Blame it on the creme brulee...

I just got back from one of the best mini vacations I’ve ever taken.  My friend Jordan had asked me a few months back how I wanted to live out my last single days, and I had mentioned taking a trip. As the mom of an 18-month-old, she was totally on board!  I picked Charleston, South Carolina since I had never been before but had always wanted to go. 

Y’all, it was amazing!  I can’t wait for my husband to take me back there someday. (hint, hint – Milton)  For the record, I probably won’t be using y’all outside this post.  I just wanted to feel like a real Charlestonian for a minute, but I can tell it doesn’t suit me.

Jordan and I go way back….all the way to law school.  Together, we ran the Christian Legal Society, and made it the world-renowned organization it is today.  Well, more like we managed to keep it going and not publicly embarrass ourselves or the Lord in the process. We also ran an ill advised half marathon one time, but we won’t talk about that. Now that we’re getting older and she’s married with babies to tend to, we don’t get to see each other as often as we’d like.  It doesn’t help that we live 9 hours apart.  It was a wonder we could find 3 consecutive days to spend in the same city, but I’m so glad we did.

We arrived at Charleston around 11:30pm.  Neither of us had bothered to rent a car, but we weren’t concerned.  We figured we’d just see what the Charleston airport had to offer us.  What we found was an unhelpful woman at the Hertz booth who only catered to those with a reservation.  We had slightly better luck with Avis, but they wanted $800 to rent an SUV for 3 days.  When the woman gave us the total – “that will be $798.89” – Jordan looked at me and said, “you want to go ahead and do it?”  I think my response was something like, “Point me in the direction of the hotel.  I’ll walk.”  What surprised me more was her willingness to part with almost $1000 for a rental car.  The Jordan I knew only spent money under extreme duress.  Turns out she thought that the woman had meant $7.98 per day.  What a bargain. Did I mention it was 11:30 at night, and Jordan is preggo?  Suddenly it all makes sense.

With the ring of $800 in the air, I moved us down the line to a portly gentleman working the all but abandoned National desk. Finally, a Southern gentleman. He rented us a beautiful Toyota Camry for $90.  We took in the sights, at least what we could see by moonlight, on our 20 minute trek to the boutique hotel Jordan had picked out for us.  There just happened to be an empty parking space directly in front of the hotel.  We were amazed.  It turns out Charleston is pretty magical, and this kind of good fortune would follow us for the entire trip…mostly.

The night duty concierge let us in and showed us to our room.  It was beautiful and not at all cheesy for a beach-themed area.  The most important thing she taught us was how to order breakfast.  We knew it was included with the room, but we were expecting a pitiful fruit and bagel tray in the lobby.  But, Charleston is magical.  You actually got to custom order your breakfast from a plethora of options (many of them Weight Watcher’s friendly) and then they would deliver it to your room at the time you specified. Seriously.

We had the best time picking and choosing from all the options.  In case any of you ever decide to check out the Harbor View Inn, please note that the ½ grapefruit option under the juice menu literally means a half grapefruit and not just a small glass of grapefruit juice, as we had foolishly assumed.

We slept in until 9am when our breakfast arrived, and then we headed out for a walking tour I had scheduled.  This was a bit of a shot in the dark, but I wanted to see some of the historical places in downtown Charleston and thought a walking tour might be enjoyable.  I hadn’t factored in that Charleston is super humid, it was August, and Jordan is 5 months pregnant.  I found a listing for Two Sister’s Tours through trip advisor and thought it was right up our alley.  The business is run by two sisters (duh) who have lived in Charleston their whole lives.  They give tours twice a day for $20 a person in groups of 20 or less.  Our particular tour had 7 people on it, which ended up being pretty perfect.  It turns out the sisters are both retired attorneys!  Mary Helen gave our tour that morning, and she was delightful. 

The tour ended up being exactly what I was looking for.  We got to traipse through all these little neighborhoods and side streets to look at period homes and gardens, sprinkled with stops at historic sites and buildings dating from the early 1700s. In addition, we got wonderful restaurant and plantation recommendations from the sister.  I highly recommend this tour if you’re ever in Charleston. I’ve already decided to go again on my next trip.  Here we are at the end of the tour – may this serve as a reminder to always have your souvenir photo taken at the beginning of the tour, before the Southern humidity literally melts the flesh off your face.

 

  

One of the last stops we made on the tour was to “the oldest theater in America.”* The Dock Street Theater is a beautiful old playhouse dating back from the 1700s.  It has been completely restored in the last few years and now serves as a performance venue for Charleston Stage, a local theater group.  As luck would have it, they were opening a new production that evening of the musical The Producers.  Jordan and I decided on a whim to get tickets for that evening.  While The Producers is a bit risqué in terms of content, we both thoroughly enjoyed the evening. 

