He did it all on his own!

Yesterday afternoon, we went down to Spence Diamonds and picked up our rings. Rod's wedding band is a 14kt Yellow gold with five round 0.07kt weight diamonds inset. It's similar to the wedding band I already have been wearing for the past 7 months, since our anniversary. My engagement ring is a 14kt Yellow gold 1/2kt solitaire diamond, ridiculously simple, and the best part is the unique inclusion in the diamond. It's not a foggy spot at all, which is what most inclusions are. It's a fracture line-like cut straight through. It's perfectly imperfect :)

After that, we went out to Locarno Beach by UBC, found a stump and log to settle on, and just took in the perfect spring day by the water. I ventured out onto some of the rocks that create breaks in the coastline to prevent erosion, where I snapped this happy little picture on my phone camera of the water lapping up against the stones around me...

While I frolicked on the rocks, Rod remained back at the log, lost in his own world. Around us were dogs and their owners, also frolicking and having a wonderful time, as dogs off leash tend to do :) When I returned to Rod, he told me a story about being on the bus home from work a couple of weeks ago, and thinking back to a time when we were still living in Edmonton, and he was still working at Red's. He said that one night, after his late shift (sometime around 3 am), he was driving home from the mall, and he was hit with a realization that this was going to be his life: low paying jobs and no money. This was early on in our relationship, when we were both in the blurred world of "studentdom" and we were poor.

He said he didn't know what brought that memory back to him, but sitting there on the bus, he realized now that he was in a much better place, with the great job at a place he likes, and in a city he likes (and presumably, with a woman he likes :D), and it was all worth sharing. Now, back on the beach with me, he said he just couldn't imagine not sharing this spectacular setting, and with that, he dropped to one knee in front of me, ring in hand, waves lapping on the sand, and happy dogs scampering about, and asked me to marry him. And I said yes. And it was our moment.

What I definitely won't be wearing...

There was something about this dress that made me say yes after 17 dresses, low blood sugar and the pressure of getting a dress on the spot within a budget. I agree with everyone, it's beautiful, and I look lovely in it, but...

After we paid for it, I almost got a sick feeling, and I was really upset. Once I got some food in me, I perked up quite a lot, but what I felt was still missing with this dress was ME. I know I've said it before, but this beautiful gown with little blue Swarovski Crystals not visible in this one shot we were allowed to take, it didn't quite suit my personality, nor my concept for the wedding. I had always pictured myself in some slinky, sexy or sophisticated dress getting married in the evening and having the night sky behind us as we ate (I'll give on that one now cause I've seen the spectacular sunsets on the beaches and on Burnaby Mountain, and that would be cool too). This beautiful dress just missed my mark a little. It is obviously a fantastic 2nd choice, and I'm aware of that. And the look on my face was because we were only allowed to take this one picture of the one dress since technically I already owned it, and I had just been fussing with the train when I looked up for the picture, it has nothing to do with my judgement of the dress!

But the salon was quite understanding when my mum called and asked if I could "upgrade" the dress, since the date has been moved back by a full year. The deal was that I could afford a more expensive dress and not need it in a hurry, so I was allowed to trade up. The one I ended up picking, the first time I put it on, I flushed pink and just felt like I was RICH. I refer to it as a New York City dress, because I felt like I could be getting married at the Plaza Hotel on Central Park. It's...older. The first dress, as beautiful as it is, makes me feel like a young bride of 22 or 23, which, I have no shame in saying that I am not. By the time this wedding rolls around, I will be just 4 months shy of turning 30, and I want to feel sophisticated, not cute. Others might not like my choice of dress, but I feel fucking incredible in it.

I was really struggling about that to do about the dress situation. I could have used it or sold it, and every day, I just bounced back and forth. I was starting to really accept this dress for what it was, and then mum called the Salon, and suddenly there was a third, guilt-free option! Yay! That's one major conundrum handled! I can now worry about a whole other problem...

We went to the beach last week and walked around, and looked at the exterior and surroundings of Brock House, a heritage mansion on Jericho Beach, and I was loving it. This week, we went up to Horizons Restaurant on Burnaby Mountain and also found a spectacular setting with beyond incredible scenery. I want Beach, Rod Wants Mountain. Do we flip a coin?

Someone owes me big time!

I hereby promise to do everything in my power to NOT NOT NOT have children, because as cute and life-enriching as they are supposed to be, they become TEENAGERS, and I'm 100% certain any teens of mine would not survive to see adulthood.

My niece, Morgan. Turns 13 tomorrow, and for her birfday, she wanted a sleepover party in the same hotel that they were at for Beni's birfday. My brother can't handle his own children, nevermind adding five 13 year olds to the mix. My mother is too old to keep up and relate to the girls. So lucky ducky me. I got a mostly-all-expense paid trip to Edmonton for two nights in order to chaperone this little party.

I arrived in Edmonton on Friday Morning and headed straight for West Ed Mall. For the most part, everything was familiar, though a few new faces appeared in the landscape. It got annoying hauling my luggage around while looking at headpieces and shopping for white strapless bustiers, which I might add, is apparently an incredible task given that my girls are big enough, but my rib cage is apparently too small for the stupid bustiers. Clearly, I will have to find the right one, and have it taken in to fit better. I had a crepe, and waited for Miz Holly Berry to come get me for supper! And lo! At around 4:30, she appeared! It was awesome! We went to the Olive Garden where I sucked up a plate of cheese ravioli (I usually manage only half the plate), then we went downtown to my old neighbourhood for ice cream, which I downed like my life depended on it. We went back to her place where we watched Pan's Labrynth and I spent the night on her couch. I missed that kid :)

