Life of a Pilgrim

The proposal (part three)

Here is the conclusion of my long tale. If you’re just now joining in, you may want to read part one and part two.

When Jeff jogged up to join me, I had yet to make it into Starbucks, or even within ten feet of the door. Knowing there would still be a significant wait (much of it in the rapidly descending temperatures) and that there was no chance of finding a seat, we decided to leave without hot beverages.

Like all other parts of the day, Jeff had made a plan for how the late afternoon and evening was to progress. His original plan involved a sleigh ride (provided there was snow) or a carriage ride (provided there was not enough snow) upon arrival back in Leavenworth. If the proposal didn’t materialize at the winery, he thought this would be the perfect place to pop the question. After that, he had early dinner reservations at a great Italian restaurant–the same restaurant in which he had asked my dad for my hand in marriage. We would celebrate our engagement with good food, and then head to a theatrical production of “It’s a wonderful life.” The plan was perfect. Only this plan began to unravel before the day even began.

Earlier in the week Jeff announced the fact that due to our date on Saturday we would miss watching his Gonzaga bulldogs lose to a superior big ten team. Just making conversation, oblivious to the ramifications of the comment, I asked, “You know what else we’ll miss?” “What?” he inquired. “The first ever big ten championship game.” He apologized and said maybe we could work something out to see it. I told him, “no, it’s fine” and figured that was the end of it. While I love college football, and love the big ten, there was no way I cared about seeing a championship game Ohio State wasn’t even playing in on the day I was getting proposed to–even if it was the first ever.

And here is where I insert a little fact about Jeff. He’s probably the most generous and selfless person I’ve ever met. And he will bend over backwards to make sure I…and pretty much anyone else he encounters…have their wishes fulfilled. It’s one of the many traits that made me fall madly in love with him. Only in this particular instance, this marvelous trait doomed the engagement plan to even more mishaps. Jeff figured I was just being nice when I said it was fine to miss the game. And so he was determined to find some way for me to see at least part of the game. Consequently he shuffled the late afternoon plans. The sleigh/carriage ride would remain in its slot, but the dinner reservation would be pushed back to seven and the play tickets were switched for a Sunday matinee. He found a pub in Leavenworth that would be showing the game, and planned to go there for drinks and appetizers in between the sleigh/carriage ride and dinner.

And so as we left the line for Starbucks, Jeff had his eyes peeled for the carriages. He had attempted to make reservations, but the carriage people refused to take them and simply told him the area they would be in. Earlier in the day, we had seen multiple carriages (that I unwittingly happened to capture a picture of while documenting the crazy snow globe hats).

However, now that he actually wanted a carriage they were nowhere to be found. All that was to be found were massive crowds. People, people and more people. And a shivering girlfriend none too pleased to be kept out in the cold longer than necessary. So after stopping in a couple stores, he decided we’d make our way to the bar. Kickoff for the big ten championship was still a bit aways, but at least we could warm up and get some food as we waited.

And so we found ourselves on a couch that looked to belong more to a college boys’ frat house than a food service establishment in front of a TV playing the end of the very un-exciting LSU game. We ordered our drinks and appetizer. The drinks finally came, but forty five minutes later the simple appetizer of pita and hummus had yet to show up. By this time the bar was quite full of patrons wishing to chase the cold away with booze, and the atmosphere, though not particularly great to start with, was rapidly becoming less romantic by the minute. My mood was decidedly taking a hit as well, and quite attune to this fact Jeff graciously tracked down the bill and we left without ever getting our food (or seeing any of the game). We attempted once more to locate the elusive carriages, and my teeth began to violently chatter. You see, I knew I was getting engaged that day. So I chose what I knew was Jeff’s favorite sweater and then paired it with the coat that most suited it in style…not in warmth. Needless to say, walking circles around the downtown was not my idea of a fun time at this moment.

With no carriages to be found, we decided to search out a coffee shop to chase away my shivers. But alas, every single coffee shop was packed with nary an empty seat. Intent on doing anything to get out of the cold, we settled on a wine tasting room. At this point, waiting for the tasting to begin, both of us just broke out in laughter. Immediately the tension and stress of plans gone awry melted away as we giggled and chuckled at how disastrously the day had gone. And in that moment it simply didn’t matter that all had gone wrong. All that mattered was we were together, and there’s simply no place either of us would rather be. And so we enjoyed our tasting and then decided to head over to the restaurant to see if we could get in early.