As we walked back to our hotel after the performance, we kept passing groups of semi-sober ladies wearing princess crowns, feather boas, and matching t-shirts saying things like “bride to be” and “blame it on the vodka.”  Jordan lamented that she hadn’t thought to do something similarly tacky for me.  She wondered if my bachelorette weekend was too tame to be a proper send-off.  As we stopped at a hip restaurant for a late-night dessert, we had no idea how exciting the trip was about to become.

I enjoyed a lovely dessert of red velvet bread pudding with a side of coffee.  Jordan enjoyed a beautiful crème brulee with a heaping side of food poisoning.  The next morning as she pushed me out of her way to projectile vomit ALL OVER THE BATHROOM, I suspected something might be wrong. When I say all over, I mean all over.  It was on the door, in the bathtub, on the counter, and little bit made it into the toilet.  As she surveyed the crime scene, there was only one thing for me to say….”Now it feels like a bachelorette party.”  I’ve tried desperately to find a “blame it on the crème brulee” shirt, but it doesn’t exist. 

Jordan was in no position to vacation that day, so I decided to let her sleep it off recover in the room while I took advantage of the Charleston boutique scene.  This actually worked out great.  I felt bad that Jordan was so sick, but there’s nothing worse than having people just sit there and watch you be sick when there’s nothing they can do for you.  Plus, Jordan isn’t as big of a fan of shopping as I am.  This way, she could rest, and I could take my time painstakingly walking all of King Street, visiting every single store that does not exist in Oklahoma City. We both ended up having good days, all things considered.  I spent way too much money on clothes and books and jewelry, and Jordan got to sleep all day - something she never gets to do anymore.  Who knew having kids could make you thankful for a sick day all to yourself.

Oh, did I mention I got to see a celebrity?

This was pretty exciting.  I was heading back to the hotel, when a store window for a tiny little boutique caught my eye.  I wandered in and started looking around.  I could hear another customer discussing a potential purchase with the owner.  The customer wanted to buy two items that were part of different sets, and the owner was falling all over herself to be accommodating.  “Southern folks are so nice,” I thought to myself. Finally she said, “Well, I own the store, so I’m just going to let you break those up and buy them however you want.”  The customer responded enthusiastically. I thought the customer’s voice sounded oddly familiar.  I turned around and found myself face to face with Hillary Swank – two time Oscar winner and star of Amelia, one of the worst movies ever made.**  I just stared at her for what felt like an inappropriately long time. Finally I decided that I needed to either buy something or leave because I was quickly becoming the weirdo who stares at people while they’re trying to shop. I left as quietly as I’d entered, but I was forever changed.   Well, okay that’s a little dramatic.  But I do now have a fun, less vomity, trip memory.***

Here I am in front of the boutique that was the site of my celebrity encounter.  It’s called Noddy.  Seriously.

By that evening, Jordan was feeling much better.  She oohed and aahed over all my purchases and even feigned an appropriate level of enthusiasm for my Hillary Swank encounter (even though she had no idea who that was).  We ventured out for a fancy dinner, followed by a trek to the local Pandora store so I could get a charm to commemorate our trip.  I didn’t figure they’d have a specific Charleston charm, so we spent the walk thinking of options -  a little house for our tour, a crab because we’re close to the beach, perhaps a king’s crown for King Street.  It turns out they do have Charleston charms, but they’re super tacky and terrible.  However, the sales lady mentioned one option I hadn’t considered – a pineapple.  All along our tour, the houses had pineapple designs incorporated into their gates and posts, because the pineapple is the symbol for Southern hospitality.  I was still considering my options when the sales lady told me the following fun fact: During the Civil War, ladies whose husbands were off fighting would put a pineapple on their porch to let other gentlemen know they were open to receiving a little male attention.  That’s all I needed to hear.  I love my little pineapple charm so much!

Bright and early Sunday morning, Jordan and I enjoyed our final breakfast and headed to services at the St. Michael’s Episcopal church.  This site was included on our walking tour.  It’s the oldest church building in Charleston with actual signers of the Declaration of Independence buried in its cemetery.  The church service was really great – it was formal, as is the Episcopal way, but had some definite modern sensibilities too.  It was Jubilee Sunday, a day for everything to begin anew.  It was a lovely idea to meditate on as I approach my wedding.  During the prayer time, Jordan took the opportunity to pray for Milton and me specifically as we start our lives together.

For our last day in Charleston, Jordan and I decided to finally make use of our rental car and drive out of the city to tour a plantation home.  Side note – I’m so glad we didn’t spend $800 on a rental car, because we pretty much walked everywhere with the exception of this last day. Our walking tour guide from day one told us that there were two plantations she would absolutely visit over all others – Boone Hall and Middleton Place.  The only difference was that Middleton Place has a restaurant that serves the “world’s best fried chicken.”  Upon hearing this, Jordan and I gave each other a knowing glance.  Maybe we can catch Boone Hall on our next trip.

