It seems to be true that good things come in threes and yesterday was proof of that little theory. When Pete came home from work, I spent a good twenty minutes rambling about how giddy I was since: 1.) I managed to land a job interview with an amazing company and 2.) I found our foster dog, Charsi a new home with a loving family. I asked him about his day and we exchanged our usual stories about each other’s latest happenings. He asked what I wanted for dinner and I told him we could make pasta since we are in need of groceries and it’s one of the only edible things in the house right now. Apparently since he made dinner last night (which consisted of scooping tuna salad I had made onto bread), it was my turn to do the cooking since we switch cooking and cleaning every other night. I cluelessly didn’t realize at the time that he was trying to lead me into the kitchen.
So, to the kitchen I went, where I asked what type of pasta he wanted. I rattled off our options and asked boring inquisitive questions like “what’s the difference between linguine and fettuccine?” When I went to grab a pot from our cabinets, just about our entire cookware set came toppling over. Typical Shannon spazzery was taking place. I started boiling a pot of water and filled our Brita water pitcher, which I put in the fridge without realizing this was waiting for me:
To give you a little backstory, during one of our first outings as a couple, we went to a restaurant and had photobooth pictures taken. Since then, we always take photos together whenever we see an old-fashioned booth and we hang the pictures on our fridge (below). Without me realizing it, he swapped the five strips of our photos with the pictures of him spelling out “Will you marry me?” across the rows.
I had no idea the photo strips were on the fridge until he said “WILL YOU PLEASE LOOK AT THE FRIDGE!” The poor ginger was nervously waiting to ask me to marry him for a good half hour and I was totally concentrated on boiling water and rambling about linguine and had no idea he had alterior motives. Once I looked at the fridge I flailed and turned around excitedly to find him on one knee. He said, “Well, will you!?” and I said “You have to ask in person to make it all official-like!” so he asked (he’ll kill me for sharing this, but I believe his words were, “Will you marry me, my poopins?”), to which I responded with a flail-filled yes and hugged him and danced in place for a good two minutes before he told me we had reservations at my favorite sushi spot. My hands were trembling and the only thing I could think to say was, “Does this mean I don’t have to make pasta!?”
We went ring shopping together in late August and chose a beautiful art deco/victorian style vintage ring from the 1915-1920s era. I had told Pete how much I loved diamonds with a subtle pop of color, so we picked out a lovely yellow diamond with the help of the fabulous jewelry designer behind the Philadelphia jewelry shop, Halloween.
I’m not very skilled in the department of taking photos of my own hand, so I photographed the ring on linens and piles of leaves around our house since I’m a photo geek (I realize rings never hang out on bushes, but bear with me anyway).
Pete had the wooden letters he held in the photobooth custom made by an Etsy shop called RivalryTime, which is why I was left in suspense, since I knew he had the ring for a few months. He even arranged to take the photos at El Vez, the restaurant where we had our first photo booth photos together. He told me he only had the exact change for five strips because he didn’t realize they were $3/piece, so he was really nervous that he was going to mess up the order of the letters. Thus him making a “oh my god, I hope I got this right” face in the last photo with him and the ring box. He said he wanted to take it again so he was smiling, but I like it better this way because he’s rarely nervous so it’s nice to have it documented for life!
I couldn’t be more thrilled with the proposal because it really suited our personalities and our backstory, plus now I have photos to look at whenever I want to relive the moment, and you all know how much I love me some photos.
The mister sure did a good job. I feel like the luckiest girl alive and am shocked that I get to spend the rest of my life with my best friend (no offense, Betty White). He gets me and I get him. When he’s being quiet, I am full of pasta rambles. When I’m being a control freak, he helps me enjoy spontaneity. We might be the opposite in a lot of ways, but we balance each other out and at the end of the day, I couldn’t ask for anything more.
As a side note, my night came full circle when I saw I had a super sweet voicemail from our foster dog’s new parents, which was just another sign of how awesome they are!
I’ll ask Pete to take a photo of me being like “look at mah purty ring” while wearing my embarrassing Charlie Sheen shirt tonight per your request! Did anyone else ramble away cluelessly while your significant other was trying to propose? I love proposal stories, so feel free to comment with yours below!