Leap

It wasn't a Leap Day when I proposed to D. Anyway, he said no.

We never wanted to do anything but spend the rest of our lives together. But he was a bit younger, still bound to a military contract, however part-time reserve. Both of us resistant to the societal pressures to conform. His sprung from a religious background that would have him off on a mission, then marrying soon after, with a passel of children to follow. With all the symbols searing, the Ring, the tidy fenced yard, the minivan, the soul crushing job, retirement, then death. For me, it was a deep aversion to weddings, and fear of the kind of marriage I'd just escaped from.

Only someone as amazing as D could ever have allayed my fears. D needed a similar reassurance, and time. Experiences to draw upon. A little distance from his parent's influence. He still needed their approval, their respect. He couldn't do it in the way they expected. And the local wedding traditions were a bit of a nightmare for him. (As for me, when I finally understood them.) Nor would I ever have converted, a temple ceremony an impossibility. He would explain this differently, this is just how I saw it.

Eventually, the idea grew that a legal marriage would not be a bad thing. I always say his father proposed, giving D the nudge, saying "Fifteen minutes in the Bishop's office, make us happy." It turned out to be an hour in their living room, with LDS bishop, and three brothers wearing ties, a balloon bouquet and an angel food cake. I was getting over the flu, and went to visit my parents in Detroit the next day - alone. Still, turned out all right. And we relish our tiny-wedding story.

Well, we've always done the traditional things backward, with a twist. Buying a house last seemed about right.

Came across a cartoon,"If my childhood plans panned out..." Didn't agree with any of the answers, but I like the questions.

My Profession would be,
Actress, in an eponymous sit com. I would be zany. Or I'd be a firejumper, flying planes and rescuing people.

My spouse would be,
Mike Nesmith, of the Monkees. Later, Eric Idle. Someone very funny, with a beard, at any rate.

My car would be,
A helicopter. Or a teleporter.

My home would be,
Um, strangely, a lot like the one I have now, actually. But with a second floor and a tower. Alternately, a lighthouse or windmill house.

My best friends would be,
Geniuses, everyone. And they would live next door, and no one would ever insist on going first, including me. And they'd like games and reading.

My backyard would have,
A pool, with a slide and a fountain and a roller coaster.

All my dinners would include,
Fresh fruit, plums and peaches, cherries and berries.

My kids(pets) would be named,
I never wanted kids, but my cats and dogs would all have wonderful names from history or books, and I would understand what they said to me. Really, I never even named my stuffed animals, offering either descriptive names (bear, turtle) or repeating the same names to adults who asked. So they thought I'd named all my dolls Theresa, but I never called them that. Learning how to name well is an adult acquisition. Even then, not into labels.


Like February needed an extra day.