Monday, 26 September 2005
Once Upon a Time
Great news from my side of the pond: I'm engaged.
I proposed to Heather exactly six weeks ago yesterday, and she accepted. Also six weeks ago.
Now for those of you who complain about how long I take to tell a story, that's the short version. For the rest of you, the full story follows the jump.
Heather and I met about a year and a half ago, but it didn't take our dating too long for me to realize how amazing she was. It's a cliché, but we really do have that "click." So I guess it wasn't too surprising that announced to my family last Christmas that I'd made my mind up, and was going to ask Heather to marry me.
Now I have a rather, um, particular approach to things: Making decisions, large and small, involves much thought and consideration on my part. I mix in a bit of gut feeling, sleep on it, and weigh my options. Sometimes I raise my idea up the flagpole to see which way the wind blows, other times I float it to see if it'll sink or swim. Eventually - or sometimes quickly - I'll make my decision, and everything is set.
Except that, in the real world things work differently...
And so, it came to pass that - after I'd made my announcement to my parents in December - January came and went. Then February. And March, April, and May.
June arrived, with its fresh summer glow and gentle breezes - at least, it did somewhere in the world, because it was pretty cold and rainy in Paris this whole summer. In any case, I felt a certain impetus - not an urgency, certainly, but still something - to follow through in action.
Let's back up a moment: Heather and I both like warm weather. I wanted to be able to celebrate our engagement (if we do) in nicer weather (at least, if we're living in the northern hemisphere). July was off-limits because of the Tour de France. Yes, the whole month (she's that much of a fan). May and June were tough because of our schedules, and because I still wasn't sure where I wanted to "pop the question."
We'd talked about finally taking a real vacation later this year (distinct from taking a trip - as we each do - which usually involves much visiting and little relaxation). Or there was my idea that I'd check with a friend who might have good marketing connections; maybe there was a way I could ask my question in oh-so-subtle two-meter tall letters on a monument.
Or the classic, ask her at dinner - in the Eiffel Tower. (Or maybe not, everyone does dinner engagements.) Or write to the U.S. Tour de France cycling team - maybe I could have them shout out "congratulations Heather and John!" during their victory lap as they passed where we usually stood on the Champs Elysées.
From small-time to far-fetched, my ideas all included France. It's been an important part of our lives, and I wanted to include it (lest it feel left out). In any case, I had several good ideas and a general time in mind.
But a ring is sort of necessary, or so I hear.
When I took Heather to Florence for Valentine's Day, she pointed out some rings that she liked. Emerald is her birthstone, and she mentioned that she wouldn't mind something "different" for an engagement ring. Er, that is, if we were to get engaged, she coyly added.
So when June came along, and I was going back to the U.S. for - wouldn't you know it, a friend's wedding - I decided that it was about time that I got myself going. I armed myself with a little advice from Heather's good friend Allison, which also confirmed my ideas about the ring, and then it was off to the States.
I'd originally planned on getting ideas from shops in the States, then shopping around for the actual ring in Paris once I returned to France. But I had a great experience working with Randy, the jeweler who my parents recommended. I realized that I would just use what I learned in the U.S. once back in France, and decided it'd be much better to go with someone who had actually taken so much time to guide me through my choices.
And so, I made my decision to get the ring from Randy that Saturday while I was back. Of course, it certainly helped that he tracked down some amazing diamonds to choose from, a pair of matching emeralds. Heather would get her unique ring: a diamond solitaire, as clear and as flawless as I could find, with a dark-green emerald to each side.
Perfect.
It was around this time that I'd started narrowing down my choices for where to pop the question. "Big-deal" was out: Anything involving monuments seemed a bit over the top, and unpredictable besides. The Tour finish-line idea, while fun, would have meant that I'd be proposing to Heather after a long (potentially hot) day spent standing - for nine hours or more. Not pretty, so July was out. And proposing over dinner at the restaurant in the Eiffel Tower? Maybe someone else, but I decided that wasn't for me.
So, I turned back to "small and personal." It was pretty apparent to me that even if we ever got around to taking a "real vacation" this year, it wouldn't be in August nor would it be in France. Fortunately, there was a perfect alternative.
