Proof that my yellow side is alive and well

For the last six weeks, my engagement ring has been in our tent. It was in our tent because that’s where it was when Jon Boy took it down and packed it up after a family reunion in early September.

 See, I take it off to sleep because two of the prongs got bent during the night while I was engaged; I wasn’t taking it off at night then. I didn’t lose the diamond, but I don’t want to risk it again. So. I took it off and put it in a little pocket thingy in the tent. I hadn’t put it back on the morning we packed up. Which brings me to . . .

Yellow attribute #1: Tendency toward scatterbrainedness, losing stuff

Once I realized where my ring was, I knew I would have to get back into the tent to fish it out. But since we live in an apartment complex, I couldn’t just set the tent back up in my back yard. I thought about it and came up with several ideas:

  • Set up the tent in the grassy area behind our back porch, where few people go or see and where there’s enough room (presumably) for our tent
  • Try to set up the tent inside
  • Try to fish out the ring without actually setting up the tent
  • Take the tent to Orem, where Jon Boy’s parents live, and set it up in their back yard
  • Take the tent to Green River, where I met my parents in late September, and set it up in the yard outside my uncle’s* cabin

Yellow trait #2: Tendency to come up with a whole slew of ideas, independent of judgment between good ideas and bad ideas

It is October 23 today. And I just now got my ring out of the tent. I didn’t bring the tent to Orem or Green River. I didn’t set it up on the grassy area in our apartment complex, which may have been the best idea on the list. I wanted my ring back, but not badly enough to go to all that effort.

Yellow trait #3: Tendency to think of things to do but never do them

But this morning, Lego woke up at about 7:05. Normal. I changed his diaper and put him in day clothes. Normal. I fed him until about 7:40. Normal. What wasn’t normal is that, instead of eating breakfast, I suddenly decided I wanted my engagement ring badly enough to fish it out of the tent. So I spread out our tent in our living room. Lego watched and kicked the tent. My (lack of) plan was to try to get to that pocket thingy without having to actually set up the tent.

Yellow trait #4: Random impulsiveness, lacking adequate planning

Luckily, our living room turned out to be big enough for our tent, but just barely. I unzipped the door and made my way to the pocket where I was sure my ring would be waiting for me. What I found in the pocket: a Skittles wrapper.

At this point I went green. I imagined all the things that may have happened to the ring. I imagined what Jon Boy would say when he found out I had lost something so valuable. I wondered if the warranty on the diamond would cover losing the whole ring. I was pretty sure it wouldn’t. I wondered how long it would be before we could afford to get another one, or if I’d even trust myself with another expensive sparkly again. All this in a matter of seconds.

Then I came to. I would set up the tent and comb every inch of floor space before I gave up on the ring. Maybe it had fallen out after the doors and windows were zipped up, while the tent was being folded up. That made some sense. Maybe.

So, before 8:00 a.m. this morning, I set up a tent. In my living room. Lego watched and kicked the tent.

(See Yellow trait #4.)

I started looking for the ring with both my eyes and my hands.

I went inside the tent and began at one corner, slowly moving toward the other corner in a straight line. I turned around for a moment, and there, in the middle of the tent, shining brightly, accompanied by the Hallelujah chorus, was my diamond ring. I slipped it on my finger.

But at that point it occurred to me that I’m not all that good at folding tents up tightly enough to get back into their little boxes so I should probably wait until Jon Boy woke up to take the tent back down. Or that was my excuse, anyway. So the tent is still standing, filling our living room, while I blog about the experience.

And that, my friends, is all the proof I need that my yellow side is alive and well.

*He’s not really my uncle; he’s my mom’s cousin, but we call him Uncle Don

Updates

1) I’m freelancing now! It’s for an authorly couple. They write tons of stuff, from YA lit and plays (their labor of love) to TV shows, commercial novels, and soap operas (what they do to make money). I’m only doing a few hours a week, but I’m making a bit of money. And the last novel I edited, I enjoyed so much that it almost didn’t feel like work. In fact, they took a few days to get the last portion to me, and instead of thinking, “Dang, now I’ll have to do the rest on a deadline,” I thought, “But . . . what happens to the main character?!” I think that’s a sign I like my job.

 2) Lego is getting big, and he just got his bottom two teeth in the past week. He’s sleeping a bit better, though this last week he’s been sleeping more poorly again. I think it’s because he’s been teething. I hope he’ll go back to sleeping well once his teeth are all the way through and not hurting him anymore. He’ll be six months old tomorrow.

3) Two weekends ago we went to Green River, UT, to visit my family (mostly so they could see Lego). Lego had a grand old time, and he showed off for everyone. He’s really happiest when he can show off to many people at once. He also loved it when his cousin came over so her parents could go to the temple. He would laugh and laugh to see her running around.

4) We got a check for the full amount of the damages to our car (see “My Faith in Humanity”) after we sent them pictures of where our car was parked. Hooray!

5) And it looks like our couch will be reupholstered too, which makes me happy. It had started fraying and getting threadbare only six months after we bought it, which made me sad. But everything seems to be working out. The only thing is, we’ll have to pick a different fabric because the company that made the couch originally is being stupid, so it’s the store we bought it from who will be honoring the warranty. At least someone’s going to be responsible.

