The Beginning of the Beginning

Two years ago I decided to give myself a birthday present: a date with a beautiful woman. That date was the day before my birthday and it was incredible. About a week later we'd have our second date, a trip to the California Academy of Sciences. It would turn out to be the beginning of the most incredible relationship of my life. Two years later I decided to give myself an even more audacious birthday present. I'd ask this amazing woman to marry me.

The ring came in the mail on Thursday. No tracking number. No insurance. No signature at the door. Just a small brown box jammed under the doormat. Rachel, when she got home, actually noticed the doormat was a little bent like something had been jammed underneath it. I told her that the UPS guy had tried to cover a large box of knives she'd ordered with it. People say that I am not good at lying or keeping secrets. Maybe that's true and maybe it isn't - I don't want to tip my hand - but what people fail to take into consideration, I think, is that Rachel is extremely perceptive. I don't think I've ever been 100% successful at keeping something from her long enough for it to be a genuine surprise.

I rushed the package up to my room and opened it. It was the first time I'd seen the ring in person. I'd found it on a website for a store in Portland, ME that specializes in jewelry made by local artisans and in a few pieces of vintage and antique jewelry. It was the first ring I had bookmarked in my search. It was the first ring I'd shown Rachel as an example of the kinds of things I was looking at. It ended up being The Ring. The pictures had not done it justice. It was gorgeous. It was vintage. It matched the wedding band that Rachel's great grandmother had worn as well as I could have hoped. I checked all of the criteria off in my head. I was excited but calm, not at all nervous or anxious. I put the ring on. I took some pictures to send to my brothers and sisters who had been advising me in my ring hunt and proposal planning.

It wasn't until Friday evening that it really hit me. I had taken the ring to work to show some close friends. I told people my plan. I revised the short poem I'd written. I texted Rachel to get her mother's phone number - not at all suspicious - and when I got home from work I called her and had a really nice, slightly frenetic, conversation. Honestly, I hadn't planned out much to say beyond "I'm planning to ask Rachel to marry me this Sunday." The news was well-received, though, and I felt good. Almost there. All I needed to do now was talk to her father and hope the weather held out for Sunday. It looked like rain.

But Friday was the first time it really hit me: I wasn't going to be single much longer. Sure, I hadn't been single single for almost two years but I'd never been engaged before either and that seemed like a big big deal. It seemed even less single. It seemed like the least single I would ever be in my life before getting married. I decided to document how I spent my last hours un-fianced.

Rachel got home from the gym around 5 and we set about unpacking a big box of very sharp knives. Her old coworkers had purchased her a Crate & Barrel gift card as a going away present and she decided it was time to have more than one good knife. We spent a good amount of time cutting object of various densities and sizes into segments of fractionally smaller size. Sharp knives are a little scary. I kept thinking to myself "9 out of ten fingers agree, sharp knives are great!" No blood was spilled. I was still buzzing from my day of ring sharing and mother calling (attempted father calling) and was looking forward to spending a night with my love that only I knew was marginally special. Alas, she'd been invited to do some crafting for our friends' wedding in two weeks. We whipped up some burritos in the microwave (scary radiation box of cell death) and she left me to an evening of Real Time with Bill Maher and falling asleep on the couch. When she got back she told me that a lot of my male friends were over at the crafting party and I could have gone too. Shoot! Maybe next time.

Saturday started off like usual, Rachel getting up for work woke me up and I went downstairs to make coffee and breakfast. Rachel didn't want a big breakfast so I French pressed out a couple of coffees and made myself some eggs over easy and wheat toast and split a Kiwi with her. It was a really good Kiwi. Rachel left for work and I chuckled at the ineptitude of the local newscast for a bit before putting on some grubby clothes and riding my bike over to the Westbrae Nursery. We'd been super busy and every weekend for months had been filled with activities which subtly equated to yard neglect. I'd had enough of the weeds choking out the plants and enough of the promises of my landlord that he'd have a gardener out. I picked up a pair of clippers, a pair of loppers, a metal spade and a pruning saw (accuracy of tool terminology not guaranteed). I loaded them into my bike basket and headed home. I was ready to do work.

