So, there’s this girl...

I became engaged on June 1, 2006.

It was a pretty amazing thing, in all sorts of ways. Donna and I have been dating for two-and-a-half years, and living together for the last year. I had already purchased the ring (at Robbins Brothers, no less...much less cheesy an experience than expected), and Donna knew it. Actually, Donna and I had gone together to Robbins Bros. I had debated internally for quite a while, actually, about whether Donna should get to pick out the ring (eliminating the surprise factor) or not.

But, deciding that she had to wear it on her finger, she probably ought be given a lot of say over how it looked, etc. And, frankly, like most guys, I have only the vaguest idea of what she would want anyhow. Why not go to the source?

Anyhow, she knew that I had the ring... She even knew where it was. I did try to hide that little factoid from her, but she knew. Hell, she knows where my keys, wallet and glasses are more often than I do. I wasn’t exactly surprised. So, I had to come up with some sort of proposal that would blow her mind.

So, here's what I did...

I created a photo montage, of sorts, using close-up shots of street sign letters, that spelled out "will you marry me." In the middle, I put a large question mark. Pretty clever, and it looks quite a bit like a ransom note. I matted and framed it, and got it packaged up for mailing.

The plan was to get a friend of mine, Jeff Miller, to mail the piece with the instructions "Do not open unless Dan is present." But when I went over to Jeff's house, a better plan emerged: his girlfriend, Meghan, was traveling to Iowa that weekend to visit her grandparents. Meghan took the framed photo package on the airplane, and then mailed it (via her grandfather, Herman Long) from Centerville, IA.

Confused the heck out of Donna. She called me yesterday to say there was a weird, flat package from Iowa on the front porch, and that Jeff had emailed her with a weird and desperate plea to not open it unless I was around.

"What the hell is this about," she asked.

"I have no idea," I replied. "Jeff told me something about it, but you know, Jeff is Jeff."

Indeed. Jeff is. I don't remember if you've met him, but he's a slightly oddball dude who, well, could make odd requests like this and have no one think anything was truly amiss.

Anyhow, when I got home, I took the ring out of its hiding place, and slipped it into my pocket. Donna struggled with the packaging (and, alas, the broken glass... but I had an extra... I have lots of frame glass these days) and, well, she got it pretty quickly.