Our Story ~ Chapter 3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

(remember, Luke in bold italics and me in regular text)

"The Question" 

It had been 8 months since we met, you stalked me and I wished you were mine. 

Oh brother, still with the stalking thing?

I had spent the summer in Moscow to go to summer school to ensure my graduation in five years.   My fiancée had spent the summer showing me I could not live with her forever.  My nature was to live up to my commitments, but when she suggested it may not be working between us, I was gone.

I’ve never been so thankful that someone was awful to you!

Within 6 hours I had moved out and moved on.  My pizza buddy and I (Tyler) now call it ‘dodging the bullet’.

I had a summer of softball and beer, visualizing what life would be like working at a pizza place for the rest of my life.  I was already enrolled in school, so I started the semester.

Within the first few days of the fall semester, I bumped into you.  I was in a building I was never in and I think you had a class cancelled, or something.  You purposefully looked at my hand for a ring and saw nothing.  You asked what was going on and I replied, ‘it didn’t work out’.  I saw the smile you tried to hide.  We promised to talk soon.

You’re just not a details guy, are you?  There are so many DETAILS you leave out!  You’re right.  I did have a class cancelled, just like I had a class cancelled when we first met …never mind God working in mysterious ways…God works in “cancelled classes” when it comes to us!

I was sitting in the study room of the Mechanical Engineering building, my home away from home.  I was getting some work done, when in walked someone vaguely familiar.  It was you…but not the you I remembered.  You still looked handsome and kind…but you also had an edge you hadn’t had before.  You looked tough in a way.  You had a full goat-tee and a shiny bald head.  But sill…those amazing green eyes and kind smile. 

And the butterflies – those darn butterflies that kept me from speaking a coherent sentence around you were fluttering around like crazy.

The emails started flowing immediately.  The phone calls followed.  I desperately wanted to ask you out on a date.  I had a feeling this was important, so I was trying to figure out what might be perfect for you.  Not the ordinary dinner and movie, you deserved more.

Aww, you’re so sweet.  I was sitting there thinking, “Ask me OUT already!”  I remember one time when you had sort of skirted around the big question by asking me what I had planned for the weekend, but I had plans to go home that weekend because my mom was sick. 

Oh, the emails!  Good grief, I was sitting in front of the glowing orange screen listening to those haunting beeps and clicks and “ka-boing-ka-boing” noises that the excruciatingly slow dial-up internet connection made…what…15 times a day, hoping to have email from you?  At least.  I think that I saved all of those early emails, and printed them up before I closed my university email account at graduation.  They’re sitting in a fire-safe in our garage right now J

I just remembered something!  I remembered you making a comment about your beat up old green car.  I sort of laughed it off as you exaggerating in the email, but then one day I was walking along the sidewalk to go to class and I saw (and heard and smelled) an awful green car chugging down the road.  I sort of laughed to myself and thought, “Maybe that’s Luke in his old beater”.  Sure as heck…that car drove by, and it was you driving!  I about died laughing!  You weren’t kidding!  I thought it was strange to see you driving because you were sort of slumped forward hanging onto the wheel with both hands.  I learned later that you eventually jammed a big plastic CD carrier behind the driver’s seat to keep the back up.  Man, what a hunk of junk!

Hey, at least you know I wasn’t after you for your money!

Oh, and yes…I remember the first time we talked on the phone.  I was sitting in my kitchen on Polk street.  I answered that phone – remember the one with the GIANT numbers (like 3” by 3”) and the 12 foot cord?  I held that phone to my ear and listened to your voice, and I was immediately aware of just how much I loved the sound of your voice.

Still do.

Okay, I’ll quit with the details now.  Go on…

While I was thinking and planning, you were acting.  I know the first time you ever asked a guy out was when you asked me out, but the second time was when you asked me out again.  You called and said a bunch of people were headed to Cadillac Jack’s to country swing dance and was curious if me and any of my friends wanted to go.

I was more grunge than country, but really wanted to see you, so I convinced Tyler he needed to rustle up a date and we would go swingin’. 

When we arrived, I found you at a table.  You looked fantastic.  It turns out by a ‘bunch’, you meant just you.  I may have been singularly focused on you, but I never saw any of your friends there.

Oh no!  You have it all wrong!  You picked me up at my house….don’t you remember me walking into the room decked out in denim from head to toe?!  Denim shirt tucked into denim (obviously) jeans…and my dancin’ boots all ready to boot-scoot-and-boogie the night away.  HA!

