How I Became Mrs. Galster: Chapter Thirteen (aka our engagement story)

Continued from How I Became Mrs. Galster: Chapter Twelve

A new puppy and an impending engagement. I had a lot to be excited for!

The following day, Monday, I was full of the jitters. I was bringing Lucy with me to my office for the day and my gut was telling me that we were getting engaged that evening.

Once I got to my office, I figured the day was going to go by slower than slow – but to be honest, it flew by in the blink of an eye! Between Mondays being the craziest day of the week, keeping an eye on my little Lucy (who in reality slept all but about thirty minutes of the day – she was even lazy as a pup!) and my runaway crazy mind, the end of the day came before I even knew it.

Even though it was still early in November, the weather reports were calling for snow later on in the week. Needless to say, it was a little chilly as I packed up my pookie in the back of my little SUV. Because of the massive snow we had gotten the winter before and the weatherman calling for snow so early in the season, I wanted to make sure we got our engagement photos in before huge snowdrifts prevented us from being outside for the photo shoot. And since my runaway mind was already convinced that we were absolutely getting engaged that night, I had booked our session with our photographer earlier that morning. How’s that for a crazy-engaged-to-be?

As I drove home, my stomach filled with butterflies. I was getting really nervous to get home! Finally, I was there. But Ricky wasn’t. So I mulled about, took the dog for a short walk and started dinner – chicken enchiladas.

Just before dinner was ready, Ricky walked in the door with two bottles of my favorite Asti sparkling wine. Make fun all you want – but I love me some sweet bubbly vino! I knew – well, I thought I knew – what was coming, but still pretended like I didn’t.

“What’s all of this for?” I asked in my sweetest possible voice.

Ricky laughed at me a little and said that it just sounded good to have with dinner. It was coming. He was going to propose, I just knew it. Only…he didn’t.

I served up dinner and brought everything over to the table. I lit candles and turned on some music in the background. No proposal.

We chatted through dinner, drank a little wine, oohed over our little puppy. NO proposal.

We finished dinner and I sat there staring at him, expecting a ring to hop it’s way out of his pocket. And while there was plenty of conversation and plenty of awe-ing at Lucy, there was NO PROPOSAL.

Defeated, I guessed he was waiting until later – maybe after the kitchen was cleaned up we would take Lucy for a walk – maybe THAT’S when he was planning on springing it on me! So I started cleaning up, rinsing dishes, stacking them in the dishwasher. All of a sudden I felt one arm wrap around my waist and one around my arm. Ricky had a habit of picking me up while I was in the middle of doing something else – I knew he was about to pick me up and quite possibly going throw me over his shoulder.

“Noooo Ricky, I have a breakable dish in my hand!” I squealed.

But he didn’t pick me up. Instead, he was completely silent. I looked down and there it was: the gorgeous ring I had fallen in love with, complete with an incredible stone. I turned around to look at him – and he was as white as a ghost. I thought he was going to pass out. Since Ricky doesn’t get intimidated EVER, I didn’t know how to respond. A million thoughts rushed through my head as he stared at me – should I say yes? But he hasn’t asked me THE question yet! Is he going to pass out? What the hell is going on?

Finally, he spoke – more softly than I had ever heard words come out of his mouth. “Will you marry me?”

“OF COURSE!” I said. In my head I yelled it. In reality, my voice was soft, matching his tone. I stared at him, still a little worried that he was going to hit the floor in the next sixty seconds.

But he didn’t. He put the ring on my finger and kissed me. It was perfect.

To be continued…

Continue reading the How I Became Mrs. Galster series



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