Big news.

In high school I took a drama class where I had to memorize the most measly part of Sartre's "No Exit." (A play where the underlying argument is "Hell is other people.") I wasn't prepared, and this became abundantly clear to my drama teacher when I had to run off stage to grab my copy of the script in order to finish the scene. And so ended my career as an actress. 

I never felt comfortable on stage; in fact, I don't particularly enjoy being the center of attention. So when I walked into our apartment last Friday--after deciding to get my nails painted blue and being slightly miffed at Jay for wanting to continue napping instead of just meeting me at the neighborhood restaurant we had agreed on for dinner--and found all these candles and rose petals strewn about, I felt as if I was somewhere I wasn't supposed to be--as if I had accidentally walked on stage in the middle of a play. 

But there he was, on bended knee, asking me to marry him. I don't think I actually said yes; I shouted, "Of course!" 

Then came an onslaught of "oh my goodnesses," a Pollyanna phrase I evidently have a fondness for in moments of genuine surprise, as well as all the joy of realizing that the person you've been wanting to spend the rest of your life with really truly madly deeply wants to spend the rest of their life with you, too. And then the rest of the night--nay, weekend--more or less revolved around me. And I loved every minute of it. 

After the proposal, a car picked us up to take us to Lupa, the site of our first date close to three years ago now. (I was too amped up to eat, but knew I should if the celebratory champagne was going to keep flowing.) His parents surprised us by magically picking up the tab from Indiana, and then we walked up to Washington Square Park, a place he and I used to go to "hide out" from co-workers who didn't yet know that we were dating. From there we hopped in a cab to get to the Waldorf=Astoria (get it?), where we were placed in suite 21R (our apartment number is 1R; though Jay had no hand in this), which provided the most amazing view of the Chrysler Building to complement some chocolate-covered strawberries and my favorite bottle of $10 cava on ice. (My true tastes always shine through.)

Each event was a bigger surprise than the last, and the entire time I could not stop thinking how lucky I am to have someone so incredibly thoughtful in my life. I have always felt this way throughout our relationship, but that night it was amplified by the amazing lengths Jay went to make sure the night was filled with reminders of significant moments in our relationship. 

There was a time when I greatly identified with Sartre's idea that "Hell is other people." (See: Dater's Dish, The and, if I were to let you, numerous angst-ridden teenage and early adult journal entries.) But for the last three years, and especially this past weekend, I've known better than that. 

Clearly, Sartre was never lucky enough to date Jay Boehmer. 

So finally, after settling into pizza and watching the very bad Zack & Miri Make a Porno on Saturday, I thought the surprises were over. Little did I know Jay had planned a party on Sunday with all of my family and friends in attendance. Thinking I was simply spending an afternoon casually celebrating with some friends, I instead walked into shouts of "Surprise!" Again, I hid, and again I had that same feeling of "Oh my goodness he did it again." He's lucky I have a strong heart. 

And, oh yeah--the ring! In continuance with the entire proposal, it's perfect and is everything I hoped for: a sapphire surrounded by a circle of diamonds, with a set of circularly shaped diamonds on either side. I never thought I'd be one to be enamored by sparkly things, but I continually find myself staring at it. It already feels like an integral part of me; when it's not on, I definitely feel it. 

Oh, and? A skeptical person might be inclined to think otherwise, but I swear to goodness I had no idea what was happening when I choose my manicure color earlier in the evening. 

Some pictures here. 

It finally happened.

Last night, tired of cooking and sick of tapas, we decided to try this sushi joint we stumbled upon a few weeks ago. Big mistake. It was as if, in lieu rice, they soaked white bread in water and wrapped it around the contents of a California roll. Further adding insult to injury, this sushi's craptasticness only made me long for the indomitable Watawa in Astoria.

So it's back to tapas, which doesn't make me homesick.

Screw Union Square's farmer's market

I've always complained about the poor-quality produce in Astoria, which is why I'm so excited about this:

"...[Dan Wood and Amale Andraos have] convinced P.S. 1 to let them fill the museum's courtyard with... um, crops. Wood and Andraos have won the institution's Young Architects Program competition, which means that by summer, they will have stood dozens of giant cardboard tubes on one end, filled them with dirt, and used them as planters for cabbages, lettuce, tomatoes and herbs."


The veggies will be harvested and distributed--perhaps to the local Key Foods? For the love of God, please?! The project also calls for:

"...two sound columns--one that plays farm sounds when you sit down, another in which you can look upward, see stars and hear crickets. There is a phone-charging column, a children's grotto of columns with swings, an herb-growing column with circulating fans dispersing scents like basil or lavender [Ed note: Yay!], and a juicer column where fresh juice will be made and sold."

There's even talk of growing barley and hops to brew the first P.S. 1 beer, as all of this will be constructed around a pool, in an outdoor space dedicated to summertime dancing and drinking. The space will debut just in time for my return from Spain, so guess where I'm having my welcome back party? (Sorry Jay, you get no say in this one.)

It's likely I'm the sole person who gets excited by the idea of an urban farm, but what else would you expect from a girl who only knew cows as neighbors until the age of six?

Photo: Work Architecture Company (The example photo they released kind of sucks, but the web site has much better depictions, which unfortunately cannot be downloaded.)