Random Post, but...

A year ago today, my darling husband proposed! I cannot believe it has been a full year, but it has...and so much has happened since:

• His older brother got married
• My maternal grandmother was diagnosed with cancer
• We celebrated three wonderful years together
• He celebrated the Christmas holiday with my relatives in Florida
• My grandmother passed away
• Gordon converted to Catholicism
• I began and finished student teaching
• I became a college graduate
• He became a college graduate, and a commissioned officer
• We visited Niagara Falls together (my first time, and first time to Canada)
• We got married in beautiful south Florida, and honeymooned in Jamaica
• We moved to Georgia

So, an awful lot has passed since my hubby popped the question. And since I haven't shared the story, I suppose now would be the best possible time to.

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Around three weeks before West Point's big Firstie celebration, Ring Weekend (when seniors get their class rings, with all the necessary pomp and circumstance), Gordon and I started having real problems in our relationship. I'm talking, serious issues. So serious in fact that come weekend, I was pretty sure we'd split for good. Despite (what I thought was) our break-up, Gordon still wanted me to be his date for the banquet/hop, and I agreed.

Fast forward to the first football game of the season. Gordon and I, though broken up, still talk nightly, and still love each other very much. So when he asked me to come up for the football game, I didn't hesitate with my answer: yes, of course. We planned for him to spend the weekend with me after the game, so I asked if he wanted me to pick anything up for him from the liquor store. His answer, which was anything but normal, should have tipped me off: champagne. When I asked why?, he smoothly answered, "Well, we may want to celebrate. (Me: "Celebrate? Celebrate what?") You know, just being together." DING DING DING! Why didn't the alarms sound?! The best I can come up with that I didn't want to get my hopes up.

Either way, I bought the champagne, and, after RA responsibilities, headed up to watch Army attempt to beat whatever team they were playing. My drive was punctuated by calls, and texts, and voicemails from Mr. Patient-pants, all inquiring into my whereabouts, and "how long before you get here? I only have until 4 to hang out." Chill, Mr. Pants.

Finally I arrive, park and search for my friends, when I am spotted, and dragged, by Gordon away from the plain. He makes up some well rehearsed story about how he wants to take me down Flirty Walk, and hold my hand. (I am obviously dumbfounded. Didn't you just want to break up, monsieur? Or was I just going crazy?)

We start our mosey down Flirty Walk, and my darling man (who is generally not up for PDA) is PDA'ing up a storm. He is hugging me and holding my hand all the while, smiling like a big, doofy idiot. After a short hike, me in flip flops and a mini-skirt and him in his oh-so-sexy ACUs, we decide to rest on a bench built into the mountain. I'm freaking tired, and rather hot and therefore cranky, while he begins to profess his love for me.

I don't remember exact words, but I'm pretty sure this is how the conversation played out:

G: You know I love you, and we've had so many good times together...
S: Yea, I know. I was there.
G: And I want to have many more good times with you...
S: *with serious attitude* Yea, you can (duh)
G: *slides off bench and drops to one knee* Stephanie, will you marry me? *all sincere and nervous, about to bust with love and romance, probably trying not to think about the rock digging into his knee*
S: Are you serious? (No lie, folks. The man of my dreams, love of my life, professes undying love and devotion, begs me to spend my life with him, and all I can muster is skepticism? Way. To. Go.)
G: *give me a look that says, "Do I look like I'm playing for shits and giggles?"* Is this a diamond?
S: *now realizing that he is, in fact, "serious"* Yea!
G: *in his excitement attempts to put my beautiful engagement ring on my RIGHT hand*

After things get settled, on the correct LEFT hand, we make necessary calls to, who else but, my mom (and best friend). For someone who held it together through the shock of it all, I lost it when my mom answered the phone, and tried, to no avail, to have Gordon explain what was going on. Poor Momma only heard me balling my eyes out and begging Gordon to "tell her!" We finally pulled it together, and told her (She ran around the supermarket shouting, "My baby's getting married! My baby's getting married!") and the rest of the parents, then sent a mass text, that I later got yelled at for, to our nearest and dearest friends announcing the news.

I fielded phone calls, in my shock and disbelief, while we emerged from Flirty Walk, still holding hands. Unfortunately for Mr. Perfect, an officer spotted our PDA and pulled the newly-engaged and obliviously unintentionally breaking-the-rules cadet aside for a "discussion" of such inappropriate behavior. (Cynicism: "Oh, my word! How absolutely appalling! Those two young people are *gulp* holding hands! My word, how unmistakeably inappropriate!" Cynicism, done.)
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So, that's my story. (And I'm stickin' to it.)

Isn't it pretty?

Me with my ring

First pic as an engaged couple (I had obviously been crying)