On our way out of town, we happened upon the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church, the site of the recent shooting.  We hadn’t wanted to visit otherwise because it didn’t feel like a tourist destination, but we were happy to get to see it.  Having been to Charleston now and seeing how intimate the community is, I have a better appreciation for just how tragic and emotionally devastating this event was for the whole town.

It was a beautiful drive out to the plantation, full of winding roads lined with centuries old trees. It rained the entire time we were there, but we still thoroughly enjoyed our day. The fried chicken did not disappoint…neither did the mint julep, cornbread, mac and cheese, fried okra, and whatever else we ate that I can’t even remember now. The plantation came complete with sheep! And ladies who weave things! And adorable Asian babies wrapped in beach towels (not sure why...the rain, maybe?). And lots of twisty trails and gardens that were probably great for sneaking away with a beau, but terrible for trying to figure out how to get back to the main entryway. Luckily we did make it back.  We were completely soaked, but we had a great time overall.  Here are a few pics from our afternoon.

    

    

We were sad to see our trip end, but we had to get back to our real lives.  We had the best time, and I’m so thankful we were able to get away for a few days.  It’s so much harder now than it used to be.  I really appreciate Jordan making the time to commemorate this exciting time in my life.  It was as if no time had passed since law school.  Even Milton could sense our joy when I would call him each night.  Milton and I could barely have a conversation from all the side convos and laughter that ensued between Jordan and I.  Milton finally said, “It sounds like you guys really get along well.”  We do, Milton.  We really do.  

This was the perfect final fling before the ring, even though it was pretty tame.  Trust me, that's how we like it.  But Jordan did manage to score a little action.  No preggo journey through airport security would be complete without a thorough pat-down. 

Next on the pre-wedding list….showers, showers, and more showers. I can’t wait to tell you all about it!

*Our tour guide said it was the oldest theater in America, but Google disagrees.  They gave the title to some little venue in Philadelphia.  At any rate, this place is the oldest theater in Charleston.  Wikipedia notes that it was the first building in America built exclusively to be used for theatrical performances. 

** I kid you not.  It’s the worst.  I’ll save you what feels like six hours, but is probably only two  – Amelia Earhart is born, learns how to fly a plane (and not in a way that’s remotely interesting), and then she crashes in the ocean where it is assumed she’s dead. And you are relieved that it’s finally over.

**The reasons I didn’t ask her for a picture or autograph are two-fold.  (1) The last time I met a celebrity, I asked for a picture and got shot down.  I felt really stupid and swore to myself I would never be over excited about a celebrity encounter again. They’re just people….who make movies and millions of dollars.  (2) Charleston is humid, remember?  By that point in the day, I looked like a dripping, puddle of a human being and probably smelled like swamp thing. 

All couples need therapy....Now how does that make you feel?

And just like that, it’s been over a month since my last post.  The time really does fly when you are planning a wedding.  I’m not sure what I’ve done with all of it, but I’m definitely glad to be closer to the big day.  We are exactly 6 weeks away from saying I do, and my feet are toasty warm.  I hope Milton’s are too.  

Actually, my feet are always cold, as Milton can attest. Cold feet are my weapon of choice. When we are snuggled on the couch, I like to wait until Milton is nice and comfy and then attack him with my icy feet.  Ambush tactics aside, in the emotional sense, my feet are burning up.

Milton and I just completed our pre-marital counseling.  I can’t recommend it enough for couples planning to tie the knot.  We went through an actual therapist rather than just our minister because (A) we’re actually older than our minister and (B) our minister just got married a month ago himself.

Little known fact – counseling is a crazy expensive racket.  Okay, maybe calling it a racket is unfair – it is a valuable service, but it can really add up.  The first counselor I called wanted over $800 for 6 sessions and he indicated that it would likely take 12+ sessions to get through all our issues.  As I was choking on that number, trying to imagine what issues Milton and I could possibly have that would take 12 sessions of therapy to cure, I remembered that my health benefits provider would cover 6 sessions of counseling services each year.  

I promptly dialed the 800 number for my benefits provider and was greeted by a soft spoken older woman who repeatedly asked me if there was anything I needed to talk about besides finding a pre-marital counselor.   She might as well have said, “You’re not fooling anyone.  Now put down the gun and tell me why you’re sad.” Kudos to the call center operators - they do not give up easy.  I almost made up an issue just to satisfy her quest for a sufficiently depressing condition.  Luckily, I was able to convince her my sarcastic sense of humor was not a thinly veiled cry for help.  She was able recommend a counselor in our area that could handle our pre-marital counseling from a Christian perspective.

When the big day arrived, I think Milton and I were both a little apprehensive about our first session.  Neither of us had been to therapy before, so it seemed like a strange concept to introduce yourself to a stranger and then talk about really private aspects of your relationship and family histories.  Somehow the knowledge that it would all be confidential didn’t seem to put us at ease.  Maybe that’s because Milton knew I’d be blogging about it….hmm.

