I'm in Atlanta; He's in Sarasota

First, the good news: I got a wonderful job back in Atlanta, so have moved myself back. I feel at home here, and know it is the right decision. CPGH is excited about the move as well.
Second, the bad news: CPGH can't move back until he finishes his current project in about 3-4 months.

It has been two weeks so far. I flew home the first weekend, and we went to a Red Sox spring training game with the other couple we know down there. I was supposed to drive down this past weekend to go to yet another game and pick up some furniture, but there were tornado warnings in both Atlanta and Sarasota (as well as throughout the trip, with a couple actually touching down). I therefore stayed in our little two-bedroom apartment up here, and bought a very nice flat-screen TV to go with the lawn furniture I have in our living room (yup, just like what happened when I moved back to Boston). I'll be driving down this coming weekend to see him instead.

The distance has been tougher than I thought it would be. I always felt I was so independent, but I have gotten really used to living with CPGH and seeing him every night. I think it's worse for him, as he is in a house in which he is used to having me, while I am in a new place, so don't see so many constant reminders of him not being here. I let him keep that cat as a result. =) (Isn't that funny? I swear, he loves that darn cat.)

I think the distance is making each of us realize how much we love and need the other. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that. On the domestic side, I had gotten so used to being such a good little wife, but have easily reverted back to having cheetos and ice cream for dinner (as I did tonight...soooooo gross). So I guess that helps ease the pain a bit. I've been going through Cocoa Pebbles like it's going out of style. He had Chunky soup for dinner tonight.

My job is going very well, and Atlanta feels right to me. All I need is my honey and kitty (oh, and our furniture and Cuisinart), and life will be pretty darn perfect.

I hope everybody out there is doing well!

I'm 34!

Hello, all!

I know I haven't posted in a while, but today is my 34th birthday, and I got carded when I went to the liquor store, so I am basically telling everybody I meet (or have never met). It's the little things in life...

I have a friend coming down from Boston to spend my birthday weekend. I'm so used to spending my birthday with girlfriends! CPGH will be coming out to dinner with us, though, and he and I will celebrate separately some time next week. Funnily enough, both he and my friend are sick, so her date (who she met at our wedding) and I will probably get to eat their food, too! Score! (Just kidding...)

Married life is good. CPGH and I are still adjusting to not being single (e.g. we finally just merged our DVD collections last week), but are very happy. I had arthroscopic surgery on my right knee last month, and he was so sweet about helping me through everything. We were in bed at 10:30pm on New Year's Eve. Umm...what else... we have been enjoying the Pats' run, and are both quite nervous for the Superbowl. Hunh...I guess we really do get boring after we get married! Hopefully after my knee heals, we'll be able to get back to hiking and playing softball and stuff. Then we'll have more stories!

As for Florida, I am making more business contacts, and have met a few more people. I haven't made any "phone friends"--you know, people you call on the phone just to talk (like, if you get carded on your 34th birthday or something ;))--but I am on excellent email terms with some folks.

Lastly, if you remember, I had a little incident on my way to the aisle during my wedding. CPGH and I did not see each other at all the day of the wedding until this point; nothing like a good first impression. Watch the excellent entrance, and be sure to listen for his reaction (which I didn't know about until seeing the video, as I was otherwise occupied).



In case you were wondering what I said, it's, "No, I'm really caught." =)

First Dance

All the planning was worth it, I admit, just as many of you told me it would be despite my preference for eloping (thanks, Dawn et al =)). My wedding day was the best of my life. I started out by putting on a Patriots cap, tank top, and shorts, and going down to the beach to hang with my guests until it was time to go get my hair done. My bridesmaids, mom, and I hit a small snafu at the hair place (I had canceled makeup appointments for my mom, sister, and myself there after two heinous trials, but they insisted I had not). We ended up staying there, getting makeup done by a different girl, and all looking quite good. Okay, fine. I've never looked better =)

We were running late, but I didn't care. I had heard the whole day would seem surreal, but it didn't. I just felt incredibly at peace, and unable to worry about anything. It was very unlike me.

