Officially official

After 23 years of friendship and 3 years of dating, I've been officially engaged for 3 days.  My love flew in to surprise me Friday night and greeted me at my front door with a bottle of champagne.  After a small dinner, we sat and listened to Diana Krall, talked, and sipped some bubbly.  He mentioned his agony over the ring and said he wanted my input, again.  He pulled out the current Martha Stewart's Weddings magazine - it has various rings on the cover - and asked if I could see one that I would like.  I lit up and mentioned that I had that same magazine and began to dig through my pile until I realized there was something glimmering on the front of his.  He had taped my ring on top of a photo of one.  He again asked if I saw one that would work for me.  I said yes and became quite emotional.  I picked up the ring, he put it on my hand, and said, "Marry me."  It was an easy decision.

We spent all day Saturday running around to tell family.  We saw Mom at lunch, called Dad (whose response was, "great, cool."), visited his grandparents, my Godmother, his Father, Mom and Stepdad.  Dad was very interested to see the ring, which was odd considering the fact that he never purchased my Mom a ring.  Dad was hard to read.

On Sunday my parents threw an engagement party for the families to meet one another (although we already knew each other given the fact that both of our families went to the Catholic high school and we were neighbors so I suppose it was more of a reunion.)  It wasn't awkward, it was so easy and comfortable.  When it was time to toast with champagne, his Mom pushed my Father up to the front of the room and announced that the Father of the Bride was going to give the toast.  Dad was admantly against doing this, but he was put on the spot and did an a wonderful job.  People cried, he spoke from the heart. 

That night after I took my love, er my fiance, to the airport I asked Dad how he was doing.  He said he was happy when he heard, although shocked, and then said he felt immediately empty.  He wasn't ready to let me go, but he said he also knows its time.

Saturday Mornings Sans Smurfs

My grandmother jokes that Edgar is preparing me for children.  Since I've adopted him, I haven't slept past 8:00 AM.  He's usually trying to rally me about 6 AM, only if he hasn't gotten me up in the middle of the night.  This morning was no exception.

I didn't attempt to go back to sleep, but decided to flip on the TV.  What happened to the Smurfs?  Where were The Littles?  Saturday mornings have seriously declined since the 80's.  Instead of Heafty trying to charm Smurfette, I found a lot of reality tv shows with kids on NBC, the Discovery channel partnered with ABC, and CBS is targeting the pre-schoolers with Nick Jr.  It was terribly disappointing.

The comercials however, had not changed much.  You could always count on Ronald pushing cheeseburgers with plastic processed dairy product, gross sugary neon fruity drinks, and breakfast foods that have no nutritional value.  I didn't see Barbies, but Bratz.  Ok, for future reference, this is not a step up for feminists.  What parent in their right mind would buy a doll for their child with that kind of a name?  Oddly enough I didn't see a lot of male targeted toys.

You know the tv is bad when you begin to look forward to the infomercials.

Philosophical Differences

So it is abundantly clear that my father is firmly against a wedding.  He believes that money spent on one day is a waste, however he can see justification in paying monthly cable that sucks not only money but hours and hours of your life into things like food tv, the golf channel, and monster garage.  These are about the only shows he watches with the exception of Fox News.  Fox News is like the Choose the Right ring for the mormons.  Although he's a closet Catholic, he could wear a CTR ring and get away with it just fine.

I've been home sick the past few days. Yesterday my mom came by to keep me company while the plumber was here (long story, needs separate entry) and advised me to take my father to lunch to discuss weddings.

The last time I attempted a Daddy-Daughter heart to heart I was 20 and was moving in with my boyfriend for the first time.  It wasn't a discussion.  It was us meeting at Chop Suey Louie's on campus while he let me know under no certain terms that I was, in fact, throwing my life away.  It was more of a Dictator-Daughter stab your heart kind of a deal.  You can imagine that my mom suggesting I have a go at round 2 wasn't appealing.

Today I got an email from my future mother-in-law.  A little bird told her that my mom and I had ventured off to the bridal shows this weekend and she wanted to know ALL ABOUT IT.  Ok, not so subtle.  I'm guessing that she does not have secret spies but that her little bird might live in Indy.  I haven't written her back.  What do I say?

