Michelle posted recently about the constant “buzz” of wedding planning that exists in her head.

Well, girl, let me just say “WORD.”

I didn’t get it before I was engaged. I didn’t. I don’t think I could have. It’s just one of those things that you just don’t understand before you enter the tulle covered, bedazzled, tiara-ed world of The Bride. Where I once remember being puzzled over “bride diets” (because, really? why try and makeover your body for a party?) now I admit one of the biggest spurs in my side pushing me to the produce aisle and the gym is that white dress hanging in my bridal salon’s “Received” area. {Side note, my dress is in!!! Squee!! I’m making plans for a first fitting in January!!}

Before I spent my free time blogging, or reading, or learning stuff, or making “Shaba Loves Me” t-shirts for a few Very Important People. Now, if I have a few moments of free time I spend it looking at wedding porn. StyleMePretty, a Practical Wedding, The Brides Guide. I spend hours  staring at West Coast brides who always seem to have way better luck at thrift stores than I ever do. I spend hours looking for “things” for my wedding. I have lists upon lists of “things” to do,  “things” to research, “things” to try and “things” to buy. And after every tiny check I put on my ever-expanding task list I feel a little more defeated. Because it never really turns out the way I imagined.

I’m terrified that my wedding, the vision I’ve had since April and have worked on peice by peice like a little bird building a nest, will become passe before it has taken place. I’m afraid that my handiwork, my vendors, and my wedding won’t be the “wedding blog worthy” wedding I imagine it to be. I’m afraid that my non-theme theme of Stuff I’ve Always Liked That Just Happens To Be Trendy Right Now will become a snore, trendy and “So Last Season” by the time June 12th rolls around. And I know it shouldn’t matter. I know I should just do whatever the hell I want because I CAN. And it’s MY (our, really) Day Dammit. And I will. I just wish I knew it would all turn out the way it looks in my head, I wish I had an insurance policy for the beauty and fun quotient of my wedding. Dear Flo From Progressive, can we get a quote on that?

I just want it to live up to the image I have in my head.

And though I know, I KNOW it’ll be fine and wonderful and The Best Day ever because at the end of the night I’ll be married….I can’t seem to shut up the little wedding ‘zilla inside my head.

So, tell me something good.

And don’t use the word “wedding.”

Today’s Proposal story come from Tabitha at Headed in the Right Direction she and her brand new husband were married August 8th!
Here’s her story!

First of all, Joe let it slip (after I bugged him for the zillionth time) that he would be proposing sometime before my birthday (April 5th), so I knew it was coming, but didn’t know what to expect or when. And I really tried not to think about it too much, or assume every little suspicious thing he did was an indication of the impending proposal. I wanted to LET it be a surprise.

So, on March 26th, Joe suggested that we go out to lunch the following day, since my friend and bridesmaid-to-be Megan was going to be in town, and he said I could choose where we’d eat. Coincidentally (or so I thought), my boss asked me to run an errand for him at noon: he wanted me to go to the Elephant Bar to pick up a new catering menu for our event planning files. Totally did not faze me at all; and I suggested to Joe that we just eat there since I had to stop by anyway. (See how he made it seem like it was my idea? Sneaky.)

Joe said it would be his treat, on one condition: I had to dress up kind of nice, because he wanted to “show me off” — as he so enjoys doing. Again, I thought practically nothing of it. I admit, a teeny tiny suspicion arose, but then I thought, “Nah, he’s not going to propose on my lunch break!” He also mentioned he would dress up too, maybe even in a tie.

Fast forward to the next morning, March 27th. I got all ready and prettified and headed to work. Then, within an hour or so of arriving at work, I got the WORST migraine EVER… (Oh, and a little TMI: I also had the runs. I mean, literally, I was running to the bathroom every half hour that morning. Not fun.)

