You Must Have A Ring Story

As Sheryl Crow puts it, "diamond ring don't mean a thing" and for a long time I felt the same way. Diamond rings are no big deal.

That was until I actually had marriage on the mind as a real possibility. That's when diamond ring became a bit of an obsession.

And of course, I panicked.

I mean what kind of ring did I want? I'm not accustomed to wearing rings. What will I ever do with something so expensive on my finger? I can't fathom having someone spend so much on something so small. Would I ever be able to put my left hand in my pocket again? I'm going to have to put everything in my right pocket from then on.

So I made the practical decision to look for something not too big, not too small, pretty flat as to facilitate pocket digging, and not too pricey. And then I had to wait for Mr. Fox.

You see, Mr. Fox was scared to buy intimidated by the idea of buying the ring on his own and surprising me. He knows I am particular. He wanted me to be happy and satisfied. (*big smile*)

So I took this to mean that I had to hunt down my own ring and present him with options on how to buy. I was unfazed by this idea. Actually, me, the lover of control, decided that this was the opportune way to ensure I got something I really wanted, sans dramatic Carrie response (like I talked about here). So I went on an internet hunt to some of my favorite jewelry sites like the Shane Company (a throwback from home), Blue Nile, and pretty much anywhere else the random internet search turned up. After my study of the 4 Cs, I figured the easiest (and most cost effective) way to get what I wanted was to find a setting and then pick a diamond. I presented my findings to Mr. Fox.

But Mr. Fox still refused to make the purchase on his own. He wanted guidance. What this meant was that we spent an entire Saturday afternoon screen sharing over Skype. Yet, even after the lengthy discussion over price and value and investment and blah, blah, blah, Mr. Fox still refused to take the plunge and buy the surprise ring.

So we compromised. (Compromise: (n.) the key to successful relationships; almost like getting what you want)

Our Compromise: Mr. Fox was coming to visit a few weeks later where we would be attending a conference together in Chicago. We'd have a few days in NJ before and after the trip, thus we could fit in the ring shopping. Plan made!

Now that we had a plan of action, I decided to take a peek at a shop in the local mall, preparing for Mr. Fox's visit and impending ring purchase. I found this ring:

I thought I had found "the one". Source.

I tried it on and fell into immediate infatuation. It was so sparkly!!! It looked so lovely on my pinky finger!!! It wasn't terribly expensive...

I was so infatuated that I basically put a hold on the ring with the pushy sales woman and told her that I would return with Mr. Fox later that week to rescue my infatuation and make it mine.

So when Mr. Fox arrived later that week, we promptly went to the mall for a whirlwind shopping trip hitting 4 different jewelry stores, saving "the one" for last.

It was educational, to say the least.

In the first store, we were entertained by a lovely lady who turned Mr. Fox on to the idea of the solitaire. Interestingly enough, I really had very few concrete criteria going in to all of this and NO SOLITAIRES was one of them. So having Mr. Fox being so interested in such was a bit of a nightmare at first.

However, when that guy has an idea that has sound reason behind it he can be really persuasive. His newly discovered idea was this:

"If you are buying a diamond, why hide it with a lot of other diamonds? The reason a diamond is so beautiful is because of the way the light reflects inside of it. If you put many lesser quality diamonds around it you are essentially wasting money because you do not actually get to experience the quality of the largest and most expensive diamond."

That crap makes sense.

So somehow I found myself agreeing with this guy and going along on the great solitaire hunt.

But we still had not yet visited the jeweler where I had placed "the one" on hold. I saved her for last. Yet, after hearing all the hype, when Mr. Fox finally saw "the one" his only real response was a damning, "it's not you."

I was crushed.

Strangely, when I had that little sparkly on my pinky finger again, I had also felt the same way. My infatuation was gone.

So after some hurt feelings (not mine) and Mr. Fox getting to practice his fantastic ability to unapologetically say "No" to anyone, we left, exhausted and ringless.

But then along came Chicago and their lovely Diamond Row. However, the problem was that we were pretty unexcited about ring shopping again. We were tired of pushy sales people and not finding something that really fit the bill. I conducted another internet search trying to find a store on The Row worth visiting. Neither of us had any desire to schlepp up and down some long street peeking in every shop with diamond rings in the window.

