Ring Redux

If you have ever been to downtown Seattle, you are no doubt familiar with the Rainier Tower:

It's base is very narrow and then tapers up to the office tower. Got it?

That's kinda what my ring finger looks like now.

I went to the jeweler yesterday and had my wedding ring cut off. The lovely man who helped me was very funny. "The bad news is we don't have any anesthesia," he said. "And I should probably tell you that I flunked out of medical school".

"It's ok," said I. "Just give me a shot of brown liquor and a bullet to bite".

He slid a metal cutter thingy under my ring and made a nice clean cut. With two needle nose pliers he then pried the ring apart enough that he could slide it off my finger without cutting me on the newly sharp edges.

He'll be getting in a shipment of rubies within the next week or so and I'll go back to choose one, then they'll fix my ring. Except I can't have it sized until my finger returns to it's normal shape. Which, he said, could take up to a month. What made me think that a ring which went on to my hand when I was a size 4 would never need to be sized? Very, very silly of me.

The good news? I have a few weeks to find the ruby. Not that I honestly believe I will, but since so many of you seem determined that the Universe will bring it back to me, I'm keeping my eyes open. (Y'all really are the sweetest things).

I have no idea what it's going to cost to restore the ring: a new stone, new tips, a shank for the resizing...could end up being as much as the ring is worth already. Although when I mentioned to The Spouse that I supposed we could just not fix the ring he quickly said, "That is not an option".

He also was amusing because he seemed a little nervous about the fact that my ring finger was now naked. "You have to wear something on that hand".

I have a claddagh, an Irish wedding band. But you see, if I put another ring on that finger it would get in the way of it restoring itself. It has to be jewelry free for a while. Then, later, and seemingly apropos of nothing The Spouse mentioned a recent statistic he'd read that 1 in 3 women in America are having or about to have an affair. As you know, I very rarely say anything negative about my Spouse in these pages. But for the record, sometimes he can be a very, very ridiculous person.

"I am one of the two," I said.

"I'm just saying..."

"Look at me!" He looked. "I have no interest in having an affair. Ever".

I don't believe he truly thinks I'd ever cheat on him. Never mind that I haven't the interest, energy or inclination to have an affair. Why would I ever think I could find anyone better than The Spouse? He's adorable. He brings me coffee in the morning. He takes care of his family. He makes me laugh every day. Every. Day. Sometimes he pisses me off but then, sometimes I piss him off. Hardly reason to go out and see if I can do better. I couldn't. And yes, in reality, that includes Steve Martin.

My point, I think, is that the symbol of the wedding ring, however powerful, is just that, a symbol. It speaks to something deeper and more mystical than the physical thing itself could ever be. I look at my Rainier Tower finger right now, at the impression that ring literally made on my finger and that seems as much a symbol to me as the ring. Being married to The Spouse, being his wife, is embedded in me. Right now the divot in my finger is the sign of that. Nope. Ring or no ring, I'm as wedded to that man o' mine as it is possible to be. End of story.

I did draw a ring on my finger last night and then, briefly, considered getting a little tat. Except that would probably interfere with the whole "restoring the finger" scenario. Although it's kind of a cool idea because then I could satisfy my on-again-off-again fascination with tatoos plus once my wedding ring was back on, I'd pretty much be the only person who knew it was there. And I wouldn't have to worry about it getting sagging and gross when I was older.

Nah.

I am going to take The Child to get a second piercing in one of her ears today. I'm cool like that.