Luckily, I had the greatest boyfriend in the world, and he brought me some aspirin to alleviate my migraine. At noon, he picked me up and we headed for the Elephant Bar. He mentioned that Megan was already there saving us a table, since there was a big lunch rush. Then as we pulled into the parking lot, he said, “Oh, I have to show you something really awesome that just landed out back, so you need to close your eyes until we get there.” I asked him what he meant by “landed” and he reminded me that the Santa Barbara airport is right behind the restaurant. So I figured there was some missile or huge plane that Joe thought was super-cool, cuz he’s a nerd like that, and again brushed off any slight suspicion that this could be “it.”

I should also mention that I was a very diligent employee, because I said, “Well, I need to go to the front desk first to grab that catering menu for my boss; I don’t want to miss the lady I’m supposed to meet!” And Joe said, “I’m sure she’ll still be there, but the thing outside might not be there for long! Let’s go there first.” I was hesitant, but I said okay.

(Oh, and for the record, by this point, my migraine was 90% gone and my bowels had calmed down at least enough that I didn’t fear any embarrassing incidents – phew!)

So Joe began to walk me through the restaurant, with my eyes closed, and I was really nervous about running into stuff or tripping over things, so I was holding on tight to his arm and reminding him to stick close and not let me face plant into a window or anything. As we got out onto the back patio of the restaurant, Joe positioned me, then I heard a subtle, “Shh!” and he said, “Okay, open your eyes!”

I opened them and saw…

Some airplanes. Some helicopters. Nothing that screamed, “AMAZING! EXCITING! REMOTELY INTERESTING!”

I was confused.

Then Joe said, “Oh, actually, you should turn around.”

So I turned around, and there, sitting before me, were about 25 of our friends and family! And suddenly Joe was on one knee, and I was completely in shock, and he said something along the lines of, “We’ve been on quite a roller coaster, and I can’t wait to see where else it takes us in life. Tabitha Rose Petrie, will you marry me?”

“YEEESSSSSSSS!!!” I squealed (while jumping up and down)!

I hadn’t even noticed the ring box he was holding open in front of me, and then he was putting the ring on my finger.

Ack! It was so perfect — the ring, the moment, his words, and the fact that so many loved ones were there to witness it.

My parents and his parents were there, along with a bunch of people from work and our church, friends of Joe’s who I’ve also become close with…and Megan! There were a bunch more people who knew about it but weren’t able to make it, but I was still so excited to know that people were celebrating with me in that moment, wherever they were!

Needless to say, I was one happy FIANCEE!

And then we ate a delicious meal, and then I had to go back to work. Talk about anti-climactic, but hey…I was engaged!! I could have been lost in the middle of a desert and still felt like the happiest person alive.

The end.

Congrats Tabitha and Joe!

If you or someone you know has a proposal story to share send it to ablogofherownATgmailDOTcom!

Like during the following conversation I recently had with The Boy…

Shaba: “There must be some weird trend going on with men, because I’ve seen A LOT of men with long fingernails. It’s not fair, why can’t I grow nails but weird gross men can.”

The Boy: “Umm.. I don’t think it’s a ‘trend’ but more like a drug culture thing.”

Shaba: “What?”

The Boy: “Yea, I think it’s a cocaine thing. Especially if just the pinky nail is long.”

Shaba: “Oh my god. Gross.”

So apparently my area is full of cocaine addicts with nice nails.  Which is totally unfair. I’d love to haven nice nails but I’m not about to catch a case of Lohanitis* to get them. Sigh.

*Stolen from Katelin.

So I keep forgetting what day it is.

When I’m old this will actually be acceptable.

And ya’ll won’t notice anything’s wrong when I’m all “woo hoo Tuesday!” on Wednesday.

And The Boy will still cringe every time I say “Ya’ll” and blame it on residing on this side of the mason Dixon line regardless of my Yankee background.

That was, in short, my Halloween night.

Let’s start at the beginning. In the last few months The Boy and I have made decent friends out of our across the street neighbors and the neighbors behind them. This week they informed us that another couple in the neighborhood was throwing a Halloween party and that we should all check it out. So, late Saturday night The Boy and I, dressed as ourselves at prom, and our neighbor friends, dressed as themselves from the day before, trot across a few lawns and arrive at a garage party the policed department could only dream of.

