Wednesday, February 27, 2013


So...I'm betrothed.

Yes, really. Set to be married on June 1 in the Logan, Utah temple.

And now for the obligatory (and shamefully belated) engagement post:

Max and I had plans to drive down to St. George to spend our three-day weekend with his brother Tom's family (this being the day after Valentine's Day).

After driving for nearly 6 hours, we arrived just in time for dinner. The plan was to pick up a pizza and have a pseudo-picnic at a park. Decked out in my road trip clothes (a nicer way of saying I looked fairly homeless), I debated whether or not I should put on something nicer. Max, who was also decked out in road trip clothes, left momentarily and returned wearing jeans and a nice shirt. Since when does Max dress up to eat pizza? (Since when does Max dress up.. period? I had to beg him to let me buy him that shirt.)

Though my pride requested I do not share this, I'll admit that despite the unusual circumstances, I wasn't the least bit suspicious. I've tried convincing myself that it was because Sara (Mrs. Tom) was in a dress. Everyone seemed dressed up.

Feeling a little pressure, I went to change into something a couple degrees nicer. Then, feeling foolish for succumbing to said pressure, I put down my sweater, adjusted my oversized, stained t-shirt and walked back out.

Max: "You're not.. going to change?"

(I once warned Max that I better look dang good when he proposed. And that there better be video/photo evidence. He was just following my own orders.)

Succumbing to the pressure once more (I lack a backbone), I put on the sweater. My hair was a mess of its own and another story entirely.

I started feeling a little carsick on the drive to the park, so I only ate one piece of pizza before losing my appetite. I told Max I wasn't feeling so hot, so he suggested we go for a walk to get some fresh air.

Max: "Happy one year and one month! I have something I want to show you." He whipped out the scrapbook I made him last year for his birthday, a chronicle of our relationship from our first date to then. He said he wanted to look through it together in honor of our anniversary.

Still, not the least bit suspicious. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

When I turned to the last page, it was entirely different. He had changed the date to say "February 15, 2013" and inserted a picture of him holding the ring, as if the picture itself were asking me to marry him (/it). The picture showed only Max and the cloud behind him, giving the impression that he was in the sky. He also added a picture of a hot air balloon basket and stuck it underneath.

I once joked that if he expected me to say yes, he'd have to ask me in a hot air balloon. Though Max insists I wasn't joking, I can assure you, this ferris wheel-fearing woman would never set foot inside a hot air balloon without some serious sedatives.

STILL confused, mostly that he was capable of surprising me, I looked up and saw my lover boy on one knee, asking me to marry him. YES! YES! YES!

(And then I spent the night throwing up all of our celebratory fro yo and hiding from the camera. That being said, there is only ONE (1) "look at me with my fiance and ring!" photo and I'll let you know if I ever decide to subject it to public scrutiny.)

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