Friday, May 6, 2011

My Precious Fits!

Morning Readers,

    It's finally happened. A respectable guess, but no, Stephen King didn't stop by my blog, discover my overwhelming talent, ask for a copy of my manuscript, and spend all night shopping it to publishers so I could successfully sell a billion copies and move into the beach house next to him so that we could spend hours talking about the craft of writing. I mean..that would be silly right?
No, Readers, not a book deal, but my newest discovery makes me more tingly than the time I thought I'd pulled-off dying my hair black all by myself. Behold! My ring...*sticks out finger*...

     Oh so sparkly, my diamond engagement ring is the only piece of jewelry I've ever owned. And when I say "jewelry" I mean it's the first piece that hasn't turned my finger green, broken into a billion pieces after being run over by my car, been purchased with a piece of gum and a quarter, or lost all its "jewels" after the glue melted off in the shower. This piece is ligit, the real deal, prospector cer-tee-fied. Husband dug deep in his pockets to purchase it and present it over some mashed potatoes, in the hopes I would drive him crazy for the rest of days. It's special (someone que the baby ducks, rainbows and care bears hugging each other.)
     Unfortunately, specialness was no match for baby bloat. Last year, while my body held more water than the Titanic, I watched my fingers grow to the size of  of state fair cucumbers. Day after day, my digits expanded, until the dark hour came.

"Honey? Honey, it's stuck."

"I'm driving. What are you talking about?"

"Well, I'm fairly certain all blood flow to my ring finger's been cut off. It's turning purple. Do you need a ring finger to bottle-feed a baby?"

" need it to show people you're married. Just take it off."

"I can't. Help me."

"I'm driving. Find some butter or something."

"Good idea. You keep it in the glove compartment?"

"You know what I mean. Suck on it."

" "butter" you meant spit. I get it.  By the way, I think I'm dying."

      I did finally manage to remove my beautiful ring, transport it home, and store it on the kitchen widow sill. And there it's sat, for an entire year..until yesterday. Somewhere in the cosmos, the stars aligned, Kate Moss ate a cheeseburger, Hades froze over, or my diet shakes finally kicked-in, but it fit. My Precious finally fit. This weekend, I clean tubs, wax floors and change diapers, while being proudly blinded by glittery happiness...until I accidentally lose it.

Until Next Time Readers!