The hostess of the party was very nice and offered us some jello shots and burgers that we graciously turned down due to our fear of dysentery and strange meat products. She spent a good portion of the night bouncing someone else’s squishy baby on her lap. We later found out that the parents of the squishy baby were two class act inviduals who not only partook in some illegal substances but were actually the providers of said herbs. The baby daddy popped open the little compartment on the top of the stroller and took out a bag of weed and a bong. I remember distinctly tugging on The Boy’s arm and making him watch as this 19 year old father of an 8 month old carefully resealed his bag and put his drugs back into his son’s stroller. Evening thinking about it now, I have no words. !!!?@#? is all that comes to mind.

Anycrazypeoplespawning, The Boy and I took on a pair of women in Beer Pong, where I did exceptionally well and could have won us the game if FianceFace could have sunk a ball in a damn cup. Competitive much? In all honesty he did well, especially considering he was about five drinks ahead of me. I just did better than expected, I am notoriously bad at beer pong. However, our best was not good enough and we had to ensue teasing and smack talk from the women who won.

One of these women came up and started chatting with us a little later, and after learning that my future husband is A) smart, B) employed C) a high wage earner and D) has good taste in jewelry informed me that if she wanted my man, she could have him.  To which I giggled nervously because I’m a sheltered white girl and I had no idea what remarks would be appropriate and what would get my ass beaten by a 5′3 black girl. Later that night she started dancing up on me and mentioned that her boobs were better than mine, to which I take offense because though I know the rest of me needs some work, my girls are PERFECT.  And her’s were rather floppy.

And according to my fiance I had “the best butt at the party.”

Which, of course, means I win. Take that homegirl.

How was your Halloween lovers?

It was one of those mornings.
Not a morning to swear at, like those days that seem to start fifteen minutes late and hair still asleep. On the contrary this morning was, in every sense of the word, glorious. The weather outside was perfect for sleeping, perfect for resetting the alarm for an extra hour without a shred of guilt at “wasting time.” The morning moved slowly, opening one eye at a time. It stirred with slow concentrated movements, from bathroom to closet to coffee machine.This morning was a gooey cinnamon raisin muffin brought home by a sweet fiance. This morning was vanilla flavored coffee and a few hours spent reading my favorite bloggers and oogling wedding porn. This morning was a paper and pen, compiling a list of things to do before an afternoon shift, including a visit to the gym, letters to compose and books to read. This morning was a comforting quiet, a settled quiet.

This morning was a godsend.

I wonder how long it takes before going home is no longer bitter sweet. Until it’s just “my parents’ house” and no longer “home.”

On our way out the door Sunday afternoon, having spent the weekend taking photos and drinking wine with our photographer and somehow convincing seven teenagers to play charades for two hours instead of going to the opening of Paranormal Activity, my mother handed me a box of old photographs from my childhood.

I spent the first hour of our seven hour car ride detailing to The Boy how my Tiny Toons chocolate chip cookie cake was a thing of beauty and how I remember playing with my Cinderella barbie castle for hours on end. A little walk down memory lane as we listened to 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea during our drive.  I was reminded of my parents old furniture, a time when the walls were all white and very little matched. A time when I watched hours of I Love Lucy and Hey Dude. A time when my biggest worries were the Friday morning spelling tests and finding the back to my neon green hoop earring.

Truthfully, I think about those times a lot. Just as I daydream about high school and college, just as I daydream about my wedding and the day that our home decor will look thought out.  I’ve always had a hard time focusing on the present. Maybe because it’s hard to really have an opinion of your now without some sort of standard to compare it to. In my daydreams things always seem easier. Events from the past take on a sort of nostalgic glow, rewritten with the great parts highlighted and the bad pushed into the footnotes and appendices. I know it wasn’t all rainbows and unicorns, but that’s all I really remember. Even some of the bad, the really bad, the depths of despair embarrassing stuff changes to seem more…romantic.

So, tell me, dear readers…Do you have problems focusing on the now?

