So I have become addicted to purchasing scrapbooking supplies. I don't actually do any scrapbooking with them; I'm hoarding them like a squirrel hoards nuts. I'm buying them at different stores and hiding them all at my mother's house so the Long Suffering Husband doesn't realize how much money I'm spending on paper and stickers.
It's not my fault. It's my brother, Davy Crockett's, fault.
He's getting married in August, and I've decided this would be the perfect time to take up a hobby of which I have absolutely no experience or knowledge. And, of course, I don't exactly have the time, either, even though I've been mulling over taking a class or two, likely with my Sassy Saint and Grandmama. (I might do it after all, because that would make an awesome column.) I do have plenty of the LSH's money to fund the endeavor, however.
You have to give it to Davy, he did the engagement thing right - not like when the LSH and I got engaged. We were on vacation in Washington, D.C., one of the prettiest cities in the country, and, instead of choosing any one of a number of lovely backdrops and going down on one knee, he asked me while sprawled in a chair at the hotel. That's my LSH - so practical. I love him. Really.
Davy, on the other hand, procured an heirloom ring and took his light-of-love on a hike to the highest peak in the Great Smoky Mountains. While his lady-friend was distracted with photographing the amazing view, he dropped to a knee - and as tall and gawky as he is, that must have been a sight - and waited for her to turn around. It was a total surprise, and once they'd been congratulated with a chorus of applause from all the other outdoorsy folk who had dragged themselves up to the top of the mountain, they returned to our base camp. Having already been alerted that Davy was coming 'round the mountain either the happiest man in the world or the most depressed, our entire extended clan was waiting with champagne toasts and cake.
Men? That is absolutely how you do it. Meaningful ring? Check. Unforgettable spot? Check. A group of people to immediately applaud your good news? Check. A sweet story to tell your friends and, some day, your children? Check. Celebratory alcohol? Double check! (I was in charge of alcohol.)
Take a page out of Davy's book, guys. I still can't believe he managed it, as he is rather growly and terse. I'm going to credit this incredible transformation to my future sister-in-law, whom I am dubbing Glinda, after the Good Witch, because nothing short of magic would turn my brother into a romantic.
So, he'll be getting married in August, and, hopefully, by then, I will have figured out this whole scrapbooking thing.
(Wallace-Minger, The Weirton Daily Times community editor, is a Weirton resident and can be contacted at email@example.com)