Thursday, September 29, 2011

What Had Happened Was... (The Proposal)

So. Friday. Well.

In my mind, Friday was going to be a day to celebrate my fella. We had friends and family coming over to my parents' house to join us for a mini taco bar I created, an abundance of the fella's favorite sides, mini cheesecakes, Madelines, TCBY cake, an assortment of pumpkin beers, etc.

Guests began trickling in around 3:00 to fill their plates and our hearts with their company. I was begging the fella to open his gifts, because I knew mine was going to blow him away. He hails from Maine, so I'd gifted him with a trip to Boston and Maine in mid-October and wrapped a Hot Wheels plane for him and this sweet Etsy print. He was perfectly excited, and it inspired a small musical number. We had a delightful soundtrack of Amy Grant, Michael W. Smith and Steven Curtis Chapman serenading us in the background, and I may have been overly excited about it... (yep, stone cold sober. For real). Even after that moving performance, the fella decided he still wanted to be with me.

Performers get both exhausted and sweaty (you can see the upper lid sweat beading up during the chorus)
, so I excused myself to freshen up in my parents' bathroom. The fella stopped in to admire my golden pipes, tell me I was beautiful and affirm his love for me. Thinking nothing much of it, because, let's face it, all the things he said were true, I took a few more minutes before rejoining the party.

When I got back the opening chords of Amy Grant's "I Have Decided" were ringing through the speakers, and y'all better know that that's one of my all time favorite songs, so I began to summon my inner songbird once again. The fella tried shushing me gently then increasingly firmly after I refused to listen to his authority. He finally told me to be quiet because he wanted to say something. He began to thank our friends and family who were gathered in the kitchen for coming to spend his birthday with him, then he turned to me to thank me for hosting and planning the shindig. His tone shifted as he thanked me for honoring him and blessing him. Finally, he told me that there was only one thing I could do to honor him more, and he sank to his knee, choking up and asked me to be his wife!

Tearfully, emotionally and excitedly I said yes, yes, yes. My sister, in the chaos, had managed to grab her camera and snap a few pictures when she realized what was happening. I'm so thankful that she was able to be home for it, and that she kept her wits about her long enough to take these shots.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

An Engaging Party

So when I said that I would particularly relish celebrating the fella's birthday yesterday, I had NO idea that that would celebrating our ENGAGEMENT the same night. Yep, he proposed! And I joyfully and tearfully said YES!

You see, while I was busy prepping and cooking, the fella was whipping up a surprise of his own. Details to come, but I can't believe I'll be saying I DO soon!

Friday, September 23, 2011

Today Today Today

Today is the fella's birthday. My sweet, wonderful, funny, strong, handsome fella. I have been counting down the seemingly endless days until I could celebrate him as I plan to today. We'll have a party with our friends and loved ones, and I'll finally get to give him the gift I've been carefully planning for months. I adore birthdays, and I know, although the day is not about me, this is one I'll particularly relish. Fella o' mine... I love you.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011


Things that are making my heart race right now (besides work-related panic attacks) include but are not limited to...

- Essie's Chinchilly nail polish (the most perfect gray)
- My el cheapo colored skinny jeans from Forever 21 (seriously considering a second pair)
- Adding pops of red to my fall wardrobe (I rarely wear red)
- Planning the fella's birthday party on Friday
- Planning the best way to present the fella's birthday surprise to him on Friday (I LOVE finding the perfect gift for someone, and I've been dying to tell him about it for months now)
- Organizing my apartment (these spurts are few and far between, so I'm doing my best to make this one count)
- The Great Food Truck Race (the fella and I were in Atlanta when they were filming the final three, so we knew before the season aired who the finalists were and have been loving watching this season)
- Rodan + Fields Unblemish Skincare System (I have heinously oily and acne prone skin, and I'm also really self-conscious about it. I started using Rodan + Fields last week, and I am loving the look and feel of my face right now. I highly, highly, highly recommend it)
- Margaritas (because, really, when are they not on a love list?)

Tuesday, September 13, 2011


I was just emailing with my lady Queen Bee Swain who let me that she'd been trying to comment on some recent posts with no luck. I was trying to develop a complex that I'd lost all my readers in my months-long absence. I've updated some settings, so hopefully commenting will be a happier experience all the way around.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

A Jaunt

A few weeks ago, the fella and I traversed to the beach for a quick getaway. I don't work on Fridays, and the fella is a hardcore surfer, so he's been itching to get down to the waves for ages. We were finally able to fit in a trip, and Lord only knows what a series of misadventures it was.

Our plan was to camp at the state campgrounds in Wilmington on Thursday night, spend Friday at the beach and then drive home late Friday. We left Charlotte about 5:30, made a stop at the gas station and grocery store for some vittles (protein bars, fruit, water, Diet Dr. Pepper, and wine... natch). Thanks to a small construction detour we pulled into the campsite at 10:04. To find that the gates seal tightly shut at 10:00.

Undeterred we found a beach access and decided to wheel the fella's mighty Dodge Caliber directly onto the sand. With bated breath we inched across the beach until we found the perfect plot of sand. We set about setting up his tent only to discover that the tent he had lent a church student trip was not the one he'd received back. In its stead we found a structure capable of housing the Duggars, Gosselins and von Trapps at the same time comfortably. As we struggled to erect this monstrosity it was decided that the wine needed to be opened. Quickly. So we did. And proceeded to drink straight from the bottle. Cause, you know, we be classy.

As we secured the final pole, sweet fella went to grab the lantern, so we could properly decorate the interior of our beach mansion. But, oh, the lantern was broken. We scooted the tent directly in front of the fella's car and took turns resetting the headlights every 6 minutes. Beautiful. We took a short respite to dip our feet in the sand and continued slugging our vino.

When we got back to our homestead we realized that we didn't have the rain shield on properly, but after our grape beverage and other mishaps, we decided it didn't really matter because it surely wouldn't rain, and to sleep we went. Me on my air mattress, the polite fella on his mat. It rained. All night.

Nothing could squelch my little fella's excitement to surf, though, and he was up with the dawn to hit the waves. He briefly walked me through how to surf, and I happily paddled around on the board and rode a couple of waves into shore (while lying on the board... standing? Notsomuch). The fella's joy was dampened by a lack of rideable waves, however, so we took a snack break. Not long after we began session two, and the surf began picking up considerably, my beach bum boy had an accident with his board, nearly severing his bicep and leaving him swollen, bruised and in immense pain.

Bless his heart, he made his way to our tent and lay there moaning (and he's not a weenie boy when it comes to pain... well, not much of one anyway) - more from disappointment than pain, methinks. He decided he was done for the day, and a mere 13 hours after our arrival I began closing up shop while trying to pepper my conversation with as much surfer lingo as I could think of to cheer him.

Although, a seeming "wipeout," there's no one "gnarlier" I'd rather "hang ten" with.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Simple Math

2 Dozen Cupcakes = Good
Functioning Brakes = Good
2 Dozen Cupcakes + Functioning Brakes = Heartbreak