1. I’m excited to venture home today for our engagement shoot (though as I write this I still haven’t decided what we’re wearing. Me? Indecisive? Nooooo).  Last time we were in NEPA was Labor Day weekend and I think this period of almost two months is the longest I’ve ever been away from my family. Going to college 45 minutes away and working in my hometown on weekends allowed me the convenience of coming home to raid pantries and watch little league  and football games.  And I miss it. I’m a Cancer, a homebody, a stay in my shell type girl. I like being “home” and though my little neighborhood and my little SoVa life is feeling more like home every day….it still thrills me to be back where I know all the roads and can tell you the graduation year of the grocery store cashier.
2. Touching on sports and the fact that Twitter keeps telling me something about a “series” of the “world” unless someone I know is playing I have no desire to watch or attend sporting events. I don’t really understand major league/professional sports or how riled up and loyal the fans are. I understand competition. I do. I’m one of the most competitive people you’ll meet. The Boy and I actually raced while putting together jigsaw puzzles. PUZZLES. Who does that? (I won, btw). I like to win, I like my friends to win, I like my hometown to win. I like my rifle kids to win. And I guess I understand how The Boy, Pittsburgh born and raised, will forever be a Steelers/Penguins fan….but I don’t understand how someone from Virginia could feel so strongly about the Dallas Cowboys. Color me confused.
3. Having mastered the art of the pumpkin cookie, and tried my hand at homemade periogies, I decided it was time to go back to basics in the kitchen. The chocolate chip cookie. Little did I know that this cookie jar favorite could be so challenging. I followed the recipe on the back of the Tollhouse bag but ended up playing chemist in my kitchen. Long story short, after stirring and adding and adjusting and baking two or three cookies at a time for about an hour–I managed to save the batch from a future of crispy flat grossness. The rest of the batch turned out remarkably well, why I couldn’t have completed such chemical genius in chemistry lab I will never know. Additionally, I have vowed to begin an epic search for The Best Chocolate Chip Cookie Recipe in The World as a result of the debacle. Feel free to send me your favorite recipe!
4. Aside from work and domesticity, there’s been a few new developments in The World of Shaba and The Boy. I joined a gym, found out my body fat percentage is astoundingly high and have been sulking about it while inhaling the previously mentioned chocolate chip cookies. But I have a plan, and a Venus Williams look-a-like trainer who I get another 2 free sessions with thanks to my membership. So, Yay.  In further news The Boy and I have  been considering the possibility of getting a dog. We originally agreed to wait until after we got married, but then one night last week we took a look at some of the local animal rescue websites. And we fell in love with a older doggie named Maggie. We met her on Sunday and she is as sweet as she can be.  We still haven’t come to a decision yet…there are a lot of factors involved, financial and otherwise, but if we get a dog before next June it most certainly will be Maggie.

   Happy Weekend!

This week’s proposal project story comes from Leanne at  http://wantsoverneeds.blogspot.com and her fiance, Chris, who blogs at http://random-trail83.blogspot.com!