The wedding was on a beach. The wedding party was all to walk down a boardwalk that could not be seen by our guests, then pause at the end where they could see us before continuing down to the huppah/tent. Here we hit the other snafu.

I had a cathedral-length veil, as I had no train on my beach-wedding dress. I paused at the end, parent on either arm. I was so excited to continue on. However, as I took my first dramatic step onto the sand, I felt my head snap back. I tried to move forward again. Everybody was staring, confused. So I said, "I'm stuck! No, really, my veil is caught!" It was caught on some scrub brushes. (CPGH commented, "I love that woman!" much to the delight of the crowd.) My mother unhooked me, I shouted, "Do-over!" (worst bride ever), then continued on my way. Even that little snag ended up being a great thing, as it erased all of my nervousness, and had everybody laughing and relaxed. Oh yeah! And we had to add another officiant the Tuesday before the wedding when we found out that our friend had major stage fright. The addition (the beautiful wife of a good friend and one of my readers) was incredible, singing for us and performing the ceremony beautifully. Everything that could have been bad seemed to have turned out amazingly well.

I don't think I stopped smiling all day. The whole thing was just perfection. We danced a lot, and said hi to friends-many of whom had traveled far to attend. It couldn't have gone better. I've never felt so relaxed and happy. The next day, we left for an equally perfect safari honeymoon in South Africa.

And, of course, there was our First Dance. We had to take dance lessons to it, as we both become very emotional when we hear our wedding song. We did an absolutely terrible waltz (5 lessons' worth), but it kept us both from crying. We danced to Garth Brook's "The Dance." It is apparently a song about a break-up (and CPGH had sent me the lyrics to the song during one of ours), but we both love the song, as we find our positive ending in it:

Looking back on the memory of
The dance we shared 'neath the stars above
For a moment all the world was right
How could I have known that you'd ever say goodbye

And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end, the way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance
I could have missed the pain
But I'd have had to miss the dance

Holding you, I held everything
For a moment wasn't I a king
But if I'd only known how the king would fall
Hey who's to say? you know I might have changed it all

And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end, the way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance
I could have missed the pain
But I'd have had to miss the dance

Yes my life, it's better left to chance
I could have missed the pain
But I'd have had to miss the dance

Pretty appropriate, huh?

T-Minus 184.5 hours

I'm getting married a week from tomorrow! Hence the insomnia. =)

Our rings arrived today. We had ordered them while in Boston for a Yankees-Sox game (ah, remember the Yankees? Weren't they cute? Who'sh a wittle Yankee with no daddy manager?) I guess I hadn't realized how close we were cutting it with the rings until CPGH inquired as to their whereabouts on Wednesday. Oops! The jewelry store had forgotten to send them. I had them overnighted.

So anyway, I had gotten two rings: a pretty diamond one, and your typical unbroken circle of gold as dictated by Jewish tradition. The diamond one slipped onto my finger perfectly. Not so for the plain. I sat there, trying to jam it on. No luck.

I took the rings to a local jewelry store to have the size checked. Sure enough, the diamond was a 7.25, the plain a 7.00. When I called the store to bitch them out, they told me they had measured both and they were the same size. My comment: "Okay, you think they're the same size? How about I mail them back to you, and if they are the same size, I'll pay you double. If not, I get all three for free. What do you think?" The lady responded that she would give me the plain band for free (i.e. there was no way she was taking that bet). Also, I should just take it to a local jeweler and have them resize it.

At this point, I pretty much lost all semblance of politeness. I told her there was no way I was messing around with the sizing on a ring when I wasn't even married yet. Long story short: they are sending a new ring, size 7.25 to arrive on Monday. The lady said I could keep the plain ring I have, plus get this one for free! That way, I could wear one above and one below my engagement ring! By that time, I was too tired to point out that at least one of those rings would never fit on my finger, and hung up.

Now I don't think I told y'all about my engagement ring. I had brought it to the jeweler from which CPGH bought it to be sized. It was gone for about a week. A long, sad week. On the way home from picking it up, I was tapping my finger against my steering wheel. The setting seemed loose. I glanced at the stone. It looked like a corner was missing, but I figured I was just panicking needlessly. I was on the highway at the time, heading back to work. I made myself wait until I got off the highway to check. Sure enough, a piece of the diamond was missing. One corner was gone.

