One Day More (Blogisode Twelve)

One Day More (Blogisode Twelve)

Hello, hello!  How's everyone doing with their shopping?  I'm just about done....just about.....and I have wrapped not one thing.  Nada.  As I type I am sitting next to my "gift wrap station" (a plastic tub) because when Rob starts to write, I plan to wrap for the duration, and it can be a race.  Whoever finishes first wins.  There is an eensy problem; I only have a half a roll of wrapping paper (which means I will win the race for sure).   I kind of can't believe I am out of paper, I bought so much of the crap when Charlotte was selling it for school.  I think she was in 2nd grade, and she is now in 8th, so that should give you an idea of how much I bought.  For reasons no one can understand (especially me), I bought all purple and sea foam green paper, and I bought loads of it, with matching ribbons and the whole deal.  Why did I buy so much? I have a faint recollection of her wanting a tiny transmitter radio or tiny walkie talkies or something, and that was the prize if you spent a certain amount of money.  When she was in 2nd grade, I was doing Avenue Q in Las Vegas and had a couple of dollars to throw around, so I'm SURE that's why I did it.  Maybe that also explains the sea foam green and purple thing (slap some silver bows on there and it sounds like a very Vegas-y Christmas).

And speaking of Vegas, our next story will be Broadway West, as dictated by yesterday's poll.  I'm so excited, but not as excited as Brynn O'Malley who may have rigged the whole thing, she is so desperate for me to write this.

Now.  Without further ado, the man himself has arrived from his previous work, walked in, turned on the Steeler's game, and announced he is ready to blog.  Before I pass the baton, I have two observations about yesterday's post.

1)  I can't believe he faked a doctor's appointment to go buy my ring, and then got sick and had to go to the doctor.  I never knew that.

2)  I can't believe he faked being better and got on that boat.  I always thought he really did have a miraculous recovery.  Who is easy to dupe?  I am.

Here he is, with the game on, and a bowl of cereal, ready to blog.

Well, actually I did have a miraculous recovery after I did go to the doctor, so I wasn't actually lying.  I was really sick on that boat as we churned across the channel over to Indonesia.  I don't remember a lot from that trip except that I was really happy to arrive.  Except that we docked at what can only be described as a third world atmosphere.  We got these reservations upon recommendation from some of the other cast members who said that they had a great time and here we were looking around at a dismal and seedy bus depot. We waited there before boarding a tin bus that carried us over rutted roads where I saw (literally) bulldozers pushing down the rainforest as we sped along.

Not the place to pop the question.

When we arrived at our destination, the Turi Beach Resort, everything calmed down.  We got off the bus and entered an island paradise.  The A-frame lodge was built out of giant logs and little lizards scampered at our feet.  We were welcomed into our little home by a kind and courteous staff and led to a comfortable room overlooking the rest of the resort.  I had never been to an island resort, and I was already starting to feel much better; in fact by dinner time, I was feeling like my old self.

Dinner was an interesting experience.  I like to eat whatever is popular on a menu wherever I go, so I ordered some spicy Indonesian specialty while Sharon probably ordered something like Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.  The waiter warned me that it might be spicy, but I shrugged it off because I wanted the real experience (see, I was feeling much better).  The food came and I picked up whatever was on the top of the food, a slender green bean-like vegetable that was about the width of my thumb and popped it into my mouth.

Now, I've never literally had the experience of being doused with lighter fluid and set on fire like a pile of Kingsford charcoal briquettes, but I can now assure you that I can comprehend the sensation.  The sensation started with a sharp pain on my tongue, and then spread through my mouth and face.  I couldn't close my mouth and there was no amount of drinking water out of the 4 ounce juice thimbles that were on the table that was going to alleviate the burning.

The waiter came back over to the table. He leaned over to the busboy, nodded, and said, "Look, he ate the garnish."

I have to give Sharon credit for not falling off her chair laughing, so she just smiled quietly in between bites of macaroni.  The rest of the meal was not spicy at all and soon enough we had a good laugh about it.

Again, not the right moment to pop the question.

This was getting ridiculous.  I had never done this before, and gee, you only get one shot at this proposal thing and gosh you had better get it right.

I had already cased out the beach area earlier that day and I was thinking that a moonlit walk by the ocean might be the right kind of atmosphere. But after dinner, we ran into some other cast members from Les Mis; William Paul Michaels and his wife, Lisa. And then all of the sudden somehow we were playing Monopoly with this couple that we barely knew.

Now consider this; we are at this incredibly romantic place on the other side of the earth and I've got this sapphire ring safe in my front left jeans pocket and I am waiting for the right moment, and we are collecting $200 for passing Go.

Again, not the right moment to pop the question.

After what seemed like a very long game in which Sharon and I went completely and happily bankrupt, we said good night to our friends.  So here's the moment... can I subtly suggest a late night walk on the beach without if setting off every "will you marry me" proposal antennae? Can I manage to surprise the unsurprisable Sharon Wheatley? Can I pull this off?

So I did what any young man in love with an engagement ring in his pocket would do.

I said I was tired.

(well, I was- remember, I just had the Asian flu)

And then a miracle happened.

Sharon's response was, "Hey, how about we go take a walk on the beach?"

A miracle had occurred and I knew, I knew right then and there that this was going to be the night.

We walked along the beach for a while, and I suggested that we go try to find a tower that I had seen earlier that day.  We climbed up the ladder to a perch about 1o feet off the ground on a little platform.  The sky was cloudy, so there was no moonlight and no starlight.  It was just about pitch black up there and all we could hear was the crash of the roaring waves down below.  Over this roar I started to begin about how much she meant to me and how I hoped that we could be together forever.  I don't remember exactly what I said, but I do remember fishing that ring out of my front left pocket, that pocket in which it was living for the past two weeks waiting for the right moment, and slowly slipping it over Sharon's ring finger.

It was as close to anyone I've ever felt in my life, and I won't ever forget it.