I don’t remember picking you up, at all. (SHOCKED here!) 

And I remember you…what was it?  Something was different.  I think you had shaved off your beard?   Or maybe you had a hat on…I just remember expecting the bald and bearded Luke I’d seen in the study room, but you looked different.  Hmmm..

The “bunch of friends” thing.  Yeah – so much for a good plan.  I really was expecting a bunch of people to show up that night.  I’d heard them planning it and immediately thought “hey, this might be a good unintimidating first night out with Luke.”  As it turned out, no one of my “friends” ever showed up…so it ended up looking like I’d made the whole story up just as an excuse to ask you out.  It also looked like you invited Tyler along for no good reason.  Arg. Embarrassing. 

Tyler still insists that I invited him on our first date because I was nervous.  I was, but that’s not why I invited him.

It turned out to be sort of fitting though – the buddy who came along on our first date was also one of your groomsmen in our wedding…who also barfed in your grandparents’ car the day after the wedding because he’d celebrated our wedding a bit too enthusiastically…and who we both love like a brother to this day.

That is a story by itself, and a really good one.

The date night was fantastic, but I think we should save details for the next installment, though.

I think you’re right.  That evening was like nothing I’d ever experienced before, and definitely deserves it’s own post.

Do I talk this much more than you in real life, or just on paper?  Crazy!

Are you calling yourself crazy, or just saying you talk more than me?

I talk more than you.  AND I’m crazy.  Crazy for  YOUUUUUU!

Barf, like Tyler did at our wedding.

Aw, come on.  Is the romance dead?

I am sure there is a romance post in the future.  I know you love my romantic side.  We will save that for later.  I am sure you want the last word, like always.  Any last word(s)?

In the words of a wise man…

No.

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Mr. Romance days or weeks before we re-met:

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Our Story ~ Chapter 2

Click HERE for Chapter 1

Okay, here we are in “Chapter 2” of the story of our meeting. Let’s keep the same format as last time – you in bold italics and me in regular text. In chapter one, I told my story, then you got to write in your interjections and your side. We’ll flip-flop it this time. Go for it, Babe.

This is the part of the story I like to call, “my future wife, the stalker”.

Haaaaahahahahah!!! Oh, this better be good!

Evidently, my macho attitude and suave approach had quite the impact on you. I remember this was about the second year that email existed, but somehow you found a way to email me invitations to an engineering group meeting frequently.

(Note to self, “macho” and “suave” = totally ignoring a girl. Okay.)

You must have been passionate about the group and recruiting new members, because I remember frequent emails from you on this subject. I even remember one of those meetings happening in the pizza shop I worked at on a night I worked. I can only assume it was by chance and not that you bribed the manager who made the schedule to find out when I worked.

It was more like I’d invited you, you said you had to work, and I was (ahem) looking for a good place to hold the meeting. Oh geez – I’m totally pitiful.

As you now know, I was equally infatuated with you. My handicap was that I was engaged to be married at the time. So, I was doing all I could to resist you, without completely stopping the communication. I liked talking (emailing) with you, but always felt a little guilty. I probably should have been more up front with you.

What?! Really? “Resist” me? I didn’t know!

You had no idea I was engaged, until that one fateful email.

You wrote to me with the typical ‘please come to the Idaho Society of Professional Engineers – Student Chapter’ email. (very romantic, by the way) I was on my way out the apartment door to work when I checked the email, so I stopped halfway through, assuming it was the typical stalking email.

I found out a couple days later there was a proposition at the end of the email - when you wrote to me again. You poured your heart out in apology about asking me out on a date and how you were sorry for being so unprofessional about it, since your email excuse was a ‘professional’ society.

I had to look back at the emails at the time to see what you were talking about. As it turns out, you did ask me out. Sorry for not reading the whole email.

That’s okay, you had to concentrate on “resisting” me, remember ;-)

So, my only choice was to tell you the absolute truth; I was engaged and had no time for professional societies between my budding pizza career, my failing coursework and my fiancée.

It was such a shame. In the time you had been stalking me, I had begun to refer to you as ‘dream-girl’ to my buddies. I had never met anyone so smart, beautiful or persistent and determined as you.

So persistent and determined means “stalker” huh?

That reminds me – remember the real stalker – that creepy guy? He seemed so shy and lonely, that I invited him to work on a team project in one of my classes. Yikes, that was a bad idea. Next thing I knew, he was writing me letters once a week, sending me cards, and just showing up in all sorts of strange places. He was full of things to say on paper, but he couldn’t even look me in the eye or speak when we were face to face. After you and I were together for a while, his communications took a scary turn – telling me that I deserved better than you, and asking if he would have a chance with me if you were “out of the picture”. I was terrified!

