Blake decided not to propose on Christmas because he wanted our engagement to be special. He waited until this past weekend, and he likely had a plan that involved wine, getting dressed up and popping the question in a park illuminated with Christmas light-draped trees along the Mississippi.
Instead, I got sick, so we made dinner at home, drank Kool-Aid and played Skip-Bo before Blake rubbed by shoulders, tucked me into bed and opened a ring box with my grandma's wedding ring. Blake asked me to marry him despite the fact that I had been blowing my nose all day, had not showered and had not even bothered change out of my pajamas.
While not impressive, it represents our relationship. Our first Christmas together, we broke down in Washington D.C. and spent our two-hour ride back to Maryland listening to the tow-truck driver promote arranged marriages. The first time Blake cooked me dinner my fire alarms went off. Nearly every vacation we've taken has included rain and unseasonably cold temperatures.
But those mishaps continually seem to make things memorable and special, so it is only fitting that our engagement be the same.