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I've been planning the wedding since before Christmas, no exact idea as to when I officially started planning. So this will come as no surprise to anyone:
This weekend Dave and I went to Homer, a place I have no memory of seeing before. We stayed at a lovely B+B, we had the whole thing to ourselves (even the hosts were out of town, and the house-sitter politely left for the night) and thoroughly enjoyed it. I made us dinner, and we drank my favorite champagne. We danced across a hard wood floor lit only by the fireplace and my genuinely-flickering-artificial-candles. The view was stunning, with the lights of Homer glittering on the water (or I assume they glittered as we were too far away to properly tell) and the faint outline of mountains beyond. It was perfectly romantic. And he didn't propose.
Sunday I made us breakfast, french toast which I had been craving for weeks, and we watched a new movie neither of us had seen. As the day wore on I was growing progressively more pissy, he'd told me he'd propose officially before the end of summer. As an Alaskan girl summer ends when the Fair and/or school begins, so he missed that (he defines summer as "before it snows"). Here we were in a lovely, romantic setting and ... nothing. We cleaned up, packed up, and shipped out. On the drive down to the Spit I went from angry to disappointed before finally settling on - I know he wants to marry me, I have no doubt of that so why am I giving so much weight to this?
We arrived at the Seafarer's Memorial, which is beautiful and simplistic simultaneously, it was drizzling and my hair was whipping about my face and knotting rather drastically. As I looked across the water I saw light breaking through the clouds in one of those defined shafts that make you think there might be a supreme being. Dave turned me around, looking far to serious and said, "I know I frustrate and disappoint you, but will you marry me?"
"Hang on a second," I said.
"Huh?"
He looked very confused as I pulled the point-and-shoot out of my pocket, set it to video mode and then pointed it up between us, "Ok, now say it again for Caiti."
"I know I frustrate you, but marry me?" There was a pause while I soaked in the moment and he got progressively more nervous, "Are you going to make me wait?"
"Yeah."
Dave hung his head and looked defeated before I realized he might have been confused, "That was a 'yes' you jackass."
"Oh."
We nuzzled and after a moment he said, "You're going to drain the battery you know, that thing is still recording."
"Oh, right."
We walked along, past all of the shops closed for the season and I apologized for being snippy at breakfast and explained why I had been. His response, "I wanted to propose at some place more special than a bed and breakfast. And besides, do you have any idea how hard it was be somewhere special on a day it rained?"
"You have a point, oh, where's my ring?"
"... On the desk at home."
"Oops."
As romantic as last night would have been, this story is so much more appropriately us. -J
This weekend Dave and I went to Homer, a place I have no memory of seeing before. We stayed at a lovely B+B, we had the whole thing to ourselves (even the hosts were out of town, and the house-sitter politely left for the night) and thoroughly enjoyed it. I made us dinner, and we drank my favorite champagne. We danced across a hard wood floor lit only by the fireplace and my genuinely-flickering-artificial-candles. The view was stunning, with the lights of Homer glittering on the water (or I assume they glittered as we were too far away to properly tell) and the faint outline of mountains beyond. It was perfectly romantic. And he didn't propose.
Sunday I made us breakfast, french toast which I had been craving for weeks, and we watched a new movie neither of us had seen. As the day wore on I was growing progressively more pissy, he'd told me he'd propose officially before the end of summer. As an Alaskan girl summer ends when the Fair and/or school begins, so he missed that (he defines summer as "before it snows"). Here we were in a lovely, romantic setting and ... nothing. We cleaned up, packed up, and shipped out. On the drive down to the Spit I went from angry to disappointed before finally settling on - I know he wants to marry me, I have no doubt of that so why am I giving so much weight to this?
We arrived at the Seafarer's Memorial, which is beautiful and simplistic simultaneously, it was drizzling and my hair was whipping about my face and knotting rather drastically. As I looked across the water I saw light breaking through the clouds in one of those defined shafts that make you think there might be a supreme being. Dave turned me around, looking far to serious and said, "I know I frustrate and disappoint you, but will you marry me?"
"Hang on a second," I said.
"Huh?"
He looked very confused as I pulled the point-and-shoot out of my pocket, set it to video mode and then pointed it up between us, "Ok, now say it again for Caiti."
"I know I frustrate you, but marry me?" There was a pause while I soaked in the moment and he got progressively more nervous, "Are you going to make me wait?"
"Yeah."
Dave hung his head and looked defeated before I realized he might have been confused, "That was a 'yes' you jackass."
"Oh."
We nuzzled and after a moment he said, "You're going to drain the battery you know, that thing is still recording."
"Oh, right."
We walked along, past all of the shops closed for the season and I apologized for being snippy at breakfast and explained why I had been. His response, "I wanted to propose at some place more special than a bed and breakfast. And besides, do you have any idea how hard it was be somewhere special on a day it rained?"
"You have a point, oh, where's my ring?"
"... On the desk at home."
"Oops."
As romantic as last night would have been, this story is so much more appropriately us. -J