I guess I had been expecting more of a Hollywood version of a therapists office.  I thought there would be a wavy couch thing built for two and the therapist would be a crunchy woman who constantly asked us how things made us feel and why we hated our mothers so much.  I think Milton was just hoping there wasn’t going to be any role-play exercises.  Secretly, I was counting on those.  I had been practicing my Milton voice all week.  I didn’t get to use it. Not once.

The office was actually more reminiscent of a spa than a doctor’s office.  There was a small sofa – not big enough to nap on, and the room was softly lit with candles.  There was a box of tissues terrifyingly perched on the large trunk that served as the coffee table. I prayed the only sniffles we’d suffer were allergy related.

Prior to our first session, we each had to fill out a 300+ question assessment  that asked everything from our health histories to our favorite breakfast cereals.  We were supposed to fill out the assessments individually so our results could be compared and the potential strengths and weaknesses in our relationship could be identified.  After introductions, the therapist told us that our assessments had been very interesting.  As is my curse gift in awkward social situations, I attempted to break the tension with a joke about how we had painstakingly gone through each question together, so our answers should have matched up exactly.  The therapist didn’t have much of a sense of humor.  She was immediately confused and started in about how we were supposed to take them on our own, now the results wouldn’t be accurate, blah, blah, blah.  Calm down, therapist lady, I was kidding.

All joking aside, our results were really positive.  We had only strengths, no weaknesses.  Just as I was planning how to spend my suddenly free Thursdays for the next 6 weeks, the therapist informed us that we’d still need to complete the sessions.  Apparently even perfect couples have problems. None of ours were apparent yet, but she assured us that someday we would encounter an issue and lean on the tools we learned over the next 6 weeks to tackle it. That is if we could still find all the worksheets.

The topics we covered in our sessions weren’t earth shattering, but they were definitely important.  It’s necessary to talk about things like future family planning and finances before you say I do.  You don’t want to be on your honeymoon and suddenly figure out your husband wants 19 children, their own TLC show, and for you to not have an opinion.*  But you don’t just cover the big stuff either.  You talk about fighting styles, what kind of home environment you anticipate and how you like to be approached with difficult situations.  

Without divulging any of our big secrets (now you really want to know, don’t you), it was clear, as Milton and I worked through the sessions, we’d already had all the necessary conversations.  There were no surprises or areas of concern for either of us.  That’s not to say we handle things identically.  There are plenty of differences in the way we process emotions and view relationship dynamics.  I’m sure some of these differences will lead to some impassioned arguments in the future, but for the most part, our differences are different in the right way.  We complement each other.  Where Milton is weak, I am strong.  Where I am weak, Milton pretends to not notice so as to not hurt my ego.  

We are a perfect pair.  Even the therapist said so.  At the end of our first session, she gave us her assessment of our overall chances as a future married couple.  “I think you’ll be great!  You’re both practical people, with reasonable expectations about what you want out of your marriage.”

I couldn’t agree more.

While we didn’t need therapy to confirm what we already knew about our compatibility, we definitely got something out of the experience.  I don’t want to put words in Milton’s mouth, so I’ll just talk about my observations from here on out.  Here are a few of the things therapy taught me:

• Therapy isn’t scary.
• I had never been to a therapist before, so I didn’t know how quickly I would feel at ease.  Even though the first session was a little awkward, I warmed up really quickly.  I know I don’t have trouble communicating with strangers, but it’s different when you’re talking about your feelings and life experiences (good and bad). It was definitely something I could see myself utilizing again should the need arise. I often thought I should have seen a counselor after my brother died, but I battled through on my own.  I don’t think I’ll choose that path again for the next crisis.  Hopefully there won’t be one.  Now that Milton and I have attended couples counseling, I think we’d be more inclined to go again in the future if we had problems in our marriage.  That’s definitely going to be worth the time and effort we spent the past 6 weeks should the need arise.
• Milton’s stress level is annoyingly low.
• In one of the sessions, our stress levels were evaluated based on our answers to the assessment questions.  My stress level was at 80%, from factors like my job, my weight, my family, to wedding planning, and finances for wedding planning. That number sounded pretty accurate to me. Milton’s stress level was 10%. Yup, 10%. I’m over here worrying about EVERYTHING there is to possibly worry about.  What’s Milton’s big stressor?  I’m so glad you asked.  The cause of Milton’s stress, as assessed by a computer program is that “his fiancé is stressed out.”  Just let that sink in for a minute.  My stress is causing Milton's stress. All 10% of it. Good to know.  
• Everyone is entitled to feel or think however they feel or think about a certain issue.
• So often when I ask someone their opinion about something, I don’t really care what they think.  I just want them to agree with me.  I already know I’m right, and I just want that confirmed.  Therapy involved a lot of one of us sharing our thoughts or feelings about a topic and the other one then responding to that revelation.  It was a space where you were encouraged to think or feel exactly how you think or feel without any judgment. In marriage, I think it will be important to make sure I’m listening as much as I’m talking.  This is especially true in marrying a guy like Milton who is much more likely to go with the flow than to rock the boat.  I need to remember to ask his opinions and feelings about things whether it’s an important issue or a mundane one. And then I have to listen to what he says. I always want him to feel heard.
• I definitely picked the right guy.
• I already knew this, but therapy just confirmed it.  We are such a good match and definitely have all the right qualities to be a killer team in marriage.  I’m really excited to spend my life with Milton.  I told him the other night that I couldn’t have done any better if I’d picked him out of a catalogue.  He feels the same way about me.  We both have our insecurities about the way we look and whether we’re enough for the other one, but I think we’ve fallen into one of those really rare and awesome relationships where we both feel like we’re marrying up.

