5 Years and Counting...

I wasn’t looking for anything permanent the night I got that curious email. The whole ‘meeting people over the internet’ thing seemed creepy to me, but from the tone of the email I thought maybe this guy named Jeff was new to Boise, and I could show him around.

We spent the next week trading emails, and I swore I wouldn’t give out my phone number, because of the internet creepy factor, but he persisted. Little did I know this was a trait that I would come to both love and, at times, loathe about this interesting new person. We had a series of marathon phone conversations that equated to three to four hours every night for a month. I chuckle about it now, because the idea of my husband spending that much money on a phone bill is completely contradictory to his nature.

I found out during the course of our conversations that he was in Seattle, and worked for British Airways. He loved to travel, had an affinity for Billy Joel music, and grew up in California. On the surface we didn’t have all that much in common, but we both had an incredible sense of adventure, and despite the long distance, there was an amazing connection. He insisted on flying down to meet me in person, so we set a date.

I was nervous as I approached the airport gate to wait for him, it was pre-9/11, and so you could stand there with baited-breath waiting for your guest to arrive. He was one of the last people off the plane, and I’ll never forget how handsome he looked in his dark blue suit, red tie, and pale blue shirt. He made me smile, because along with his dapper look he also wore the largest coat I had ever seen. I told him prior to his visit that Idaho was a rugged place, and that it had been a rather cold February. He took my advice wearing a thick, hooded, green winter jacket that came down to his mid-thigh.

Our first weekend together was amazing. I’ll never forget the surge of excitement I felt when his plane was delayed on Sunday night. I had two extra hours to spend with him, and I was all smiles. My roommate told me a few days later that I was just beaming after that weekend. I flew up to Seattle two weeks later, and a long distance relationship had ensued.

Fate had another plan for us. By the end of March I had split from the concert promotion company I had worked for. It was devastating to be out of the business I had worked my whole life to get into, and I was completely lost. The only thing I knew, without a doubt, was that I was done with Idaho for good. I split with the company, and two days later was traveling on a one-way ticket back to Seattle with two suitcases and $300 in my pocket. Several friends made generous offers of guest beds and couches until I got on my feet, but Jeff insisted that I stay with him. I objected strongly since our relationship was so new, but just like with the phone number, he persisted. We moved in together in March 2001, and spent the next five months traveling all over the U.S.

In August, we bought a house, I got a job, and we settled down to a more domesticated life. He popped the question in December 2001 while we strolled along the Inner Harbor in one of my favorite places, Victoria, British Columbia.

Exactly five years ago today, we had a big, fat, Jewish wedding. I had always said that if I married again it would be a small ceremony, unless I married someone who hadn’t been previously married, then it was his call. Jeff wanted a big celebration, so I consented. Although his family lobbied for a California wedding, we were Seattle folks, so the wedding would be held in the Jet City. 95% of our guests were from out-of-town, and at first we thought we’d have a modest turnout. Wrong! Everyone paired our wedding with their vacation, so we welcomed over 140 friends and family members to our event.

On the day of the wedding, I kicked into event manager mode and went to work finishing last minute table favors. When I called on my mom and sister to help, they instead got into a huge screaming match in the middle of the kitchen. Unlike the bridezillas on TV, I didn’t sweat it. Instead I went to the cupboard and grabbed two of the small, airline sized bottles of vodka that Jeff collected over the years, and proceeded to retire to the family room with my dad to share a strong drink. Later I realized that consuming only two small bottles of vodka on your wedding day is not a wise move.

I carried on making it my hair appointment on time, then to the synagogue where I signed the ketuba (traditional Jewish marriage contract), and sat in a room in the basement, completely out of sight, until my stepdad and mother came down to get me. The three of us walked down the aisle, and in the amazing 30 minutes that followed Jeff and I became official.

By the way, the no food/all vodka issue came up during group photos after the ceremony, where I came within two breaths of passing out cold. Thankfully, my new sister-in-law was a nurse, and she ordered my new nephew to grab some sports drink and a folding chair. For all of those ladies out there who may want to marry, don’t forget to eat on your wedding day, because going to the emergency room instead of to the dance floor will not be the kind of memory you want of your wedding day, no matter how funny it will be later on.

We sailed away on a cruise for our honeymoon, then spent the following year working, traveling, improving our house, and just when we had done just about everything, and decided life was a little too boring, along came Miss Rachael.

We have had a lot of fun, some tears, a few bumps, and a lot of growing in the past five years, but the one thing I can honestly say with pride and heart in hand is that I love Jeff just as much today as I did five years ago when I met him at the end of the aisle wearing that stunning white dress.

Here’s to us, and the next five years, and all of the years after that! Little did I know that not hitting the ‘delete’ key was the best decision I would ever make.