6) Jon Boy quit his horrible job. I feel okay about it. Really okay, actually. I just hope he finds something great soon. As in, great like my job. (Did I mention I love my freelancing job?)

7) I’ve been called as the ward organist. This scares me but also excites me because it means I get a key to the church and a reason to practice. Wish me luck on Sunday; it’ll be my first time playing.

8) I can knit hats! I’ve made two so far.

Huh?

All my life people have been telling me to speak up. But until last weekend, I didn’t really have any inner motivation to do it. It was Friday night, and we were camping with friends. The aforementioned friends, mr_porteiro_head and beverly, had brought marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate. They began roasting marshmallows while I nursed Lego. As the marshmallows neared perfection, beverly pulled out the other s’mores fixings and noticed that the Hershey’s chocolate she had brought was quite old. The wax had separated from the chocolate, so the whole bar looked white.

 “I brought some Ghirardelli’s chocolate,” I called out to her. “You can use that instead. It’s in our cooler.”

 Beverly just kept unwrapping her waxy chocolate without any kind of response. I wondered a bit if she didn’t want to use our superior chocolate for some reason. Then I figured that she probably hadn’t heard me, so I repeated myself, louder this time. I honestly felt like I was shouting. Keep in mind that I was sitting less than six feet from everyone else. Yes, there were children around, and yes, the fire was crackling, but I was shouting.

 The third time I repeated myself, Jon Boy heard me. He went to the cooler and got out our Ghirardelli’s chocolate bar and began breaking off a corner for himself.

“Offer it to them,” I said.

 He stood up and brought the chocolate over to beverly. “We have some Ghirardelli’s chocolate you could use instead,” he said (paraphrased).

“Ooh! Ghirardelli’s chocolate.” Beverly and mr_porteiro_head were both impressed. They both clearly wanted some. They had clearly not heard me.

So if my speaking voice is whisper soft and my shouting voice is inaudible to people sitting at the same campfire, I need to do something about that. But changing one’s speaking voice is one of the hardest things a person can do. Any tips or words of ecouragement would be appreciated.

My faith in humanity

Story #1:

On July 1, we were at Yellowstone on vacation. We parallel parked on the side of a road between two cars for one trail because the lot was full. When we came back from the hike, Lego was hungry, so I put up the sun shade, sat in the driver’s seat of the car, and fed him under a blanket. Jon Boy and the rest of my family waited on or around the car for us to finish. It was then that an enormous RV drove by. From inside the car, I thought, “He’s cutting it too close.” A second or two later, the RV hit our front bumper from the side. The car rocked a little, but there was little damage.

 Jon Boy flagged the driver down; otherwise, I’m pretty sure he would have just kept driving. Once out of the RV, the driver started complaining to Jon Boy, saying that two wrongs don’t make a right (wait . . . what?) and that we were partially responsible for the accident (wait . . . what?) because we weren’t parked in a real spot. Um, no red curb, buddy. People park on the sides of roads all the time. That doesn’t give you permission to hit them.

But he persisted. Jon Boy got his insurance information from him, but we didn’t call the police. The damage was slight, and anyway, we didn’t know that rangers are the effective police in a national park. My dad did get a few pictures.

When we filed a claim for the damage, we were pretty confident that he was 100% responsible for the accident. A few days later, his insurance adjustor called and said her insured was only willing to accept 50% of the responsibility and would only pay for 50% of our damages. We would have to file a claim with our insurance for the other 50%. She would work with our adjustor to determine fault.

Luckily, we just found out that everyone but the guy who hit us found it laughable that he didn’t think he was 100% responsible. In fact, our adjustor told us that if you hit a parked car, even if that car is parked in the middle of the freeway, you are responsible for the accident. When you are driving, it is your job to not hit parked cars. So it’s all resolved, more or less, and in our favor. Hooray!

Story #2:

 About two weeks ago, I was on Jon Boy’s computer because mine was being fixed. His instant messaging program was open, and a stranger IMed him asking about the Chanel handbag he was selling on ebay.

Those of you who know us well know that we would never in a million years own a Chanel handbag, and if we had one, we probably wouldn’t sell it on ebay. I told the girl this. She didn’t seem to get it at first, and she kept asking how big it was. I kept repeating that my husband was not, in fact, selling a bag, which meant that someone was using his account to sell said bag. Turned out that someone was not a native English speaker (the bag was “fashionable and elegance”), and there were about two dozen other Chanel bags that Jon Boy was also, apparently, selling.

Jon Boy changed his password and closed all the auctions, but a few people had already bought “handbags” (in other words, paid money for something they would never receive) from him. Ebay closed his account, but it’s now back open, thank goodness. It appeared that many other accounts had been hijacked; Chanel purses with the same broken English were for sale all over ebay that day. I assume ebay has sorted everything out by now, and I hope the perpetrators have been traced to a PayPal account or a bank account.

The moral of the story:

Even though I have come face to face with both stupid and evil people this month, I still have my faith in humanity. Even though the RV driver tried to pin the blame for his accident on us, he didn’t get away with it. The law is on the side of honest, innocent people, at least in our case. And even though a few people were robbed in Jon Boy’s name, his account was frozen before anything got too out of hand.

Maybe I’m naive. Actually, change that maybe to a probably. But I don’t care. I’d rather believe that most people are mostly good and that the idiots and criminals are the exception to the rule.