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?

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.

A half decade wiser, and a whole lot lighter.

For those of you keeping score, today is the five month anniversary of Milton asking me to go steady. It feels like it's been way longer than that.....but like in a really good way. I guess I just mean that it feels like we've been together forever.....but not that I'm sick of him or anything.* What I'm trying to say, poorly, is I feel like Milton and I have always been a part of each other's lives. Our relationship feels so much more mature than the helpless infant that it is. Since we're both settled in our careers, and you know, we're not sixteen or anything, we've been having all the serious kinds of discussions you start having at this stage. Of course, I'll keep you posted should anything interesting come of that.

Our anniversary got me thinking.** This month also marked my five year anniversary at work. That's half a decade at the same company - doing the same job. This is a big accomplishment for the girl that switched jobs every year or so through my mid-twenties. I had almost convinced myself that staying at one job longer than a year would literally kill me from boredom. Well, there have been some boring periods in my five year career, but all in all, it's been pretty great. I've weathered a few recessions, a couple of layoffs, and a change in CEO, and somehow I've come out doing better than I ever would have dreamed when I was growing up in a small town in Southwest Missouri.

Suddenly, I'm all choked up. Must be the sugar cookie I just inhaled. Little known fact - if you can eat the snack during a commercial break, the calories don't count. Let's take a look back at five years younger Mariah and see how she's grown (or shrunk, as the case may be).

I think this employee photo really says it all. It was taken on my first day as an official full-time employee in 2010. Look at that baby - all naive and full of dreams and a little sweaty from taking a campus tour. Side note - I wore that sweater exactly one time, for this photo. I think I still have the sweater which proves I am terrible at picking out clothes, and I'm a bit of a pack rat.

I had interned for the company the previous two summers, so I'd posed for several of these employee photos. My very first photo ended up on my official work badge when I started full-time. I won't show you that picture, as it's truly horrific. I'm not sure how it resurfaced when they made my badge, since the above photo was seconds old at the time, but if nothing else, it serves as a good reminder not to dye my hair that particular shade of black/brown ever again.

At the time this photo was taken, I was new to the city, living large in a two-bedroom apartment with an attached garage because I wanted to flex my big girl salary muscles. Just a few years later I would flex those muscles in a big way when I bought a house, literally on a whim one afternoon, but that's a story for another day. 

I searched long and hard for a church, found one I loved, then abandoned it because they had no singles group. A few months later I would realize that having a church you love is more important than the opportunity to meet a boy, and I would return. Coincidentally, the church started up their singles program about three months after I rejoined. I've been a dedicated member of the group ever since, and I've made some amazing friends from it. Now the group is transitioning as more and more of us are in relationships. Transitions like this can be painful, but I've come to realize how necessary and important they are if you want to really have a full life.....and now I'm being sentimental again. My bad. To break the tension, here's a picture of an inflatable children's slide that nobody should rent for their child's birthday party.....ever.

And we're back. The girl in this photo ( I mean the first one, not the scary vagina slide picture) had a massive student loan from getting a law degree and MBA. I was still in that lovely six month grace period, but soon I'd have to pay the piper for all that late night pizza and fancy book learnin'. I owed $110,838.88. That sounds like a lot, but really.....well.....yeah, it's a lot. I had this crazy idea that I could pay it off super early by throwing all my extra money at it. All my friends thought I was nuts. After all, I'd still need to be saving for a house, take occasional vacations, and handle whatever other crisis came my way, but I was really committed to the plan. I'm delighted to report that I'll actually make my final loan payment at the end of March!!!!! That's nine months ahead of what I'd originally planned and about 30 years faster than the government requires.

The girl in the picture was also single but definitely didn't want to stay that way. My pitifully small dating history had led me to believe that no decent guy would ever be interested in me. That's a sad way to look at life, and it wasn't even remotely true. I'm not just saying that because now I'm with an extremely decent guy. I just understand men and women and relationships so much better now than I did five years ago. I've also quit tearing myself down as much as I used to, because it's a huge waste of energy, and it's hard to keep up with the lies you tell yourself. As much as I've been impatient to be in the next phase of my adult life, I'm so relieved I didn't meet someone great before I was really ready. That God fella sure seems to know what He's doing.