Getting our pre-marital counseling done was just one of the things on our pre-wedding to-do list.  Coming up soon, I’ve got bridal showers, a girls’ trip, bachelorette party, and then, of course, the big day!  Stay tuned!

* Who am I kidding, if TLC wants to pay me money to film me living my life, I’m all for it.  They could call it Humdrum Boo-Boo: The uninspiring story of a couple who only gets off the couch to pee.

32.

I was 16 once.  Hard to believe, I know.  But way back when, I used to have lunch with my best friend every day at school.  Over cartons of milk, orange wedges, and all manor of lunchroom junk food, we used to discuss the current world events.  Okay, that's not true.  Mostly we just talked about boys, which was ironic since neither of us really dated much.  I guess we just truly believed that someday our princes would come and be totally cool with our addiction to N'SYNC and Frutopia. Until that day came, we were making lots of plans.

My best friend (also known as my soon-to-be wedding photographer!) had a real heart for motherhood.  She was looking forward to running her own photography business, which would give her plenty of time to get married, run a home, and have a family. I had dreams too, but they were more geared toward traveling the world, being the emperor of something, and basically making enough money to buy my own tilt-o-whirl for the backyard of my mansion.* I wanted a husband and family too, but it was going to have to fit around all my self-centered goals. As different as we were, we did share several common dreams, like owning Kitchen-Aid Mixers (check) and staying friends well into old age (double check).

One afternoon I very specifically remember getting into a conversation about when we thought we would get married.  Keep in mind, we were 16!  If my 16-year-old daughter asked me when I thought she'd get married, I'd say "not while you live under my roof," as I shoved a math textbook and a healthy snack into her hands. But we were totally unsupervised during our high school lunch break, and thus the following conversation:

Me:  I think you'll get married around age 23.**

Keep in mind, I had no way to prove this would happen, I just knew she wanted to marry at a reasonably young age.

Mandy:  (pleased with my prediction) Hmm, I think you'll get married when you're 32.

Me:  Huh??

I was #horrified, of course hashtags didn't really exist back then, so I was just regular horrified.  I remember being really surprised and downright offended.  32 was a lifetime away...I mean, since my lifetime so far was only 16 years. I thought by 32 I'd be a dried-up old woman with nothing to offer in the romance department. Oh to be young and naive.

On July 1, I celebrated my 32nd birthday.

I can now say with lots of authority that I am in no way dried up (thanks to good skincare), I have plenty to offer in the romance department (if you think Redbox and a pizza count as romantic - which, for the record, I do), and I have never looked better (thank you Weight Watchers). Oh, and I'm getting married, so I guess Mandy knew what she was talking about.

Am I sad I didn't meet someone sooner?  I guess maybe, but honestly, if I couldn't be with Milton, I'd rather be single. He's that great! Need proof?  Let me tell you a little story.  A few weeks ago we tackled our wedding registries.  One of the last items I registered for at Dillard's was a Vera Bradley duffel bag. Unfortunately the pattern I really wanted didn't come in the duffel size, so I registered for something else.  About a week later, Milton and I were sitting on the couch when he got a notification on his phone for some eBay auctions he'd been watching.  Unbeknownst to me, he had tracked down the duffel bag in the pattern I wanted and was working on securing one for me....which he did. Yeah, I know.  I can't believe how lucky I am either.

And that wasn't even part of my birthday, which for the record, he made incredibly special!

The day started with a happy birthday text of a picture of an adorable French bulldog.  That was quickly followed by another text letting me know that he had not gotten me a puppy for my birthday. That was probably wise since I was already busy naming my new fur baby.  Later in the day, I received a delivery of beautiful roses.  I love getting flowers delivered to my office.  I know that makes me a little bit of a whore, but I don't care.  I love showing the world that somebody thinks I'm special. Hence this blog...

Then when I got to Milton's that night, he had 4 beautifully wrapped gifts waiting for me to open. I was going to wait until after dinner, but my inner 6-year-old was strong, and I just couldn't wait.

