Weddingbee Blog

A few months into our first year of dating, I proposed to Mr. Sewing with this:

For the non-electrial-person, it’s a zener diode. I had turned it into a ring while in an analog design lab. And much to my continued, pouty-faced annoyment, he refused me.

“There’s lead in that thing, dummy. I’m not wearing that.”

Fast forward five years later.

On June 27th, Mr. Sewing and I drove over to the Foster City shoreline after visiting the King Tut exhibit at the de Young museum in San Francisco. Ancient Egyptian artifacts are nice and all, but it was nothing compared to the treasure awaiting me later that night.

Foster City, to us, is a land of dreams. Sure, the whole thing is man-made, built for the illusion of living right on the water, but it’s the nicest “fake” I’ve ever seen. We have spent many evenings walking on the bike path along the bay, looking for feral kitties and enjoying the cool sea breeze.

That particular night, we walked along towards the San Mateo bridge, and saw a family of skunks frolicking in the anise bushes. The cats were running away from them, as any smart cat probably should. We decided to follow their lead, and turned back in order to avoid the possibility of week-long tomato paste bathing.

Next we came upon a tuba player, out practicing in front of the water. He was shortly accompanied by an oboe. Their low-pitched scales singing calmly into the night air. Mr. Sewing decided to stop once we were out of earshot from the musicians, and he sat me down on a bench near the edge of the bay. Planes flying into the San Francisco airport roared overhead, and the faint hum of the power lines mingled with the instrumentalists down the shore. Moonlight illuminated the waters ahead of them as Mr. Sewing grabbed my hands and knelt down to propose. I said yes before he even had a chance to pull out the ring.

Look, no lead!

Although I was taken completely by surprise, Mr. Sewing had evidently been worried out of his mind for weeks leading up to it. It’s my fault, really. I told him once, years ago, that if I didn’t like the way he proposed, I’d refuse him. I think I said this to avoid being embarrassed at a restaurant—or worse—in front of my family members. I’m a pretty shy gal, especially when it comes to expressing my feelings, so public proposals put me on edge. He knew this, of course, which is why our intimate moment was so perfect.

Did you have any proposal fears? Or were you too interested in finally getting “the question” to care how it was done?