Big News

I liked it, so I took Beyonce's sage advice, and I put a ring on it.

I decided to ask my lady to marry me on Christmas. I know that this has been done before, but my story is, I think, very special to me. First of all, I knew she'd never expect it. We've been talking about getting married since shortly after we met (seriously the topic came up on one of our first dates), so the proposal itself was not a surprise. But she's seen my bank account and she knows I can't afford a $1,700 diamond ring, plus I've been telling her for about a year that we (we, mind you) will have to start saving up the money for the ring. Little did she know that I've been setting up a diamond express since last spring. I asked my mother's beloved cousin, a childless bachelor, if he knew of any familial engagement jewelry. My great-grandmother's diamond was passed down to his mother, my great aunt, who eventually re-set it into a pretty "cocktail ring," which was in my cousin's safe deposit box in California. A few months later he visited New York City and passed the ring to my sister. A month after that my parents were visiting her and brought it back to Buffalo. Ironically, I was in New York before my parents, but we were on our way to Peru and I wasn't about to lose it to some pickpocket there, so it waited for my parents to transport it home. (I did get to peek at it during my visit, while my intended was busy elsewhere.)

For a few months the diamond lay dormant in a sealed envelope at the bottom of a drawer. During this time my lady and I bought a house and moved in to it together, all the while talking about how eventually we'll have enough money to afford a diamond. When it came close to the holidays I began to get the itch to make it official. I visited a few jewelers to discuss re-setting the stone in a ring that I knew would please my lady. (I had staked out the kind of setting she likes "just for fun" months in advance.) The gemologists were all impressed by the diamond, and consensus was that it was over 100 years old and cut in Europe. They also warned me that I needed to be careful with the little diamonds that were to be set alongside the central stone. My great-grandmother's diamond was so clear and well-cut that impure or otherwise lesser diamonds would really stick out in comparison. They said that the settings ordered straight out of a catalogue are usually fine, there is no guarantee of the diamonds' quality. The way to ensure that the setting's diamonds were matched to the main stone was to have the jeweler order the metal band from the catalogue, then insert the small diamonds himself. Ironically, this was also far more cost effective than ordering the completed package from the company. The only downside? It would take several weeks, and with the busy holiday season the ring would not be ready for Christmas.

This left me with a dilemma. I could try to have the ring ready for my lady's birthday, a few weeks after Christmas. But there was no guarantee it would be done by then either, and I really didn't want to wait. And if I proposed on Christmas it would have some additional advantages, notably that we were going to see both of our entire families that same day. Additionally, it was Christmas day two years ago that we decided we were officially going to be a couple. We counted it last year as our anniversary, and I wanted to make it doubly special. And most importantly, I didn't want to wait while some jeweler fiddled with rocks, I wanted to be engaged to the most wonderful woman I've ever know. So I decided to go for it, noting that she could approve the setting before I ordered it. It is fitting of my beloved to consider such practical matters amidst all the romance.

On Christmas morning I got up early to take the dogs out and let my lady sleep in as long as she pleased. About half an hour later she got up, just as I was about to make her breakfast and bring it up to her. She didn't want to wait for breakfast, so I scrapped the idea as she brought out my present. Thinking ahead to potential hugs and kisses I suggested we shower and brush our teeth, but she was too excited about presents. I knew she is practically allergic to morning breath, so I improvised with peppermint gum for each of us. She wanted to go first, and handed me a rather large box. I had no idea what to expect as she proudly informed me that she was sure I was getting the "best gift." Inside I found a beautiful antique-style globe of the type I've been admiring since we first met. It takes someone really special to notice the two times a year I mention how I'd love a globe in the house, and remember it when it comes to present time. She pointed out that I looked genuinely surprised and thrilled, and I truly was. Hugs, kisses, complements on her taste, etc.

Then it was my turn. I woke up our dog and made him come downstairs. (She didn't see why this was necessary at the time, but I wanted him to be present for such an important moment in our family!) I retrieved a little gift bag from our spare room that had been sitting idle for about two weeks. She looked inside to find an iTunes gift card, something she had mentioned wanting in passing. She was also happy, but I could tell she felt vindicated as the best gift-giver, to put it politely. I told her to keep looking in the bag. She pulled out all the tissue and found an envelope in the bottom. Inside the envelope were pictures of the settings I picked out in the style she likes. I told her she should pick her favorite because, as I got down on one knee and pulled out the little box, I had a beautiful diamond to go with it. She shouted "Yes! Yes!" before I could get any further, so I pointed out that I hadn't asked anything yet and that I had some words prepared. She smiled and listened as I took her hands in mine, and told her that I love her more than anything in the world, that I want to spend the rest of my life with her, and asked her if she would marry me. She responded similarly to the first time, more hugs and kisses ensued, and I pretty much haven't been able to stop smiling since.

