I had the ring and I had it all planned out. Her birthday was coming up and I thought that'd be a great way to get engaged and avoid having to get a REAL present. Hey, two birds with one stone.

I always get her Victoria's Secret underwear, an assload of it (pun intended, o' ye of the thong-attired), so this year, I got her several pair, plus a couple smaller gifts, wrapped them individually, and planted them around the house, one for each room. Then, I made little notes for each that had a hint to where the next present was as well as what it may be and told her there was something behind every door (just to keep her on her toes). Then, I took a bunch of cardboard and made a dishwasher-sized box in the basement. I put a door on it, wrapped it, and made sure I could climb in and out of it (I'd be IN the box you see... yeah, sorry, you probably saw that).

My little brother is a precocious 7 and he's been working on his magic tricks. My slight-of-hand is only marginally better than his, and he's 7. But, I got to thinking and figured what a great trick it'd be to actually get her a chicken ring, put it in the li'l white box, and "pull" the actual diamond ring out of one of the dogs' ears. Corny, I know this. But, I thought it'd be funny as hell to see her face when she gets the crappy, vending-machine ring out of the box and then I chuck it over my shoulder.

She gets home from work and I'm ready. I hide in the box and listen to hear walking around upstairs, going room to room, giggling and opening doors. I'm waiting, breathless with anticipation. That, and it's hard to breathe in that box (I didn't make any airholes).

She gets downstairs, she approaches the box, reads the note on it ("Open slowly... BIG surprise!"), and opens the lid... about an inch, then closes it. She heads to the laundry room.

Crap, I forgot that I told her there was something behind every door, and then I went and left the laundry room door closed so I could hear her car over the dryer.

She checks the laundry room, finds nothing, then comes back and, slowly, tentatively, opens the box.

Surprise! Judd on one knee, in his kilt.

She breaks out into a big smile and I grab her hand. She laughs and tries to help me up. I say, "hang on, I've got something to ask you."

Smile fades. Eyes moisten. Look on her face says getupgetupgetupwhyisn'thegettingupgetupgetup.

"Girl, I love you..." (I didn't really say "Girl", I used her name... "Butthead").

She starts leaking out of her eyes and nodding.

"...I want you to..."

Mild blubbering, "I will, I wi..."

"Shuddup for a sec, I'm not finished yet." Clear throat. "I want you to be with me always."

Still nodding, still leaking.

"Will you marry me?"

Full on leaking of eyes. "OF COURSE, I'll marry you!"

I open the li'l white box, take out the ring. She's leaking so bad she doesn't even appear to notice that it's a crappy vending-machine ring in a nice white box.

Shit, she's not even looking at the ring, she's staring lovingly into my eyes while I'm trying to pull off this trick.

I hold up the ring in front of her eyes, then I look at it and say, "Shit, this ring sucks, this'll never work," and I chuck it over my shoulder.

She glances for a millisecond at the ring, then goes back to my face with the same smile and loving look.

Oh man, this trick is going to suck.

I "pull" the ring from the dog's ear anyway ('cause one of the dogs is right there as I knew they would be, moocher).

"THIS ring'll work," I say proudly.

Still not even looking at the ring.

She gives it a look when I get it on her finger, but, by now, she's kind of sobbing and wiping her face, "It's booful."

She pulls me to my feet and we hug. It's very romantic. But, I can't help but be thinking, "how good can it be that she won't stop crying and wouldn't look at the ring?"

Course, she really didn't care about the ring, and told me later she would've married me if I'd had a ring made out of belly-button lint, and that she was crying because she was so happy.

Damn, I could've saved some cash.

But, the diamond did make her happy and it made the familial clucking and pecking stop.

As powerful as it is, I doubt belly-button lint could've done that.