I’m 109% sure that I’ve asked every person on my guest list for their mailing address–at least twice–after they already gave it to me.

I’m 6 shades of wedding crazy right now.

What’s your name? Are you on my guest list? You are? What’s your address? You sent it to me last week? I didn’t see it. We talked about it? Oh. What’s your name, again? Who am I?

Me:  Baby, do you want a prenuptial?

R:  For all your debt?

Me:  Touche.

R:  Actually, no.  Because I’ll need you to pay for all my debt, too.

Me:  Fair enough.

+++

Me:  Baby, I need you to ask the maintenance guy about fixing my bathroom fan.

R:   I’m not man of the house yet

Me:  Yes you are. You take out my trash already.

• Every morning I usually have to return to my apartment for something I forgot on my way out the door–about 4 seconds after I get in my car.
• It’s usually my beast of a travel makeup bag.  Which I haven’t unpacked since the last trip I took.  A month ago.
• I usually don’t put my makeup on until at least an hour after I’m at work because my allergies are so bad in the morning.  And because I like the extra 15 minutes of sleep.
• If you are a hugger or someone who puts her arm on me when you’re talking, I like you instantly. I have zero personal space.  I might kiss you.  Which is why I loved New Jersey.  They greet you with kisses. And then flip you off. But whatever.
• I go to McDonald’s at least once when R–otherwise known as  Borderline Organic Food Snob Man–is out of town.
• I love, love, love to snuggle my dog in her face. Her ears have a particular smell that I like.  Don’t judge.
• Emma (my dog) can make me feel a little better if I sit with her when I’m sad.
• I cannot sleep well at night if Emma isn’t curled up behind my knees.
• I really, really like people.
• But I really, really, love meeting new people.
• Except I have to fight instant anger when I meet people who don’t like Emma.  Or won’t pet her.  As in–you might not get a Christmas card from me.
• I love when I get so busy at work that I am running around from cubicle to cubicle having to talk to people. Sitting at my desk for too long drives me insane.
• Someone took my chair from my cubicle the other day and I noticed that people don’t stay as long to talk to me anymore.  I’m going to find that chair tomorrow.
• One of the best feelings is when I can pray with someone immediately after they say, “please keep me in your prayers.”  My friend B taught me that the best time to pray for someone is right now.
• I am notoriously bad about phone calls.  It’s one of the things I most hate about myself.  I can love you to pieces and not call you for a month.  I’m working on this–all the time.
• I have spent 29 years biting my nails and I’m pretty sure they’ll give up growing at some point.
• One of my greatest fears in life is throwing up without having my dad to hold back my hair for me.  I hate throwing up.  I have issues.
• I had my heart broken in the most profound way possible in 2004.  I have never, and will never, be the same person I was back then.
• Sometimes I just sit back and marvel at how it might be impossible for my best friend K to be any more wonderful and godly and loving than she is.
• I am notoriously bad about leaving my clothes in the washer and dryer–for days.  Don’t judge.
• Every night when I come home my fridge makes an annoying buzzing sound and so I beat it with the frozen chocolate ice cream container in my freezer because it’s the only thing that makes it stop buzzing–and because I hate chocolate ice cream.
• R loves chocolate anything. Even shoes. (I kid. He hasn’t tried them yet).
• Sometimes I’ll be sitting at my cubicle and feel overwhelmed with love for my coworkers because we make such a good team.  So much of my effectiveness depends on them.
• I like to sit around and laugh with my coworkers about all the hate mail we get. It’s a good release.
• If I didn’t have my coworkers, the hate mail would bother me more.
• One of the qualities I appreciate the very most about my dad is that he seems to always think of me before himself and there has not been a time that I can remember where he hasn’t been available–and wanted to–spend time with me just talking.
• The single greatest spiritual growth time in my life so far was when I attended Sovereign Grace of Fairfax, Virginia from 2005-2007.
• I think I have developed a slight addiction to Starbucks’ ham sandwiches. I don’t really drink their coffee.
• I feel most productive at night.
• I totally and completely hate the mornings.  And then I feel guilty.  Cause I’m pretty sure there’s a Bible verse about how good it is to rise early and praise the Lord.  Didn’t the Proverbs 31 lady do that?
• I have a love-hate relationship with the Proverbs 31 lady.
• I love that R can put most anything together.
• I love that R can cook and encourages me to learn.
• I have always, desperately wanted porcelain veneers on my teeth.
• The 16th anniversary of the death of my grandfather–whom I loved more than anything–is tomorrow, July 24.

