washwords

Sorry for the delay.  There’s been a lot going on!

ta da! here's washwords

BTW: stop yer complainin. You just saw washwords (till I take it down. the interweb is a scary place.)

And speaking of the interweb…it IS a crazy place, and mostly not in a scary, but just in a fascinating way.  And nowhere did I see this more than in sharing my very good news.

In 1997, if you became engaged, you called people you wanted to know. Those people usually asked who they should/could tell and the word spread to exactly those people. I think I did send a few emails to the friends of friends. My email address was v01269b3x7@.  I’d heard of cell phones. Old people and wealthy people had them in their cars. Sometimes.

In 2008, when you tell the world you’re engaged, you TELL THE WORLD. At once.  Meaning my long-lost elementary school playmates found out about the same time as my bestest DC bud’s hubby, my former Read the rest of this entry »

Interestingly, one of these things is real. One isn’t.

Exhibit A:

ZombieHarmony – One of the Best Free Dating Sites for Zombies

“because the apocalypse doesn’t have to be lonely”

[“because the apocalypse doesn’t have to be lonely”] I particularly like that it’s ONE of the best sites for zombies. guess they have zombemistry.com too?

Exhibit B:

Ok, We Have Our First DNA-Based Dating Service: GenePartner

It was only a matter of time before someone launched a dating site that looks for potential matches based on DNA compatibility. That time is apparently today with the launch of GenePartner (ok, it’s not the first, but it’s the cheapest).

(from TechCrunch, Michael Arrington)

Both of these in one day. What are the odds? Heh. And wonder if it works? The Zombie dating that is.

I’ve never really been a girly girl. God knows I’m no tomboy (that would imply being sporty, which I am not) but ribbons, make-up, heels, shopping? eh.

Likewise for jewelry. It’s not that I don’t spoil myself or like the finer things but… spas and five-star hotels are more my weakness than flashy fashions or gems.

Usually.

When I was married, I came to love the sparkly diamond. I missed it when it was gone. But it, much like I probably was to my then inlaws, was a curiousity. I never fully understood or recognized it. It wasn’t fully me. People would tell me it was big or it was a particular cut and I would stare back, “mmm?” I had no words, no expertise in this arena.

pink by Peter on flickr

So it was a surprise that this time around, I’ve been dreaming diamonds. Pink diamonds. Pink like the color, not of the sunset but of the glassy sea in the twilight of the shore. I didn’t even know such a thing existed (till, blush, I looked it up and found it). I’ve dreamed the platinum antique setting – delicate, wiry, dreamed the bliss of it on my finger and the serenity of real, profound joy.

There is some sadness in joy, my wise friend “A” told me on that other long-ago wedding day. And behind this glassy pink sea is sorrow, too. I am sorry that I didn’t know how to love like this before, sorry that I didn’t know that than, or know at least enough to say I wasn’t ready. I am sad that gold and big didn’t ever fit me right, though I wanted desparately to meld with that ring.

I mourn the lives we didn’t create together, the one that flickered in shared laughs, late-night talks and true, real friendship. And I hope, deep in the core of my being that you are finding your own glassy pink sea and that it is smooth and sparkly and sacred. I hope it suits you and brings you the surprising joy my dreams of pink diamond oceans have brought me. Mine is a joy of lessons learned, rock-solid friendships, love hard found and yet as comfortable as that warm sea, as ancient and as deep.

Thank you.