So.  Jeff and I decided this past Thanksgiving that, instead of blowing a whole bunch of our time off in holiday traffic, we would have our own Thanksgiving dinner in Los Angeles.

We cooked a turkey, gravy, stuffing, green bean casserole, and an apple pie.  We also had some rosemary rolls but forgot about them until we happened upon them like a week later, and they looked more like dirty, squished tennis balls than rolls.  I did most of the cooking, but that doesn't even begin to make up for the fact that Jeff makes me dinner just about all the other days of the year.  He helped me peel the apples for the pie, took pictures of me getting all yucky rubbing butter on the turkey, and got mad at me for dumping a little bit of turkey fat down the drain when I was making the gravy, "You'll clog the drain!"

At that point, when he turned on the hot water to wash away the sinister fat, we discovered that something had beat my turkey fat to the punch.  As the water backed up into the sink I saw a few flecks of Granny Smith green float up from below. "Jeffrey, did you put the apple stuff down the sink?"  He had -- ten apples worth of peels and cores.  And he was freaking out about a few tablespoons of turkey fat (I don't understand it either).  So we tried turning on the disposal, but all that did was cause a bunch of nasty sink drain crud to spew out of the other side of the sink (all over a bunch of clean dishes in the drying rack).  So we ended up stacking all the dishes from all our preparations all over the very limited counter space in Jeff's kitchen as we finished making our dinner.

Jeff carved the turkey as it teetered on the only edge of open counter space left, and I separated the meat onto light and dark meat plates.  When all that was left was bones, we found the wishbone and cut it off the carcass.  My mom always used to make us clean it off then wait a day for it to dry out, which I always thought was ridiculous and took all the fun out of it.  I told him about this promptly followed by, "but my mom's not here, so let's go!"

We wished.  We broke.  I won!

He tried to get me to tell him what I'd wished, but fearing jinxing my wish I adamantly refused to tell.  He gave up and handed me a paper towel, "Your hands are all greasy."  (Remember, the sink is backed up, so I can't wash them there.)  I wiped my hands cursorily -- we still weren't done, and I figured they'd be getting dirty again -- and handed the paper towel to him to throw away. He eyed my hands and gave me a disappointed look that very clearly said, "You did a lousy job," as he handed me back the paper towel.  I wiped them again, and I guess I did a sufficient job this time because he took the towel and threw it away.

The next thing I knew, he had taken my hands and was down on one knee, at which point I had what I can most accurately describe as an out-of-body experience.  I felt like I was looking down on us from up above us, and as he asked me, "Megan, will you marry me?" the words even sounded like they were coming from far away.  This was exactly what I had just wished for... I mean, I figured it was gonna happen sometime, but I had been wishing that wish for a while and in a sort of general sense. I never expected that one of the times I wished it it would just instantly come true.  It was the last moment I would have expected, and yet I can't imagine a more precisely perfect one... which only adds to its perfection.

So then I collapsed onto the kitchen floor in front of him, and there was kissing.  I'm not sure exactly how long it was before I realized, Hey, stupid, you didn't answer him, so I stopped kissing to choke out my "Yes," accompanied by a shaky nod.  I wasn't in entire possession of my faculties, so it was a bit feeble, but in my life I've not meant anything more.  At some point we decided we'd better get back to our dinner before it got cold or something like that.  And the sweetest thing, as we got up, Jeffrey wiped tears from his eyes.  Sigh.

As we went about our Thanksgiving dinner, he lamented the fact that he hadn't gotten me a ring yet or taken me out to a fancy-schmancy restaurant because he thought that he could've potentially ruined the surprise of the moment, but I told him then, and I'll tell you now, it was perfect.