   

Milton did such a good job! He got me some cute PJs, a new iPod speaker for my office at work, an iPhone charging dock since I was jealous of his, and a French bulldog calendar. He took special care to get an iPhone dock that wasn't too  masculine.  This one is a soft blue and matches my bedroom decor perfectly. He also apologized about the calendar since the year is half over, but I immediately decided to fill in the pages with all our special days and memories.  It will be a really great keepsake. Then we headed to dinner downtown at Vast.  It was amazing!  Neither of us had been before, but we will definitely go back....once we've saved enough money.  Milton had made the reservations weeks before my birthday.  I love a guy who makes plans!

That night, he told me I also had a mystery present coming.  I was already so spoiled by the day that I couldn't imagine more.  I had even sort of forgotten about it, but yesterday it came. 

Milton listens.....like really listens.  One afternoon at the grocery store, I was complaining that nothing ever had my name on it.  This has plagued me since my childhood vacation days when I had to watch longingly as other kids selected key chains and bike license plates perfectly emblazoned with their various suburban monikers. Lately, I've had the same flashbacks as I've stood in the checkout lane at the grocery store, wishing that someone could "share a Coke with Mariah."  Damn you, Coke!  But....Milton listens.....like really listens. 

Obviously, you'll just have to take my word for it that he spelled my name correctly (my real  name, that is).  I was so surprised that he thought to have this made for me.  I immediately put it in a place of honor on my bookcase, where I will treasure it always.  

And if the Zombie Apocalypse hits, I'll have a little caffeinated treat in my supply stash. 

* I still really want a tilt-o-whirl.  It also wouldn't suck to be the emperor of something.  And as emperor, I'm sure I'd get to travel the world.  Maybe my dreams haven't changed as much as I thought.

** By the way, she got married at 24, so I was basically right. As usual.

I'm too stressed out to think of a title.

I have new appreciation for those past friends I've had who've completely disappeared once they get engaged or married, mostly because I've become one of them.  It's been almost two months since my last blog.  I should feel rested and ready to chat it up with my blog reading peeps, but instead I'm trying to sneak in 15 solid minutes of writing between work, the gym, packing my house, planning my wedding, spending time with my fiancé, maintaining relationships with family and friends, and keeping some kind of grasp on my sanity. The good news is all the pre-wedding/pre-moving stress has completely eliminated my appetite.  The bad news is I've replaced food with vodka.  Luckily, I'm too tipsy to see it as bad news. 

Milton and I are having a great time being engaged, don't get me wrong, but I've uttered the phrase, "why don't we just elope" about a bazillion times since he proposed.  Sometimes I'm joking, but mostly I'm serious. It would be so much easier, not to mention cheaper.  We probably won't elope.  Probably.  I mean, we've devoted so many hours cutting down our guest list to a manageable size, we'd like to get something out of that investment in pissing off various close (but not close enough) family and friends.

I had envisioned my engagement period to be so much more relaxing.  I thought I'd spend my Saturdays sipping mimosas at bridal fairs and pass my evenings flipping through bridal magazines and finding things online to register for.  Actually, that sounds terrible, but I thought I'd have a lot more time to just enjoy being engaged.  At the very least, I thought Milton and I might be able to spend an evening together that didn't involve making a thousand seemingly important but secretly ridiculous decisions. Here's what I've really been up to:

• Working.  Life doesn't stop just because you find the one.  My co-workers usually greet me with some form of, "how's the wedding planning going; that's great, now do this really important thing that isn't fun at all."
• Working out. I've got to get swimsuit ready by the honeymoon.  I've seriously been slacking in the Weight Watcher's department ever since Milton and I started dating.  I haven't gained any weight, but I haven't been losing either.  I signed up for a fitness challenge at my gym to kick my own butt.  So far it's working!
• Planning my wedding.  This is actually taking up more of my mental energy than I had anticipated since I'm having such a small non-traditional wedding.  So far, I've...
• Booked the venue - it's going to be at The Ranch, which is a local steakhouse.
• Picked the date - October 2, 2015.  For those of you keeping score, that's the one year anniversary of our first date. Say it with me.....Awwwwww.
• Finalized the guest list - the venue only holds 70 people.  There was plenty of weeping and gnashing of teeth to get our respective lists down to that number.  I'll take this opportunity to apologize to most of Milton's cousins and about 40 of my close friends. 
• Bought my dress and shoes - This was a bit of a disaster.  I originally ordered this custom made dress from a company in China.  It fit, but it looked way worse on me than the size zero, 6 foot tall model on the website.  So I went to a local department store and found something that made me feel beautiful for a whopping $90.  I got some killer shoes at David's Bridal.  Side note:  Please don't ever make me go back to David's Bridal again.  It would take too long to describe my particular experience, but suffice it to say, bitches be crazy.
• Decided on a cake - There will be 7 tables of 10 people each at the venue, so I'm ordering 10 person Ribbon cakes from a local bakery.  I'm so excited about this.  I would have gotten married years ago, if I'd known about all the yummy snacks.
• Figured out decorations - There won't be any.
• Planned my flowers - There won't be any of those either.
• Selected my bridesmaid dresses - Oh wait, there won't be any bridesmaids.
• Booked the honeymoon - We're going to Punta Cana, Dominican Republic!  Big shout-out to Milton's mom who gifted us the funds for the trip. We're staying at this amazing resort in a suite with a butler and a private garden, pool, and beach.  I'm planning on living out some of my Downton Abbey fantasies with the butler, meaning I'm going to make him bring me lots of food. 
• Scheduling various pre-wedding events - It's been a real challenge to get all my bridal showers, bachelorette parties, and girls' trips scheduled in the few weekends between now and October 2, but somehow I've made it all work.
• We registered - I was dreading this process so much, mostly because Milton and I have like 3 of everything, but we actually got it all done this past weekend.  We registered at Bed, Bath, and Beyond (because it's like a rule or something) and Dillards.  We tried to register for a good variety of things in lots of different price points.  We'll find out at our showers if we succeeded or not.  By the way, I'm going to use this post as our "please just give us cash" registry.  Wait, is that rude?
• Engagement pics - We completed our engagement pics last weekend, and boy, Milton was such a champ.  We took literally 400+ pictures at 3 locations, with 3 wardrobe changes.  I'm tired just thinking about it.  Here's some of our proofs.  All pictures are by my best friend Mandy Edmonson who owns Focused Memories Photography:

