I possess the uncanny ability to spot odds and ends around the house and make a mental note. Roseanne Barr called it a uterine tracking device, which she denied having, but,unfortunately for me, I do have one.I know where everything is, unless, of course, it belongs to me. My family always asks me to find their lost shit, generally before they have even started looking for it themselves. In most cases, I had a hand in putting it away somewhere out of sight,usually after I stepped on it,stubbed my toe, or just got sick of looking at it. Everyone else seems content to accidentally kick the same stuffed animal every time they pass through the hallway door, with no inclination to pick it up and put it away.It ricochets off the baseboard and goes careening under the dining room chair where it will stay forever and be slowly devoured by dust bunnies if I don't crawl under there and pick it up. When it comes to my own lost shit, however, I know that only I will ever find it, since no one is picking up after me.I have no one to whom I can holler down the stairs "WHERE'S MY _________???!!!".
My misplaced stuff is in good company, I think, with all of the single socks from the dryer, single diamond studs whose partners languish in my jewelry box ( and I have long since given up trying to determine which is real and which isn't since they all look exactly the same) and most recently my wedding ring. Yes, you read it correctly, I lost my fucking wedding ring. It is in my house-my chaotic, disorganized house, somewhere- but not in any of the usual spots. I have looked in every logical place and failed to produce it. I will say that I took it off a lot because it wasn't very friendly to my finger. It tended to irritate the skin and eventually had to come off for a day or two at a time.This has been going on for almost five years, so it never occurred to me that I might actually lose it. The funny part is, when I tell people-like my husband and my girlfriends- everyone gasps and clutches their chests and tears up. I must seem terribly cynical, but I don't feel that broken up about it. I am more annoyed with my inablilty to be consistent with my belongings. For me, the ring doesn't represent our marriage.Our whole life represents our marriage-our kids,our experiences,our pictures.The day to day stuff is what our marriage is about, not a single metal band that we picked out together while I bounced out first child on my hip. I had Big three months before the big day and was overwhelmed and running on fumes when I walked down the aisle.
We got married at a vineyard in September, and I couldn't see the touching sight of my boyfriend/fiancee of nine years welling up at the sight of me in a wedding dress because I didn't want my glasses to ruin the pictures. My father kindly narrated so I could react appropriately, but I was already focused on what I was actually able to see, which was the bare cement walkway that was supposed to be sprinkled with red rose petals. With my background in catering, this was unacceptable, and impossible to miss, but hardly the time to address it. We said our vows,which were traditional, and naturally omitted "obey".They made no mention of him being the rock and, I, the island or anything remotely resembling "our own vows". We kept it short and simple and traditional. Afterward, we ran down the aisle to happy applause, and I actually felt like I was there for the first time.
The party began. I spent the next five hours watching our guests,including my new husband, revel in our happiness. Don't get me wrong-I was very,very happy, but with two families/two worlds colliding, at our request, and a newborn that was feeding on demand,relaxing isn't a word that came to mind.Just when I would begin to settle in and grab my glass for a small sip of champagne, someone would tap my shoulder and whisper " it's time". I would beeline for the limousine where my new baby was being watched by a sitter and her eight year old.I'd squeeze inside in my enormous dress, and, as I sat with the tulle of my full poufy skirt rising up around me,nursing my child, the sitter would tell me another installment of the saga of her life. Why she brought her son to the wedding lasted for the first two intervals, then it segwayed into why her husband left and finished with me telling her,kindly, to go home early because Big finally fell asleep. My favorite photos are of the wedding in full swing and someone-an aunt, uncle, sister, holding a bundled Big in her nubbiest blankie, her chubby ankle peeking out.
My wedding also had lots of drama. It was very cold,despite the thirty heat lamps we scrounged up (and paid a fortune for) at the last minute.There was a screaming fight in the parking lot.Several guests had issues with the very nice Port-o-Johns we rented for lack of any indoor facilities and chose to urinate in the vines instead. Many drank too much and later returned to the vines to vomit. The owner actually found a pair of pants in the vines, which belonged to a guest who had to change his clothes on arrival. My dear friend arrived late and rushed to the aisle in a sweaty wife beater and shorts so as not to miss the moment,which was actually quite charming. A female relative was given some sort of illicit substance ( I think she was dosed) that made her act literally retarded, then caused her to vomit all the way home in the limousine-a three hundred dollar cleaning fee. And that is the stuff I can actually put in print.
Again, I loved my wedding,but hopefully it wasn't a template for the rest of my life.It was a big crazy party to celebrate our decision to make our family legit in the eyes of the world. In my eyes, we had already committed to the long haul when we got pregnant and had a kid together.
So, sorry I lost my wedding ring, but the less expensive substitute I now wear that doesn't irritate my skin makes me feel just as married as the one I can't find. Thank God it wasn't the engagement ring( which will be the topic of its own post).Given my track record with losing really nice things,I can now feel fortunate that I am too fat to wear it.
p.s. I just found a very expensive pair of sunglasses(ridiculous but well intentioned Christmas gift from Husband who was horrified by my 99 cents store frames) that were declared officially lost almost a year ago.They were in a miscellaneous bag of craft times, shoved on the upper shelf of the linen closet.How they got stuffed in a bag of fake flowers I will never know but I can't wait to see where my ring turns up.....