Since everyone keeps asking when?where?how? all in one breath, I will record the details for all posterity. I mean, this way when my children ask me how we got engaged, I can give them a bit more of a satisfying answer than "Oh, we just sort of decided...don't really remember any details." A pair of real romantics, my parents.
Anyway, toward the end of our trip, The Pit verified that I had never been to Mt. Diablo, the tallest point in the Bay Area. He said that he normally tries to hike up there on his visits home, but that in deference to my intense dislike of walking uphill, he would be willing to drive to the top with me on Saturday morning.
Although undoubtedly better than the sweating and the dying that would have resulted from an entirely uphill hike, the driving was actually a rather stressful experience, what with 40 minutes of steering up blind curves while simultaneously trying to avoid hitting extremely annoying bicyclists. I got yelled at twice, once by a hipster pair on a tandem bike, for going around them too fast, and then again by the lady in the car behind me, for being too slow to pass another bike weaving all over the road. You can't win with these people. Although I do hate bicyclists in all their beSpandexed glory, holding their lives and deaths in my hands was not really very satisfying when it came down to it, and at one point I commented to The Pit that I didn't think the view was worth the drive. He just laughed, and reassured me that it would be.
We finally got to the top, parked the car, and wandered up to the observation tower, which was crowded with various other sightseers. After taking a few pictures, The Pit suggested going a short way down one of the trails, where there weren't so many people. Very slick, that one.
So we climbed over a railing and down a little trail, to a convenient observation point with nobody around. The Pit then started rummaging in his backpack, saying that he was looking for the binoculars we brought. I turned to admire the view, staring off into the distance for a few seconds. When I turned back to face him, he was down on one knee and holding out a ring. It's been a couple days, but I still get all fluttery just thinking about it.
He asked if I would marry him, and after a stunned "Oh my God," I gave him an extremely enthusiastic "Yes!" This was followed by much hugging and kissing, although I managed to hold the waterworks inside, which The Pit found a wee bit disappointing.
Then we took some more pictures to mark the spot, and drove down the mountain and to my parent's house for our scheduled lunch, calling The Pit's relatives along the way. The Pit's mother was so nice, I almost started bawling, but yet again restrained myself, as teary-stained and sniffling wasn't really the image I wanted to project walking in the house.
So when my mom and sister saw the ring, there was instead much screaming and jumping up and down, followed by more hugging, followed by yet more jumping up and down. Then my grandparents arrived and The Pit finally got the tears he craved, albeit from my grandmother...she adores him and has been asking about our "long-term plans" for ages. Eventually there was champagne, and toasting, and more phone calls welcoming each of us to our respective new families.
So that's pretty much the story. Good, huh?