The Scene In Which I Have A Sparkly Ring On An Important Finger

That's right kids, Cute Boy and I are ENGAGED!!

This may not be big news to most of you- in fact, anyone who actually knows me already has heard the news, given that it happened on January 6th - but for the lurkers out there, you're in the loop!

Side note: I actually don't know if I have blog-lurkers or not. I mean, I'd like to think I'm all cool and awesome and there's people out there that have never met me but like to read my blog, sort of like I kind of blog-stalk follow people like the inspiring Angie over at Bring The Rain (please note, if you have never read her blog and decide you have an hour or two or four to read her story, I don't recommend you do it at work, because you will cry at your desk and have to go home early....just sayin'.) or Pioneer Woman, or people that are married to people that I knew in college but I've never met like Jessica, or of course the hilarious Ali at Cheaper Than Therapy, who, by the way, doesn't know it yet but is about to become my new best friend because we are both Midwestern girls marrying Canadians and she lives in Toronto and Cute Boy is FROM Toronto and we just got ENGAGED in Toronto and we walked around Yorkville where she talks about window-shopping at Anthropologie and WE saw Anthropologie and I was all like, OMG, any second now a woman in kick-ass cat-eye glasses is going to walk past me and I'm going to be like "OMG ALI!" and then we'll be best friends.

Which is probably why I didn't notice? as we were walking around Yorkville? that CUTE BOY WAS TRYING TO PROPOSE.

Oh yes.

Honestly, if you know me, you'll be shocked by the end of this post that I DIDN'T SEE THIS COMING.


To rewind a bit, we've been talking about getting engaged for awhile now, along with making all sorts of other fun plans about buying houses and keeping our foster dog forever (we hope) and eventually having some of those tiny humans that resemble us, and even picking out said sparkly ring things :)


Christmas passed with visits to both our families, and New Year's was spent with friends in Indy. Shortly after New Year's, we planned to make a trip to Toronto (our fourth in a year). With Younger Brother planning a short getaway at the same time as our vacation, the fabulous Princess and Finnigan needed a place to go for the week, and when my parents offered to take them, we said yes. Figuring out how we'd get them there (my folks live three hours away) Cute Boy volunteered to drop them off during a day trek to Chicago with a friend, ostensibly to buy skis for the friend.


Because GOODNESS KNOWS, there aren't skis to buy in Indy!!


And YES, I BOUGHT IT. Hook, line, and sinker. No questions asked about why they'd drive three hours to Chicago for skis, no inquiry when the trip only took about eight hours (not really that long to shop, by the time you include travel back-and-forth) and not even saying a word to the friend who was supposedly going with, because - get this- Cute Boy told me not to mention it in front of our other friends, and I DIDN'T THINK THAT WAS WEIRD, AT ALL.


Looking back I think a tiny part of my brain registered that asking too many questions might ruin a surprise. Fortunately, this translated mentally into "Don't question it too much or YOU'LL be the one driving the dogs to Chicago!"


The part of my brain that told me not to question things? Is not typical. And did not come with us to Canada. But that's further along.


At any rate, we trek to Canada. We encounter our usual friendly welcome at the border (Canadians= thrilled to welcome you into their country. Americans= typically not thrilled to welcome you BACK into YOUR country. No joke.)

We drove through to Toronto, where Cute Boy dropped me off at the home of some of our friends, then left with three of his buddies to head to Buffalo for the World Junior Hockey Championship Game. And believe me when I say, this game is a BIG DEAL.

They didn't get back until after midnight and it was after 1 in the morning when we arrived at the condo of the friends we usually stay with in Toronto, so naturally, we slept in. Waking up on Thursday morning with everyone else at work for the day, Cute Boy proposed a lazy tourist day in Toronto- strolling through the streets up in Yorkville, walking down Yonge street, maybe heading over to Nathan Phillips Square to ice-skate at the public ice skating rink. Naturally, YES! was my answer to this.

And then we have a lovely day, folks. We window shopped, I kept an eagle-eye out for blogger Ali, we chatted, we held hands while wandering the streets, we stopped for snacks and drinks at a cute little pub, and Cute Boy even tolerated- nay encouraged! - a little browsing at a Yonge street boutique that I will absolutely need to revisit on a future trip, because seriously, the cuteness, and it was cheap. Like $8 sweater cheap.

