It's in my hands

I've often said "in life we make our own happiness, so if you ain't happy, it's your own darn fault." You can choose to be pissed off, down in the dregs of the toilet or choose to be as happy as a cat chasing flies on a summer's day.

Lately, I've chosen to be furrowed eyebrow with a set of pinched lips. I returned from my road trip across the west two weeks ago ready to blog, blog, blog and was immediately sidetracked by a fuse that went off in my head-- the anger fuse of a rotten, pathetic to the point of looniness situation. Yes, my dear husband whom I hadn't seen in two months lit it and should have remembered to duck as he walked out the door.

Here's the sitch. While vacationing in San Antonio (the one place I didn't drive to this summer), I spent a good week fretting over what to get my dearly beloved for our tenth anniversary. Now like every good wife, I had over romanticized and blown up the importance of such a landmark occasion to where there was no way in hell's smoky canyon my husband could ever live up to my expectations, but there was one thing for sure, I knew I would exceed his.

Now when we first got engaged, my husband bought me a beautiful sapphire, opal and diamond ring for an engagement ring. It was stunning. I loved it, but I think he later regretted being less than traditional and wished he'd bought the honkin' rock we couldn't afford at the time and so shortly after we were married he said he'd get me a diamond for our tenth anniversary. There is nothing like the thought of diamonds that can get a woman to start marking days off the calendar. And so, the planning started-- because I can't help but plan-- what kind of ring I would get for $2 a day over ten years. As you all know it's size shrunk over the years as inflation worked its magic on the gems like an evil potion, but hey $7,300 can still buy one heck of an obnoxious ring.

Then one day, I decided we needed new furniture. I only wanted a new couch and perhaps a chair or two, but my husband doesn't know how to do anything small, so he bought a fancy couch, love seat, two handmade gorgeous God-I Love them chairs and to top it all off a handmade Persian rug that cost as much as all the furniture. And so, I knew I'd now be sitting on my ring instead of wearing it, and you know what? I was alright with it. Well, at first I was sad-- OK I ate a box of See's candy and wrote bad poetry-- especially when my mom bought the ring I had been drooling over, but in time I got over it. Really. I did. Promise. When I am away from home, I literally miss my living room I love it so much. Sure, I can't take it with me and wear it on my hand and fear being mugged, but there is NO ROOM I love more than my fantasy living room with the impractical rug.

Crap. I am taking forever to get to the point. Sorry. I'm out of practice. I'm like a new lover who just wants to take her time, so enjoy.

Anyway, I scoured San Antonio for the perfect gift for my husband. I wanted to buy him ten small gifts-- one for each year. Ten gifts that were so sickening sentimental Hallmark wouldn't even use them for a commercial. Ten impractical gifts-- a picture of us on a log teeter totter that we'd somehow managed to break when we were first married along with a poem I had written about the day "We broke the last teeter totter in Teeterville--" OK you all get the picture. I will spare you the rest of the gifts for fear you will stop reading and never come back.

I was in a fret. I was absolutely stressed because I didn't think I'd be able to find all the items I'd been looking for-- when suddenly the phone rang. It was my husband and from the tone of his voice I knew something was wrong. Had his grandpa died? Had he gotten injured or had one of his friends gotten injured in a fire? Was our house burglarized? No. He'd lost his wedding ring in a fire.

Now, folks this wedding ring had literally saved his life. Last year as he was going into a house, he reached up to grab a wire or something and the wire was still "hot". Fortunately the ring hit the wire first, thus saving his life and putting a dandy rivet in the ring.

And so I had a new mission. Out went my plans for the ten little gifts. He would be the one to get an upgrade on our tenth-- how ironic, but how fitting. He worked so hard and gave up so much for our family. He deserved a new ring.

I searched and searched and searched until I discovered "the ring," a 6mm platinum ring that was so heavy I think you have to lift weights just to wear it. Oh Tiffany's, I've got to love you. But dear readers, one word of advice: Tiffany's is the place to go for platinum. His ring was a good $500 less than everywhere else and it was heavier and more beautiful. It was perfect.

I thought I'd put it on a silver keychain shaped like a flyrod bent over with a fish attached to the line and slip the keychain on a pair of wadding boots-- yes, I can't help it. This is just the way I am.

Unfortunately, I couldn't' find a pair of wadding boots big enough to fit his big old feet, so I bought him a crummy T-shirt, tied the keychain and ring to the price tag, folded it up and placed it on the counter.

