Before you read further, check a long ago post: We Met on A Five-Hour Trip to Lake Powel. That is the day I met Scott. This post is after that. 🙂
After our loverly first meeting driving down to Lake Powel, Scott and I remained great friends. We would say, “Hi,” to each other at church. I’d ask him about his latest date. He’d tease and make things awkward, ’cause that’s what you do when you’re Scott Comte and think it’s funny….
One day, I was sitting in the clerk’s office at church, doing some computer work. It was a small room with a desk, some chairs, a fridge, a bunch of snacks. Our bishopric kept the room well stacked with deliciousness. I’m unsure if the food was for them or for the ward members, but the ward members sure did raid it a lot.
Scott came in, grabbed a few snacks—pretzels, his favorite—and started chatting with me. “I joined the military,” he said, “the Air Force.”
“That’s awesome,” I said supportively.
“Yeah. I will go to basic training next July.” He chomped on a pretzel for a bit, then said, “I should get married before I go. It would be good to have a wife to support me.”
“Yeah,” I replied.
He looked at me mischievously. “I mean, we could get married.”
“Well,” I said, the same mischievous look in my eye, “you gotta get me a ring.”
He looked at his pretzel. “Okay.” Then he carefully popped out the center of the pretzel, knelt on the ground, and with the pretzel ring exten