Yes, folks. My diamond broke. I called CPGH to have him straighten things out with the jeweler. Who breaks a diamond sizing a ring? Anyway, a few people noted that not the ring, but the *diamond* had broken. Wasn't that a bad sign? I decided that it was a *good* sign. When the ring was off my finger, bad things happen. I therefore must wear it to protect it from itself.

This one had a happy ending: I got a new diamond. Bigger. =) Yay! Hopefully, the band story will turn out as well.

That's my rant. In other news, CPGH's allergies have died down as he has adjusted to my cat. She slept in our bed with us for the first time last week. I was a very happy girl. I can't really think of anything else. I think I'll go try to sleep again. I miss you all, and will post as soon as I can after the wedding and honeymoon (or the next time I can't sleep =))

The Bach Party: My Friends

Date: Weekend of October 12, 2007
How we met: This was thrown by my three closest friends (bridesmaids), and my sister (maid of honor).
Previous flirtations: I've known my sister all of her 29 years, one girl for 9 years, one for 8, and one for 4.
What we did:
I have geographically dispersed bridesmaids. They were coming from Atlanta, Raleigh, Boston, and New York, while I would be arriving from Florida. The Atlantalady had offered to throw me a shower as well, and Atlanta was the most conveniently situated, so we agreed to meet there.

Brainiac over here decided it would be a great idea to drive up to Atlanta by herself. CPGH has been considering doing his bach party there as well, but had needed to work, so had to bail. I therefore had to drive the 500 miles by myself, which wouldn't have been so bad...if I had only gotten even 3 seconds of sleep. Yup, you heard it folks. The Thursday night before one of my biggest weekends, I was completely unable to sleep. (While writing that, I just got interrupted by my mom checking on numbers again...sigh...will be happy when this planning is done! =D)

Anyhoo, so Friday was a tough, contemplative drive. I made it okay, thanks to the combined powers of XM Radio and my iPod. After a 7-hour drive, I picked my sister up at the airport. She drove the rest of the way to our hotel, which was in Midtown Atlanta. We rested, watched Sportscenter, and worked on changing all of her hard-worked plans to accommodate watching the 8pm Red Sox games on both Friday and Saturday. Luckily, my sister is the flexible type and a Sox fan herself, so we were fine.

Friday was to be just the bridesmaids and myself. Two of them arrived before the game started, so we got decked out in Red Sox clothes (I had enough along to accommodate the two that did not have any), and went to a nearby sports pub. Oh, yeah, and I had a bun pincher and penis clicker in hand, but other than that, was fairly normal. The last bridesmaid arrived about an hour into the game, and soon, I had a veil as well. You can see me in my shirt, veil, and blinking "bachelorette" pin in the picture.

We had a great time watching the game, and the bar stuff loved us. All of us but one really know baseball, and were talking about batting averages in certain situations, trends on the teams, and who we thought should be called from the bullpen. The staff therefore kept sending us drinks, as did some of the groups of boys in the place (perhaps they did not realize that of my four bridesmaids, one was married with three kids, one married with two, and one married one. We did have one gorgeous single girl who many boys would be plying for later, but that's a whole other story...Ah, the joy of marrying in one's 30's...)

The Sox won; good night.

The next morning was my shower with a few girls who couldn't join in the festivities because they were, like, pregnant or something (go, 30's!), followed by an afternoon at the spa for massages and pedicures. My bridesmaids, one of CPGH's sisters, and I went out to my favorite restaurant for a disgustingly fattening Mexican lunch/dinner at 4pm on our way back to the hotel. After that, two of the girls napped at the hotel, the sister and the Atlanta bridesmaid went home, and one of the bridesmaids and I walked around Piedmont Park for an hour. The two of us had both lived in and moved from Atlanta, so we were having a wonderful time reminiscing in the centralized park of the city. She has two kids and lives in Raleigh, so I rarely get to see her-probably the least of all the girls-and the time was truly precious.