"Gee, I found a bunch of great ideas but they aren't going to happen because my father thinks this is a waste, he's broke, and he thinks that since I'm 30 and didn't jump on the first guy I saw when I was 19 he doesn't owe me anything.  He thinks its just too bad I waited until I was mature to get my life in order.  Apparently I missed out on the clause that if I went to graduate school and became a sucess then I forfited his assistance with a  wedding.  Missed that small print there." 

In his opinion and my mothers anthropology background, weddings are there to get the couple set up in a household with the showers etc.  In my opinion its a celebration of the merging of families.  He'll show up to the sucker; he'll even walk me down the aisle, but the only thing he'll be giving away is his opinion that the whole deal is a waste.

Pseudo Bride

Yesterday my mother and I went to bridal shows.  We realize that this may seem a bit premature as there isn't anything sparkling on my hand, but really at this point in time the ring is more of a technicality.  For example:  when my love was here over New Years his mother threw us a pseudo engagement party complete with champagne and crab.  My poor love is just trying to get the perfect ring (we've been shopping for a few months now) and as he told my dad during "the talk" he plans almost to a fault.  I will just leave my love to planning the proposal issues while I move on and work on the wedding.

Here's the deal:  I never was the little girl playing bride when I was little.  The closest I got was playing dorm room modeled after Denise Cosby in "A Different World."  Little did I know I was modeling my fantasy of independence and learning off of a predominantly African American university.  Kids don't pick up on these things. 

I was a bit shocked when I heard my mom suggest we go to the bridal extravaganza.  She married my dad on an ultimatium after dating 4 years and agreed to a quick ceremony so she didn't chicken out.  My parents for years have been bribing me with eloping with a sum of cash.  However, this is not going to happen.

The first thing I noticed at the bridal show was that I was OLD.  This is Utah.  These girls are switching their prom dress for a bridal gown within the same year.  They have you register and then wanted me to put on a name badge with the date of my wedding.  Ok, so we have narrowed it down to a month, but not a day.  I began to make things up.  September 30th, sure that's the ticket.  I didn't know if it fell on a Wednesday, Saturday, or what, but it sounded fine.  I refused to put on the name badge.

We got there in time for the fashion show.  Some DJ's volunteered to showcase their sound systems as to entice you to book them for THE big day.  The quality sounded like a fisher price record player.  I noted the name for the specific purpose of NOT pursuing him. 

Obviously I became uncomfortable during this as I immediately became caddy.  I began to notice the dresses that were Temple Worthy, to which I kept running commentary to my mom as, "another TW dress."  These dresses are "modest," a.k.a sleeves, no cleavage, etc.  I also began to notice the models who were shoved into some corset showing off their back fat as clevage once they turned to show the train.  There was one model who thought she was all that.  Heavy makeup, dark ratted hair (I think she was trying to look like a Vogue photo shoot) and a strut that made you wonder how many hours she spent trying to get it down.  She bounced down the runway, stared right into the camera and did her best "America's Next Model" pout.  My mom began to hope that she would trip down the catwalk and we couldn't help but giggle.

Another facet of the show was how the emcee kept saying, "Congratulations, Brides!"  As if to say, "You finally snared a man!  Good going!  Your life can now begin!"  No grooms were mentioned.  It really began to grate on my nerves.

Once the fashon show ended, we ventured on to the booths.  Florists, venues, invitations, caterers, photographers and the ever-so-popular-but-I-question-how-sanitary chocolate fountains.  Blech.  At one caterers booth I overheard a very naive bride who looked like she was 12 and her fiance still with high school acne ask, "So could you just do brownies?"  The caterer laughed trying to relieve the insult he just got and the unrecognized faux pas she just made.  The sad thing was, in Utah, to have catered brownies at a Ward wedding is hoity toity. 

A typical Utah wedding would consist of the Temple in the morning, a bridal lunch at the Joseph Smith Memorial Building, then the couple mysteriously disappears for a couple hours only to reappear at the Ward for the reception.  They will stand in a recieving line for hours and the refreshments will be jordan almonds, punch in a bathroom sized Dixie cup, and perhaps a cookie. 

