Ok, remember when I said I love planning trips, and it makes me slightly crazy when Tanner tries to plan one without my help? Well, a few weeks ago he tried to surprise me again.
Both of us had two days off at the end of January, so despite my desperate pleading, Tanner put together an overnight trip and wouldn't tell me a thing about it. But lucky for me, he's sort of a bad liar, so most of our conversations went like this:
Me: So where are we going?
Tanner: I'm not telling.
Me: Is it close or far away?
Tanner: Let's just say it's within 300 miles.
Me: We're going to the coast, aren't we?
Tanner: Uh, nooo.
Me: Yeah, we totally are! Are we staying in a yurt??
Tanner: ....No.
Me: ...Really? Because I think we need to pack lots of stuff to stay in a yurt. Don't they just have cots but not much else?
Tanner: I guess. But you have to book yurts months in advance, so we're not doing that.
Me: Uh-huh.
Tanner: Don't worry, I've got it all figured out. You just need to bring what I tell you to.
Me: But you haven't told me anything.
Tanner: Just bring some clothes, I got everything else.
Me: What kind of clothes? What kind of shoes? What kind of jacket?
Tanner: Well, I'm bringing some shirts, shorts and my flip-flops.
For the record, folks, it has been 30 degrees here for several weeks. Asking Tanner what kind of clothes he's going to bring doesn't actually help, because Tanner wears shorts, t-shirts and flip-flops 365 days of the year. (He even wore them to our snowy winter cabin...) And even though I had a pretty good idea that we were going to the coast, I believed him about the yurt and thought we were staying in a hotel.
So I packed a couple t-shirts, one long sleeved shirt, and some sneakers.
Well, as it turned out, we did go to the coast, and lo and behold, we did stay in a yurt. (I'm so clever.) It turned out to be pretty awesome, except for one thing. Ok, two things.
1. It was snowing.
2. Tanner forgot to bring blankets.
So it was 30 degrees and I had on a t-shirt and a jacket and nothing to sleep with except a sheet set. Fortunately, yurts have a heater, but we got started late in the day and then Tanner got sick halfway there, so we spent two hours in a Target parking lot while I tried to nurse him with Pepto Bismal and let him nap.
By the time we arrived at the coast, it was dark and cold and the heater at full blast wasn't warming up the room very quickly. Brrrrrrr.
Staying in a yurt is actually pretty cool. It's a small one-room circular hut with a skylight, a cot, a futon, and a table. We brought the iPad and went into town for pizza and enjoyed the evening watching a movie while layered in every single stitch of clothing I could find from our car emergency kit. (Yay foresight! I remembered to pack long underwear in there!) Then we fell asleep on the futon, beneath heaps of towels, jackets, and random pieces of clothing as a blanket.
In the morning the snow had turned to cold rain, so we drove out to the northern-most tip of Oregon and walked along the beach in the dark fog to admire the driftwood and the stormy ocean. It was a perfectly "Goonies" kind of day.
We found the most remote, Northern point of Oregon and sat watching the ocean for a while, and I turned to take photos of dark, gnarled driftwood in the black sand. When I turned around again, Tanner was kneeling in front of me with a ring.
A RING!
So I did what any girl does in this situation.
I slugged him.
And I started yelling, "what are you doing?! Get up! Stop kidding around!"
And he said, "wait, what? No... I'm not... I'm not... will you marry me?"
Long pause. "Wait... you're serious?"
"Uh... yes... why? Is this not a good time?"
"I mean, I am sort of busy this month.... can I pencil you in next week?"
"You're joking."
"I'm just.... surprised...."
"Uh, proposals are supposed to be surprises! Besides, I followed all your rules, so you can't argue with me there."
For those of you who don't know, long ago I gave Tanner a list of rules regarding how/when/where he was allowed to propose to me. I like to call these the "Rules of Engagement."
They are as follows:
- Thou shalt not propose in a crowded restaurant.
- Thou shalt not propose on the JumboTron at a baseball game.
- Thou shalt wait at least two years of dating before thou can propose.
- Thou shalt not have family, friends, photographer, or a flash mob at said proposal.
- Thou shalt propose romantically in some outdoor setting (preferably).
- Thou shalt not buy a fancy ring, but ideally get something simple or a family heirloom.
So I guess I can't fault him for being thorough.
"Are you going to say yes?" he finally prompted me.
"Uh.... hang on, I'm thinking."
Tanner groaned. "I totally had this going differently in my head..."
But I kid, I kid. Of course I said yes. Although I'm pretty sure Tanner was already on the phone with his parents announcing our engagement before I officially agreed.
Then there was a lot of excitement (from both of us) and running around on the beach (from me) and lots of girlish weeping (from him).
On our drive back home we discussed keeping the engagement a secret for a bit, since we were going home in early February and wanted to break the news to everyone then. Being that I was still a little floored by the proposal, I spent the next few days trying to internally process the big news while simultaneously trying not to freak the crap out. I think it worried Tanner a little. But one day, perhaps a week later, I came home from work and sat down next to him.
"Ok, I've thought it over, and I've decided that I'm pretty excited to get married to you."
"Oh you have, have you?"
"Yep."
"And what made you come to that conclusion?"
"Oh, I've always wanted to marry you, I just needed time to think about it."
"Why's that?"
"Because I'm an introvert. That's how I process things."
I said to him: "I'm sorry that proposal didn't go like the movies. I'm pretty sure there's never a scene where the girl hits her boyfriend and starts yelling at him to stop kidding around. My bad."
He said: "It's okay. You said yes; that's all that matters."