At 7pm, we all had a few cocktails, played a few silly games, then went to meet some folks out for dinner. We were joined by a few other of my friends at a tapas place known for hosting great bachelorette parties. Unfortunately, they only had one big TV and would not put the Sox game on. Now here's me, in my cute little veil, my "Future Mrs. CPGH" tank top, "bachelorette" sash, and completely undetectable Red Sox thong. I kept asking waitstaff to put the game on for me, to celebrate my last night of single life. Finally, I was told only local sports would be put on the TV. I looked up at the Auburn/Arkansas game, and pointed out we were in neither Alabama nor Arkansas, that it was a terrible, meaningless game, and that our captain and one of our best players ever (Nomar) had both played for Georgia Tech. No dice.

So off we went back to the same sports bar. There, I decked out a bachelor at his bachelor party in my veil and sash, and had way too many shots sent my way. Luckily, because we were a more "mature" group, I didn't have to do any of the silliness I had participated in making some of the girls there do at their own parties, such as get a man's underwear or convince three boys to do the Electric Slide. Oh, I did need to wear the penis-nose glasses I had gotten for my sister, but that was okay.

Long story short is we were there for the whole damn, painful, 11-inning, death-to-Gagne game. We had lots of food, drinks, and shots. There were about 8 or 9 of us there. Our check came to $20 for the night. =) Total. They were so impressed that a group of girls would spend the "last night of freedom" watching a Red Sox game (and for a second night in a row), that the bartenders picked up any drinks that weren't sent over. They also probably remembered that we invited them to do any shots with us that they sent over the previous night. =D They were so wonderful to us and helped make my night so special. I have a postcard of thanks all ready to send to them.

After the game was over, the Atlanta girls went home, two of my maids and I trudged back to my hotel, and one of the maids (the single gal) went home with a cute boy, chosen from many suitors. =) At 9am, she met us back at the hotel, we checked out, and I drove the three of them to the airport.

As I was saying good-bye, I burst into tears and couldn't talk. I knew I missed my friends. It just took seeing them to realize how much. The poor girls...they were all trying to comfort me without getting me to cry more. They kept telling me I would see them in less than three weeks, which actually helped a lot. Eventually, they got me back into my car, and I watched them walk into the airport. I cried my way to Macon (about 90 minutes), then managed to get a grip.

I talked on the phone a lot on the way home, some to friends who hadn't made it to Atlanta, some to my family, and of course to CPGH. It was wonderful to see him when I got home, and he got a kick out of the pictures my sister had posted of the party. I had been a good girl and not kissed anybody (as some bachelorettes get made to do), and was grateful to my bridesmaids.

As for CPGH's bachelor party? He kept insisting he didn't want one. Like me, he has geographically distributed friends. He couldn't make it to Atlanta at all, and didn't want a wild and crazy bachelor party anyway. As he pointed out, "I'm 36. Either my party is going to be very lame, or it's going to be too crazy" (when all his friends that he had tortured with things like strippers with belts as whips get back at him). After realizing just how special it was to be with my friends, I called a buddy and fraternity brother of his in Florida that Monday. I left the dumbest message ever: "Umm...hi...this is First Date Chick..uhhh....and I'm calling..umm...because, like, CPGH's best man is in Atlanta with two kids, his two brothers are in Cincinnati and Austin with their kids, and the last groomsman is in Atlanta. I know this is rude, but, um, would you mind throwing him a bachelor party? Uh...I have some ideas if you don't have them. I really think it's wrong not to have a bach party. Let me know what I can do to help. Ummm...don't tell him I called and try to surprise him or he'll stop you. Uh...okay, bye. Oh yeah! My number is..."

Needless to say, this dude called back hours later, laughing at my message, to let me know he'd be happy to throw the party. He thought it very funny that a bride-to-be would *want* her fiance to have a bachelor party, practically beg for it. I just laughed, and stuttered out that I hoped they had fun, and should call me with any questions. I wasn't worried about CPGH and his behavior at all.

CPGH and I had gone to a strip club (all female) as part of a coed bachelor/bachelorette party we went to. When we got there, all he would do was face me, with his back to the strippers. I finally said, "CPGH...don't you want to watch the girls dance?" He said, "Why would I want to watch them when I can look at you instead?" Awwww....so sweet. =) Of course, I responded, "Because they're naked?" And he remarked that he knew what I looked like naked, so didn't need to see some fake stuff. How cute is that? (Yes, I did spin him handily around so he could watch =)) How can you not want a man like that to enjoy a "final night out" with his friends?

