Apr
7
Note to self:
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Never – EVER – wear your wedding band when going out to garden. Especially when it is already loose because your fingers are too skinny.
Friday night Chris and I finished cleaning out our flower bed out front. The prime reason for this was the two cacti that were blocking everyone’s view around the corner. We spent all week trying to wage war on one big ass Texas Sotol. I’m telling you, when the website says “not pedestrian friendly”, it’s no joke. This thing is pure evil. It was probably 5 feet tall, and as big around. The entire plant is made up of long grass-like blades that have barbs running about every inch on either side. About 50% of the time those barbs break off when they catch on something. And about 50% of the time they were catching in my arms. My BARE arms. OUCH!
Anyway, we were down to the base of this thing on Friday, and Chris was hacking away at this huge donut shaped ring of whatever the hell this plant is, while I picked up the remains. Some time in the middle of all this, I pulled my glove off to dump out the dirt, and threw out a few rocks, too. The ones in my wedding band. The ones in my replacement wedding band from when I lost my original ring 2 years ago.
Saturday morning while I was hurriedly showering to get to ceramics class, I noticed my ring wasn’t on my finger, and I didn’t remember taking it off. I checked the two places that I usually leave it. Not there, or there. Now I’m panicking, I absolutely HATE not having my ring. I even wore it (well, the original) during all 9 months of pregnancy, despite it being so tight as to cut off circulation in my finger (OK, so maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but you get the idea…). At this point I’m openly crying and screaming for Chris. He probably thought I had chopped off a hand (which I tried to do later in the weekend), or burned myself, or saw a bug the way I was carrying on.
Forty five minutes later, still no dice (or diamonds). Chris sends me off to class in tears. I cried the whole way there, then scraped up my hand really badly while trying to put the splash pan on my wheel, and started crying again. After that bit of drama, my instructor, who has to be one of the nicest men on the planet, offered a hug. He’s a really good hugger and I started to feel better immediately. I dove into the work I had left on last weeks pots, and started some new ones. And as grumpy as I was, class went really well. I had a really huge breakthrough and actually threw a few pots that were taller than a coffee mug. But I digress…
On the way home I started bawling again. But at the same time had this feeling that Chris had found the dumb thing. I tried to talk myself out of that feeling because I really thought it was hopeless. The night before we had gone out to eat, and I had washed my hands in the restroom. I figured the ring was either in one of ten bags filled with cactus, or in the ladies room at Red Robin.
As soon as I pulled into the driveway I was accosted by Alexis, who was telling me to go look on my keyboard. Chris came out of nowhere to watch me, too. Sure enough, there was my ring in an envelope on my desk. Sweet, sweet Chris dug through CACTUS to find my ring for me. (Now that’s love!) Smart guy went and bought a metal detector after I left and scanned each bag. He only got one hit (in the last available bag, of course) and dumped that bag onto the driveway. I still can’t believe he found the damn thing.
It’s interesting how a day can start off so bad, and end up so good – and the day was only half over. The rest of the weekend was nearly as eventful, but a completely different story…