Anyway – didn’t mean to turn Our Story into that ugly thing. It’s all this remembering – so much happened in those couple short years!

Back on track now…

So after that first “meeting”, I had to fight to keep from turning around to look at you every 5 minutes in class. I didn’t even know your name! But you wore that dark green UI sweatshirt as your jacket all fall, so I started calling you “green sweatshirt guy” to my friends (not nearly as sweet as “dream girl”). I talked to all my friends – who had you in their class? Did anyone see you with a girl? You know – girl talk.

I think you were in Differential Equations with Tara, so we compared notes every few days ;-)

It was the highlight of my day to quickly turn around and watch you prepare to leave ME340 at the end of class. You had that green sweatshirt on, that black ball cap, and then you’d put lift the strap of your bag over your head and cross it over your chest to sort of carry the bag behind you. Oh Lord. Your broad shoulders. You in that hat. Your hands. Seriously…

…I’ll stop now out of respect for my parents who will probably read this.

You know I was fantasizing about kissing THAT spot on your neck during class, too.

In the mean time, one of my friends asked me to join him in starting up ISPE, student chapter. To be perfectly honest, I only did it because I thought it would look good on my resume. Man, I lived way too much of my life for my resume in those days.

It turned out to be the perfect reason to stalk talk to you though. I was very, um…thorough…in making sure you were informed of all our meetings. It was my duty, you know.

Finally, after inviting you to many meetings (you even went to one or two, if I remember right), I worked up the courage to actually ASK YOU OUT.

In fact, I didn’t really “work up courage” at all. It was more like I was inspired. One of the people I’d been hanging out with didn’t return to school after a weekend of going home to visit his folks. He finally called to let us know that he wouldn’t be returning. He’d been to the doctor to have a few things checked out while he was home…and his doctor informed him that he had a very advanced cancer. They only gave him months to live. He pleaded… “live your life like you’re gonna be dead in a few months. Don’t have regrets.”

I immediately thought of you. That friend inspired me to more courage than I thought I had in me.

But still, it was painful. I’d NEVER asked a guy out. EVER. I vividly remember sitting in the computer lab in the basement of the building I lived in, and going over and over and over that dumb email. I even had a friend come down to read it. “Does it sound okay? Too desperate? Too vauge?” I eventually closed my eyes, counted to 3, and pressed the SEND button…oh, the horror.

I must have checked my email 50 times in the next 3 hours, hoping for your response (which was no small thing since I had to dial up to check email back then). But not only did you not respond immediately, but you didn’t respond at ALL. I felt like such a massive loser!

And then I started feeling bad. After all, I’d used a “professional” society as a front to ask you out. Not very professional. In an effort to salvage some pride, I shot off a quick apology email… and heard from you almost immediately.

You should feel bad. I think it was in the bylaws to not ask out other members.

When I read your response, I almost fell off my chair.

You told me that you hadn’t even READ the part where I’d so meekly asked you “out sometime”. And then you explained that the reason you didn’t go to many meetings was because you were busy with school and work and that you were otherwise spending time with your fiancée.

Oi. My face turns red even now as I think of it. I was SO embarrassed!

Was your face as red my ears when Chris poked me in the shoulder and told me to get lost?

I responded with “Oh, oops! Didn’t know you were attached.” And then I got really brave and said something like “she’s a lucky girl.”

The lucky girl comment got me through some tough times, whether you knew it, or not. You inspired me to look for more in a woman.

Then I headed up to my room to pour my broken little heart out to my journal. I used to journal everything (see, I was meant to blog). I remember writing “I thought for sure that there was something different about him”.

I was different, I was engaged.

I get the last word this time, punk.

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Here's that photo again...see my Green Sweatshirt Guy?

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Our Story ~ Chapter 1

Okay Luke, you ready for this? I’ve been promising the bloggy world (you know, like all 4 people who stop by on a regular basis) that you and I would tell the story of how we met. It's our anniversary...a good time to start, I think.

I'll type in regular text, and your words will be in italicized bold letters.

I’m trying to remember the very first time I laid my eyes on you. I can’t be certain, but I’m willing to bet that it was the summer before I even started up at UI. My mom and I drove up there to do a “preview” trip – check out the dorms, meet the dean of engineering, and to see what the town was like.

