'gaged

This past weekend, as many of you know, I got engaged to Michael Carol Barrell. That's not his real middle name, but I think it should be, because it rhymes. And it's a lady name.

I made a Wedding page. I can't wait to update it with my bridal party bios. Is that weird? That's all I care about doing. All the other stuff, shoot me.

I'm going to try to update this blog for family and friends, not too often, don't worry. 

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The deets

It's been four days since Mike got down on one knee at a beach in Dennis. I was perched on my beach chair, two inches off the ground. If anyone saw us (which they didn't, the nearest person was a quarter mile away), it would have looked like Mike was squatting in front me, letting out a fart or picking something out of my teeth.

Instead, he was very sweet and babbling things like "you're stuck with me, you're stuck with me!" in a really cute, slightly panicked tone after I said yes. It was perfectly planned and executed by Mr. B and it was definitely a surprise overall. Over the course of the day, however, I grew more suspicious because our plans seemed rigid, and usually making plans is maddening ("want to go here?" I don't know, do you? I don't know, sure, no? Maybe not. Or do you want to?" and so on). But because he (and our sneaky parents) were so calm, I kept thinking, "no, no one is acting weird, nah - not happening. I wonder what I'll get for dinner."
The poor guy. I don't own one ring. Not one. I've never told him what I like or want, and he's never asked. I never even uttered the word "engaged" until we talked about buying a house. But he did very, very good. Now he's stuck with ME.