 

 

I literally could not be any happier with how the pictures turned out.  It must have something to do with how happy I am, because normally I hate pictures of myself.

 

In addition to all the wedding stuff, I've been trying to sell my house and get ready to move.  This is definitely taking up all my time right now, and it's making me want to eat all the cookies.  Like all of them.  Even the gluten-free ones.  I listed the house for about a week and ended up selling it twice.  It sold on day one to some woman who got cold feet and asked to be let out of the contract two days later.  Then it sold again on day 5 to a guy who seems more serious.  Inspections were this week and weren't great.  Turns out the house needs a new roof, so I'm trying to get that filed with insurance with the hopes that I can get a new roof done by our current closing date of July 7!  I'm also trying to pack up my house to move to Milton's house.  Actually, I'll be moving to a friends house pre-wedding, but my furniture and stuff will already by at Milton's.  It's going to be a long 3 months living out of a suitcase.

 

Every night after work, I race home and pack as much as I can, then I drive a carload's worth over to Milton's house and fill his hallway with boxes.  Conveniently, Milton is usually playing tennis or something. I'm suspicious.  Then I drive home and go to bed, so I can be at the gym at 6am the next day to start the cycle again.  This routine is getting old.  Hence the drinking.

 

I cannot add one more ounce of stress to my life right now, which is why it's so great that I'm turning 32 next week.  Nothing about aging is ever stressful.  At least I have a shiny engagement ring to stare at all day.  Plus, Milton was very concerned about whether I would be at work on my birthday, so I can't wait to see what that's all about. 

 

I'm guessing he got me a stripper-gram.



April 25 is indeed the perfect date - (a very special) Date Diary

Cheryl was right.

  On April 25, 2015 (around 10pm) Milton and I got engaged!!!

It may seem sudden, but it's not. We've actually been talking about this seriously since around February. I didn't want to be that girl who's delusional about her relationship status and starts blogging about her engagement before anyone's asked her to marry them, so I've held my cards a bit close to my chest. That being said, things have progressed very quickly since we first started talking about the whole marriage thing. We've covered all the big stuff - everything from how many kids we want (pretty important) to what kind of icing we want on the wedding cake (monumentally important). We haven't settled the kid issue just yet - Milton wants two, but I want seven so we can dress in hillbilly lederhosen (basically just bedazzled overalls) and perform all over Oklahoma as the Mid-West Von Trapp Family. Mostly we'd sing Garth Brooks covers, but I haven't really thought about it that much. Luckily we both agree that buttercream icing is the bomb. 

But all this was premature, because Milton hadn't actually asked me to marry him yet. I kept reminding him of this minor, but important, detail on pretty much a daily basis. I think my persistence is something he really loathes loves about me. I had this desperate desire to preserve all the mystery surrounding the eventual proposal, but that sometimes conflicted with the control freak that lives just beneath the part of my personality that is normal. I didn't want to know when it was going to happen or what the ring would look like, but that didn't stop me from thinking about it pretty much every second of every day.

I had decided that Milton was going to propose next month.  All signs pointed to it.  In three weeks we were going to be on a family vacation with his mom and sister at a seemingly proposal worthy venue. He said he wanted to ask my father's permission in person since they'd be visiting me next weekend. Let's just say I've never been happier to be wrong about anything in my life!

Let me start from the beginning.  Just think of this as the ultimate date diary.  

I crashed at Milton's on Friday night, because we'd been hanging out so late. I stayed in the guest room - That's just how I roll. When I got up, Milton had coffee waiting for me. It was really sweet and reminded me of my parents' morning routine. We cuddled on the couch and made plans for the future. We'd been talking around our impending marriage for months, so we've gotten pretty good at this game. We talked about how it was a good sign that we didn't hate seeing each other first thing in the morning. Milton talked about starting a Saturday breakfast tradition with our family. I could almost smell the waffles and hear the children laughing in the background. I wanted all of it real bad but especially the waffles.   