My mom and I cleared the Salt Palace gig within an hour.  We decided to head to bridal show #2 at the Grand America Hotel.  Given the venue, I knew the audience and vendors would be different.  I also wisened up to the causal glances at my bare left hand and promptly switched my amethist ring to my 4th finger.  No Frenze Bridal/Prom Dress show, no Claires Accessories for your big day, no Inkleys photo, no Hampton Inn receptions, and no Davids Bridal.  It was first class.  We actually saw cakes, scene makers, wedding coordinators, professional photographers, and a couture dress maker.  My mom and I left with the rough idea that neither of us had enough in savings to cover a dress and a cake. 

We left with some really good ideas and my mom began to discuss guest lists.  All I need now is that ring...

19th Hole and 20 Questions

Today my family attended a funeral.  A family friend of ours lost a battle with cancer.  My brother and I grew up with the kids while our parents bonded over tales of swim team at the 19th hole.  Ross was an incredible guy so it wasn't surprising when we showed up to the viewing and the line stretched out rooms and down hallways.  There we stood trying to identify people our family knew from decades past.  Most of these individuals were my parents' age and didn't recognize my brother or I in our adulthood.  In our boredom of waiting to pay our condolences, my mother and I began to identify the bad face lifts and my brother began a game of 20 questions.  In grief, you look for distractions or humor or both.  One of our funniest moments is when a family friend stopped my brother to ask who the "lovely lady" was with him.  As he turned shades of crimson, my brother flatly remarked, "my sister."  Ooh, yeah, what a great date idea!  A viewing!

Holiday Spirit

Yesterday my Mom and I ran last minute errands for Christmas and stopped to have lunch.  We talked about what gifts we still need to pick up, whos making what for which party, which dog is the culprit for eating the christmas lights off the tree (whole bulb and wires inluded), and what the wrapping status was on the presents.

Apparently the other night my parents were drinking their festive boxed wine and while my mother was choosing gift wrap, my father was stewing.  The more tipsy they became the worse things got (no surprise here.)  She was hoping that she actually gave the right present to the right recipient and actually as the night wore on she finally gave up on even signing their names, but resorted to their initials.  While I snickered at this one imagining my cute female cousin opening up my brothers boxers, I didn't realize this was the best part.

My Dad was stewing (we like to call him Chuckles).  Chuckles was downing the elegant chablis wine getting more and more upset about the neighbors.  They went out of town for the holiday and in the meantime all the flowers/plants/gifts have been arriving at my parent's.  The neighbor does not like the dogs barking and my father takes it personally although will not do anything to actively stop the noise.  It got to the point where my Dad marched over in the night (or stumbled as the case may be) to take the delievery notices off the door and proceeded to unwrap the gifts at his house.  Once my mother realized what was happening she scolded him and took the delievery notices back to their house and put it in their mailbox (no way to get them back) and attempted to put the bows back on things. 

Ah, can you feel the love?

The Perfect Gift

Have you ever found the perfect gift for someone?  You know, the experience where you cannot wait to give them the gift?  You start dancing around like you need to pee as they are attempting to untie the ribbon and you are thinking, "Just cut the damn thing because you are taking too long!"  I found that gift.

One of my dearest friends has a passion for single malt scotch and women who drive stick shifts (how he and his wife now have automatics in their garage is beyond me.)  Every quarter or so he dresses up in his kilt, shows educational videos on the different regions of Scotland, and cons our graphic designer from work to be the pourer for a high end Scotch for a fun fun tasting among friends. 

When I first found the dessert plates with different old (perhaps made up) labels of Scotch on the faces, I knew I found THE gift.  However, the pragmatic side of me left them at the store somehow convinced that I could find an equally wonderful gift without breaking the bank. 

This is when my logic side is damned because I wandered the city for the next few weeks finding nothing that would compare and kept dwelling on why I didn't follow my gut in the first place and buy the plates to begin with!!!  I went back and got the plates.

When he opened them this week I was estatic.  He loved them.  He had never seen them.  He had them on display in his office (not really acceptable in Mormon Utah to have ceramics tooting the wonderfulness of liquor in the office).  However, he could get away with it as he is the chaplain who is known for his off colored remarks and jovial passion about spirits made from peet.

The next day he came in letting me know that he thought the plates were too special to serve any food off of them.  He was going to make a shelf and have them on display.  I assumed this was at his house near his Scotch shrine, however I wouldn't be surprised if I found the plates between the life sized print of Rembrant's "Prodigal Son," and the photo of him with the Dali Lama in his office.