Who she is

One of my best friends got married last weekend. And every time I relive the wedding, my eyes well up with tears – the overwhelming, happy kind.

I didn’t know Edie when she grew up at the farm, played basketball or coped with her parents divorce.

I did know her though when she stood up in front of an angry mob and maintained her composure. I knew her when she struggled to figure out past relationships. I knew her when the next step in her career was confusing. And then I knew her when she met the man she would marry. And when she got the ring. And when she was pissed about the color of vests. And when she said “I will.” (Note: Weddings never actually include the phrase “I do.” Why?)

Edie and I don’t talk much about the weather, politics or the mundane details of our day. We usually ponder the struggles of relationships, the greatness of loving and being loved and the awareness we have of our own insanity.

Edie is the most caring, soul-searching, thoughtful person I know. And it showed in her wedding. In the speech she gave her special girls right after applying her mascara, careful not to brush the black wand against her perfect white dress. In the way she included us in the processional, ending with a pink rose presented by the man who holds her the closest now. In the prayers of thanks for the wisdom, love and laughter we’ve given to her life.

The day was about a sacred union of two great people. But it was also a celebration of the people that made Edie the wonderful girl she is.

And before she ran out under a shower of birdseed, she walked over and handed me her bouquet with a hug. “Because you’re next.” And I cried for the 100th time that day.

Tina Fey reprise

I want that shirt.

Me: I just feel lucky when one person calls me on my birthday.

S: I'll call you.

Me: Psst. You'll be busy voting. And transporting elderly Democrats to the polls.

S: Why yes, everyone who gets in my car gets a party hat and t-shirt with your face on it that says "Celebrate with the better Sarah, vote against that Alaskan bitch."

And that is why we are friends.

Keep the camera charged!

We picked out the ring I am going to wear for the rest of my life on Friday.

The jeweler knows the boy’s family and his dad, brother and friends all bought from him. His store is the size of my living room and the walls are plastered with pictures of professional athletes from Minnesota buying their rings there in addition to Clair Huxtable (Phylicia Rashād) from the Cosby Show (hi, fate).

Gene, the jeweler, had rings and diamonds ready for me to try on. We narrowed it down to a few and then we both just loved one more than the others. It’s a set. Custom designed in NYC for this jewelry store. Only sold once to a couple in Seattle. And it is very, very sparkly.

And it was my size. (fate, again).

There were loose diamonds chosen, prices given, phone numbers exchanged, and then it went back into the vault.

And now, until I see that ring again, every conversation will go this way:

Boy: Hey, do you want to grab dinner tonight?

Me: Yes. WHY? What’s the occasion? Should I dress up? Did you remember the camera? I hope my cell phone is charged today. And the camera! Did you charge the camera? What if the camera battery IS charged but it’s still in the charger in the kitchen? Oooohhh no! Not again! Not now!

And then realizing that it’s highly unlikely I am going to be proposed to at Chipotle, I will cease the panic attack and walk out of the house confidently sans camera in my jeans and sweatshirt.

More serious than someday

Friday afternoon I am leaving work early for a date. And this is no dinner-and-a-movie kind of date.

Lampshade made an appointment downtown. At a jewelry store. To look at rings. The “will you marry me” kind of ring.

We did this once about six months ago but it was a fun, haha, free warm cookie, bottled water and shiny rocks on my hand kind of thing. Just for ideas, for someday.

Now it’s serious. Though I don’t know when it’s going to be for real because of the surprise factor which takes my "I need to know everything, always" brain to the brink of EXPLOSION. But as much whining as I do about the tight-lipped, taunting boy, I secretly want the happy surprised tears whenever they may come.

I have to keep reminding myself that yes, it’s my life I am talking about – this amazingly blessed, rich, uncomplicated, busting daily with love life.

But for now, I build little walls around my dreamy head to focus on the approved topics of work, dog parks, weather, Jamba Juice, K-State football, the Twins, the election and most importantly, how much I love daily life with the boy. And all that is more than enough.