On Saturday we went to New Hampshire for the engagement party
we asked his mom to throw for us his mom decided to surprise us with. I somehow whipped up all my cookies and snacks Saturday morning, managed to squeeze in a run, and was ready and waiting for Brent for once.
Fruity Pebble cookies! Not pictured: the forbidden chocolate that are always fan favorites, but unfortunately look like little poop mounds; I need to work on my scooping skills.
We left earlier than planned and even had time to take the scenic route and enjoy some of that New England fall foliage everyone raves about.
Oh wait, none of this happened. I did manage to get my cookies baked and cooled in time, but our timeframe was shot to hell when Beth took some stuff down to load her car w/ and came back up, announcing, “Well, my car was stolen.”
Um, what? Don’t go slandering the rep of my beautiful city. I’m sure it was just towed. Which it was. For bullshit reasons. Which is another post in of itself. Or not, b/c really, who cares, and it’s just going to make me angry thinking about that whole situation.
So we’re up at Brent’s parents’ house by mid-afternoon, (necessary) drinks in hand. I had a few visions of how this party might pan out, none of which did justice to the beautiful job his family did. I knew it wouldn’t be any half-assed effort w/ his mom leading the troops, but seriously, everything exceeded our expectations ten times over.
Too bad the only decorations picture I took was this one of the collage. Sans any decorations.
Brent’s mom and brother were manning the cameras, so I’m excited to get my hands on their pictures. Especially since in the ones I have, we’re not even looking at the camera.
Yes, those are red solo cups being set up for flip cup in the background. What of it?
The proposal, part deux.
See that dress I'm wearing? Must have been some kind of magic Brent's mom spun, b/c I wasn't even cold. Me, the girl who brings a sweatshirt if it's going to be less than 70 degrees out. Everyone else was
smart bundled up in fall boots and sweaters and I was all, it's my party, I can wear a dress and be cold if I want to. I even convinced Brent to wear a short-sleeve shirt so I wouldn't be the only one. It's great what I can convince him to do now that I'm a feyonce.