Once upon a picnic table...

Los and I met in the Fall of 2002 at William & Mary Law School. As Los tells it, when we first met (at a new student BBQ) I (allegedly) walked away when he was in the middle of a sentence. I could have ruined it all right there, but for the fact that W&M law school is tiny, and inevitably we were thrown into social situations together regularly. Anyone who knows Carlos knows how quiet he can be, but when he does speak, he means what he says. It took a while before I had a chance to really talk to him again, but once we did start talking to each other, we pretty much stopped talking to anyone else. As my friend Ashley will tell you, at most parties Los and I could be found in a corner, rapt in conversion, oblivious to the rest of the room. One Saturday, Los and I went to a lake in Williamsburg to hang out and feed the ducks. We ended up sitting on top of a picnic table by the water for about four hours, just talking. And it was that day that Los told me he didn't want to be just friends anymore. A few days later we went on our first "real" date (we rented "Best In Show"), and we've been together ever since.

Fast-forward seven years, Carlos and I went to Easton, MD, for our anniversary. According to Los, his plan was to recreate that afternoon on the picnic bench, and then tell me he didn't want to just be boyfriend and girlfriend anymore. Easton is well-known as a choice spot for hunting waterfowl (home of the annual Waterfowl Festival), and water and ducks abound, but, alas, there were no picnic benches (all put away for the winter).

Los says this about himself: he's more clumsy and accident-prone than most, but also more graceful in recovering. (This may be true. Alternate theories include an absent-minded guardian Angel, generous in recovery).

Los's graceful recovery:
(1) The wine served at dinner was... "Seven Ducks";
(2) The excuse he used to go walking by the water after dinner was our dog, Maisy (for those of you who haven't seen "Best In Show", it's a hilarious movie about dogs); and
(3) He got down on his knees, he had a ring, he said magic words, he meant those words, and I immediately became oblivious to everything in the world except for him, so it really wouldn't have mattered if we'd been beamed to Williamsburg, to that very park, to that very picnic bench, or if we'd been in a sensory-deprivation chamber: I would have said 'yes' no matter where we were.