choose your own adventure

So, fun fact, Braeden and I are ENGAGED! (Surprising no one.)

It all started around 2 pm today. He set up a Choose Your Own Adventure (you know, like those books you read in elementary school where you got to make the choices of the main character and it would take you to different parts of the story) and I had to pick our activities sight-unseen. There were three different adventures (numbered 1 through 3) with different, mysterious themes: I picked number 1 which was Italian themed. Each adventure had a soundtrack: the Italian one was the opera Tosca by Puccini.

Braeden had developed a whole story line where we were escaping from Italian mercenaries and had docked our ship on the coast of Italy. We had to choose if we would escape through the forest or the ruins--I picked the ruins. That meant we went to Gilgal Gardens in Salt Lake City. 

Gilgal Gardens used to be this guy's backyard in the 1940s but he went crazy and started building all these bizarre sculptures (like a sphinx with the face of Joseph Smith.) 

 The guy has since passed away and now his sculpture garden is open to the public. My favorite part was the giant statue of himself with brick and mortar plaid pants.

We still had some time before the next activity (dinner) so we went through the forest too (Tracy Aviary in Liberty Park). We got to feed the ducks and saw a bunch of sweet birds (including a Condor—there are only like 90 left in the entire world) and a bunch of South American birds, too. Plus, Braeden almost got attacked by a peacock.

We also stopped at this little music shop where we both got a chance to play a harp guitar, the most majestic of instruments. (Try not to be jealous.)

We also discovered this other instrument that is made from the body of an armadillo. Normal things.

Then it was time for the next activity, so I opened the third envelope which told me that we'd managed to lose the mercenaries and had stumbled upon a small Italian village and were hungry. Should we go eat at a bistro or a café? I picked the café which was Caputos, a small Italian market and cafe also in Salt Lake. (Braeden told me later that both choices were Caputos—he just really wanted to eat there.) We wandered through their market with all their authentic Italian stuff, I flipped through a book about salami, then we had sandwiches and spaghetti and meatballs and it was delicious.

The next envelope said that we were now leaving the country (for dessert) and we had to choose between Belgium and Britain. I figured out that Belgium was this waffle place that Braeden had been telling me about and, since we were really full from dinner, I picked Britain which meant we headed over to The Hatch Family Chocolates, owned and run by this midget couple. Sadly they were still closed for the holidays (What? How can a hot chocolate place afford to be closed EVER during the winter?!) so instead we headed back to the house and made hot chocolate there instead.

Finally it was time for the last envelope. I opened it up and it said that we'd escaped back to the United States and it was time to relax. Did I want to read a book or listen to some music? I knew that the music one meant a song that Braeden had written for me (his dad asked him yesterday when we were all at dinner if he had restrung the guitar he was going to use because he didn't want to do it for him), but I didn't know what the book activity was, and I wanted to find out so I asked if we could do both. Of course he said yes. He went out of the room and came back with a book that he had rebound so it had foam core pages on which he had written (in Spanish Romantic form poetry) the story of our relationship. The last stanza read: 

I was reading it out loud and as soon as I finished I look up at him and he was already down on one knee, had the ring box open and ready and reiterated, "Cassi, will you marry me?"

I said, "Of course!" and leapt from the lovesac as well as I could (lovesacs are rather hard to extract yourself from) and gave him a big hug and a kiss after which he put the ring on my finger and it fit just right.

After the ring was safely where it was supposed to be, he played the song he had written for me. The lyrics were from another poem he'd written and given to me for Christmas and it was beautiful. 

 He is the greatest boy of all time: I can't wait to be married to him. Fact.

(You can stop holding your breath now, Treva. If you're still alive, that is...)