Picking THE Ring

And this was my hand last night.

Notice anything missing?

Don’t worry. The wedding isn’t off. The ring is just getting rerhodium plated so it can be all shiny for the wedding day.

But how did we get from dating to engaged?

Why, we went ring shopping of course!

It’s no secret that Kevin and I always knew we’d get married. I’d love to tell you how that conversation happened, the only problem is I don’t remember – my best guess is it was branched off of something like, “How many kids are in your family? How many do you want? Do you like cheese? Do you wanna get married together some day?”

So WE knew we were going to get married sometime in the fall of 2010, but we didn’t necessarily tell anyone else. I told Kevin that I wanted him to choose my ring. My only requirements were that it be princess cut and white gold. This was all discussed in October and November.

A day came in December where I don’t know what it was, but I was in a funk. And it wasn’t just a funk. It was a funky funk. One of those ones where you’re so down, you’re actually mad at yourself for it, so then you’re sort of stuck in some weird vortex where you keep sinking down because you’re mad and because you’re mad you keep getting madder and more downer and wow.

This post is depressing.

And that’s where I was at mentally when Kevin peeled me off my spot on the couch. “Come on, I have somewhere we’re going that’ll cheer you up.” We drove for a few minutes before we stopped in front of a red brick building.

Internet, he went to Jared!!

Okay, sorry. Sorry.

Had to.

But we didn’t really buy our ring there. Why? Well. . .Jared is, for lack of a better word, efficient. Which isn’t a bad thing for car mechanics, but when a ring salesmen (or five) sets you down at a “U” shaped counter and tries to shuffle you through it as fast as possible, well, it’s kind of ANNOYING. PEOPLE OF JARED: This ring? It’s going on my hand for the rest of my life. It’d be in your interest to let me take my time choosing.

Plus Jared played the, “which one was your favorite?” game. They’d hold up two bands and make you choose, and then put the lesser one back in the counter. I didn’t feel like I was able to go back to other rings, and they hassled us the whole time about how they are so much better.

Ugh.

So we still hadn’t found “the” ring, but Kevin was right, I was happier.

But then.

OH THEN.

Two nights later I had a sparkling three stone ring on the fourth finger of my left hand, and lets just say things didn’t go as planned. . .

Picking THE Ring will continue as soon as I get off my tush and get motivated. Stay (sorta) tuned people. You’ll wanna hear about the most embarrassing night in my life!