So I totally wanted to blog about either, a) the 224 pictures I took in Myrtle Beach, or b) the fact that I'm losing sleep over what happened in the last half-hour of yesterday's Lifetime movie because I MISSED IT and Google isn't helping me AT ALL, but I know if I skip completely over the fact that there's a Ring On My Finger, it wouldn't be received well.
So there. I said it. There's a ring on my finger. It's big. It's beautiful. I love it. It's perfect, much like him and much like the proposal, of which I am sparing everyone all the gooey details that involve the word "love" and crying.
But he proposed. And it was perfect. And it was on the beach, the waves were crashing, the sun had set (ahem, it was also storming, but never mind that), "love" was said many times, tears were shed, and I had myself a Fiance.
The Fiance. Get it right.
Quite magical. Except now I'm back in reality. Boo. But there's still a ring on my finger. And I stare at it. All day.
Also, write this down: Aug. 11, 2007.