My search turned up something that looked like a gem. I was a bit skeptical of it at first due to the uninspired name of Wedding Bands & Co. but there were just too many great reviews to ignore. Additionally, they are an actual jeweler and design their own jewelry and creativity turns me on. So we reluctantly dragged ourselves over to the shop in question.


We were greeted by a lovely salesman named Victor. He was friendly and stylish, clearly knew his stuff, and made us quite comfortable. Big plus: he was not at all pushy. 


So we did it: we made the BIG purchase! Our fantastic experience with Victor, plus the lovely settings and assortment of stones that he showed us helped Mr. Fox to find that ring that is uniquely me (that he would later use to torment me for several days like I wrote about here).


I couldn't be happier. (*big smile*)

Mr. Fox's tangible gift of love.

I Must Not Understand

So I keep reading about "The Big Chop" that all the cool brides get after the wedding is all said and done. What's the deal with this?!?! I don't get it.

Correction: I didn't get it.

I get it now....

...now that my ends look like this:

Yay! Split ends galore! Source.

and is full of little knots like this:

This is a single strand of hair, gloriously knotted upon itself. Some call them Fairy Knots, I call them *insert expletive here*. Source.

and in the morning, when I look in the mirror and see my hair all over the place, I tend to make this face:

Hair despair. Where is my personal hair stylist when I need them? Oh, right. I'm not rich. Source.

The backstory goes like this:

I have no idea what I want to do with my hair for the wedding but what I do know is that I want it to look awesome and classy and classic and unique and also frame my big round face well. Oh, not to mention, I don't want it to look like it did in my senior prom photos.

So how do I achieve all of that italicized goodness with my hair? No clue. I'm sure it has to involve copious amounts of professional grade hair product, patience, faith, and some damned good styling tools. Hell, not to mention one hell of a talented hair wrangler.

I feel like I'm in trouble.

Big Question: How do I (an italicized I is a way to better convey my cluelessness) actually get started on all this?

Simple Answer: Go on hair hiatus.

Next Question: WTF does that mean?

Explanatory Answer: I do not cut, color, or meaningfully style my hair until the morning of my wedding.

Confused Follow Up Question: Doesn't that mean that your hair will look... um, interesting in the meantime?

Confident Answer: Of course!

So, naturally, I have steeled myself for this:

Just to remind you if you forgot already. Source.

But of course, this all relates to The Big Chop because the only way to really repair split ends is by cutting them off. So now it all makes sense to me. If you go on hair hiatus you will invariably have a nest of split ends on your head that will progressively get worse with time. Thus, after your wedding day professional hair mask has been removed and you return to Earth as a normal person again you will need to cut off the icky hair nest.

I get it now and can't f*ing wait until I can BIG CHOP too.

Your Milestones Must Have Celebrations

One year ago today, Mr. Fox and I were engaged. Interestingly enough, it was him who remembered this fact, not I. Needless to say, I was super impressed to find this out since his memory isn't really the best. This is how the conversation went, over dinner:

Mr. Fox: Did you know that tomorrow is our one year engagement anniversary?
Me: (completely surprised) No, I had completely forgotten! You're right!
Mr. Fox: (triumphantly) See, I remember stuff.
Me: (kind of excited) So we're going to have a date over sushi to celebrate?
Mr. Fox: (a bit hesitantly) Well, I thought about surprising you with that but then I changed my mind.
Me: (excitement gone, expecting a big letdown) Why?
Mr. Fox: (sarcastically) Because we can go grocery shopping and you could always cook instead.

He's romantic, that one. But seriously, sometimes he really is. Especially that time he decided to propose marriage...

We, like many modern long distance couples, had decided to buy the engagement ring together. There would be no little-ring-box-surprise for me. I would not experience that Sex in the City moment where Carrie puked after seeing the ring Aidan had selected for her (in the following video around 2:20).

But I was okay with it. Choosing the ring together meant that I would ultimately get what I wanted... or so I thought.

