We're Getting Married.

If you know me in real life, you know that thus far I've been a bit of a reluctant bride. Not reluctant about the actual marriage part (I'd go to the courthouse with him today!) but about everything else. The arrangements. The cost. The guest list. The dress. Wondering when in the world I was going to have time to plan a flipping wedding when some days I already don't have time to do basic things like bring in the mail. Moping about the fact that the majority of my friend base lives a couple thousand miles away and that the bride's side of the [wedding venue] is going to be. . . sparsely populated, especially compared to the groom's side. Editing out the misogynistic portions* of the traditional wedding ceremony (Dear God, where should I start. There shall be no "giving away" of the bride, for starters. . . ) Um, finding a way to fund it all when we're paying two mortgages and there are no parents to lean on for cash infusions. You get the idea.

When people have asked about dates I've been squirrely and noncommittal. The first one we'd had in mind got nixed when I had a middle-of-the-night realization that if we wanted to get married then, I'd have to get everything taken care of, like, yesterday. (I was even scolded over the phone by a David's Bridal lady!) And so, on to Plan B.

I finally got up the nerve to call the venue I'd been eyeing. (We've talked a lot and checked out lots of websites, but there had only been one real contender in my mind.) I talked with their event coordinator about dates and going on a tour. I thought about backing out when, on the day of our meeting, K woke up at 8am and was not interested in napping before our 2pm appointment, and when I looked outside and saw So. Much. Snow and more still coming down and yucky, yucky roads, and it was nice and warm inside and I had other things that needed to be done anyway and, hey, we've waited this long, what could rescheduling it for next week hurt?

But I didn't. I bundled the baby up in her snowboots and winter coat and turned on the 4 wheel drive and (still!) skidded my way across town to the venue. Their parking lot hadn't been plowed yet so I just kind of parked the truck . . . wherever it stopped. (That sense of bridal entitlement is kicking in already. What do you mean that's not even a spot? I'll park where I want, thank you very much.)

As we made our way into the building, I asked K, "Do you know what we're doing here?"
K responded: "We're getting married!" *She's been to two weddings in the last six months and she's heard us talk about it enough, so this isn't quite as out of left field as one might think.

Once inside, we talked. We toured. We swooned. We penciled in a date & time. (We'll lock it down next week, probably.) And I left feeling excited. Excited! Ideas were flowing. So much so, in fact, that I sat at a flashing red light not realizing that it was flashing and not solid red until one of the cars in the line behind me finally honked. (Again, I can't be expected to follow your silly traffic rules. I'm getting MARRIED. If I want to daydream about weddings at flashing lights, I will!) I stopped at the bookstore to cash in some gift cards on silly bridal magazines. I talked Bob's ear off about my clearly brilliant wedding/party/etc ideas when he got home from work.

It was a good day.

We're getting married.

*Things that I interpret as such. (And I've taken a lot of women's studies classes, and thus interpret a lot as such ;-)  No judgment on others who see things differently.

Not At All Wordless Wednesday!

Ignore my gross hand, ya'll. Focus on the ring!

Bob proposed on Saturday.

We had dropped K off at his sister's house for her first overnight away from home (our little girl is growing up!) and we stopped at the new house afterward. He said he wanted to check something out in the back, so we walked up the little hill together, where we could look out over the stream and the woods.

Where he got down on one knee. And brought out the (gorgeous) ring.

It. Was. Perfect.

I said yes, then called him a jerk (or maybe it was the other way around?) because he'd done a very thorough job of convincing me that this was actually *not* going to happen that weekend. And because I'm totally sweet and romantic like that. Ahem.

Aaaanyway, post-initial-surprise/stumbling-over-my-own-feet-because-I-was-so-focused-on-the-ring ("I don't think you should drive with that on," Bob said. "You're going to get distracted and veer off the road,") we high-tailed it to Ann Arbor where we had reservations here. (Going to restaurants without a toddler in tow is awesome, by the way. No crayons or chocolate milk in sight!)  We had a table right by the window, and everything was delicious. There was sashimi. There was awesome (cooked!) fish. There was rice in pyramid form. (Bob SQUASHED my pyramid-o-rice, and I was so incredulous over it that the manager brought me another pyramid. "I didn't want to see your fun ruined," he said. Ten points for you, manager dude. No points for you, fiancé!) There was also chocolate-covered-chocolate for dessert. I didn't even think about calories once, that's how good everything was.

And then? Then there was hot tubbing under the stars, complete with cheesy love songs. Swoon. 

Maybe the best part of the night was that we got to sleep for as long as we wanted with NO BABY CRASHING OUR BED. (Thanks again, Bob's sister!) 


Not a bad weekend at all ;-)