I have 13 days to go until I become his wife. In 2 weeks and 25 minutes, we will be boarding a plane for our honeymoon. Dude, life is crazy. Great, but crazy. =)

Nickname: I love my maids. Thanks, girls!
FDS: 10 out of 10
How long it lasted: Each one of my bridesmaids is what I call a "forever friend." I know that I will never lose any of their friendships. The girls who aren't my sister are like my sisters, and my sister is my best friend. It was so amazing to have them all meet for the first time. I'll never forget it.

The Wedding Gown Alteration: I am Carrie Bradshaw

Date: September 12 2007
How we met: I had acquired my lovely gown in December. It was the first one I tried on.
Previous flirtations: After the initial purchase, I saw the gown once more when I went for my initial alteration.
What we did:
Like a good Bostonian, I purchased my gown at a store in Massachusetts. CPGH and I went up for a weekend to see the Red Sox take on the Yankees (saw one good game, one bad), so just as I had scheduled the bridal shower for a Sox weekend as well, worked in some wedding stuff.

I had to get in two fittings within 5 days. For those that don't know, you need to alter wedding dresses...a lot. During the first alteration, she had marked the places to have it taken in, so I was going for two appointments: the first to make sure that she had taken it in correctly and to have it marked for shortening, the last to make sure everything worked.

My mother picked me up at the airport to take me to the seamstress's. I was wearing a shirt she had bought me (like a good daughter should) which said "Choose your Poison" and had a picture of chocolate ice cream, fancy high-heeled shoes, and a cosmopolitan. Very cute, *very* "Sex and the City"-ish. My flight landed at 2pm. We had planned to go for lunch after the fitting, and all I had had to eat that day was a bowl of Cocoa Pebbles at 5am, then an apple and Sun Chips on the flight. I was a little hungry, but other than that, was feeling quite good.

We arrived at the seamstress's, and the gown was all set up and ready to be put on, along with a bra. This was no ordinary bra - to get a "smooth" shape, it goes all the way down to the panties. It was odd, and hard to put on as it had about 15 snaps in the back, but I got it and the dress on with some help from the seamstress and my mom.

I climbed up on the little platform thing and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like a bride. The gown was so gorgeous. Then the seamstress began working along the bottom of the gown, while I stood in place. All of a sudden I realized I couldn't take a deep breath...the gown was so tight around my middle. At that moment, the seamstress asked, "You hot?" I told her I was fine, just adjusting to the dress. She kept asking if I was hot over the next couple of minutes, and even turned on fans and opened the windows. Again, aside from not being able to take a deep breath, I felt okay.

All of a sudden, I no longer felt okay. I've passed out a few times in my life, and I knew it was coming. The room was devolving into dots and I couldn't keep my balance. I stepped off the stool (with my mom running toward me), and staggered over to a set of chairs. I held the front of my dress back, and dry-heaved on the chairs. Thank goodness I had had nothing to eat. From what I understand, I kept saying, "I don't feel good. I don't feel good." I felt very hot, like the room was 110 degrees. I could feel myself sweating.

I tried to rip the dress off. I started saying in what my mom called a hysterical voice, "Get it off! Get it off!" and heading for the bathroom to be sick. The seamstress and my mom got the dress unzipped, and finally I found myself in a tiny little bathroom with my wedding gown around my ankles dry heaving into an ancient toilet. Not good. Definitely not bridal.

I also still had the damn bra on, and kept asking them to take it off. Of course they couldn't, seeing as how I was surrounded by a gown they did not want to step on. Finally, I stepped out of the gown and leaned over a chair, still frantically asking for them to take the bra off and trying to do it myself. My mom finally got it off, and I collapsed into a chair.

