The day my husband proposed to me, 10/16/1982, was gorgeous, albeit cold. Peak foliage, and he had brought me to a river surrounded by trees in full color for a picnic of fried chicken (one of my favorite foods). He had “Hold Me” by Fleetwood Mac – my favorite band – playing, and had a bottle of champagne chilling in the river.
Incidentally, the only reason I remember the date so well is because it was 8 days after my 18th birthday, because he had proposed to me in August, but I told him to wait until after I turned 18.
The day my husband proposed to me, 10/16/1982, was gorgeous, albeit cold. Peak foliage, and he had brought me to a river surrounded by trees in full color for a picnic of fried chicken (one of my favorite foods). He had “Hold Me” by Fleetwood Mac – my favorite band – playing, and had a bottle of champagne chilling in the river.
Incidentally, the only reason I remember the date so well is because it was 8 days after my 18th birthday, because he had proposed to me in August, but I told him to wait until after I turned 18.