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?

My hero.

Cue the 80s dance sequence...

I need a hero

I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light

He's gotta be sure

And it's gotta be soon

And he's gotta be larger than life

Milton was most definitely my hero last night. I'd been hanging out at his house after work. Side note - he made me a home cooked dinner!  It was lasagna, and it was awesome! It was so good, I told him he'd have to make it again sometime soon (like every other week for the rest of our lives). Anyway, as I was headed home on a long stretch of deserted highway, my front passenger tire exploded. From this point on, the rest of this story could have been written as part of my obituary, but (spoiler alert) it has a happy ending.

At first I thought something had hit my car, but luckily I was able to keep driving for a few feet and get my car safely to the shoulder. After a brief inspection of my vehicle, I assessed that my tire was dead. Have I mentioned I have awesome mechanic skills? I immediately called Milton. I was really just letting him know what had happened and was hoping he might come keep me company while I waited for the auto service to assist. He, of course, was happy to help.

When he got there, I was still trying to explain my location to the 18-year-old call center representative who's clearly never been to Oklahoma or read a map. My conversation was going something like this:

Me:  Hi, I have a flat tire and no suitable spare. Can you send someone to tow my car?

Auto Service Moron (ASM):  Sure, where are you located?

Me:  I'm heading East on Kilpatrick turnpike. I'm between the Yukon and Wilshire exists.

ASM:  Is that in Oklahoma City?

Me:  I think technically I'm in Yukon, OK right now.

ASM:  But the address on your account says Oklahoma City.

Me:  I drive my car lots of places.

ASM:  What was the last business you saw?

Me:  There was a 7-11 about 10 miles back in Mustang. I'm not sure you understand where I am. I'm in the middle of nowhere on the Kilpatrick turnpike heading East between the Yukon and Wilshire exits.

ASM:  I'm not seeing a Kilpatrick turnpike on the map. Can you spell Kilpatrick?

Me:  C-A-N-I-S-P-E-A-K-T-O-A-N-A-D-U-L-T?

(This might be a good time to point out that I'm not so nice in crisis situations.)

ASM:  Oh, are you on the John Kilpatrick turnpike?

Me:  No, I'm on the Kevin Kilpatrick turnpike.  Yes.

ASM:  Are you heading North or South?

Me:  The turnpike runs East and West. I'm heading East.

ASM:  (a little too sarcastic) It looks like it runs North and South.

Me:  I'm heading East. Technically my car is facing North right now, but that doesn't change the direction the highway runs. I'm in the Eastern lane of the turnpike.

At this point the Auto Service Moron proceeded to put me on hold for 45 minutes so she could find a suitable service provider to tow my car. She was very  helpful to check in every 5 minutes or so to let me know she still couldn't find anyone willing to come help me. Everyone was apparently busy sleeping, which is what I wanted to be doing.

The whole time I'd been having this conversation from hell with the Auto Service Moron, Milton had been trying unsuccessfully to change my tire. I explained that my spare wasn't exactly functional, and I had zero tire changing tools. Milton wasn't deterred. He had tools. He tried and tried to get his own jack to fit under my car, but SUVs and my little car are built differently. Nothing would work. He gets lots of points for trying.

Meanwhile, I was getting impatient. At one point Milton asked me what I wanted to do. My suggestion was to set the car on fire and ride off like Thelma and Louise, minus the whole cliff thing. I was serious too. Milton wasn't quite as enthusiastic about the plan. Instead, he found a tow company that understood basic driving directions. They arrived in about 15 minutes.

Here we are waiting for the tow truck. Please forgive the terrible lighting. It was very late, and I was very pissed off.

Here's the fun part: From the second Milton arrived, I didn't really have to do anything. He took care of everything. He's such a good boy. As a bonus, his calm demeanor and generally pleasant disposition calmed me down from the peak of the anxiety-fueled rage that had started boiling over about the time I had to explain how highway directions work to some girl who probably doesn't even have a driver's license. 

I remember the days, not so long ago, where I had to tackle every challenge on my own. I could take it. After all, I'm a smart, successful, independent woman. There's not much in life I can't handle on my own. But here's the thing - I don't want to. For the past several years, I've been anxious desperate longing for someone to share the burdens of life with me. I wanted someone to reassure me everything would be okay while I waited on the repair man, the test result, the casserole...everything from the big stuff to the little stuff. I wanted someone to be there.

Milton was definitely there. It was so romantic to watch him handle everything. The whole time I just kept thinking, this guy is here for me. He's here to help me, because I'm his favorite, and he cares about me.

I think he'd definitely be there for the next crisis too. As he was taking me home, I joked that having a girlfriend sure was a hassle. You never know what you'd be asked to do next. Milton never missed a beat: "It's not like you asked for a kidney."

Not yet.

Be sure to wear comfy shoes...

Hello world. Well, honestly, that's probably a bit ambitious. Hello all four of you who still read this blog. I'm sorry it's become a den of joy rather than the pit of sarcastic despair I intended this site to be. Actually, I'm not that sorry. In my life, I've been happy and I've been sad.  Happy is just ever so slightly better.