All I had on was the a pink lace thong and my beautiful wedding shoes. The bra was still stuck to my front. I was doubled up, so it wasn't much of a show, but my mom kept asking if I wanted to put a shirt on. I was still so hot there was no way I was going to, and handed her the bra instead. So there's me on a chair, doubled over, in my thong and shoes, my mom watching me closely, and the seamstress gathering up the discarded gown and bringing me cookies to get my blood sugar up (she was truly wonderful throughout. My mom said, "This must happen all the time." She replied, "No, first time." Yay, me!).

Finally, I felt like I was no longer sweating. At about that moment, my mom said, "Oh, thank God. There's color in your face." Apparently I had gone white during the alteration (which is what prompted the seamstress to ask me about being hot), and had remained very pale all through the ordeal.

Eventually, I let my mother make me half decent by getting my shirt for me. Another 10 minutes, and I stood up. Only problem being I had to put the damn dress back on for another 5 minutes so the seamstress could finish the last few inches of hem. I did fine.

Three days later, my sister, mom, and I drove back for the final alteration. I was quite literally scared into tears. Maybe I just wasn't cut out for this whole bride thing after all. Perhaps I could wear, like, a sundress to the wedding or something. I was scared that the dress would feel tight again, and that I wouldn't be able to breathe. My sister and my mother assured me that they would be on hand to help.

I got the bra and dress on. To my surprise, the dress actually felt loose. I could breathe easily. I was overjoyed. I spent the next 20 minutes or so dancing around in the office, playing with the gown and veil, and looking at myself in the mirror and thinking, "Holy crap. I'm a bride."

I chalk that first experience up to having bad food in my tummy and being emotionally overwrought (how's that for a word?). A few folks asked if I was nervous about crowds, but I love performing: my solos in dance were always my favorite, and I am a good public speaker. I have no idea what the actual root cause was. Right now we are T-minus 37 days until the wedding. I still get a little nauseous when I think about it, but have not gotten sick like I did that time.

And thank goodness I didn't succeed in ripping my gown off as Miranda does for Carrie in the Sex and the City episode. I love my gown and - despite my ridiculous reaction to it - am getting very excited to wear it.

The Day I Passed in my Thesis

On Wednesday, November 22, I went to school to turn in my Masters thesis. My first stop was at the printers’. When I walked in and asked for my thesis, a woman said, “Oh, you’re the happy girl!” It took me a minute to realize what she was talking about, as I was recovering from a nasty sinus infection and felt a little fuzzy. Then I remembered on my email order I had written that if they had any questions they could call me; I would be happy to answer; I was the happiest person for having finished my thesis.

I then walked through the halls of school towards my advisor’s office. On the way, I got a text from CPGH telling me that he would be arriving early to spend the Thanksgiving holiday. Rather than arriving at 7:45pm as originally scheduled, we had dinner reservations at 7 pm, and he would be “picking me up” at 6pm. I had no idea how he would do this, considering he lives 1400 miles away. I offered to pick him up at the airport, and he said no, he was all set. My wide smile grew even wider. I was giddy.

When I got to my advisor's office, I left the cover sheet to a thesis in my advisor’s mailbox to sign. In an open office sat the professor who had made me take differential equations (damn undergrad English degree…) to get into school and had since become one of my biggest supporters. I went into his office to thank him and to show him his name in my acknowledgements. I could tell he was honestly pleased. He smiled, and told me how special it was to see my with my completed thesis, when he knew “what I had been through to get there.” It was really pretty amazing. My day was getting better and better.

I then went to my program’s offices, and turned in my thesis. Oh, glory of glories!

From there, it was to the office, where I had received a text back from CPGH answering my query as to what to wear: “a dress. I’ll be wearing a suit.” I totally freaked out. My coworkers had gone to lunch, but I had stayed behind, knowing I’d have to leave early to pick up a watch I had picked out for CPGH on the off chance tonight was the night. To calm myself down, I put my iTunes on random. "Oh, What a Perfect Day" by George Strait came on first. (I swear, I'm not making this up!) After a couple of hours, I couldn’t take it any more. I left. I stopped by Filene’s, picked up the watch, and headed home.