Me:  Baby, I really have enjoyed pretty much doing whatever I want to for the last 29 years.  I might miss that.  A little.

R:  Really?

Me:  Yeah.   I’m just sayin.

R:  Thanks for being honest about that, baby.  [Loving and Humble, party of one, please.]

+++

The other day, I invited my girlfriend E to lunch spur of the moment with some friends and she said she needed to check with her husband first.  I sorta cringed.  Not gonna lie.  But she quickly said it was because they were on a budget and she wanted to see if she could splurge a little by eating out with us for the first time in a while.

Then it hit me.

My friend E is already learning how to be one with her husband–in this case, of one mind about their finances.  She didn’t want to make a snap decision to use their money outside the boundaries that they’d set up.  And his response was–I imagine–loving.  And flexible.  Because she came to lunch with us.  And we enjoyed her company.

What a great example.

Alright, I found a dress.

In the LAST store, on my LAST day with my mom on our mini-vacation-for-dress-shopping-excursion-thingy.

There were tears of dispair.

Then tears of joy.

Then McDonalds. Because hello, what ELSE would you eat to celebrate the finding of the dress to end all dresses forever and ever amen?

And we picked a venue.– a fancy schmancy cattle ranch on a beautiful 450 acres.  A cattle ranch whose lovely website, one of my bridesmaid’s told me after browsing, boasts the selling of bull semen.

Nice.

Oh wait.  That time is RIGHT NOW.

678 stores later, I have nothing.

Except two “maybes.”

But I’m looking for the one that sings The Hills Are Alive!

And the other two have only hummed it.

One more store today.

One.

More.

And then I’m making a decision.

Maybe.

Remember how wedding planning is supposed to be this amazing thing where you get to frolic through a field of wildflowers while you wave your left hand to watch your ring cast flickers of rainbow light in the sun while simultaneously picking out china patterns and linens with the other hand?

No?

Oh, right.

Ahem.  So tonight R and I decided to take a break from the wedding blah blah and watch Man vs. Wild.  Oh yes, that is a real tv show, people.  Hosted by Bear Grylls.  And oh yes, that is his name.  Not the one his mama gave him, of course.  She probably named in Frank.  But hello, this is show-business people.  And how far to you expect to get in the real-life-wilderness-survival-drama business if your name is Frank?

Thus, BEAR Grylls was born.  Or rather, re-born.  Or re-named.  Whatever.  Never mind that in the episode where Bear thought he actually HEARD a real bear rustling near him, he spent the next 8 hours running.   It was emBEARassing to see Bear’s cowardice in that episode.   I couldn’t BEAR it.

Ok, I’m done.

But anyway.

There’s truly nothing that can quite put War of the Wedding Venue Selection wedding planning challenges into perspective like watching Mr. Grylls gut a camel in the Sahara Desert to salvage water drained from the camel’s dung, which he dug out with his BARE hands.  Right before he ate goat testicles. And then vomited.

And I thought choosing a venue and date would tip me over the edge.

I want to tell you more stories, but I think I’ll save the tarantula-eating story for a later post.  Well, either that or I’ll tell you about the one where he urinates on his shirt and then wraps it around his head to stay cool, and then pees a perimeter around his camp to keep the coyotes away.

People, I cannot make this stuff up.

If you threw me into the wilderness, I would just lay right down in a big, fat ball and yell TAKE ME LORD.  Similar to what I said after the third bridal gown store didn’t have the dress I wanted.

Anyway.

Rapid topic change coming in 3-2-1…

So here’s the latest on a venue we’re considering.  It’s a working horse farm.  But without–somehow–all the smelly horsey stuff.  R went with Ms. Wedding Planner on Saturday to take a look and snapped some shots with his iPhone.

The ballroom

Inside the ballroom. I can just see the hanging, colored paper lanterns now.

The wide shot.

It’s pretty much just our style.   We really wanted to incorporate the mountains and the landscape into the wedding somehow.  The views at this place do just that.

Keep your fingers crossed that they don’t ask for our firstborn child to hold a reception there.   Apparently, that’s all the rage.

How can I top that last post? You know, the one where the love of my life said he wanted to marry me?

I can’t.  That’s how.

So instead, I’ll give you all sorts of insight into the inner-workings of planning a wedding, also known as The Thing That Came After That Really Fun Part Where I Got Engaged And Now Has Me Six Shades of Crazy.

Let’s start with a little sneeky peak into conversations between R and myself over the last two weeks. Keep in mind, we have decided that he’ll just move into my apartment.

