Stepping back to the day after Thanksgiving, as 
bunny_hugger and her parents and I visited Crossroads Village, in Genesee County, and the historic village and the Christmas decorations there. I'd wanted to talk with them alone, out of bunny_hugger's ear, and this seemed like it'd be the best chance. We'd wandered to the far end, to ride the carousel and the Ferris wheel, and we were deep into the wonderous and happy place there. And we needed a bathroom break. Perhaps that would be enough time. Her father and I were quick, as stereotypical, but I wanted both her parents there to ask, and, while her mother got out of the bathroom sooner there wasn't enough time to work up my courage before bunny_hugger came out. I suppressed the question. We continued walking around the park, and taking in the sights, and even went on the 45-minute railroad tour.
The trip, the long ride on the antique train and through festive lights and with music accompanying, was transporting. Maybe the moment was as transcendant as getting as far from the parking lot and its image of modernity as possible, but it was a cheerful, happy, appropriate time. And we were getting ready to leave, and visiting the bathroom again. This time, bunny_hugger took a few minutes longer than her mother did. I took a deep breath, and realized if I were so scared of this now I'd be in bad shape for the next important question. I asked this.
I said to her parents, that I loved her dearly and deeply, and I intended to ask her to marry me, and that I would be honored if I could have their approval.
They smiled, and they said of course, and that I didn't need their permission. And I didn't, of course: even if there were a realistic possibility of their saying no, I'd be asking bunny_hugger anyway.
It's a relic, yes, of less decent times when the bride's opinions weren't much regarded. But I did want them to know I'd be asking her soon. They wondered if bunny_hugger knew I was ``asking'' their permission; I said, truly, that I hadn't told her anything of it. And that I didn't know just when I would ask her, but that it would be soon. I had an idea in mind of when and where would be the time to ask.
bunny_hugger came out of the cafe, rejoining us, and if she suspected anything from my smile and the hug as we walked back to the car, she didn't at the time say.
Trivia: In 1882 the National League had players wear color-coded uniforms, assigned by their positions --- catchers in light blue, second basement in orange-yellow and black stripes, pitchers in dark blue and white, and so on. Both teams wore the same colors and no one wore gloves. Source: Fifty-Nine In '84: Old Hoss Radbourn, Barehanded Baseball, and The Greatest Season A Pitcher Ever Had, Edward Achorn.
Currently Reading: Orbit, Thomas H Bloch. OK, this is just a stupid thriller/disaster book from 1982, but it's really stupid. The premise is an accident with a new supersonic passenger jet sends it into low earth orbit. And I could swear this was a KTMA Mystery Science Theater 3000 experiment but apparently not.