At 5:50, there was a ring from downstairs. It was CPGH. I asked if he wanted to come up or if I should come down. He came up, bringing with him a dozen red roses and his person in a sharp black suit. After about 10 minutes of greetings and putting roses in vases, we went downstairs together. A town car awaited us. We got in, and the driver asked, “The Top of The Hub?” CPGH replied “Yes.” I had never been there, had always wanted to go, and was so excited.

We arrived early, at about 6:15. We were going to have drinks at the bar, but they sat us at a wonderful table with a view of Cambridge. The earlier dinner was perfect; because I had been so sick, I had barely eaten for days. We tried to decide if we wanted to do the 5-course meal or individual plates. CPGH told me that he had seen the 5-course meal on line, and the dessert looked great. We had a great meal: 5 courses accompanied by wines. Avocado and lobster, swordfish with rice, filet mignon with potatoes, a palette-cleaning beet dish, and chocolate lava cake with mint chocolate chip ice cream. YUM.

Now I would be remiss to say I wasn’t expecting anything after the big prelude to this dinner. I had been afraid to leave the table for any length of time, despite the fact I felt as though I had drank my weight in tea that day due to my sickness. When the dessert came and went with no hidden ring, I figured I could finally go to the ladies’ room. When I got back, CPGH asked, “How is your level of anticipation?” I muttered something about it being okay, not really knowing what to say.

Then he reached in his pocket, pulled out a box, and got down on one knee. He opened the box and placed it in front of me. “FDC, will you marry me?” He asked. The tears started rolling. I reached for tissues I had tucked in my purse at the last minute. “Yes.” I answered. I can’t remember what else I said (I later asked CPGH if I had actually said "Yes" or just nodded). Then he took the ring, and put it on my finger. It was gorgeous. Just gorgeous. The man who had treated me like a princess had picked out-all by himself-a princess cut diamond.

Then we kissed. And kissed. And kissed. And told each other we loved one another. I am usually so anti-PDA, but I was so overwhelmed by emotion, it was unreal. When I “came to” again, the table behind us had moved =) Eventually the waiter started to clear out plates, then realized what had happened. CPGH asked for a couple of glasses of champagne. The waiter obliged with a big smile, saying they were on the house.

As we were leaving, he invited us back for all our anniversaries. He said to call ahead and say that he had been our waiter when we got engaged. We took a few pictures, then got down to street level where I could call my family.

When we got back to my condo, CPGH started texting people a picture of us to let them know we were engaged. While he was doing that, I grabbed the watch from its hiding place in my drawer. I was nervous to give it to him, because I know he’s not a jewelry guy. I told him he had given me a small box to show his love, and I wanted to give him one almost as small to thank him and show him mine. He had tears in his eyes, and seemed so surprised and happy.

After, um, “celebrating our love” and after-cuddles, CPGH fell asleep. I just could not. I was awake for hours. I literally did not want the day to end. I tried cuddling next to CPGH, but had happy feet, so got up and moved around. Throughout the following hours, I would repeat that pattern: try to sleep, get up, watch TV, look at ring, try to sleep on couch, get into bed. I finally fell asleep around 5am, only to awaken at 7am to go join my family in New York for a Thanksgiving that would begin with an 11am champagne toast to our newest family member, CPGH.

What do the FDS Ratings Mean?

10 I would rather be here than in bed with Tom Brady. Even if Tom Brady was feeding me chocolate-covered strawberries and writing me sonnets.
9 I would rather be here than in bed with Peyton Manning. Even if Peyton was feeding me strawberries and trying to prove he could spell "sonnets"
8 This is pretty damn good. I wonder where he'll take me next time...
7 Haven't looked at my watch once!
6 Mostly listening to you, but daydreaming a bit.
5 Foods good. Wine's good. Company is fair-to-middling. I'll forget I was on this date until about 3pm tomorrow.
4 Checking watch every half hour or so.
3 Have given up on doing so subtly.
2 Thank goodness there's a television set over your head. I bet that the blue team beats the red team (yeah, i have no idea who is playing, but it unfortunately beats listening to you)
1 I would rather be doing differential equations without a calculator proctored by a man with rancid breath while getting a brazilian bikini wax as Ashlee Simpson music blares at unbearable levels and George W repeats the word "nuclear" (aka "nuke-u-lar") over and over and over and over...