The Question was Popped

On Saturday, August 16th, Clint and I became officially engaged to be married. How did it happen, you may ask? Read on, friends. Read on!

Throughout this entire summer, I have been wanting to go for a picnic. Clint and I took several picnics last summer and had a wonderful time on each outing. We picnic pretty well; cheese, wine, hummus, and chocolates! The forecast for this weekend was to be hot; a predicted 93 high temp. For Seattle, this is virtually unheard of. I decided that this was the day for our picnic!

Clint and I spent quite a while deciding where we should go. We had the Seattle Parks and Recreation homepage in front of us for a long time when we finally decided on Magnuson Park on Lake Washington. Before we reach the park, though, we make a stop to Trader Joe's for munchies. We select our cheeses, our wine, and I ask if Clint would like to get another bottle of wine, or perhaps Champagne. Without hesitation, Clint exclaimed "Yes!" to the idea of champagne. I should have been suspicious...

Magnuson Park is wonderful, with lakeside knolls, an off-leash dog park, kite hill, and all the wild blackberries you can eat! We selected a nice patch of grass underneath a tree and spread out our picnic.

We opened the bottle of wine and set out the hummus and cheeses. We munch a little here and there, and play a few minutes of a really weird game that we probably won't ever play again. We smooch, and Clint lays with his head on my lap, and we just enjoy the day and the company.

Then, during a mushy moment, Clint kisses me, tells me that he loves me and that he wants to spend the rest of his life with me. As we talk like this somewhat frequently, I didn't think anything of the moment. Then Clint got up on one knee, reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue box, opened it, revealing a spectacular diamond ring, and asked me to marry him.

Now, of course, my eyes instantly tear up and I'm at a loss for words. I force out an enthusiastic "Yes" and wrap my arms around Clint. I think there were probably some "Oh my God"'s in there, too, but I honestly can't remember it too well. Clint is still holding out the ring box, and I tell him to "Put that away." I needed a minute to process what just happened. I gather myself together and tell Clint that "Nothing would make me happier than to be your wife."

Then I ask to see the ring again. Clint tells me that it belonged to his grandmother, and that his family would be honored for me to have it and join their family. More tears (not crying, mind you; just tears) follow, and, with a shaking hand, I reach out and pull the ring from the box. Of course it is too small for my finger, but I wear it at my second knuckle nonetheless before I get too afraid that it will fall off, and transfer it to my pinky where it is more secure.

We decide to dump the rest of our open bottle of wine, and we pop the cork on the Champagne. Somehow, Clint manages to shoot the cork about 20 feet away! It was pretty funny. We drink, ad kiss, and talk about what it will be like to call one another "Fiancee" and what it will be like to be married. We decide that being married won't be much different from how we are now, except that I will be on Clint's medical insurance through Boeing.

So, there you have it. Of course there is more happening, but that was the engagement as it played out. We have gone looking at new settings for the diamond, and we have found a couple that we both like. We need to have the ring appraised, though, before we put it into a new setting. This is a good thing to do, but it's killing me that I can't wear it (properly) yet. I have it on my pinky for now, but it will be awesome when it's in a setting that fits me.

We know that we want to get married next summer, and most likely outdoors. I like September because it is beautiful, but we'll wait and see how the planning turns out! I will keep everybody updates as our plans progress...

Much love!

Under the Knife...

On Thursday, July 24th, I went under the knife to have my tonsils taken out. About time, right? For those of you familiar with my history, you know that I have had sore throats and combat bouts of unexplained voicelessness on a fairly consistent basis. For those of you who are unfamiliar with my history, this has been going on for about four years. It began when I was in school at WWU, and every time I would cone home, I would ask my dad to look at my tonsils, and he would always say, "Yep, they look pretty big and red." Every time, big and red. One of my friends told me that they looked like raw shredded beef. It's true, they were wrecked!

I would go to the student health center, and they would give me allergy medication, saying that the inflammation was due to postnasal drip. Right. I would take the drugs, only to be no better off the net week. For years this went on. Postnasal drip, allergies, it will go away.

So now that I have a real job with health insurance, I decided to make an appointment with my new Doc. He gave me antibiotics to combat the redness when I told him that the usual diagnosis of postnasal drip was not the case. After three weeks, I made another appointment when I discovered (sorry for the grossness) a sore on my right tonsil. My Doc took one look and said, "You know, I think you're right. Your tonsils are not looking too good. How about getting them taken out?" WHOOPEE! Finally a Doctor who is willing to take the challenge and not just write me off!

I had a pre-op consultation with the ENT Doc, and he said that in healthy people my age, the tonsils are almost invisible. Mine looked more like I swallowed two red golf balls that were now lodged at the back of my throat. Quite visible. He scheduled me for the procedure, and I went on my way...

The procedure itself was quite fast, and being unconscious, I didn't really seem to care much! Clint was with me during the pre-op check-in and when I was in recovery. He drove me home and stayed with me the next day, too. After the surgery, I was surprisingly awake and feeling quite well. I didn't seem to have any nausea and not too much pain. In fact, I ate some avocado chunks at dinner that night. The following day, I was up and about and feeling quite OK.

By about Sunday night/Monday is when I finally started to feel a little down, less energy, feeling groggy, in pain, not sleeping too well. It was almost like I was healing in reverse; feeling better right after the surgery, and the longer I healed, the more pain and ickyness I felt. By Tuesday, I was a wreck. All of the post-op notes mention that it is normal for people to be feeling fine, and then around day 5 or so, take a nose dive. I dove! This is because the first round of scabs start to slough off, and that is when the real pain begins. I was sucking down hydrocodone as fast as I was allowed to! I would wake up every four hours, almost on the nose, with the pain. I would sleep for ten or twelve hours, but only ever in four hour bursts. I was cranky, not my normal sparkly self.

By Thursday, one week after the surgery, I started to feel like me again. I woke up and showered, and I actually did my hair, and I think I even put mascara on! It was a breakthrough! By this point, I was SO really to be feeling better that actually feeling a little bit like me made a big difference!

So here it is, almost two weeks after the surgery, and I am still fighting the good fight. I still have some pain, but am no longer taking the narcotic pain killer except at night because it helps me sleep. The scabs haven't all sloughed off yet, so every now and then when one decides to go, there is some very acute and isolated pain. I mostly sleep through the night, sometimes getting up to take more Tylenol, but it's not as bad as it was.

Still not quite on solid foods yet. I am really good at eating yogurt, ice cream, and milkshakes. The solids that I have successfully eaten include Mac 'n' Cheese, bean burritos, cornmeal mush, pancakes, a hot dog, cottage cheese (if that counts) and a croissant with tomato and avocado. It's a start, but I can't wait until I can eat a steak again!