Chris and I have been dating for seven almost eight years and had been talking about getting engaged for some time with much pressure from my family in particular. Despite this, Chris is an independent person who only does things when he is ready and on his terms. For Christmas, Chris got me tickets to see Jersey Boys and we decided that since we were going to be downtown anyway that we should make a weekend out of it. The plan was to head out on January 30th, catch a raptors game, do some shopping on the Saturday before the show and then head home Sunday evening. So before we left, Chris got the idea to go skating at Nathan Phillips Square because i had never seen it. He therefore made it his mission to find me skates the day that we left, going to pro shop after pro shop, and finally paying a ridiculous price for skates that I thought at the time were unnecessary. We then head downtown and check into the hotel which included a locked safe in it, which he kept going back and forth all weekend until I finally exclaimed “Do you have anything valuable to put in that safe!” Anyways we went to the Raptors game and had a nice night on the Friday and woke up to a EXTREMELY cold Saturday morning and a very excited me to go shopping at the Eaton’s Center. Today was also the day that we were going skating and Chris put down very explicit guidelines before entering the mall that we needed to leave around noon to make sure we could go skating and get back in time to get ready for the show. Now, as a side note, I LOVE to shop, and when I am in a mall nothing else really seems to matter, so I was in no rush to leave when Chris decided it was time. Normally, he will give into my pouting and whining, but today he was not backing down under any circumstances and was determined to go skating despite my protests of it being too cold. So we leave the mall, and I am miserable as there was so many more stores to see, and walk to Nathan Phillips Square, and begin skating. We skate around ONCE at which point Chris decides it is time to take a break, and me being the difficult person that I am refuse and state that he was so desperate to skate then lets skate. At this point we notice another couple getting their engagement photos done, and again me being me, state “Chris I want to get engaged” and instead of his usual remarks of “ok whatever” or “why don’t you propose to me” Chris says nothing causing more confusion on my part (I’m not a very smart person when it comes to signs). So anyway, we have now skated around the park twice and Chris insists that he is tired and wants to take a break, I begrudgingly go. At this point a television camera from global television comes over and begins talking to us about winterfest (which we were apparently at) and why we decided to come out and skate despite the weather. At this point I am hiding behind Chris because I look like crap, I have little makeup on and some free Tim Hortons winter hat on my head. So they finally leave and are standing over beside us checking the tape when Chris decides to get up and go over and talk to them again, At this point the only thought running through my mind is “if he brings them back over here I will kill him” but before this thought can fully process Chris is turning around and pulling a box out of his pocket, with the camera man right behind. This is when I officially figured it out and me being the genius that I am responds with “NO WAY!” And from here Chris got on one knee and proposed on national television. I obviously said yes and when asked by the reporter about how I was feeling I come up with another brilliant response by telling her that “I had to call my mom.”

When I did call my mom it became apparent that she was not shocked as Chris had gone over to my house while I was at work and asked both of their permission. We also have a video of the proposal that the people from Global television sent to us so we can watch it whenever we want. So now we are engaged and planning a wedding for May 26, 2012!

Awww! And don’t worry Leanne, “I have to call my mom” was my first thought too!

Leanne's Bling!

Preeeetty!

A Beautiful Day For a Skate

Congratulations Leanne and Chris!

****send your proposal stories to ablogofherownATgmailDOTcom!****

Yesterday I purchased a dress that will either be my rehearsal dinner/brunch dress or the one I wear when we elope to Vegas.

Why the “just in case” dress?

Because it’s eight months to my wedding and I’m officially to the lull point, so I’ve taken to buying dresses on clearance to wear next summer. And it was ten dollars.

There are lists upon lists of stuff that will need to get done before June, but there’s nothing that needs to be accomplished immediately. I have save the dates to send, but addresses are coming in slowly from our parents. Venue, photography, catering, music, officiant, and my dress have all be secured. I’ve even started a few DIY projects, decided on a bouquet decoration and have figured out what jewelry I’ll be wearing and have a good idea of how I want my hair.

Next is shoes, undergarments, and deciding whether or not to hire a makeup artist.

(Psttt, I’m looking for these shoes, apparently they’re from Tony Bianco but I can’t seem to find them ANYWHERE on the internet. If not, I’m getting these. Because I own them already. And they are my favorite shoes in the world. I might even get both. Woohoo!)

I was convinced I’d just go to Sephora, get a consultation, buy the stuff and do it myself. But, when I think about it, it might be cheaper to hire someone. Last time I was in Sephora I spent more than the make up artists I’ve been researching charge…but I would get to keep the make up. Decisions.

I’m also considering a lot of little detailed extras and the costs associated…like,

• personalized hershey kisses (how cute! and we’re getting married in chocolate country!)
• labels for water bottles/wine bottles
• diy photobooths
• eat, drink and be married napkins
• sparklers
• paper pom-poms

and keeping a look out for sales on things I know I want…

• tall vases for the “alter”
• a large apothecary jar
• mason/ball jars
• a large old vintage frame
• lavender seed (for tossing)
• some sort of aisle decor

Of course, if you happen to have, oh, say, three dozen mason jars just lying around, feel free to send them my way.

I’m wedding frazzled.

After our engagement shoot I think I’m taking a break from the planning.

Or The Boy may Wehave me committed.