Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Fertile Myrtle

I have been terrible at this. It's not a lack of stories, but a lack of time to write them down. Porter is speaking literally everyday this week (which includes his birthday), so I have a moment to write down a few words.

Summer flag football started up and it's serious business. I won my very first intramural championship t-shirt in flag football over the winter, so the chase for t-shirt number two is on. (I know for sure I will get a second one with THE Maggie Ellett joining me here in Provo come August.)

Anyways, we held a football practice. We were running some plays and decided to add a defense to the mix. Porter volunteered his services. He decided to guard me and be a dip like Richard Sherman the whole time. Needless to say, when you are a punk, bad things happen to you.

Remember how I talked about my ring buying experience when Porter and I were getting married? It was a disaster. Well, Porter decided to put me through it AGAIN. While playing Richard Sherman style defense in a girls' flag-football practice, Porter lost his second wedding ring. Yes, that means I would be buying a THIRD ring in TWO years of marriage. I was a little upset, but not entirely surprised.

We got to the mall right after practice to make sure we were getting the right sized ring. I decided I was going to order a cheap one on Amazon because it was no longer worth purchasing a nice one. Besides, Porter's only requirement in a ring was it had to be "black" otherwise it was too "girly."

We got to some random jewelry store. They had two people working there, a guy and a girl. The girl offers to size Porter for a ring, so I tried to make casual conversation with the other guy. He started showing me all of these expensive rings, which I was not going to buy, and then the following happened:

Me: "I'm not really interested in spending a lot of money on a wedding band."

Jewelry guy: "Oh...ok."

He was a little hesitant and I could tell he thought I was a cheap wife for not wanting to spend a little bit of money on my husband's symbol of marriage. Naturally, I decided to elaborate.

Me: "Yeah, it's just this is our third one in two years."

Jewelry guy: "Well congratulations!"

Congratulations? For what? I don't know, maybe that's some kind of record.

Me: "Well that's not exactly something to be proud of..."

Immediately, the jewelry guy's face twists. He looks at me completely horrified. I wonder what the heck his problem is. He starts glaring at me in a judgmental way. I figured it was because I looked like white trash in my cut-off tank and running shorts while also dawning a sweaty stench from practice.

After a moment of awkward silence, he finally expresses his ill-feelings toward me.

Jewelry guy: "It's not my business, but I think children are something to be VERY proud of."

What the? Children? When did we start talking about kids?

Me: "Wait, what? I was talking about wedding rings..."

Jewelry guy: "Ohhh, that makes more sense."

Not quite sure how the convo turned from wedding rings to my ability to produce offspring in a ridiculously short period of time, but it happened.

Porter is forbidden to lose this new wedding ring. I can't handle jewelry stores, or their employees, any longer.

Until next time,