guest writer: the twenty five cent ring

Kyle & I went to high school together. More specifically, we spent at least a class a day together for all four years, which is sort of a novelty in our big high school: Agriculture Class. We sat through hours of tool identification & meat judging. Then there was soil judging & record books. I was the girl who tried to hang with the guys, and received all kinds of teasing & torture from them for doing so: I once was put in a very successful headlock. You know, the kind where you can’t breath. It wasn’t Kyle, but I’m positive he didn’t mind the momentary silence. lol. So I think Kyle gets a kick out of us meeting again like this: me the wedding photographer, him the groom who gets to make fun of me when I leave my lens cap on. (That hardly ever happens. Promise. lol. Maybe.) I asked Kyle to tell his twenty five cent ring story, as I wasn’t sure I could do it justice.

Chapter one: the Twenty Five Cent Ring

I was thinking a lot about asking my girlfriend of almost 3 years, Katie, to marry me. The subject had come up a couple of times and I think Katie finally was about to give up on me ever asking her. Katie was bummed out that she would soon be turning 30 and wouldn’t be married. I wanted to wait for the perfect time and place to ask.

The perfect time and place presented itself. We got a really cool chance to go to Hawaii, and so I thought it would be the perfect place. And it just so happened that we would be there over Katie’s 30^th birthday. I had the time and place, but what about a ring? You have to have a ring to propose. I didn’t know what size her finger was: who would? I thought about somehow covertly measuring one of the rings she wears, but she never takes them off long enough. I came up with the idea of buying a ring out of one of the twenty five cent machines, the ones you see at the grocery stores and what not. I went around to several stores and couldn’t find any that had rings. I ran out of places to check and then I remembered that Pizza Hut has twenty five cent machines. It took about 3 tries to get a ring that would work: one that wasn’t a ruby red oval, or a big dark blue star. I took it out of its little clear plastic case just long enough to know that it was the perfect one, a small light green circular “stone”, cut like a real diamond.

I had the ring; I just didn’t know how I would get it to Hawaii with us. I thought about having my Grandma, who was taking us, smuggle it there with her, but I would have to tell her what I was planning to do (see I hadn’t told anyone about proposing other than some guys at work that I had ran my plan by to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything.) So I had to get the ring to Hawaii on my own. I stuffed the ring, still inside it’s protective plastic bubble, down inside one of my shoes that were going to go in the suitcase and then stuffed some paper towels down in to hold it in place. My only fear now was that she would unpack the suitcase once we got there and discover the surprise.

to be continued…

This isn’t the twenty five cent ring, or the engagement ring, but it is a ring that Katie got for her birthday while she was in Hawaii.