We were at our favorite Chinese restaurant tonight and I noticed that they had changed their placemats. Since my decision to "settle down and make it work" I’ve noticed that the pace of life has naturally slowed to suit my internally stated goal. My life is centered on trying to decide what color the fabric on our dining room furniture should be for when we move into the home that is being built. What kind of border the guest room sheets should get. What color the guest bathroom should be painted. What umbrella would best suit the patio furniture I do not yet own.

One of the advantages to having access to money as an adult is to develop a routine that you enjoy; Frank and I love to eat out, especially since I cook poorly and only for myself–he works too late during the week. We love Chinese, Italian, French, and Thai. Tonight it is Sunday, and Chinese is usually a good way to begin the week. Frank likes it and so here we are.

I silently read the guide to the Chinese Zodiac that was printed on the placemat: "The Chinese Zodiac consists of a twelve year cycle, each year of which is named after a different animal that imparts distinct characteristics to its year. Many Chinese believe that the year of a person’s birth is the primary factor in determining that person’s personality traits, physical and mental attributes and degree of success and happiness throughout his lifetime. To learn about your Animal Sign, find the year of your birth among the twelve signs running around the border. If you were born before 1936, add 12 to the year you were born to find out your year."

The last little bit is not a problem since Frank was born in 1955 and I was born in 1973 (I include 19 in case you great great great grandkids–if there are any of you–uncover my diary in the next century or two and can’t figure out how old your ancestor was). My animal sign is an "Ox" which means I am "bright, patient, and inspiring to others." I can be happy by yourself, yet can also be an outstanding parent. "Marry a Snake or a Cock," I am commanded. "The Sheep will bring trouble." I like the part about marrying a Snake or a Cock, but 1955 leads me not to a phallic symbol but a Sheep.

The Sheep placidly reads his menu as I scan the description of his sign: "Elegant and creative, you are timid and prefer anonymity. You are most compatible with boars and rabbits but never the Ox."

And I am just a little bit offended at how absolutely sure this chart seems. Frank hasn’t noticed. He won’t read the placemat. Even if I show it to him he will just shrug and ignore me and call me a beautiful little princess. Why? Because that’s what he does. He is building a house and I am picking things out and that will be his castle and I will be his princess in the castle and the Chinese Zodiac can be damned. The only thing he is interested in that is Chinese is the shrimp with lobster sauce, which he will order out of some habit ingrained in him long before I was even born even though he is continuing to examine the menu as though he were a type-A diamond appraiser trying to perceive the imperceptible difference between blood diamonds shipped from war torn Africa and virgin stones unearthed in Canada’s new mines, sovereign and peaceful.

Yes, he will have the shrimp with lobster sauce and I will order the vegetable lo mein.

Tonight the question on his mind is not what is on the menu. The question on his mind is whether or not his second attempt will be successful. His first attempt took place at Artola’s, our favorite Italian restaurant; he was having linguini and clam sauce.

I am an Ox.

He is a Sheep.

No, for a second time, I will not marry you.