Of course they couldn’t get us in until the seven o’clock reservation, and so we hit the streets again. With nothing else to do, we headed in for a second wine tasting at a different winery. And then a third wine tasting in yet another tasting room. The third took longer than expected, and so we ran to make it back for our dinner reservations. As if to mock us, we ran right past a carriage. When we arrived at our table, that bottle of wine that the winemaker had given us the day we started dating was waiting open on the table. And in that crowded restaurant Jeff immediately came over to my side of the table. Getting down on one knee he announced, “Everything has gone wrong today, but this is the one thing I know will go right.” And with sweet words he asked me to spend the rest of my days with him. I, of course, said yes. He slipped the ring on my finger, and befitting of the day, we realized (despite being correctly sized for it in the summer) the ring was too big.

Due to the fact that we had consumed half a bottle of wine and done three wine tastings with no food in between, I was quite sleepy during dinner and slightly concerned I’d faceplant into my plate of pasta. I managed to make it through, but slept on the car ride back to our city. The night ended with me half dozing on the couch as Jeff read me Alice in Wonderland.

In the fairy tales and all the girlhood dreams, the weather is perfect, events roll out in perfect succession, clothes are sufficiently warm and free of grease stains, the carriage arrives at exactly the right moment, and the ring definitely fits. But the simple fact is that in real life plans go awry and life twists and turns in the most unexpected of ways. And on that crazy journey, there’s no one I’d rather laugh and cry with in the unanticipated moments than this man.

And so, on June 16, 2012 I will pledge myself to him for all my days.

In Leavenworth of all places.

Here’s hoping the wedding day goes a bit smoother than the proposal day.

{Next post will be the ring. I promise. I had to part with it for fitting shortly after receiving it. It’s supposed to be returned today. If I’ve had to wait, you get to wait with me.}

The proposal (part two)

My apologies…it was not my intent to keep you in suspense this long. But funny thing after you get engaged: you actually start to plan the wedding. With a desired wedding date about six months away, and an impending trip to Florida for me, we wanted to get a venue nailed down as soon as possible. And then there’s a little thing called Christmas, which thanks to a weekend getaway to Seattle, we’re now mostly prepared for. But enough of the excuses; let’s get back to the story.

Stop two of the day was another significant location for the two of us. Icicle Ridge is a winery located a little ways outside Leavenworth in the countryside {random sidenote: do people say in the countryside in America? I was just reading through this and can’t for the life of me figure out if this is terminology I picked up from my students in China or standard English}. Last January, while in Leavenworth Jeff and I had happened to strike up a conversation with their winemaker during a visit to their tasting room. He was so impressed by our unlikely story that he gave us a bottle of wine graced with a special note and the date. In addition, he suggested we come out to the actual winery the following day for a tasting. We decided to follow his advice, and were delighted to enjoy a bottle of wine in a beautiful log home with a huge stone fireplace. The entire time we were the only ones there, and when the winemaker happened to drop in we struck up a conversation once again.

When Jeff found out that the ring would indeed be ready for a weekend proposal, he set to tracking down the winemaker. He thought meeting up with him would be the perfect addition to this special day. Alas, Jeff was never able to get a hold of him during the week. However, compared to the crowds of Leavenworth, Jeff thought the peacefulness…and significance…of the log home might just be the perfect place to turn the tides of the day and perhaps even propose.

Any glimmering hope of such things was dashed upon arrival in the parking lot. The place was packed with cars and even a large stretch limo. It appeared there would be no getting away from crowds on this day. A bit disconcerted about his rapidly derailing plans, we headed in and managed to find the last two seats available in the crowded room. Jeff immediately ordered our favorite wine. And was promptly told that it was sold out. We settled on another bottle and made the most of the time. I could tell he was stressed about how the day was going, and I was now wondering when…and if…he was going to propose.

After finishing about half the bottle of wine, and packaging the rest to go, we hit the road once more. Our next stop was the one part of the day that went according to plan. We drove up between the mountain peaks along the rushing rapids of a mountain river to a little fudge shop set in a stunning location. After sampling various selections of fudge we made our choices and posed for a quick picture.