R:  [walks into my closet] Baby, you know you’re gonna have to give me half of this.

Me:  But I don’t want to.

—

R:   Yeah,  my desk will go great right here on your wall.

Me:  But I don’t like your desk.

—

Me:   [flipping through bridal magazines] What color of suit do you want to wear?

R:  Brown. I like brown.

Me:  [Insert face I make when I down two boxes of Sour Patch Kids]

—

Me:  How many family members do you HAVE anyway?

R:  A lot.

Me:  Do all of them have to come?

R:  Yes.

Me:  Your family breeds like rabbits.

—

So there you have it.  Those are the loving, romantic, post-engagement conversations we’ve had thus far.  I’m just a white girl from Idaho who grew up as an only-child, learning that she’s going to share a home with a half-Indian whose family can fill six football teams three times over and once more for good measure.

Now for the planning of the heretoforementioned wedding thingy. That thing that I’ve had visions of. Since I was six.  Okay, that’s a lie.  I wasn’t one of those girls.  But let me just tell you, I wish I HAD been.  Because maybe those visions would have kept me from repeating “COURTHOUSE!” in my head every 9 seconds when I’m only 14 days into planning.

It’s the venue, people.  That’s what’s killing me.  Apparently, unless you want to cough up your firstborn child or singlehandedly bailout the wedding industry, your options are a little slim. You know, like what I need to be to fit into my dress.

But I digress.

And I’m not the only one getting ancy.  I lost count of the number of instant messages, emails, facebook posts, texts and phone calls asking me when’s the date? Cause I have to book my flight! And take time off work!

I’ll take OutOfMyMind, party of one, please.

Engaged.

As in, today I woke up as R’s girlfriend, and tonight I go to sleep as R’s fiance.

FEEEE-ON-SAY.  Say it with me, now.

OHMYGOSHINEEDADRESSLIKEYESTERDAY.

So here’s the skinny on today’s proposal:

Last week was rough, so R surprised me with a horseback ride through a gorgeous park called Garden of the Gods. HELLO, my name is Ashley and I LOVE surprise dates.

And here’s where I’d post pictures of us frolicking through the park on our horses.

Except R got a bum horse.  As in, its bum moved as slow as molasses in the winter. While I, of course, got the horse with a rocket strapped to its booty.  A horse that, I might add, decided to permanently plant its nose in the backside of our guide’s horse.  And every time I looked behind me, there was R, frantically kicking Durango–also known as SLOWrango, or as I like to call him, The Stubborn Horsey Who Absolutely, Positively, Wouldn’t.  Thus, R and I were never “actually” together on our horses.

Moving right along…

The ride ended.  R said we should probably “go home” and study since we both have exams.  But instead, we stopped by a park to shoot some hoops.   R knows I LOVE basketball, and we’ve never actually played together.  So this was a real treat for me.  And I may or may not have beat him in HORSE.  And BANANAS.  And after 4 games, he may or may not have run out of long words to use.  To his credit, he can waste me in soccer.  But I digress.

As we hopped in the car to “go home” yet another time, he said we should check out Glen Eyrie Castle and just see if we could drive around the property.  He’s spontaneous. I thought nothing of it.

Instead, we drove up to the castle and he said, “I lied. We’re going to HIGH TEA.”

Woot woot!

My man, his cup, and the tea cozies. He took one for the team.

And I just took TEA. Ha. Get it?

This was our view. My kindergarten-camera skills photography doesn't do it justice.

And yes, I took a picture of the water glass. So shoot me.

And the flowers.

And I'd like to say that R was thrilled with me taking this mushy heart picture.

But in the interest of full disclosure, this is the first one I shot. A man can only take so many tea cozies in one sitting.

After tea, we sauntered around the grounds, admiring the beauty.  And y’all. It was gorgeous.  So gorgeous that I didn’t take one darn picture because as I have already told you, I have the photography skills of a kindergartner.  So just conjure up the beauty in your head. Thank you.

Finally, we walked into a rose garden.  And in my mucho romantic way I said, “Honey, are there dead people in here?” Because the rose bushes had “in memoriam” plates on them.

Um, no. There were no dead people, R explained.

But there was this:

A boy, on his knee, asking to grow old with me.

So…

INEEDACHURCH.

ANDADRESS.

Cause I took this boy off the market.

Might I just end with this? God makes himself known through suffering. But he also reveals Himself through the joy He grants us.  And oh my word.  Engagements are a time for rejoicing.  So in honor of God’s goodness, do a little happy dance tonight.