Scott Welter relied on his girlfriend’s concern for a family dog to play to make his proposal scenario unique.
Picture this: Scott and his girlfriend, Megan Neuwohner, had just enjoyed a nice meal at Bourbon Street in Cedar Falls. The date night was leisurely until Scott’s sister, Melanie, and brother-in-law called in a panic to say that their dog had slipped from the leash while they were walking him by the river, just a block or so away from the restaurant.
“I was quite nervous and had all the worst possible ideas going through my head about where the dog could be,” Megan recalled.
As they approached the river, Melanie took Megan in one direction on “the search,” while Scott and his brother-in-law headed in the other direction.
Steve Buice and Josefina Karpecki hit it off at hello. A few months into their relationship, he started looking at engagement rings.
Tuesday night, right before he planned to propose, he and his friend met at a Mira Mesa Home Depot to put a microphone on Buice so they could record the moment he proposed.
Buice set down his jacket, which had his wallet and ring in it, on the trunk of a car next to him.
Without realizing it, the owner of the car drove away. About 20 minutes later, a man drove up waving a black jacket at him. Buice had no idea who he was or what he wanted.
“Community development and economic development can be at odds if the focus is pushing economic development.”
My wedding ring saved my finger. My wife’s played a part in saving her life.
Sometimes, lost in thought, I’ll catch myself absently twisting and turning it round and round. My best friend of 41-years-marriage made it herself. Cast from a simple circle of wax melted away in the white-hot heat of a furnace and replaced by molten gold, the ring got caught one day in the closing of a car door. I hollered – more for affect as it turned out once I discovered I wasn’t hurt – and from then on it’s been bent out of shape and won’t slip over the knuckle.
A needle in a haystack is a common way of referring to the search for something miniscule in a large space.
A needle in a compactor is how Tamara Swan, president of Citrus Park in Bonita Springs, referred to the hunt for a resident’s ring in the community’s garbage.
The resident, Nancy Gross, 57, was eating pistachios in bed Friday evening as she watched TV when she took off the diamond and sapphire ring her late husband designed for her 14 years ago, placing it on the nightstand.
“I put the shells on the nightstand, not realizing I buried my ring,” Gross said. The next morning, when she “swooped the shells into the garbage,” the ring went with it and eventually ended up at one of the park’s Dumpsters when she took out the trash.