Some might plan their proposals to be filled with literal fireworks or elaborate stunts. But in planning the moments I was reminded of how impressed my lady was of the proposal on The Office, which just happened in the moment when the time was right in a place that was unpresumptuous and meaningful to the couple for their own idiosyncratic reasons. Our engagement happened in our pajamas, on our couch and with our dogs. That exact setup has seen us through many snuggly nights, and she commonly refers to it as her "happy place." Anyone can go to a fancy restaurant, but no one else in the world shares that place besides us. Anyone can celebrate Christmas, but few other people even knew that we considered it our dating-anniversary. Though they were unimpressed with the inedible diamond ring, I was glad our dogs were there to share the moment. And though I didn't have the entire ring in one place, the spirit thoroughly moved us both and we agreed that it happened just when it needed to.


We called many members of the family that very same morning with the news, and we saw almost all of our immediate family later in the day. Apparently my bride-to-be has exactly the same finger size as my great-aunt, so she has been enjoying wearing the old setting while we wait for the new one to be built. There are, of course, myriad stories that have developed even in the few days since then. But suffice it to say for now that I liked it so I went and put a ring on it.

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1/9/2010 EDIT:

This morning we picked up the ring in the setting we picked out. I'm thrilled. I'm actually much more excited about it than I expected to be. It is beautiful, and it looks so good to have the perfect, prettiest ring on the hand of the perfect, prettiest girl. And it's not just aesthetics, that woman is my intended. I love this.

Movies, comics and family, don't you know

Today I read this installment of Dinosaur Comics and it made me think thoughts. I don't know about clapping in movies, I have no strong opinions about that at this time, but panels 4 & 5 really spoke to me.

This jumped through the author-internet-reader conduit as a conversation that my lady and I have had innumerable times. I like to stay for the credits, she likes to get on with it. Antecedently, my family always stayed for the credits and hers never did. My parents have a long tradition of looking for the "Best Boy" and the "Key Grip," which is cute and fun. What do those people do? I have no idea, but they're always listed in the credits (never a "Best Girl" though). Not knowing anything about the movie industry nor anyone in the industry, my parents have no real need to look for the BB or KG, but it's just fun. It's like a long, moving word search. I like to look at the music credits. See who performed the songs (both pop songs and the score), who composed the score, which recording company did the work and who's releasing the soundtrack, et cetera.

For me thinking about the music is a way of reflecting back on the movie. "That movement was called 'intense dreams?' Oh that must have been during..." or "When did they play 'London Calling?' Wait, it wasn't The Clash's version? Was there a reason to use a cover version?" It's all part of the larger purpose of the creditstime: to come down from the movie experience, to reflect, to prepare myself to walk back into the lighted hallway and reintegrate with the world that has not just seen the movie. I tend to get so wrapped up in the movie experience that this processing time is important. My lady, on the other hand, consumes a movie and moves on. Not to make her sound like Galactus or something, but she just doesn't get as transported by the experience of movies, or most art for that matter. It's not for lack of attention. We have had some interesting and occasionally impassioned discussions about movies. She often catches subtleties that I missed, maybe because they didn't sink in during my end credits processing time.

She has her own way of enjoying the movie experience. She takes in the movie as it happens and, I believe, processes it best while she's doing other things. So in the dark theater she doesn't need the processing time, doesn't play the "find the Best Boy" game, nor has she any other reason to stay. (She does quite like soundtracks, and has even purchased a few, but she prefers to look them up when she gets home.) For her the movie credits are merely a signal that it's time to leave. She is not alone in this, of course, as almost everyone leaves within a minute or two of seeing the credits roll. Perhaps I'm in some weird, shrinking minority.

But apparently, T-Rex and I are members of the same minority. (I'm sure we could find other things in common, too.) My "why stay for the credits" reasoning is played out pretty accurately in this comic. T-rex's is pithier of course, as it's a six-panel comic and few of my thoughts can be so condensed anyway. But I think the heart of the argument is the same. I feel a kinship with the Terrible Lizard King. This makes the non-sequitur ending even funnier, by the way. As with the whole rest of this line of thinking, getting more deeply involved allows me a greater enjoyment of the component parts and the whole. Furthermore, writing this has made me appreciate my overall credit-watching experience, this particular comic experience, and the current writing experience, all the more! This is so freaking meta!

Does it ruin the meta-ness to point that out? Or enhance it? I don't know. Process this on your own, I've got other stuff to do.