Another Apron with Gin the Pocket

Goodness knows I take 90000 pictures of my kid. She’s cute. No one seems to be complaining. (just try)
But today is an homage to my man.
For he is patient.
He is kind.
He is an AMAZING father.
He has very bad gas at times, and makes very poor choices in where to expell it.
I’m not always easy to get along with, of course, neither is he.

I guess that makes us perfect for eachother.

This picture was taken in June 2003, at the Louve, in Paris. He called me on a monday and asked what we were doing the next weekend.
“Wanna go to France?” he says, with a ridiculous french accent.
“Wee wee” says the lady.
And we were off. Round trip for about $200 because SARS was running wild and the planes were empty.
We always go places cheap during pandemics. (Swine Flu = Mexico for mere pesos this past August seen HERE)

I remember what I was thinking during this picture… “Where’s my ring, dude?” I remember it because I thought that every day that trip, as we went thru France, Italy, Switzerland…. each place more romantic than the last.
Finally on the last day, on a park bench in Bellagio, on Lake Como… it happened….

It was 110 degrees out, and I was tired. Tired of it all, and tired of my boyfriend. We took a water taxi to Bellagio, and were walking along the boardwalk. He stopped along the water, and did, what I thought, was a PIDDLE into the lake. I later learned he was fishing the ring out of his secret belt pocket. We sat on this bench, I snarled… he said some nice things, I snarled.
Then I was presented the bling.

I did not snarl.
I so squeeled!

But the bugger was just sitting there.
“Davez! Get down on one knee, dude!”
Pause. He looks down. He looks at me. He looks down.
“But buddy, there’s rocks.”
(so him)

We had our moment and walked to a small cafe for a treat. They don’t really “do” engagement rings in Italy, so the bartender thought I was stung by a bee or something, and offered a bag of ice for my hand I was thrashing around. Where’s my Italian to English dictionary? What’s the word? Marriage-y? Wife-fay? wedding-ay? Spouse-y? I talked with both hands, he still didn’t get it.
“Oh – se sposie? Si. Deese izzzz great. “
and that’s what ended up engraved in our wedding bands… se sposie.

Although not from a hollywood movie, it was perfect. It was TOTALLY Davez, and I love my story.
And I love that sposie of mine.
Farts and all.