F.U.D. and Sharpie Dangers!

So Good Man and I were supposed to have our engagement photo session this weekend. But brilliant, brilliant woman that I am, I managed to strain my neck reaching for Sharpie markers at work today.

I was in deep pain, and was thus unintentionally slightly evil to my students for the rest of the day. Poor students, I hurt my neck before 10 am!

My neck still hurts, so the engagement session has been put off till the weekend of the 14th so that we don’t get 100 pictures of me unable to turn my head, staring straight into the camera.

Engagement session scheduled, check.

Mom finally sent me the jewelry I left at her house (long story, blame my truck) though she was curious about why I have a rosary (long story, blame Mark) and a giant silver cross with a hunk of turquoise in it (long story, blame a gay ex-priest) and she took my Buddha (Mark again) because she claimed it was too heavy to send (hmmm, fishy sounding). Wha hoo! All of my jewelry (most of it gifts from my father) is back, which means I can wear some for the engagement photos.

Jewelry, check.

Good Man and I also ordered our wedding rings tonight. They’ll ship in about three weeks.

Wedding rings, check.

Good Man has never had a massage, and I haven’t had one in years, so in a fit of neck pain and frustration tonight, I scheduled us for an hour-long couple’s massage next week.

Massages, check.

***

“So my coworker asked what we were doing for Valentine’s Day and I said ‘nothing,’ and she said we need to start our relationship traditions,” I said to Good Man over dinner.

“Our tradition is to not celebrate Valentine’s Day. Or White Day.”

“I told her that, I told her we have our own rituals that don’t depend on a holiday, but apparently the fact that we’re not doing anything spells disaster.”

Before ordering the rings, Good Man and I had discussed how the gold karat that a wedding ring is “supposed” to be has changed over time. In the more expensive direction, of course. He mentioned that and then said, “American companies and holidays are all about F.U.D.,” Good Man replied.

“F.U.D.?”

“Fear. Uncertainty. Death. Doubt. If you do not do something on Valentine’s Day, your relationship will die!” Good Man stabbed at his orange chicken, “All of America is like that. But we have not died yet.”

Edit to correct: Good Man says the D is Doubt.