Back in April, Heather and I went to a wine tasting at the home of Mara, one of Heather's coworkers. It ended up being a tasting of different kinds of champagne - always good. And conversation turned, as it might, to Champagne (the region). A couple of Mara's friends had been to an excellent hotel with an equally excellent restaurant. A bit expensive, they'd said, but worth it. Heather ooh-ed and ahh-ed.
Bingo.
Heather couldn't stop making big eyes about this story of wonderful culinary experiences in the heart of her favorite French region. Clever as I am, I quickly announced that if she drove, it was on me.
And then she promptly forgot. (Or, as she tells it, didn't think that I was serious.)
In any case, this was the perfect "stealth" location. A weekend getaway, to a region that she loves anyway. Easy to make the excuse that I'd really hoped for some time together, away from our jobs. Because it was true: By August, she would need a break from her travels (as she does a lot), and I from my latest client project.
So the stage was set: she liked the idea of a weekend getaway, so I booked it. I even think I had her convinced that there were no ulterior motives. Or rather: not convinced, because she never suspected.
But there was the rub: there was something about the ring that I didn't mention. See, I'd spent a lot of time with Randy in June - choosing the diamond, the emeralds, the setting. Trick was, he wouldn't have it ready for me by the time I needed to return to Paris from my short trip. Not a surprise, and I wanted something so important to be ready in the time that it needed, no sooner.
So I did what any fiancé-to-be who lives in a different country from where he bought a ring that wouldn't be ready in the four days that he was around for a wedding. I flew back for a weekend just to pick it up.
Yup, that's right: I set up the first weekend of July for the ring to be picked from Randy, the jeweler. I chose that date because Heather would herself be on a trip at that time. I flew to the U.S. on Friday and returned to France on Monday. She was none the wiser, and I had her ring.
[Updated Wednesday, 26 October 2005: As Heather reminds me in her comment below, I left out one detail. The Tour de France had started that very same weekend, and she had left me in charge of taping it. So I had to change a video tape the first thing after flying back from the U.S. on Monday because it ran out of space the day before. And she never even suspected...]
Unfortunately, it's impossible to get insurance for a ring in France. I mean, it is possible - but it's only insured at your home. Nowhere else. ("What if it gets stolen when I'm walking with it?" "Oh, monsieur. [verbal rolling of eyes] That would be too easy!" The agent neglected to tell me if it would be too easy for me to be the scam artist she was insinuating that I was, or if it would be too easy for them to simply do. Their. Job.)
None of my bank's branches have safety deposit boxes. Of course, why would I ever want to keep something valuable at my bank?
So, for the next six weeks - from when I bought it in the U.S. to when we had our weekend in Champagne - I had the single most expensive purchase I'd ever made, sitting in my pocket. Folded tightly in a eyeglass cleaning cloth deep in my pocket, it went everywhere I did. Occasionally it would come out of the wrapping so that I could make sure that I was, indeed, as so foolish as to carry it around like spare change. Otherwise, like a bejeweled vampire, the ring came out only at night to lay by my head while I slept.
So finally, we come to the actual date: 14 August 2005. Or rather, just before it.
Saturday saw us stopping by Mailly Grand Cru, Heather's favorite champagne house. After lunch, we took tours of Moët & Chandon (perhaps better known for their Dom Perignon prestige cuvée), Mercier, and De Castellane. Despite this being her umpteenth visit, Heather had never done the touristy thing of taking champagne house tours, and it was fun for me too. I definitely recommend Moët & Chandon's tour; you can probably give the other two a pass. We were very glad to have done the visits in that order, with the best experience (and champagne) of the three done first.
Then it was off to Royal Champagne [booking], our hotel and restaurant. It's a four-star hotel, and I'd been able to book a suite - a very nice combination of circumstances. Our suite's windows overlooked rolling hills and vineyards, features typical to the region which I love so much.
Mmm, and dinner: our main reason for having chosen the hotel was its one-star Michelin restaurant. The best French cuisine is found in the countryside, so it's not surprising to find luxury hotels like this one out in the middle of nowhere. We weren't quite "in the middle of nowhere," since we could see Epernay (capital of Champagne and home to the champagne houses we'd visited as well as many more). All this - and a beautiful, languid sunset - at our table for two, perfectly situated near the window.
