The Sound Engineer is a big goof.  A total ham.  Only serious when he absolutely has to be.

And totally predictable.

While in Sonoma, on our way to the first winery that came up on a “search by distance” on the GPS, we passed this gi-normous Adirondack chair on the side of the road.  There were two, actually, one on each side of the road that turned off.

Before he could even finish his “OOH! OOH! LOOK! GIANT ADIRONDACK CHAIRS!” I had already spotted them and said, “Oh, you’re going to want to stop on the way back for those.”

(I’m not really sure what his thing is with Adirondack chairs.  He seems to feel he has a connection to them now because he put two of them together for our back yard.  Then again, even if he hadn’t, he’d still go bonkers over two giant chairs by the side of the road.)

So, on the way back from the winery, we passed them.  He looked forlornly out the window as he watched them go by, realizing he’d forgotten about them.

“Do you want to turn around?” I teased him.

“Noooo… we already passed…” he said, but he was pouting like a 12 year old boy who’s first baseball game of the season had been rained out.

“Oh, just turn around,” and no sooner had I said it, he was practically bouncing in his seat with excitement and turning the car around.

He’s so easy to please.

I saw this picture today in an article about otter pups being rescued, and I just had to share.  Look at him trying to be all fierce, but just being painfully cute instead.

The Engineer and I are doing the wedding thing for the first time next week.  My cousin is getting married on the 11th, and I actually jumped at the opportunity to show off this new mystery man in my life.

I am, if you haven’t guessed already, the black sheep of the family.  Well, not so much anymore - but I was.  Now, I like to think I’m more of the Exciting Sheep of the family - everyone else has stuck close to home, but I’m the one that rarely makes it to family events because… well, you know, I was living in Europe.  Or off visiting potential new lovers in the Caribbean.  Or on the opposite coast of the United States.

(’Course, when I did finally do a family Christmas thing, after so many years away, I became that wacky, loveable, drunk family member whose ass got in the was of shots of the kids.  Short story, but kind of boring if I actually write it out.  I did also, however, shock the hell out of everyone by being exceptionally popular with the all the kids.  All my cousin’s kids, that is. The new generation.)

This cousin that’s getting married next week… well, let’s just say he’s left me standing here all alone.  All the others are married off with kids, it was just he & I that weren’t.  There are moments where I revel in my position as the jet-setting single one.

Then there are these other moments where…

Well, I have a confession to make.

I’m getting to be one of those girls that’s chomping at the bit to get hitched.  Well, not just to get hitched, for the sake of it, but to hitch myself to The Engineer.  I think, at some point over the past couple months we’ve just been so damned happy that those “I’m so happy, I’m so happy” thoughts that keep playing on loop in your head start to sound like, “I’m so freakin’ happy and I love you so much I can’t help myself… I just wanna… I just wanna MARRY you!”

Which is pretty much how I always wanted it to be.  Feeling compelled to marry someone because it was just that good. When, lying in bed at night, before going to sleep, you almost find yourself saying, “I’d marry you in a heartbeat,” without thinking.

My mom is wondering, and probably about ready to ask him.  His mom is just about asking.  And I’ve found myself, on occasion, doing silly things like spelling out “wife” and “wed” in scrabulous, or wearing my garnet ring every day and leaving it out on the counter some nights, right out in the open.

He’s not immune to thinking such things, I know.  A couple nights ago he said he was really excited and happy about spending the rest of his life with me.  (He says things like that quite often, actually.)  At least a few times a week he’ll spontaneously burst out with statements about how happy he is and how much he likes “us.”  He’s already said he wants to have kids (err… A kid, rather, cause I ain’t considering more than that) with me.

And, we’ve had our ups and downs over the past few months.  Growing pains, adjustment, and the realization that you just decided to live with someone you know almost entirely from im and emails.  We’ve had our tiffs and arguments - a couple of rather big arguments, actually - and, well, let’s just say we argue well.  Or rather, we work things out really well.  We communicate well, I guess, is what I’m trying to say.

So now we’re going to our first wedding, next week, and knowing what a sap he is, I’m quite sure it will put ideas into his head, also.  I’m certainly hoping so!

I’ve rattled on for the past decade about wanting to join the Peace Corps, wanting to volunteer, wanting to teach something other than English to adults in foreign countries who work for big corporations, wanting to do something that felt worthwhile to me, wanting to do something important.

But I never found the time, the energy, the motivation, the drive, the whatever.