Milton and I are still going strong. We're just a few hours shy of the 6-month mark. If you'd asked me a year ago if I thought I'd be in love with a guy as great as Milton, I would have told you I had a better chance of becoming a gluten-free vegetarian who believes in global warming and fibromyalgia. Oh and unicorns, never forget the unicorns.

If you'd told me that a guy as great as Milton would be in love with me, I would have thought you were just being mean. But we are in love. It's so much better than I would have imagined it.

In my prior life when I had crushes on boys (can't really call those relationships since unrequited love doesn't count), I was never comfortable. I wasn't myself, but rather I was some version of myself I thought they would accept, which thankfully they didn't. With Milton I have this intensely free feeling because I know he's in love with the real me. I've never had that nervous feeling like maybe he wouldn't accept whatever quirk I was about to display. I have no secrets or agendas. We can talk about anything, and I know he doesn't have any secrets. Although, I still have this sort of girlish fantasy that at some point he's going to tell me he's actually the crown prince of Denmark, and he didn't tell me sooner because he wanted to make sure our love was real before whisking me away to a palace life full of 24-hour chefs and endless shopping sprees. It sounds appealing. What can I say - mama needs a new pair of shoes (daily) and to never have to go to work again.

Just to prove how real our love is, we've now officially met the entirety of each other's families. I had already met Milton's immediate family, and he had met my sister and her husband, but now he's finally met the people who raised me. It went well. I think he really took a liking to the warden at the Southwest Missouri Juvenile Detention Center, but the tapioca pudding wasn't quite as zesty as I remembered.

Kidding.

We already had a weekend picked out for Milton to come to my childhood home so he could meet my parents and so I could do everyone's taxes. You know, the usual. As luck would have it, my father decided to attend a car show (read old man swap meet) near Oklahoma City the week before, so he got to have dinner with Milton and I before the real visit. I thought this would be a good way for Milton to ease into the particular uniqueness of my parent's personalities. Clearly my mother agreed. I believe her exact words were, "I think it's simply marvelous that everyone has had a chance to meet Milton before me. Why would that bother me in the least to have to hear about how nice and smart and funny he is rather than see for myself?"

#sarcasmrunsinthefamily

But since dad was in town, I couldn't very well not introduce him to the boy I hang out with every night. The three of us went out for pizza where Milton was introduced to my father an the sheer number of topics one might be expected to expound on in a typical conversation in my family.

We covered...

Jobs

Pool (the kind you play, not swim in)

College roommates

Alma maters (preschool to the present)

Dodge Motor Company

The Dodge brothers (they're dead)

Dodge bicycles (who knew those existed)

Christmas shopping (spoiler alert, dad - I'm not getting you Dodge stuff)

Antique car parts

Rain

Old men in the rain (specifically at swap meets)

Car swap meets (and all the ways they can disappoint)

Old cars (pre-1940 because everything else is basically new)

Pizza toppings

Specifically pineapple as a pizza topping

Whether pineapple counts as a pizza topping (I vote yes)

Whether anyone else wanted pineapple on their pizza (just me, then?)

Tennis

How good of a tennis player I am (my father lies)

Milton's football career (nonexistent)

My father's football career (also nonexistent, but he did play)

All the ways in which my father has injured himself over the years (if I had a nickel for every time I shoved a screwdriver through my hand...)

Digging up crystals in Oklahoma (apparently it's a thing)

The famous crystal my dad sold to the Smithsonian (for real)

And...

Ways to drive from Oklahoma City to Joplin without having to set foot on an actual highway

It was a great dinner, and I was so proud of how well Milton kept up with his end of the conversation. Dad gave mom a full report before he even made it back to Joplin. The buzz was positive.

I was still a little nervous for Milton to meet my mom and see my childhood home. It's such a personal thing. I tried to prep him for what he might see or hear or taste. Number one, I told him to wear comfortable shoes. The family spread is pretty massive, and my dad definitely relishes his role as tour guide. I also told him my mom would be cooking lots of meals and that she'd given up perfect housekeeping many years ago. Lastly, I told him to make a big deal over their dog. I'm pretty sure at this point they like the dog better than either of their daughters.

I think my parents were as nervous as I was because when we arrived, my mom had set up dinner in the fancy dining room using the china that only gets unboxed when the queen visits. She doesn't visit as often as you might think. Milton spent the next two days taking tours of my dad's various collections and having nice long talks with my mother about how great I am. Awkward.

As a bonus, Milton got to meet my childhood best friend, and he even got to meet her parents. It's only appropriate since I spent as much time with her family growing up as I did my own.

The final report was that everyone likes Milton, and Milton likes everyone. Success!

The only complaint from Milton was that the tours were a little long with insufficient time for bathroom and snack breaks. He'll get used to the itinerary after a few more visits. After years of these kinds of tour myself, I gave him the best advice I could - don't lock your knees, and it never hurts to have a power bar in your pocket.