I do not know why, but today seems to be the day of childhood reflection. I remember being thirteen and thinking that I would want to be getting married at this age. Yes, the proposal's are coming left and right, but it is rather amusing to me. Not intriguing. Just like the novelty of shaving your legs. Yup. It wears off pretty quick.

Maybe there is a little TOO much goodwill floating around, or too much grain alcohol, or a little of both. It isn't even after thanksgiving yet and I have gotten my second Christmas proposal. I know this sounds terribly callous, and to the gentlemen that are reading this, they must be thinking I am a rabid man eater. Man eater, yes. Rabid, no.

Really, I am not. And please don't think me cruel, but there is something horribly un-romantic about being called up, with a slightly drunked sound to the person's voice, declaring loudly that they WILL marry you.

Make me. I dare you.