Now, as I find myself freelancing and working sporadically here in California, with more time on my hands that I’d like and feeling an urge to make some changes… I realize that if ever there were a perfect situation for me to do something, it’s now.  If ever I wanted to make that “career change” I keep sighing about, it’s now.

I’ve said this before - that I want to work for an NGO or Non-Profit.  Quite frankly, I don’t even care doing what.  I’d be happy doing administrative work behind a desk all day, if I felt like I was working for a company or cause or organization that was worthwhile.  It’s surprisingly not easy to just walk in and get a job doing such a thing.  Those types of jobs are reserved for interns & college students.  People working their way up the NGO ladder to do bigger and better things.

So I’ve formulated a plan of sorts.  With all this time on my hands, I realized that instead of sitting around futzing with websites and photos and random non-tasks all day, I could be networking and helping.  I’ve re-connected with the Red Cross out here in LA to get moving on my Disaster training (all the training that’s necessary if you want to volunteer with Disaster Relief and International Disaster Relief) and tomorrow I meet with a woman from the YWCA to Volunteer some time teaching for their TechGryls program.  And I’m thinking of contacting some other organizations, as well.

I have a partial ulterior motive, it’s true.  I’m hoping to get my foot in the door with people like this, and make some connections so that I can get something like that desk job, or web job, or whatever job.  I’m even contemplating, again, going back to school.  I tried this once before, this past September and it was a miserable failure.  I was determined to finish all my credits (accumulated over the past decade) within the year and packed my schedule to the gills.  I was working full time and driving an hour and a half, three times a week, to class after work.

And, I hated those classes.  Too many boring classes all at once.

I’m thinking about it, though, if I don’t put a rush order on myself.  If I just took a couple classes here and there and continued freelancing and find something steady, part-time.  It could work.  We’ll see.  It’s just an idea for the time being, but it’s a good idea and The Engineer kinda makes it feel like everything is possible.

Seeing as I’m not in this boat alone, an update:

The Sound Engineer & I actually had a minor tiff over the Salsa dancing thing.  It started when we were laying around watching Miami Vice (the movie, not the tv show - what? it’s good eye candy!)  I love the scene where the Cuban lovely says, “I know where to go for the best mojitos,” and bam! they take a boat to Cuba.  The get to Havana in their speedboat, drink mojitos, and dance the night way.

During the dancing scene, I let slip a snarky (I admit it) comment, “Yeah, that dancing looks horribly organized, doesn’t it?”  (Of course, I was thinking, there’s not all that much “organization” involved.)

He got up and stomped off.

I also made the mistake of saying that I’ve wanted to go Salsa dancing for years and no one would do it with me.  He made a face that said, “See? It’s stupid.  No one will do it with you because it’s STOO-PID.”

But then I also said, “Do you know how many women would kill for their boyfriends & husbands to go dancing with them like that?  And do you know how envious women would be if I said that you took me Salsa dancing?”

That’s the kicker, girls.  Appeal to their egos.  This may require sucking up your annoyance and biting back, “Stop being such a baby,” but it’s worth it.  Mention the fact that they don’t have to be good at it, they can even ham it up - just so long as they go.

Use words like devastatingly sexy and hot and rubbing up against each other. Then imply that hoo, boy! A night of Salsa dancing will get you hot & bothered like you’ve never been hot & bothered before.

And if that doesn’t work, then pout, and be quietly sad (work the puppy dog eyes), and say that you never ask for anything, this is the only thing you ever really wanted to do, and it’s not like you’re asking him to commit to weekly lessons, you’re just asking to try it a couple times, learn a couple moves and see what happens.

This shit works on The Engineer because other than this, there’s never been a thing he would even consider denying me and nothing bothers him more than seeing me unhappy.

And then, maybe offer up something you’ll do in return.  He caved in, and then said, “Then you have to go to the shooting range with me.”  I was about to point out that I’d already agreed to it the first time he asked, weeks ago, but I figured it was a good idea to let him feel like he won something or had an even hand.  So I agreed again.  (I’m not a big fan of guns, but he is ridiculously protective of me and occasionally mentions wanting to have one in the house.  I’m not sold on that, and probably never will be, but I figure it won’t hurt to just know how to handle one in this gun-crazy country and besides - now he thinks we made a fair deal.  And the protective-ness thing is adorable.)

I honestly don’t know what scares him so much about the Salsa dancing.  I mean, I get it for men in general, but he’s not the typical male.  In any case, the next step is to get him there and shower him with silly compliments, and wax poetic about how woooooonderful it is that he’s doing this for me and then keep him all night showing him just how happy & grateful I am that he did.

The way I see it, it’s a win-win situation.