Saturday morning, I was up early to get over to my brother's house to get this party started. We checked in early at the hotel and went to Kingsway Mall for breakfast and the haircuts, then it was back to the hotel to wait for the girls to show up. And show up they did. They were all good kids, but crammed into a small room with 6 giggling girls is enough to drive anyone to seriously consider ripping out their eardrums. I had to step in at one point and stop a planned prank on one girl. They wanted to do the hand in the water bit, and I found out how much I hate kids at that moment when I explained that it was not funny, but humiliating instead, and they laughed. What finally got them to realize this was a stupid plan was when I pointed out that a) My brother and the kids were going to stay another night, and it would NOT be good to have a wet sofabed for them to sleep on; and b) the maids would have to deal with the cleanup, not these irresponsible teens. To not be a stick in the mud, I suggested instead waiting until she was asleep and writing on her with her beloved lip glosses, which was received gleefully, and this time, I didn't have to step in, because these silly girls were too lazy to coordinate in person, and instead sent Morgan a text message (she was in the other room), which was intercepted by the intended target. So problem solved.

Sunday morning, we managed another trip down to the hotel pool before we sent the girls home and I left shortly after that for the airport. I was a full 2.5 hours early for my flight, but I needed to get away as quickly as possible. Kids are so not my thing.

Seriously, my brother and my mother owe me. A lot.

You'd better believe it!

This is a blog post I'm not sure how to compose, because really, how many times do you have to get it just right so that it's read in a way that conveys my excitement.

We're getting married!

Before I start fielding questions about details and proposals, I'll refer you to the FAQ portion of the post:

Q: Who Proposed?

A: Well, given our history, this is a good question. The answer is...no one. Unless you count my sister. As you've read previously, joking around about a drunken shotgun wedding in Vegas provoked her to say if it's for real, she'll go, which made Rod and I break down into a laughing fit when I lovingly took his hand, stared deep into his flecked green eyes, and said, "Darling? My sister wants to know...will you marry me?" No answer (too busy laughing). As of this post, no official offers of marriage or acceptances of proposals have been extended by either party.

Q: Then how the hell are you getting married?

A: Easy! Joking about it with everyone put me in mind of thinking about finding something to wear. After all, what looks good with a shotgun and a groom in handcuffs? My mother comes in here. I've never been a big "white wedding/pretty princess" type of kid, and I actually wasn't really considering white, never mind a bridal gown. But my poor mother had to give up her choice of wedding gear not once, but twice, and she was in Fort Chip at the time of my sister's wedding planning, so my mother has never had the experience of being in a bridal salon. So I agreed to do it for her, and we went down to the Bridal District of New Westminster, which sort of snowballed the whole joke into a whole new territory...Realdom.

Q: So? How's the shopping going?

A: Well, there's a dress. It's white. It's bridal. I'm still leery about it. Okay, for anyone who's never been married, or, in fact never cared for the "bridal" experience, going into a bridal salon is scary as fuck. In the first salon, I grabbed some gowns, and headed in. I flubbed my way into the first one, and was immediately terrified that I would break it some how. I was lightheaded the whole time in the first salon, and still not convinced I was going to do white, even after 4 dresses. Until I tried on a $2900 silk sheath that just...whispered 1930's socialite elegance. I fell in love. Okay, so white is a possibility. But not for $2900. *sigh*

Q: So? Keep going!

A: We next went to a consignment store down the block, where I tried on 2 dresses, and fell in love with the second on for $325. It was a strapless sheath, one piece, but cut in a way that appeared to be two piece, and S-E-X-Y. The waist was tiny, the boobs were big, and it just screamed, "Yes!" We agreed to think about it, and moved on to The Bridal Gallery across the street, where I literally walked into an appointment without having made one in the first place. They started me off with paperwork, asking all kinds of questions, to determine where to start helping me. I checked off a maximum of $1000, and out of nowhere comes...I don't even know, like...a million dresses? Blurg. Another good moment came in this really fricking hot dress that screamed "I BELONG AT A PLAZA HOTEL MANHATTAN WEDDING!" I felt confident, sexy, and RICH. But it was at the upper end of the limit. Moving on. Mum fell in love with the last dress I tried on, a strapless gown with a starburst pattern of jewelled beads reaching out from the faux wrap on my right side, but again, upper end of the price point. But we did come down to a chiffon-covered gown with a 3 foot train-thingy-type-deal, and clear and blue Swarovski crystals around the top hem. So, do I go with this totally girly, "bridal" dress, or do I go with sexy as hell across the road?

Q: And?

A: And the winner is....Frou frou wins because I'm food-deprived, wearing heavy dresses under hot lights, and getting the tough sell from the sales girl, who must be ready to hit me by now cause I've been waffling. It won by default...I was still wearing the dress and was feeling the pressure of a tough decision. Yes, it looks beautiful, but it's not me. And it's non-refundable. So there's a dress. Ergo, there's a wedding...Thursday, September 13th.

Q: Thursday?!?

A: Yes. Non-negotiable.

Q: Okay, mang, whatever you say. How's Rod taking it?

A: He's calm and accepting. I'm scared. Six months ago, it's the same old chorus of "I'm still afraid of commitment" with a rousing verse of "EVADE! EVADE!" Now, he's all cool, and we're discussing the pros and cons of beach vs. garden vs. Mountain (oh the woes of weddings in Vancouver :D hahaha). Last night it dawned on me that I knew the reason for this change in attitude...He's PREGNANT!!! That's the only explanation for such an about face! He wants to keep me around to take care of him and his alien spawn!

Q: Alien Spawn?!?!

A: Yeah, didn't you know? Rod wasn't born, he was implanted and hatched from the Vegreville Pysanka fully grown by Aliens. Any pictures he tries to pawn off on you while claiming to be younger than 16 years old are fakes.

There' I hope all that helps. So again, to sum up, dress, wedding, Thursday, September 13th, Rod okay (alien).