Archive for the ‘Let’s Be Real’ Category

I used to do the typical girl fantasy trips to Engagementland, making believe I had some bling on my left ring finger, imagining what it would feel like. But once the receipt was in the house and I knew the ring was in production, the daydreams were much different. There was an actual idea of THE ring, not just some maybe, sort of, it might look like kind of thought. I knew what it was going to be. I knew it was coming. I just didn’t know when.

The verbal timeline/receipt promise date snafu totally didn’t help my inner control freak. How could I mentally prepare to be proposed to on our anniversary if there was a possibility the ring wasn’t going to be ready? This thought obviously doesn’t fall into the rational category but this girl right here hates surprises, despises the unexpected, does not like to be caught off guard. Scary movies? No thanks, I don’t know what door the killer is behind. Movies in 3D (or even worse, 4D)? Uh uh, no way, not for this girl. Again, I know I sound like a whackadoo but it’s just how I roll. And honesty is the best policy here, right?

I promise this is not foreshadowing to Bridezillaland. Pinky promise. // Source:

One person that wasn’t exactly the Xanax to my anxiety: Mr. PB. He loved the fact that the date mixup happened; it played right into his favor. Any time I would try to squeeze information out of him, he could play it either way – act like it was going to be ready for our anniversary or pretend that there’s no way our anniversary would be the day. Sigh, I guess I had to give up my grip on things a little.

Leading up to our anniversary, my Spidey senses were extra tingly. I had a heightened awareness of everything Mr. PB did, caught on to things that were out of the norm for him and tried to do my best Olivia Benson impression to find clues. As the night before our anniversary turned into the wee hours of what I originally thought was E-day, I still wasn’t 100 percent sure either way what the day would have in store. I finished up my gift to him and got into bed.

Mr. PB and I had planned a trip to the Toronto Zoo for our second anniversary so we woke up bright and early. I wanted to give him his gift right away – a framed page from my journal that I had written just after we started dating, in which I write a note to him saying that I was sure he is the one for me. After that, he brought my gift to me. It was something bigger, about 16×20, wrapped in silver holographic paper. He asked if I knew how much he loved me and that he wants to be with me forever and I was definitely sure of both. I opened the gift to find:


What’s black and white with proposal written all over it? // Personal photo

In all honesty, at this point, I STILL wasn’t sure this was it. Sure, he was giving me a canvas that had the word spray painted on it but he wasn’t down on one knee, he didn’t have a ring box and as far as I knew, the ring was still at the jewelers. Maybe it was the disbelief and the realness overwhelming me, but I definitely wasn’t with it. Mr. PB looked at me like he was waiting for something so my first response to his non-verbal question was: “Is this for real?!” (Smooth, I know!) He then walked over to his dresser, pulled out the Kay bag and brought a ring box over to me. I was totally overwhelmed. I said yes, of course, and he put my newest piece of jewelry on me.


He liked it so he put a ring on it. // Personal photo

After calling a few people and texting many more (it was still early), we headed off to the Toronto Zoo as an engaged couple.


The newly engaged Phone Booths cheesing it up in the Toronto Zoo // Personal photo

What’s your proposal story? Am I the only one out there that wasn’t completely sure what was happening?

I was sure that Mr. Right was never to be found, that I’d be an old spinster and hoarder, alone forever. Fortunately, that was not in the cards for me. How I got to Mr. Right is a long, complicated story. So I’ll break it down into digestible parts for you…

I moved back home in 2009 after living in two states in two years. My return home due to a mix of missing my family, a lack of job opportunities in the field I wanted and a bit of uncertainty surrounding where exactly I wanted my life to go.

My resume was filled with a mix of customer service and communication experience. Knowing that bills wouldn’t just stop once I moved home, I applied to basically any job I was qualified for and ended up accepting a job in a call center for a wireless provider.

I unfortunately never received a call from Zack Morris. // Source: McGSquared

I walked into the job orientation and recognized someone from my high school. I couldn’t place her name but I knew I had definitely seen her around the school. We got to chatting and a friendship was immediately born. People in our training class even started calling us Frick (me) and Frack (her). Turns out Frack was recently engaged, which matched up perfectly with me being an OCD aspiring wedding planner.

The World Series came a couple of months into the job. I kept noticing this guy who had a lot of Yankees items on his desk and wore NYY gear quite often. The sports-loving lady inside of me couldn’t help but flirt. And flirt. And flirt. So much that the guys around him starting heckling me each time I’d visit his desk (like every day). I’m pretty sure some of them even started referring to me as his girlfriend. I later found out that one of those hecklers was actually Frack’s future brother-in-law. He definitely was a jerk and kind of pompous, always cutting me off whenever I’d try to talk about sports.

Time passes, nothing happens with Yankee boy and Frack’s wedding to Gee is two days away. I help set up at the venue and Gee’s brother shows up and does basically nothing while he’s there. I even tried to stir up convo with him seeing he was wearing a Buffalo Bulls shirt, my alma mater. Nope, nothing. Jerk.

The Gee and Frack wedding comes, totes amazeballs, and at the reception, a drink… or two… or 10 too many are consumed by yours truly. Rumor has it that this girl may have cried in the bathroom to the bride’s and groom’s mothers. (Not my proudest moment but I say it didn’t happen if I don’t remember it.)

GeeFrack WedidngGee, Frack and Me – after the I dos and before the ‘oh no she didn’t!’ // Personal Photo

Well anyways, I apologize about a billion times afterwards to Frack and she assures me everything is fine. What’s a girl to do about life when she’s down? Bake cupcakes, obv.

To be continued….

(did you just read that in the Mrs. Doubtfire voice? I hope so, because that’s the voice I wrote it in)

Hello friend. First off, let me say that you look mighty fabulous right now. You may be thinking “But Jen, I’m in sweatpants, a stained shirt and mismatched socks.” Ya know what I say? Fab-u-lous!

Anyways, we can’t officially be friends until you know a little about me, I suppose.

  • I’m a 20-something who is closer to 30 than to 20 (vomit).
  • I graduated from college in western New York in 2007; moved 1,200 miles south that summer; then moved 1,000 miles from there to the Midwest in 2008 and then a year later, made the 400 mile trek back home with all my stuff in a Chevy Cavalier. Long journey short: I was meant to be in Rochester, N.Y.
  • I am a hopeless romantic who thought for a longtime that she was destined to be eternally single. (spoiler alert: not true!)
  • I love to be crafty and creative. Ninety percent of the time I have 10 different projects going on at the same time and the mess from the previous 10 projects still around.
  • I’ve lived on my own many times but became a first-time homeowner about a year ago. Let’s just say that’s going pretty well but there’s still boxes to be unpacked and zero pictures on the wall.
  • I am trying to make it to one-derland. Not that place with a Cheshire cat and Queen of Hearts. Rather, the fabulous place the overweight plus-size fluffy girls like I dream of – the land where numbers on the scale start with the numero uno.
  • I’m random. I love quotes. I have two cats. Mayonnaise freaks me out. Pop culture is amazeballs.

So now that you know all that, we’re practically BFF. Maybe we can get one of those old school half-heart necklaces. Only if I get the Be Fri half, you can have st ends.

I hope to update this blog pretty frequently, rotating between topics and whatever is on my mind. Feel free to check back (often).

Until next time!