pop quiz

Yesterday, I got engaged.

Here's what happened:

He and I were in his car, driving back to his parents' house from the jeweler's house. We had gone to pick up a custom ring made by a jeweler who had connections to his family. His parents had given us the stones from his maternal and paternal grandmothers' wedding rings, as well as his mother's wedding band. They also gave us gold settings to melt down and re-use.

I got to help design the ring. I brought pictures of rings I liked and the jeweler told us what he could do.

Yesterday, we drove out to the house so I could try it on (without looking at it!) and he could pay for it.

When we got into the car to leave the jeweler, I begged and pouted because I really wanted to look at it. He made a big production out of telling me to be patient. I gave up.

The next thing I know, he's pulling the car off the road and into a foot and a half tall weeds and thorns and thistles, saying it felt like there was something wrong with the tires. He asked me to get out and check out the tires on my side. I opened the door and stood up. Not wanting to walk around and get my legs scratched up, I opted to lean over the door to see what I could see, which was nothing. I told him as much and sat back down while he walked around the car, examining his tires.

"Come here and look at this," he said.

Having no desire to come anywhere, I instead leaned from my seat to look over the door at the front tire.

"I don't see anything wrong with the tire," I said.
"No, look at this," he said from behind me.

I turned around to see him kneeling in the poky weeds. It didn't register at first.

"What are you doing?"
"I'm proposing to you!"
"Oh!"

So I stood up. It seemed like the thing to do at the time.

"Will you marry me?"
"Yes!"

And then the ring was on my finger.

The end!