It's hard to believe, but Zack and I went to the same high school for almost four years without knowing we were on the same planet. He also graduated a semester early which didn't help our chances. A friend of mine self-proclaimed "the fairy godmother of prom dates" insisted on setting me up with a fine bachelor. So she arranged a hangout for me and my future date to familiarize ourselves with one another. The destination: the Ferreira household; however, Zack was not the guy. Still, I remember walking across the foyer of the house and seeing him sitting in a lounge chair watching the March Madness tournament. He reluctantly pried his eyes away from the TV just long enough to greet me with a "hey" in the deepest voice I have ever heard, and that's when I knew. Let's just say the prom thing didn't end up working out with the other guy, but that's because Zack convinced him to go to a concert instead.
After spending nearly eight years agonizing over which knee I should drop down on, I made a decision and proceeded with the rest of the proposal planning. With the help of a team of family consultants, I designed and bought a ring, which I was immediately terrified of losing. Because me and Ashley's first "date" was at a PF Changs restaurant, and something notable happened with the complimentary fortune cookie (I will spare you the details), I also bought 75 custom fortune cookies. The custom fortune cookie company did not allow individual orders. Let me know if you want a stale fortune cookie. I had always known I wanted to propose to Ashley on a beach and luckily there are not many beaches in the world to choose from. Ultimately, I figured Ashley would least suspect a proposal in New Zealand, where we were going for my surviving-law-school trip. Since I am as prudent as I am romantic, I insured the ring beforehand. After a day of snorkeling on Waiheke Island, my family returned to our rental house. My mom had placed a custom fortune cookie on a pillow, which Ashley noticed after being subtly prompted by me saying "Wow look a fortune cookie." The cookie contained a message directing Ashley to the beach, where we went together. Proposing on a beach was important to me, because my father, who never had the opportunity to meet Ashley, was laid to rest in the ocean. My theory, which I explained to Ashley on the beach, is that the "oceanic conveyor belt" may have brought his ashes to the bay at Waiheke Island (oceanographers, please allow this poetic license). I told Ashley he would have loved her, because she is undeniably lovable. I said some other romantic things. I dropped down on my *right* knee and asked Ashley to marry me. She said yes, which is exactly what I wanted to happen and all I ever could have hoped for.
We were on a mountain. It rained. A lot. Apparently rain is good luck, so, please, ask us for this week's lottery numbers. There was wine, a singing bowl, umbrellas, and blankets. No one could tell tears from raindrops. There were strangers nearby who got to share in our love--lucky them. We said the magic words and a spiritual (and legal) union was formed. Romance and rain was in the air. We came down from the mountain. No one slipped, not even a little bit. Eventually, it stopped raining. We are currently living happily ever after and intend to keep doing so. . . . Now, after waiting a full year to celebrate, we are ready to party down with our family and friends.