Finally, the girl in the picture wasn't healthy. I was overweight, killing myself slowly one brownie at a time. Before I started Weight Watchers, I would have told you I didn't eat that bad. That's another fine example of the lies I used to tell myself. I was like the alcoholic who says their drinking is no big deal because they only black out when they're at home. I've realized over the past year how out of control I really was regarding my overall health. I'm so much happier to have tamed that part of my life. That's not to say I don't still have an affinity for brownies and cookies and lasagna and the full range of the Little Debbie's brand and.....wait, what was I saying? Oh right, yup, it feels good to be in control.

So here's to the next five years! I'm uncharacteristically optimistic about all the new adventures on the horizon. But as they say.....

* Okay Milton, if you're reading this, please don't break up with me.

** By the way, I know how utterly ridiculous it is to celebrate a five month dating milestone as if it's some kind of legitimate anniversary.....or at least I did until I had one to celebrate. So all you haters can go on hating long after I've finished this post.

My first (and favorite) Valentine

I have enjoyed a rare lazy Monday thanks to my company's fervent patriotism and acknowledgment of President's Day.  I celebrated the leaders of our country by exercising my freedom not to get out of my pajamas all day.  Presidents, I salute you.

This was a fitting end to a perfect weekend in which I was also able to celebrate Valentine's Day with my first ever Valentine. I assumed that having a boyfriend on Valentine's Day would ensure me some kind of holiday themed gesture, and I was right.  Milton did not disappoint, not that I was worried. He wasn't super stealth in how he went about sorting everything out.  He texted me a couple of weeks ago to ask how he might get something delivered to my office and to get a picture of some earrings he knew I wanted.  What can I say, I love a man who plans ahead!  I rewarded his initiative by responding with instructions for office deliveries, the email and phone number of a trusted coworker, a picture of the earrings, and a link to my Amazon wish list. He had all the tools necessary for V-Day success. And he probably learned an important lesson about my tendency to be a control freak.

Even with all that prep work, Milton went way above and beyond my expectations.

On Thursday I received the Valentine's trifecta:  flowers, chocolates, and a teddy bear, along with an incredibly sweet note that made more than one of my coworkers tear up. I later found out that Milton went through several drafts when writing the note.....which sort of made me tear up....and want to see the other drafts.

These are the fist flowers I've ever received from someone not related to me. I really, really liked it. I know flowers are a huge waste of money since they cost so much and die so quickly, but I can't help it. They're so pretty, and they smell so nice.

I ate the chocolates too fast to get a picture. I'm not proud of it.  Sometimes the fat girl I ate on my path to Weight Watcher's success comes out to play on holidays. I'm happy to report the bear survived my feeding frenzy.

Milton had to work on Valentines Day, but we were able to spend a couple of hours together after he got off work. I introduced him to one of my all-time favorite chick flicks. It's safe to say When Harry Met Sally is not Milton's new favorite movie, but he was a good sport.

On Sunday, Milton and I had what he called "our Valentine's Day." Although, by that point, I'd already had the most romantic Valentine's Day of my life. It felt greedy to get more, but he wasn't done yet. We got all dressed up and went to a nice dinner at Red Rock, followed by a movie that turned out to be TERRIBLE. I take full responsibility since I picked it. Lest you think we saw Fifty Shades or something, I'll just warn you now not to waste two hours of your life seeing Kingsmen. I can't believe adult humans spent millions of dollars to make that load of crap. Give me 45 minutes and a typewriter, and I can have a screenplay superior to that hot mess ready to shoot.

Luckily, I could spend the movie reminiscing about our gift exchange earlier in the evening. It was a perfect distraction from the bad acting and ridiculous plot. When Milton picked me up for dinner, he gave me the earrings I had been wanting. Aren't they pretty and so perfect for the occasion?

I gave Milton some gifts too, but I think we all know boys get the short end of the stick when it comes to this holiday.  For all his trouble and expense, he received a handmade card, a puzzle, heart-shaped Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, snowman duct tape, a coffee mug with a humorous meme on it, and a coaster hand-glazed by me that said I "heart" Mariah.

Milton got screwed. Not literally, of course. I mean, what guy would want that when he could have a puzzle?