And then it was time to return to Leavenworth. Knowing parking would be an issue, Jeff dropped me off by Starbucks with instructions to grab a hot drink while I waited for him to join me shortly. I hopped out into the frigid late afternoon air, and promptly joined a line that stretched about thirty yards outside of Starbucks. Cold, and wary of the crowds that were (though it seemed impossible) larger than earlier in the day, I mused on the direction the day would take next. Would he actually ask in the midst of all these foiled plans?

The remaining events of the day, and the ring, will be revealed soon…

The proposal (part one)

Saturday was a day in which everything went wrong before it went completely right. Tragically and hilariously wrong. It’s a bit of a long story, so I’ll be separating it into several posts.

Jeff had planned out an entire day in the nearby town of Leavenworth. Last January, on my first trip out to see him, Leavenworth was the first place he took me. It’s where we shared our {looking back} awkward first day together and where we officially decided to start dating. We arrived that day as two people who had formed a deepening friendship over the previous months, and left as girlfriend and boyfriend. The goal of this day was to arrive as girlfriend and boyfriend, and leave as fiances.

On any ordinary day, even without the aforementioned details, Leavenworth is a perfect place for a proposal. It’s a beautiful little town nestled beneath snow capped mountains with quaint stores and restaurants all built in the Bavarian style. It has a wonderfully excessive amount of charm and character.

Unfortunately, Saturday turned out not to be any ordinary day. The fact became quite apparent as we slowly drove into town. All the public parking lots were packed with tour buses. Parking on the outskirts of the city required payment. And everywhere you looked the normally sleepy town was filled to the brim with people. Lots and lots and lots of people. Immediately it became clear to Jeff that the day he had planned and scoped out in person just the day before was likely to now encounter hiccups. But it was too late to turn back now.

We paid for a distant parking spot and headed into town. Endeavoring to keep up the illusion that this was a normal date day, he led me to a couple stores to do a bit of Christmas shopping before lunch. Endeavoring to keep up the illusion that I had no idea what was in store for the day (when in actuality I had had my strong suspicions that the question would be popped since Monday), I resisted the urge to document every moment. However, crazy tourists with snowglobe hats were a legitimate excuse to pull out my phone and snap a picture. Laughing at the crazy tourists, we slowly made our way through the crowds to our intended lunch spot.

Jeff had picked out a quaint outdoor cafe with a cozy atmosphere and fire pits to keep you toasty warm. However, as we approached the place it became quite clear that there wasn’t any chance of us getting in anytime soon. With an agenda to keep to, and illusions to be kept up, we headed instead to a street vendor. We picked up brats and fries. Fries, which during the few minutes I set them on my lap, left prominent grease stains on my jeans. We managed to find two folding chairs along the side of the very frigid street, and attempted to eat as quickly as possible so we could get out of the cold. Slightly stained by grease and ketchup, we headed back to the car for part two of the day, with hopes of our luck turning around.

He asked

On the most perfect of imperfect days.

He asked.

And I said yes.

Pictures and stories to come.

The hunt for the perfect tree

As I mentioned before, I am now blessed to live in a beautiful valley along the Columbia river, tucked in between hills and mountains. It’s the smallest city I’ve ever lived in, and I think I just might like that. Although I still find it a bit strange that people text Jeff to tell him they saw me at the grocery store. Ah, small town living. Guess I won’t be going to the grocery store in my sweats.

Living in a small city surrounded by mountains and nature has its perks. For example, you can pay the forest service $5 for a permit to cut down your own Christmas tree in the wild.

I grew up going to a Christmas tree farm every year, hunting for the perfect tree, and shivering in the cold as my dad sawed away.

Consequently, treking out into a forest to cut down your own tree for only five dollars sounded pretty spectacular. Jeff and I figured this could be a perfect day after Thanksgiving tradition to begin.

So we dragged his brother and sister-in-law along and headed up the mountain.

We hiked through snow, dazzled by the beauty surrounding us and enthused by the joy of the hunt.

There was only one problem. For this girl raised on perfectly pruned trees coddled on a tree farm the wild trees were…well, just that. A bit wild. And a bit sparse. And a little too Charlie Brown-esque.

And so after a few hours of climbing, and sliding, and treking, we abandoned the hunt for the day.

Jeff and I planned to go to a different area the next day in hopes of better luck. However, a bit disconcerted by the difficulties of the previous day, we ended up here.

And now have a perfectly lovely tree up in our living room. Pictures of the house decked out to come!