Oh…I have to digress for a second! How could I forget this story?! Oh, never mind. It’s a really long story. Hey, y’all – remind me to tell you the story of “the dream with the golden wheat fields” – I’ll know what you’re talking about.

So anyway, one night mom and I went out for pizza…I’ll bet you can guess where we ended up going.

I remember walking in the front door, looking to my right, and seeing a very attractive guy making pizzas. My heart…it went pitter patter, and my mom and I exchanged a very meaningful glance. Um yeah, can we get HIM to deliver the pizza to our table? We’re classy gals. I swear, it must have been you.

Please tell me you were working there, or I just made a fool of myself.

I was working there, just like I did for the next three years.

Oh good!

Okay, well…I know that I saw you FOR SURE in ME340 that fateful day. I’d been going to Mechanics of Materials (I know, super hot) every day since it started that day. On the first day of class, Dr. Odom told us to sit wherever we wanted, but to please keep sitting in that seat for the first few weeks so he could learn our names. Once we got settled, he had us fill in a seating chart so he could start putting names with faces. I sat the second row (maybe the 3rd), on the isle. A nice and very skinny Asian kid named Chris sat on my right.

That’s one thing about being in an engineering program (especially mechanical engineering), I got used to being surrounded by guys. In this class, I think there were two of us women in a class of 40 or so guys. My entire graduating class had only 3 women in it, I think.

A week or so into the semester, I showed up to class a bit early because my class before that one had been canceled. I walked in the door, and guess what I saw? I saw someone sitting in Chris’s seat. The entire rest of the classroom was empty…except for that one seat. The one you were sitting in. The one seat that was right next to mine.

Naturally, I thought you’d come early to try and, I don’t know, bully your way into sitting next to me? You must have really wanted to get to know me.

Oooo- totally hunky AND guts. I like!

So I gathered up my courage, and sat in my seat. The one right next to the one you were sitting in even though the rest of the room was empty. I didn’t think it was at all strange or bold. After all, it was MY seat.

As I pulled out the chair and got settled in, you glanced me over (stared at you) with your left eyeball (both eyeballs).

“Hi”

“Hi”

And then we sat. Silently. For what seemed like forever.

And then the rest of the class started filing in. One by one the other seats filled, and we just sat there quietly. Until Chris came in.

He shuffled over to you, sort of poked you in the shoulder with his bony finger

“Hey man, you’re in my seat.”

“Oh, sorry.”

You gathered up things…but I swear there was something going on with your skin. Your face turned red, and your ears…your ears practically glowed red…sort of like they do now when you have that strange allergic reaction to beer? Yeah, THAT red.

Not much of a fight, my friend. I sort of expected more ;-)

You found your way to the back row where there were seats available, and that’s where you stayed for the semester.

OK, my version is a little different.

I re-register late for Mechanics of Materials since I failed the first time. Since I was a couple days late starting the class, I wanted to be early to class so I didn’t stick out any more than I already did.

I took a seat a few rows back and pretty close to the door, and I was the first one in class. The second person in class was a very attractive woman.

I had never seen an attractive engineering student, so I was not sure I was in the right class.

Awww

I was even less sure when you sat right next to me in the open classroom. I immediately assumed you were as impressed with me as I was you. As the rest of the people piled into class, two things became apparent. First, I was in the right class…the rest of the students were the propeller-heads I was used to seeing in class. Second, they had assigned seats on the first day of class and this hot student was sitting next to me because you had to.

So, after the owner of the seat tapped me on the shoulder and told me I was in his seat, I crept to the back of the class to my new assigned seat, next to a buddy who worked in the pizza shop with me.

Oh, boy. That’s all I have in me for now. I’m going to dream ME340 now, and be plagued by the question of why Odom gave me a B in my senior design class even though I totally earned an A. Let’s do “chapter 2” another night, okay?

If you dream about ME340 and Ed Odom on our anniversary, I clearly have not treated you well enough the last 12 years.

Well, one thing is clear…I talk a LOT more than you do. You’re a good sport doing this with me. I appreciate it.

I know it is your blog, but do you always have to get the last word?

Um, yeah. You can have the last word next chapter (maybe). The end (for now). Oh, now I feel bad. Type a word, will ya?

No.

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Here we are at at after graduation party in 1997.  This is about 2 years after we started dating - just months away from our wedding day:

Another graduation shot:

Here we are - all three of us women who graduated the UI Mechanical Engineering program in 1997:

We had a great big graduation part with all of our friends at (where else but) Branegans:

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