It has been a snowy few weeks here in Mid-Michigan, and the temps have been sub-zero for a number of days. So imagine the joy and surprise of the people when it hit a balmy 40 degrees yesterday.
Annually, whenever the temperature dips below 50 degrees for the first time in “winter”, I sternly declare, “Michigan is too cold! I will never survive another winter!”… yet any Michigander will tell you that in the depths of winter, if the temp rises anywhere near 35 degrees or higher, you mine as well declare it a heat wave.
Enter this gentleman:
I get it, it’s 37 degrees out and feels like spring break, but sir, this is just inappropriate.
Luckily for my Christmas loving significant other, the balmy weather did not melt all of our snow. There was still plenty left over for us to make a snow man, an activity I have not partaken in for years!
Making a snow man is harder than it looks! Snow is heavy, and molding a perfect or even presentable “ball” of snow is damn near impossible. Alas, after a few failed lifts to give him a mid-section, a number of facial reconstructive surgeries to take him from looking like a bunny to the predator then ET, we finally sort of made a lawn ornament we can be proud of:
Spartan pride and Detroit represented
It is kind of hard to tell, but he is smiling
And the puppy helped of course:
He’s so handsome!
Then, we retreated to our living room to sit by the Christmas tree and drink home-made Baileys, compliments of our dear friends. (We didn’t actually just sit by the tree, mind you. You just burned through our DVR then ended up watching Wheel of Fortune. I know what you are thinking; we are one hot couple).
At this point in the story I need to tell you about what has been haunting me this Christmas. A little, professionally wrapped box that was placed in my stocking. Any girl will probably know what I am referring to when I say “a little box”. Oh yeah, that kind of box:
Paul put this in my stocking about 2 weeks ago, and I am convinced it has been just to mess with my head. He is NOT a Christmas engagement person; it is just not his style, but a girl (especially me) just has to wonder.
I have been bugging him since the first present went under our tree to start opening them. I am a child, I just don’t wait well. Finally, last night, whilst watching Wheel of Fortune, Paul says that I can open one gift. I completely froze. He had this ethereal, loving, can’t-live-without-you, could-never-love-anyone-more, how-are-you-mine? look on his face.
Was this it? Was he thinking that it had been such a great night that it would be the perfect moment to propose?
My heart started racing. Beads of sweat started to form on my nose. It was as if my parents had just caught me drinking and I was trying to hide the fact that I was drunk… Play it cool, just play it cool.
“Which one?” I ask… totally normal and level-toned I’m sure.
“The little one in your stocking.”
I sort of turned down the TV thinking, “I don’t want to be a brat about it, but are Pat Sajak and Vanna White going to be the witnesses to my engagement?” Don’t get me wrong, I would say yes to him any where, but part of me just felt like the situation was off… or maybe it was just the heaviness of the situation. I have never dealt with this kind of thing before. Was this the moment that I was going to be telling people about for the rest of my life? The moment I would call all of my friends about and have to repeat over and over in the coming months? Was I about to throw up? Did I look at all calm and unsuspecting?
“Steph, it is not an engagement ring, this is not Paul’s style”… I kept reassuring myself as I took the 6 foot walk from the couch to my stocking where the little box was resting.
“I’m in pajamas… I really wanted to be in a cute outfit…. Christ that could not matter less” I can argue a lot in my head in 6 feet.
I finally pull it out and make my way back to the couch when Paul says, “I really wanted to get this for you last year, so I am so happy I can give it to you this year.”
Female over-analyze activated: What the f**k does that mean?… Just open the present you weirdo. But my hands are sort of trembling (sort of = a lot), and I still can’t really breath. Would it be wrong to hit my inhaler real quick? As if that wouldn’t be a give away that I wasn’t completely emotionally collected.
Slowly tearing through the gold paper, I unveil a beautiful little white box with a very reassuring and fabulous little word embossed in the top of it: Pandora. All levels returned to normal, breathing again was possible.
All was clear, all was safe; it was a beautiful Michigan State Pandora bead for me to put on my ever naked yet daily worn Pandora bracelet.
I couldn’t love it more. Sorry, Pat and Vanna, you will not be witness to my engagement 🙂
It’s so perfect!!!!! He wanted me to have extra Spartan pride before the Rose Bowl game.
P.S Congrats, Paul, you officially made me squirm and I know you loved it.