"I spent so much money vacationing this summer, I thought I'd cut back on our anniversary this year," I said. "so I just bought you a crummy T-shirt. Hope you don't mind."

He unwrapped the T-shirt and was promptly wacked in the face by the big old ring. I waited with clenched smiling teeth. He's going to love it. He's going to go ga-ga. He's going to say ---

"But it's not our anniversary. Tomorrow is our anniversary."
"What? Isn't today the 23rd?" (I had travelled so much I'd forgotten what day of the week it was-- ooops!).
"No, it's the 22nd," he said, looking at the ring. "You got me a ring?"
"Yes," I said.
"Oh, it's nice," he said. "Is this a keychain?"
"Yes, I wanted to attach the keychain and the ring to a pair of wadding boots but I couldn't find any in your size," I said.
"Really?" he said, putting the ring on his finger. "The ring is too big."
"We can get it sized or I can send it back and get the right size," I said.
And then he put the ring and the keychain back in their respective boxes -- where it would sit for two more days until I had a nervous breakdown and he finally took the keychain out of the box and put his keys on it--and went to bed.
On our anniversary, I woke up early and started pacing, waiting for the fun to begin-- only dear readers it didn't.
He took the kids to Chico and was gone all damn day. I didn't mind. I thought he was making reservations or doing something cute and creative with the kids.
He returned with a batch of Costco orange and purple flowers and said--
"I wanted to get you some jewelry or something, but I couldn't find you anything you'd like that was under $3,000, so I got you some flowers."
"They are pretty," I said, still waiting for an invitation to dinner, to go on a walk, to go to the moon-- somewhere with just the two of us.
"Well, I've got to go to the market for something for dinner," he said. "How does tritip sound to you?"
"Fine," I said-- and then my face hit the floor with disappointment-- mistake No. 1 don't look disappointed in front of my husband because then the "pity party" will commence and he will turn the drama toward himself and suddenly I am enemy No. 1 for expecting a little romance on our anniversary. How he can never do anything right-- yada yada yada you get the picture.
The tears fall. Next come the red eyes. He knows he's blown it. He's probably planned on blowing it, and now it is time for me to pay. Years ago, the tears worked. I actually felt bad for him for blowing it, but he's done this so many times quite frankly he just makes me angry.

"I could call my parents and see if they'll watch the kids," he said.
"You could have asked them last night," I said. "We were there. I told you to ask them, remember? It's 6:30. It's too late and quite frankly it won't make any difference."

This is true. He'd blown it so badly there was no going back. He could do nothing to make me happy and I at least had the sense to know it.

"Do you really want to spend the evening alone with an angry woman?" I said. "I just can't believe this is how you wanted to spend your anniversary. Ten years is a big deal. Is this really what you wanted to do-- stay home and watch TV with the kids. Well get over it. We'll just put this aside and move on. I'm going to be pissed, but I'll get over it. Let's at least take the kids out for ice cream."

And so, I've spent the last two weeks angry, pissed off and just plain contemplating the joys of marriage. I returned his ring and bought myself a cheap little heart-shaped garnet ring similar to one he gave me when we first started dating. It didn't cost much but I loved it because it reminded me of how we were when we first met. And then I realized it was time to move on. I have invested too much in this marriage to let this situation feed my anger.

I also wanted to put things into perspective. When he received such an expensive gift, he probably felt like a butthead-- like how the hell do I compete with that. He'd been working two months straight without any days off. The only chance he had to do anything was on the day of our anniversary (he came home the night before), so he probably felt a little crappy because he had wanted to buy the big ring and take me on a vacation and all that hoopla, but the money just wasn't there (I didn't help matters either by sucking up our savings with his ring). And so, most likely feeling defeated, he did nothing (bad choice, but I can understand it in some ways, looking back on the situation).

If he only had the confidence to know, it's not about who buys the most expensive gift; it's just about loving the person you are with. I would have loved a walk in the park or a handmade card -- or for him to show real joy when he opened my present.

Writing this, I feel like a shallow butt head with too much anger stored up to do anything about it-- which is good for me. It puts things in perspective.

And so, I'm going to take my own advice and "get on with it--" and forgive my husband. I make my own happiness, and so next time I'll try to share in the planning and take the burden off his shoulders.

And I'm going to start blogging again. For the next couple of weeks, I'll probably just post columns and articles I wrote about my trips-- instead of rehashing them again-- and then, I'll move on with more stuff.

Love you all. Thanks for reading.