Really. Truly.

I used to complain that we have no traditions in our family for Christmas, other than violently ripping our gifts open and reading the Christmas story. Well, it looks as if I may have started one on my own. Er. Yes.

Last Christmas, I was proposed to. I accepted. Relationship dissolved two months later. (And I politely gave the ring back.)

In between this Christmas and last Christmas I have had the sprinkling of varied proposals. Mostly men and boys who were elated to find out that "real women" existed, godly, could cook, blah, blah. (Makes you wonder if they were "real men.")

Well, with this onslaught of proposal's I have developed an inside joke with myself and tell these lads (jokingly) that the ring must be inspected by the trusted family jeweler if they would like their proposal to be taken seriously.

After telling someone I had never physically met, that no, I would not marry them. I also just had to inform them that the whole business of having the ring inspected was also a joke. No, I did not want a ring. No, I would not marry you. AND LEAVE ME THE BLOODY HELL ALONE.

All I ask is for two white gold teeth. Inset with diamonds. Pre-inspected. If you can't find a jeweler, a committee of three sisters will do.

Merry Christmas.