A fun day visiting champagne houses, and no ring. Dinner, and no ring. (As Heather tells it, "When he called me up a couple of nights before to ask what I was wearing to dinner, I thought, 'well, maybe this isn't going to be the weekend if it's not important enough to him to know what to wear.'" My excuse: besides trying to hard to make it seem like a normal weekend, I honestly wasn't thinking what might be perfect dinner attire.)
And then a peaceful night, far away from the traffic and noise and lights of Paris.
We ordered a room-service breakfast on Sunday. No ring. Lazed around for the remainder of the morning. No ring. Bathed, packed and were on our way out for our noon appointment for lunch, with a half an hour to spare.
And then, once the car was packed and we had made our final round of the room, I coaxed Heather to the window. "Why don't we have one last look at this great view?" She hesitated, then reluctantly walked to it with me.
We stood together, looking at the rolling hills bathed in late-morning sun. I turned to Heather and said, "Eighteen months." (The day more or less marked our eighteen-month anniversary.)
"Yeah," she whispered. "Eighteen months."
"Let's make it forever."
"Yeah," she replied with a sigh, absent-mindedly.
"No," I said, getting down on my knee. "Let's make it forever."
Amidst her giddy incredulousness, I turned up my right palm to reveal... the ring. I'd hidden it by wearing it on my pinkie the whole time that we'd packed to go.
And Heather cried out, "yes!" ("Some girls don't!" she later said. Meaning that some forget to say "yes" - but I like the double meaning.)
I'm not sure who was shaking more, her or me. But I managed to place the ring on her finger on the first try.
Then it was off to lunch on a boat cruising the Marne, and afterwards a horse-drawn carriage ride. It took us the rest of the day to come down to Earth from the highs of that moment
I'd finally decided on the perfect moment: Sunday morning. Our own instant, just the two of us. And so, images of our trip now serve as a reminder. Pictures taken on Saturday come from before our engagement. And every photo from Sunday shows us beginning our life together.
Comments
congratulations!!!!
and a very cute short story. I wish I was as romantic as you.
all the best!
/jon
Well done!
Cheers.
Oh my God!!! I can't believe it...CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!!!!!!! <:o))
Just in case you were wondering: yes, I was surprised. Well, yes and no. I was surprised at that very moment-for sure! We had just packed up the car, we were "late" leaving for the boat cruise, and we still had to check-out from the hotel. So when John asked me to come and look at the view with him, I hesitated because we were JUST about to leave... But luckily I didn't ruin the moment, and he still decided to ask me. :-)
On the other hand, I was really hoping that he might ask me that weekend. I have no idea why, but while planning a business trip back to San Diego, I vetoed the idea of having a meeting on Monday, August 15th. I told my VP that I was "going to Champagne the weekend before and might be getting engaged," so I didn't "want to screw up the weekend by flying to CA on Sunday the 14th." My VP responded with "well then, I don't WANT to see you that week--you're going to be all giddy!" And I was. And I still am. :-D
I really don't know why I thought that it might happen that weekend; I certainly didn't know that he already had the ring, I REALLY didn't know that he'd flown all of the way back to Minnesota to pick it up! (Holy cow do I rate!) And I REALLY REALLY didn't know that he'd been keeping it in his pants pocket everyday for 6 weeks. Oh my goodness!
Anyway, what he didn't tell you up above is that the weekend he flew back to get my (very beautiful!) ring, he was supposed to be changing the tape in my VCR for the Tour de France. Somehow, he managed to fly back to Minnesota (which is not a direct, nor a very short, flight), pick up the ring, and get back to Paris in-time to change the tape. All the while I was at my friend Lizzie's wedding in L.A. and had no idea what John was up to.
Yes I was surprised!
By the way, I love my ring--it is unique (and gorgeous). But as my mother said, the real diamond isn't on my finger--it's my awesome, wonderful fiancé. I will be very proud to become Mrs. John Keller on July 27, 2006.