city of love

i went to paris last week. this was my first trip to europe as a grown-up, without my parents -- it's about time! -- and it was great. (i mean, duh, right?) the food was amazing, from ham-and-cheese on baguettes at every corner cafe to the one or two fancier restaurants we went to. we saw a million famous paintings and super old buildings. we saw a hilarious Showgirls-type performance at the Moulin Rouge. i got to practice my high-school french, which surprisingly came back pretty quickly even with all the newly aquired spanish getting in the way. i bought a beret.

also, i got engaged! you know, official-like, where the boy asks the girl and there's a ring and everything. of course, awesomely, the deed was accomplished atop the eiffel tower. (following in the esteemed footsteps of tom cruise and katie holmes, someone informed me today.) i love it. i think i would have been slightly disappointed with anything less cliched.

making the big announcement and talking about it with other people feels kind of embarassing and strange. yes, yes, i write a blog and use twitter regularly, but there are certain personal subjects that make me feel even more self-conscious and awkward than usual. having to talk about L-O-V-E with my parents, co-workers, and acquaintances -- even friends -- is super embarassing for me. the unavoidably public act of announcing one's engagement or marriage seems somehow show-offy and inappropriately personal. i read this post on jezebel.com a few weeks ago about preferring to avoid using the word "fiance," and i totally share the writer's discomfort. my betrothed and i are very happy, i assure you, and yes, i admit, we're going to get married someday in the not-too-distant future and have babies and live together happily forever. now let's talk about something else.