ten years before we got married. The only reason we got hitched is that he was sick of sharing my computer, and I pointed out that if we got married by the end of the year, the tax savings would be enough to get him one.

    So we were married in our living room on Dec. 29th by a guy who billed himself as, "Affordable Weddings by Bob".

    Your story is a bit more romantic, even with steel-toed boots.


  3. Anitra - Exactly. Kick a man hard enough, you get a diamond.

    Julie - Ha! Nice. :D Our wedding was appropriately goofy and tacky for us...we got married in my parents' screenprinting shop, and I walked up the aisle to the Imperial Death March from Star Wars. Trust us to body-swerve the traditional...

  4. Ah. About 5 years before we got married, we had a "Significant Other Omnidenominational Commitment Festival" with 200 of our closest friends. Hats were required (there were some doozies) as were stolen flowers. Dogs were encouraged; there were about 25. John was brought in trussed up on a spit like a deer carried by four barely adequate men. The "service" was written by a satirical playright we know, and they wouldn't show it to us before the ceremony. It was audience participation, including kazoos and a communical glass of whiskey. I've barely touched the surface here. lol.

    On the way to the farm on Sauvie's Island (near Portland) where we had the festival, John posted 5 signs:

    John loves Julie
    Quite a Lot
    Getting Married?
    Not not not!
    Burma John

    I should write up a complete description some day.