Sunday, March 20, 2011

Getting Civilized


We have movement!

Although the wife did not go for the civil union softball tournament, she was fabulous with the idea of a picnic.  Who doesn't love a good picnic? We've had a couple awesome picnics over the years, most notably the wife's 40th birthday party a few years back.  We love being by the lake.  The wife loves the idea that no one will wear their muddy shoes into our house because they'll be at a picnic five miles away. I love the idea of a picnic because I can do all sorts of immature, fun things and not get in trouble for it.  Water balloon toss or potato sack race, anyone?

Besides, how can a picnic threaten anyone?

First comes picking a date.  Thankfully, we are very much in agreement about this. We contemplate family vacations, another couple's civil union, graduations, holidays and such.  We determine my birthday weekend really is the best weekend around.  Saturdays are always better for those traveling (and many of the wife's peeps will indeed be traveling), so Saturday it is.  We don't ask anyone about it.  We just decide.

For the record: always ask the "really significant peeps" before deciding a date. Sigh.

While the wife is verbalizing the pros and cons of a picnic, I hop on the Internet and figure out how to check the availability of local shelters.  I see the shelter we want on the date we are aiming for is already booked.  I let the wife continue her external processing while I take a gander at other selections at the park. As our date is technically still flexible at this moment, I check a few other dates, too. Nope.  Not conducive to what we are aiming for. I reflect on how I should proceed. I see that the reservation fee is only $25.  The shelter right next to the one we originally wanted is available. I know exactly what it looks like and know it has a "bigger" view of the lake.  As it is only $25, I make my move: Click! Booked. I can always cancel it, easy enough. I wait for the wife to stop talking and come to the same agreement.  I know she will come to the same conclusion because we have been together a bazillion years and know how her mind works.  Sure enough, in minutes she decides this is a great idea--as long as we go look at the site tomorrow.  I'm all good with that.

Next, comes the "ceremony" discussion.  So there is no confusion, I state: the picnic will not be featuring a ceremony, fondling, kissing, professing of love....well, not by us, anyways--we have no control over our guests.  We'll have fun photos, great stories, tasty food, lots of games and maybe even door prizes but we will not have saliva-dripping public displays of affection.  Middle-aged people should never suck face in public, no matter who they are.  Just sayin.'  We'll figure out a top-secret non-ceremony plan (with no date or time tied to it just quite yet) later and thus go to bed for the night.

In the morning, I decide we need to send out a "Save the Date" email, as summer schedules tend to fill up quickly. (Did I mention that one should talk to people before finalizing a date?) The wife is cleaning this and that while I am seated at the kitchen table drinking coffee.  (This is a daily occurrence--she runs around cleaning and such, while I sit at the table, drink coffee and write blogs or harass people on Book de la Face. I am one lucky bitch.) She asks me to let her see whatever I'm doing before I do it and I completely agree. I write the email, keeping it short, sweet, simple and, of course, a wee bit humorous.  She keeps zipping around cleaning (sciatica is no match for this housewife), I keep slurping. I slap in a whole bunch of email addresses--BCC'd, for everyone's privacy, of course--and SEND! Off the email goes.

You might notice that the "SEND" came before the "How do you think this email looks?"

Sometimes, I am like a 12 year old kid with terminal, unmedicated attention deficit disorder.  My "wait" button is broken.  Oh dear.  No points won by me.

Thankfully, she approved of the message I sent.  She points out (quite correctly, I might add), "You know, when people are planning something like this, they usually talk about the guest list.  I have no idea who you sent that to. Don't you think we should have talked about this before sending the email?"  I consider this, agree and sincerely apologize.  (In my defense, I did not send the email to the people we weren't sure with what to do.  That must count for something.  Or, not.)

I assure her that I've sent the email only to people I am sure we would both agree on and add further assurance by showing her I sent the email to her, too.  "I can print the list out for you."  This seems to soothe the nerves.  I promise not to do this again. And, I won't.

When she finally finishes cleaning and I finish my coffee, we load the dogs into the car and drive to take a gander at the shelter.  I know the wife is not mad at me because she stops to grab lunch at my absolute favorite fast food place--it's certainly not her favorite place.  We suck down our world-famous fries and head to the state park.   I am pleased to report that the wife fully approves of the site and we decide this is the place.  See? It only took her 14 hours to get to where I got in one minute, thirty nine seconds.  I knew she'd get there!

On the way home, we contemplate on what to do about the "others." The "others" are still hanging out there, somewhat like hanging chads. These are the really important people in our lives whom we are pretty sure are not going to be entertained by any of this and from whom we stand the greatest risk of rejection. What to do with the "others?"  I offer to write a different email, based on the original email, using the definition of a civil union as the first sentence--I figure making the whole ordeal sound sterile, legal, financial and business-like might take some of the edge off.  I promise not to send it before her approval.  As these are "her others," I know I will follow directions.  Sending an email affords the reader distance--distance to freak out, to scream/yell/cry/blame--and do so far, far away from us.  It gives the reader time to think about what to do with the information presented.  Talking to "the others" by phone or in person wouldn't afford that opportunity for reflective distance.  I do not find this to be cowardly--I find this to be skillful and quite appropriate. I write the email, read it to her, have her look at it.  She tells me to send it. "Are you SURE?" I ask. She says she is sure.  I hesitate.....and, then SEND!  Time will tell.

By the time I finish sending out the "others" emails, I report we have received many responses, most very funny and all very supportive.  My favorite response received is from my very heterosexual high school friend who served as a bride's maid in the "wedding in my previous life."  She wrote, "it's about time.  Can I be a bride's maid this time, too?"

No responses from the "others" yet but they need time to chew on all this. I figure they will need a week or two to chew on this.

Then, we get an email that stops us in our tracks.  No it's not related to the "others."  Out of respect, I will say nothing more beyond how I feel like a total schmuck and that we are now in civil union limbo.  I know it will all work out but for this minute all I can say is "limbo sucks."

Did I mention you should ask people about the date before proceeding?

As you can imagine, this will be the first of many civil union blogs, most of which I am sure will be quite entertaining...with a few of which will not.  It's a mixed bag, this ride we're on.  We'll be out of limbo before we know it and we'll be back to worrying about things like the wife's ongoing sciatica, the merits of wearing vegan shoes, the continuing saga of my toe. 

And, I thought having a picnic would be simple.
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