Goin' To the Chapel

Okay, “chapel” might be a stretch but goin’ to the Little Church of the West doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.

That’s right. After nearly seven years, five of which have been cohabitated (probably not the right use of the word, but whatever), one dog, one brand-new house and quite strong sense of, “well, I guess we’re in this for keeps, eh?” Crown and I have decided to make it official.

I think just about everyone who reads this already knows about our plans, and if not, I guess this will be a good way to identify lurkers! Come out, come out where ever you are. We did keep the news quiet for quite a while, this isn’t exactly a brand-new development or anything, but I especially wanted to keep it on the down low at work because, let’s just say, some people tend to get a little freaky about these things and I don’t want to deal. My goal is to avoid ending up in the boardroom with a sickly sweet Valumart cake and bows stuck to my head. (Not that I don’t love me a sickly sweet Valumart cake.) I have filled “the girls” at work now, and I’m kind of hoping that nobody else finds out until after the fact. We’ll see how that works out for me.

I never considered myself the marrying type, and I still don’t consider myself the wedding type. At all. We are doing this in the best way we know how, shrouded in Vegas kitsch, free drinks, showgirls and roulette. I am not wearing a wedding dress. Crown is wearing a Tuxedo T-shirt. After some debate, we have invited our nearest and dearest and left the option open to others to “come if they want.” We’re expecting around 15 people. How fun will that be?

I’m not wearing an engagement ring, not because I don’t love sparkles, but because a) I don’t want to have to talk about it with anyone and everyone, an engagement ring is a sure-fire way to let the cat out of the bag and b) because there is just something that bothers me about the whole concept of engagement rings. Why don’t men have to wear one? It’s fishy, right? Not that I would ever turn down that kind of gift… nu’uh... my principles are simply not that strong.

For those of you who are going to want the “engagement story,” it goes a little something like this. Crown and I went out for Sunday brunch at the Beaconsfield. On our way there we walked past the Drake, which had some kind of art display in the window featuring photographs of models of the Las Vegas strip. The addict in my flared up instantly, and forced me to turn my attention to thoughts of my annual Vegas excursion. My ‘rents had asked us to go in August, we had already discussed the possibility of going in September and getting hitched.

As we settled into our bacon and eggs I said, “You know, I think we should just go to Vegas in September and get married.”

Cairn thought about it for a moment, “Yeah? Sure, why not, let’s do it.” Then, as the waiter walked up with refills for our coffee, he followed it up with, “Could we get an extra order of sausage?”