I threw myself into my work and two and a half hours later had trimmed, weeded, hedged and beheaded enough plant life to fill the driveway. I'd done enough destruction to fill my yard waste barrel four times over. By the time I was done I could barely hold my water bottle and my arms were so shaky I splashed it all over myself anyway. I began to worry I'd be so broken that, when I tried to put the ring on her finger, my shaking would fling it down some kind of grating that leads to a bottomless pit. I mean, realistically. We were planning to celebrate my birthday that night with a dinner at La Lime's so I didn't want to eat too much for lunch but was also starving. A pb&j sandwich and half a box of Annie's Bunny Grahams (assorted) hit the spot. I tried calling Rachel's father again but he didn't answer so I jumped in the shower.


I'd gotten myself cleaned up when the phone rang, Rachel's father returning my call. Now, I knew he'd had his reservations about me but I felt like, after two years of slightly awkward interactions, we'd really hit our stride and had come to like each other. A recent day and evening in Napa for Rachel's birthday had been exceedingly pleasant and had left me feeling like everything had worked itself out. This was not quite the case. I had expected, at the very least, a begrudging congratulations tempered with a wait and see attitude. Sadly, this also was not quite the case. However, I remained undaunted (or at least only very mildly daunted).

I was physically exhausted from the work I'd done that morning so I watched How To Train Your Dragon (really pretty good) and Sixteen Candles (When I started watching I saw that it had 2 stars and I thought "2 stars?! This movie is a brat pack classic!" Yeah, 2 stars is about right.) Around 4 I started to get bored and knew Rachel would be home soon. I texted her to see if she'd want to walk to Mr. Mopps with me to see if they have Nerf guns. I'd decided I needed a Nerf gun. Cat training tool, this was the official explanation, although really I just wanted to spend some time shooting foam darts at things. She wasn't up for it and had napping on her schedule instead.

I walked up to Mr. Mopps, listening to the new Panda Bear album and daydreaming in world as I walked. Mr. Mopps had a very poor selection of faux weaponry. Thanks a lot, progressive Berkeley. I couldn't leave empty-handed, though. Mr. Mopps is one of those places that I love for the fact that it exists. I want it to exist. I want it to succeed. It's an institution and it's awesome and cute and if I have kids I want to take them there so I had to buy something. By this time I was being helped by an employee so I asked if they had any books on origami, picked up a Klutz book on the subject and was on my way, walking in the sunshine.

Rachel was napping when I got home so I folded an origami cat (actually a bunny that I thought looked very cat like) and tried to make it look like Charlie. Then I joined Rachel for some light napping. Dear David and Jessica, thanks for stopping by and leaving goodies! Sorry we did not come to the door but we were napping and thought you were either one of the constant string of solicitors for non-profits that we get or our next door neighbors asking if they can clip the dahlias. If we had known it was you, we'd have come downstairs and said hello.

We got ourselves all fancied up and headed out for my fancy birthday dinner. Friends, this dinner was amazing. From the drinks to the food to the service, La Lime's did not miss a beat. I kicked things off with a Sazerac and Rachel with a glass of Pinot Grigio (I think). We started off with the best olives I've ever had, some super fresh mozzarella and a mixed greens salad. We continued with a fresh and light shrimp and peas pasta dish for Rachel and a burger with pork belly on it for me. We also ordered some beets to share and my burger came with little whole fried potatoes that we also shared. I had a glass of a Syrah blend that melted away any remaining thoughts and stress of the day and of the day ahead. It was a meal in the moment and it was amazing. For dessert we shared a Peach Tatin ala mode and a glass of Moscato. We made our way back home and dozed off watching Eureka on demand. Happy birthday to me.

The next day I would propose to Rachel. I had a plan. I had a poem. I had a ring. I was ready.