My scintillating discovery of the last few days: I like to say fiancÃ©. It makes me giggle. I harbor a deep suspicion that if I say it too often, the Grown-up Police will come take me away on charges of false impersonation. Which is pretty funny, considering that I’ve been down this road before, have two kids, and by all accounts am pretty much an adult by every available definition. Still. FiancÃ©.
Feeeeee-on-sayyyyy. I don’t know, I will have to ask my fiancÃ©. Let me discuss that with my fiancÃ©. My fiancÃ© wants a courtroom sketch artist. It rolls right off the tongue, followed by a decidedly immature giggle (or the tremendous effort required to squelch said giggle).
And as long as I’m giggling, I thought it’d be a really good time to try to convince Otto to tell me what kind of wedding ring he’d like.
Otto: So no one wanted to go to the camper and RV show with me.
Me: I would’ve gone with you.
Otto: I know you would’ve.
Me: I think it’d be fun.
Otto: Are you mocking me?
Me: No! I’m serious.
Otto: Okay, just checking.
Me: But I do feel the need to confess to you that while we’re talking, I’m looking at wedding rings online. I’m such a dork.
Otto: Yeah, um, we’re getting married, and you’re looking at wedding rings. I’m talking about campers, so I think I actually get to claim the title of dork, here.
Me: Good point.
Me: Ooooh. I just found one I think you’d like.
Me: Yeah, go get online. I’ll send you the link.
Otto: Okay. Huh. Yeah, I like that.
[10 minutes of swapping links back and forth while we make fun of various rings ensues]
Me: Here, look at this one.
Otto: I looked at that before.
Me: You did? This is a different site than the one we were just on.
Otto: Yeah… ummm… don’t look on that site anymore.
Me: This one?
Otto: Yeah, don’t look at anything else on there.
Otto: Go back to the other one.
Me: This is where you got my ring?
Otto: Go back to the other one.
Me: Morbid curiosity setting in… can’t stop… looking…
Me: I don’t see it…
Me: Here’s one that’s sort of like it, but without the emeralds… and it’s… oh my GOD please tell me you didn’t pay… okay, I’m closing this window.
Otto: I told you not to look.
Me: Yes. You did.
Otto: No retaliatory gifts allowed.
Me: RETALIATORY GIFTS?? What is that?
Otto: You can’t go trying to spend the same amount on me or anything.
Me: Right, because that’s the sort of thing I do. I try to get my revenge for you buying me something nice.
Otto: I’m just saying.
Me: Well I’ll try to restrain myself when I buy your ring.
Otto: You don’t get to buy my ring.
Me: Yes I do.
Me: Because it’s your WEDDING ring? And you buy mine and I buy yours? Because that’s how it’s DONE?
Otto: Well, you know, we have a lot of other things to figure out besides rings. Maybe before rings.
Me: Well, sure, like when we’re actually getting married. But this is easier.
[more link-swapping and discussion of relative merits of various rings ensues]
Me: Oh! Here we go. This one is only $5200.
Otto: Are you saying I’m not worth $5200?
Me: Baby, you are TOTALLY worth $5200. But if I’m gonna spend $5200 on you, I’m gonna buy you a camper, not a ring.
Otto: I’m gonna need something to tow it with, you know.
Me: I know, honey.
Otto: I could probably find a camper and a car with a trailer hitch for $5200.
Me: Is this your way of telling me you’re never going to pick a ring?
Otto: I think the kids would like camping.
Me: I’m going to get you one of those weird pink rings with holes in it. Oh! Here’s one for just $6500! Good lord.
You’re all invited to the wedding, on an unknown date at an undisclosed location, where my fiancÃ© and I will be exchanging vows and possibly camping equipment. Maybe afterwards we can talk him into barbecuing some chicken for us.