You see, after many (exhausting) visits to various jewelry stores in the Princeton, NJ area, we still had not found the ring. We were suffering a time crunch, like always, and had to take the hunt on the road. We were going to Chicago for a conference I had helped to organize and decided to stay a few days afterward to enjoy each other and the city. While there, our ring was born and it was a lovely experience. (We'll talk more about that later.)

Having a lovely time! House of Blues, Chicago.

Normal photo, even including a smile. House of Blues, Chicago.

So it was done! We had succeeded! There was a ring! And I was so happy!

Except...

I had to wait.

Mr. Fox had no intention of giving me the ring in Chicago. He just decided it was more fun to watch me squirm knowing that that lovely piece of expensive commitment was in the hotel safe.

For 3 days he was a complete bastard.

Ok, not really. But I was amped! The first day was excruciating, the second day less so, and with the failure to produce a bent knee on the third day, I resigned and we returned to NJ on July 4th.

Things had gone well with our travels and mini-vacation until I arrived to my apartment and had a nasty spat with my sister. I was upset the rest of the night, but fortunately had Mr. Fox to comfort me.

I returned to work the next day leaving Mr. Fox to play house husband and IT technician while I was away. (Sidenote: he is fantastic at both these jobs... too bad I have no desire to be the breadwinner.) When I came home, I asked if he was interested in having sushi for dinner. He agreed, saying "that was my idea."

During dinner, I anxiously watched his hands and any time they dipped below the table, I eagerly anticipated the big reveal. However anxious I was, with each hand dip, I experienced a moment of panic since the all-you-can-eat sushi buffet is not exactly the kind of classy place you want to be the home of your engagement stories and memories. Alas, the sushi dinner date was simple and uneventful.

We returned home to the plans to watch a movie. While I settled on the couch, Mr. Fox disappeared into the bathroom. Nothing abnormal about that. As I searched Netflix for something I felt like watching, Mr. Fox came out of the nether regions of the apartment and sat on the floor in front of me. He seemed a bit out of sorts, his body language was a bit tense.

He asked, "How long have we known each other?"
I responded, ever so technically, "Well, we met in February 2009 when I visited Germany the first time for my assignment so I guess that makes it about 2 years and 5 months. But we've only been dating since April of last year."
He responded, inching a bit closer to me, voice full of emotion, "These past few years have been the happiest of my life."
I could feel his emotion, I started to get emotional myself.
"I would like to continue this happiness for the rest of my life with you as my wife."
I burst into tears. Huge, ugly, gasping tears. I didn't even really hear the rest of what he said. I just saw the little box brought out and opened with the tiny treasure inside. I cried more as he slipped the ring onto my finger. We hugged, we kissed.

And at some point I was able to get it together and say, "I suppose I'm supposed to respond. (Me, the eternal smart ass.) Yes, yes of course I do!"

And that was it! We were engaged!

We rounded out our emotional evening by watching a very fitting movie: a documentary on the Aryan Brotherhood. We're romantics.

You Must Create Your Own Drama

Today I feel like nothing and no one. I have been oozing around my apartment making half-hearted attempts to be productive only to abandon them within minutes for more oozing.

At some point I experienced hunger and oozed to the kitchen to find it dirty and lacking anything I wanted to eat, so I oozed back to the seat in front of my computer. I remembered that I could actually have someone from the outside of my ooze bring me food but then I have no desire for anything that I actually can have delivered. Oh, yeah, that's right... it's because I really have no real feeling for anything right now.

Then ice cream came to mind. Mmmm. (I'm lactose intolerant but willingly suffer for ice cream.) But of course, ice cream is far... it's outside of my ooze zone.

But then I remembered that I had a small pint of Haagen Dazs caramel au beurre salé stashed in the freezer.

Ooze battling fantastic-ness. Source.

I am eating said yumminess right now.

And it is fueling my ability to write.

So what is actually causing all this ooziness? I'm not normally all oozy like this, I suppose you could say I'm a bit depressed. But the truth is...

I'm impatient.

I'm feeling like this because I'm *waiting* for things to be delivered so that I can finish making my wonderful handmade wedding invitations, triumphantly putting them in the mail and sending them out to all the lovely guests who are anxiously awaiting them. (At least I hope they are.)

But today I am making no progress because I have to wait for the post.

So I ooze on... Ooze momentarily suspended by creamy goodness.