The Draney Debut

It's been a while. Time to catch up. Snapshots below are in total random order, because it's past my bedtime.

I found my ideal commuter vehicle at the top of a Jackson Hole, WY mountain.

We paddled around in a canoe on Redfish Lake, ID.

As one of my many work projects, I pulled out an old bridge.

We rode the Tram in Teton Village, WY.

Only in Wyoming.

We pickled eggs.

They were delicious, but recommended only for those with a flair for exotic foods.

I spent many hours in grad school. Grad classes are lonely. And difficult to sleep in.

Here the new bridge is being set. 92' long 120,000 lb bridge beams.

We enjoyed Christmas in many relative's homes.

And Lauren and I became godparents to her mother's new kittens. Meet Frankie and Georgie.

Cameron speaking.

I am about to break a couple of rules. First, I particularly enjoy my sister’s, Jane’s, blog because of the ratio of photos to words. I believe photos typically tell better stories than words and Jane tells great stories with hers. So, back to the rule breaking, I am going to do only words on this blog post. Second, I don’t typically like it when people post overly lovey dovey stuff about their spouse. I mean, if you are truly trying to be meaningful, keep it between the two of you. Hypocritically, this post is about MY version of Lauren and I’s beginning stages of our courtship. If you’re like me, you should probably stop reading now.

So, there I was, a meager engineering intern working away at my cubicle desk when in came walking a slightly freckled gal wearing paint covered steel toe boots, worn out paint covered jeans, and an ultra bright orange construction shirt. She was incredibly attractive. You see, Lauren and I both work for the City but in different departments. She in the streets department and myself in the engineering department. It was my luck, fate, blessing, that my department was borrowing her for the winter. That meant that she’d be coming through the office several times each week.

Wait, wait, wait. Let me pause the story. That was not the first time I saw her. In the preceding summer, I was out and about on my engineering duties when we drove past a city paint crew painting a cross walk. In my brief rubber neck moment, I noticed a very attractive slightly freckled gal painting the road. Upon stopping shortly after to talk to the second-in-command of the streets department, I very slyly asked about the gal on the paint crew. Maybe I wasn’t so sly because the fellow looked at me and replied “good luck”. That was that. I figured I’d never see her again.

Back to my “first” time seeing her. There she was, there I was, and I couldn’t say a word. This happened more than a few times. She’d come through to talk to one of the inspectors whom she would spend the day working with and I’d do my best to look busy (and therefore important) by picking up the phone and carrying on conversations with a beeping tone about various calculations and important projects. She’d walk away and I would end my imaginary phone call while thinking “if only a guy like me could have a chance with a gal like her”.

I wasn’t entirely chicken. I was genuinely worried about potentially making a move to talk to her. I worried about some sort of evil “no dating coworkers” rule that would probably thwart my genius plans, of which I had none. One day the planets aligned and the inspector, we’ll call him Tom, asked me if I’d be interested in going on a date with Lauren. I thought I responded with a perfectly executed James Bond 007 cool reply. You see, I wanted to answer in the affirmative, but not seem overly excitable. Realistically I responded like a thirsty child who was just offered all the soda pop in the world. So, Tom said he’d ask if she’d be mutually interested. I hardly slept that night.

Several years (days) went by, and no comment from Tom. I didn’t want to press him. I thought maybe he asked her and she declined. Maybe he didn’t bring it up again in order to avoid hurting my feelings. Maybe he found out that there is indeed an evil no-dating rule in the City. Maybe she hated bald guys or thought engineers were losers. Maybe she was adverse to dating or studying to become a nun. Finally Tom let me know that he did ask her and that she seemed willing to go on a date with me. That’s when the cunning plans began to develop.

You see, I couldn’t simply ask her out. No, no. That would surely fail. No, the approach would have to be worthy of a blockbuster movie, epic in ingenuity, ambitious in effort. And it had to be done on the sly, in case she’d catch wind of the cunning plot and run for her single life. Eventually the office boys and I went to lunch upon which Tom let me know that he was to work with Lauren after lunch. The plan was to return to the office early so that I could be at my desk looking important when Lauren would walk in. Tom would then apologize to her while leaving to take care of a few last minute details. I would bravely and coolly introduce myself and hopefully chit chat with her while Tom was away. With our plans established we returned to the office as planned. I walked in the door and immediately found myself face to face with Lauren, who had happened to arrive early herself. That’s where my James Bond confidence left all-together. I vaguely remember gurgling some sort of greeting before quickly side stepping her and diving for the sanctuary of my cubicle. Tom, somewhat startled, moved forward with the plan and left the area. I gathered up my pitiful confidence and invited Lauren to sit down near my desk. After pausing to think about it for the longest 2.74 seconds of my life, she accepted my offer and sat down with me at my desk. I then began to do my best to make small chat. To my horror, the well-meaning receptionist came over and took immediate control of the conversation. My window of opportunity collapsed. After a few minutes of chaotic conversation Tom came back and they left. I was fairly disappointed in the conversation portion of the plan but was relieved that I found enough courage to invite her to sit down.

Several days later Tom and I were scheming about the next step. The new plan was for Tom to schedule an afternoon with Lauren and then to have to cancel at the last second, leaving no one to work with Lauren. That is, unless I had time in my busy schedule to step in. So, Lauren showed up, Tom bowed out and asked her if it would be ok if I worked with her for the afternoon. She replied that that would be fine. He then asked me (part of the plan) if that would be fine. I checked my fictitiously busy schedule and said I could squeeze it in.

So off we went in her work truck. We went about inspecting storm drains; all the while we made small talk. At one point we had to track down a storm drain pipe that went down a decently steep ravine. Upon walking back up the ravine, I attempted to carry on a conversation with her while maintaining a normal breathing cycle in the hopes that I wouldn’t look like the hopelessly out-of-shape chap that I was. I nearly collapsed a lung. I was absolutely dying. By the time we reached the top I was drenched in sweat (it was frigid cold), nearly blacking out, and my lungs were on fire. We climbed into the truck and upon closing my door my half of the cab windows instantaneously fogged up. And so the day went on, me attempting to keep up with her work pace, and her pleasantly doing her job. At the end of the day I told her it was a pleasure to work with her. I wondered if I should ask her on a date but chickened out largely based on the assumption that she probably didn’t date coworkers.

That night I couldn’t sleep. Again. I wallowed in my lack of confidence and wondered if I’d ever get another chance. The next day, whether by design or by coincidence I’m not sure, I got to work with Lauren again. We spent the afternoon doing the same work as before. At one point I dropped a tape measure down one of the storm drains and we had to work together to fish it out. We had pleasant conversation the entire time and I enjoyed myself. I was surprised how quickly comfortable I was coming to feel around her.

That day we used my work van and at the end of the day I walked her to her truck. Those last few yards to her truck were absolutely torturous. I was frantically arguing with myself in my mind about whether I should ask her out or not. It was an emotional battle of grand proportions as I madly summoned all the courage I could muster. I stopped eight feet from her truck, not wanting her to feel crowded. She walked to the door. This was it. Do or die. Prevail or fail. Attempt and go down in flames or remain silent and feel the cowardly shame. I paused and she paused… What was this? Was she purposefully fidgeting with her keys? Is she giving me a sign? Could it possibly be that she wants me to ask her out to dinner? Could it be imaginable that this bald fellow has actually succeeded? Probably not. But not wanting to spend weeks and months hating myself for chickening out, I very smoothly and confidently coughed out something that resembled a request for a date. Amazingly, she accepted.