So by the time we wound our way back to the city center and it was getting on towards 5 PM, we'd been walking for awhile and starting to think about heading home, and the amazing dinner we'd be having later at Pangea, a restaurant where one of Cute Boy's best friends works.

Or at least, I WAS STARTING TO THINK ABOUT THESE THINGS, and Cute Boy was still thinking about something else entirely.

As I'd discover later.

By the time we got to Nathan Phillips Square and the ice-skating I'd been excited about earlier in the day, I was a little over the idea. Skates were $10 or so per person to rent, and while it was absolutely adorable out there on the rink with the snow falling gently (I know, RIGHT?? ROMANTIC. RIDICULOUSLY ROMANTIC.) off to the side....well.....all the benches were snowy, and I'd just gotten new boots that day and I didn't want them to be full of snow, and there were no lockers, and we'd bought a couple things and I didn't want to leave the bags lying by the side of the rink and, well, I was trying to be nice to Cute Boy, who I know FOR A FACT based on previous attempts to go ice-skating does not actually like to attend these kinds of public-skate things, because he likes his hockey skates and he likes being on the ice during practice and he really doesn't care for public skate.

So I said we didn't have to skate.

And Cute Boy said it was fine.

But I said we really didn't and I didn't want to get my butt wet on the snow or have someone steal our packages.

And Cute Boy said he'd carry the packages.

And I said I didn't want him to do that because then he wouldn't be having any fun and I knew he wouldn't anyway and I didn't really want to skate for too long because I had to go home and shower for dinner.

And Cute Boy said fine.

And we left.

So ladies and gentlemen, let me state for the record: I AM A TOTAL SUCK, and ruined what might possibly have been the most adorable proposal in history, on the center of the ice in the lightly fallen snow in Toronto with my Canadian ice-skate loving fiancee.

BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT TO GET MY BUTT WET AND COLD.

Can I just tell you, readers, how much I really really really really really really wish I had never known "The Plan" was to propose on the ice?? Devastating. Still.

But things happen for a reason, and as we headed away from public skate sans diamond ring, bought hot chocolates and strolled towards home instead, I had no idea that I'd come thisclose to getting engaged just a second before.

Back at the condo I got ready for dinner while Cute Boy hung out with his friend. I packed a bag, because we were planning to drive over to Cute Boy's aunt's house that night and spend the night there (yes, on a Thursday night, and yes, we'd be arriving around 11, and YES, I did actually question the plausibility of this story, but was told to "just GO WITH IT!" so I did, thankfully.) and we headed out to find a place to have a drink before our dinner.

Only, as you might have guessed, we weren't spending the night at Cute Boy's aunt's. Instead, he pulled up at the lovely Sutton Place Hotel, said, "Surprise!" and got out of the car.

AND THAT'S WHEN MY BRAIN REALIZED THE WHOLE DAY WAS LEADING UP TO GETTING ENGAGED.

I frantically tried to shrug the thought back, because if I was wrong, I was going to be severely disappointed and not enjoy the lovely romantic evening he had planned with a hotel and a fantastic dinner. So I casually inquired if we should "bring our bags up to the room before we head out??" trying to suss if there was a surprise within.

"Oh, yeah, we can do that if you want," he said.

We got to the room.

"Nice," he commented. "What's the view like?"

"Looks nice!" I said. "There's a balcony!" (More sussing.)

"Cool. I'm going to the bathroom." he replied.

But the balcony wouldn't unlock, so instead I unpacked some things from my bag. When Cute Boy came out of the bathroom, he asked about the view and then- strangely- freaking attacked the balcony door until he wrenched it open.

It's entirely possible he broke the lock.

Regardless, we went out on the balcony to look at the city view in the night lights with the snow falling and it was INCREDIBLY lovely and, well....you can guess what happened next....the trip to the bathroom was actually to fish my ring out of its hiding place in his wallet, and my adorable man proposed right there on the balcony!

And then I starting giggling.

And then I started crying.

And then I started hugging him.

And then two minutes went by.

And then he inquired as to whether or not I wanted to give him a yes anytime soon.

Oh, yeah.

That "saying yes" thing.

I forgot to do that.

So I did.

And THAT, my dears, is the very long story of how Cute Boy and I got engaged, and a little snapshot of what the poor man is going to have to put up with from me, aka "The Woman Who Questions Everything," for the rest of his life.

I'm really lucky he loves that about me.

Most of the time, anyway.