Finally I went home to shower and get ready for our day. Milton picked me up around 2pm so we could run some errands before an innocent date night that he had planned. We were headed to At Home (used to be Garden Ridge and I'm probably going to keep calling it that) to look for cushions for his patio furniture. Ever since we'd started talking about getting married, Milton has included me on every major or minor home accessory/furniture purchase. Milton is a smart man. We stopped at Sonic because I needed a large drink to keep me properly hydrated during the marathon that is Garden Ridge. I wasn't sure Milton would be up for walking every aisle, but he was such a good sport. We had so much fun just taking our time looking at throw pillows and garden statues. 

We took the cushions back to his house and hung out for about an hour. We talked about what a perfect day of nothingness our Saturday had been so far. Our ability to make a fun day out of mundane activities is probably one of my favorite things about us.

Milton was excited for dinner. We were going to try a restaurant neither of us had been to before - Jazzmo's in Bricktown - and then catch a movie - Age of Adeline. I was a little on the fence about going to Bricktown since the arts festival was going on and I knew parking would be kind of a mess, but I decided to just go with the flow. It turns out parking was a total mess, but the restaurant was amazing! Bonus - it was prom night, so we got to share our table with about 30 high school kids wearing various inappropriate dresses while pretending to be seasoned at eating in a fancy restaurant. Milton and I reminisced about our own proms. It was a short conversation since neither of us went. Then we had a lovely discussion about whether high school Milton would have dated high school Mariah. Let's just say in relationships, timing is everything. I'm glad we met now and not then.

The movie was kind of dumb. The bright spot was when the main character revealed that she had named her daughter Flemming. I turned to Milton with a big, hopeful smile. He immediately started shaking his head no. I guess we're still undecided on future baby names. 

Milton suggested a stroll along the river walk after the movie. I mentioned it was kind of cold, but he promised to keep me warm. How could I argue with that? I was still totally oblivious to his master plan. We walked hand in hand along the river. I was enjoying the peacefulness of the evening when all of a sudden Milton started talking about how this particular part of the river walk was unique because you got to see the backs of so many hotels. It seemed like a strange topic of conversation, but I had to admit, it was pretty special to see so many dumpsters in one place. I was just starting to wonder why he was talking about hotel asses when I noticed that we were in a very secluded part of the river walk. I had never been that far down the river, and I was actually starting to get a little leery. I decided that Milton was either going to propose to me or murder me. I quickly dismissed the first option since I just knew he was going to make me wait a few more weeks. The second option just seemed slightly out of character. 

Finally we found ourselves at the Centennial Park monument - It's basically a garden with various large statues of horses, covered wagons, and Sooners (the land rush kind, not the football players). I proceeded to read the really lame plaque when all of a sudden Milton started kissing me. I just went with it. I try to encourage his enthusiasm for historical sites. The rest is history, but here's a transcript - it's a bit paraphrased since I was too shocked to get an accurate mental recording:

Milton:  I have an ulterior motive for bringing you here.

Me:  Oh really? 

Milton:  I actually talked to your dad on Thursday. 

Me:  Okay. (internally - ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh)

Milton:  I'm not going to get down on one knee.

Me:  You will if you expect me to say yes.

This is my only proposal. I wanted the full show. In his defense, his knees are sort of messed up right now from some rigorous tennis matches. He laughed and ushered me over to a bench so he could kneel down properly. It involved some grunting.

Milton: (very ceremoniously)  October 2, 2014 turned out to be the best day of my life, because I met you. You are the most incredible person I've ever met, and I love you so much. 

At this point, he opened the ring box he had stealthily pulled from his pocket. 

Milton:  (very seriously)  Do you like it?

Milton had severe anxiety over picking out the ring. I gave him some instructions, but I refused to go with him to pick it out. I know I was being difficult, but he was getting a guaranteed yes. I didn't want to make it too easy for him. 

Me:  I love it! It's beautiful! (it really is!)

Milton:  Will you marry me?

Me:  Yes, of course!

-- pause for requisite kissing and general merriment -- 

I had thought about this moment a lot in the last few weeks. I had this whole plan to keep it together and tease him by saying no. In the moment, I was too busy trying to not cry to do anything but say yes. Lame. But perfect.

After trying unsuccessfully to take a selfie to capture our big moment, I waved down a few drunk girls passing through the park. The resulting picture turned out surprisingly perfect! And yes, you can finally see Milton's face!  Isn't he cute?

For those of you who care about such things (like everyone), here's a money shot of the ring - I love it!

And here's how I looked when I woke up this morning and realized it wasn't just a dream.

There's lots to come on the blog now that I've got a wedding to plan. Number one on my to-do list: perfect my Bridezilla face. What do you think?