Pinch.

Laugh, reassure, or poo-poo all you want, but I'm having a hard time believing I. Am. Really. Getting. Married.

Whether consciously or not, however much I "knew" that Steve and I would spend our lives together, I really never though all of this would happen for me. Nearly twenty years of dating disappointment, heartbreak, and not-quite-rightness had me pretty well convinced that I'd never see the business end of the seemingly impossible conjunction of attraction, love, commitment, compatiblity, and timing that would lead to the whole happilyeverafter gig.

Now that I'm here, it feels wonderful and heady and delicious. Still, I'm waiting to wake up and discover that it's just another of the oh-so-vivid dreams that plague my sleep. Then again, my mom reports that the very first engagement gift is en route, so I'm thinking it might be for real.

Does this mean I'm finally getting the KitchenAid mixer?