Jewelry as the cause of and solution to all of life's problems

Rod and I decided this morning that we'd get this Costco business out of the way. We talked to Jette and Chris, and in the end, Chris came along. We drove down to the Southside and as we were pulling up into the parking lot, I realized that it was empty. Big Sign: "We've moved! Now at 26-something or other 91 st" So off we went in search of the new location. It was very snazzy. The outside was painted a soft brown and it looked much nicer than some ugly little rundown warehouse. The inside is way better because it's well lit, insulated, and the tire section is off in some unseen location, which makes the new warehouse much nicer.

But almost as soon as I walked in there, I wanted to slam my head against the nearest brick wall. See, some of you aren't aware, but there's a sordid little story of rejected marriage proposals and a ring. I bought a ring because it was beautiful, and because the type of engagement ring I really wanted was going to be way too expensive, so I figured I might as well ensure that I get something I like. Originally, I wanted a radiant-cut diamond, surrounded by smaller stones in a square setting, with a yellow gold band. It's an antique look. What I bought was a lovely oval Sapphire (because I *Love* sapphires) encircled by small diamonds in a sunburst pattern, completed by a yellow gold band with 6 small diamonds.

Well, I scouted the jewelry counter immediately because it's always fun to look at jewelry, and what should I find, but nearly the exact ring I wanted originally. It was set in white gold, which I'm not fond of, but there it was nonetheless...my expensive dream ring staring back at me, mocking me, and for a steal at about $640 plus GST. The ring I have was about $450. Chris remarked how he expected that engagement rings were supposed to cost 3 months salary, and joked about how paying $12,000 or something for them. Ah, but when it comes to jewelry, I have surprisingly simple tastes. I much prefer sapphires to diamonds, yellow gold to white gold or platinum, and as long as it's not gaudy, and it is designed tastefully, I'm quite happy. I think he was surprised by my somewhat inexpensive choices.

So now I have to lament that life has played another cruel joke on me. I found the closest thing to my dream ring, and I can't have it. Ironically, I'm not so much upset that I'm not anywhere near getting engaged anytime soon, since Rod's not ready. I'm upset that I actually got to meet my choice in rings in person (instead of in a magazine), and I can't have it. Picture Fancy. Picture Fancy pouting, little bottom lip quivering, eyes glistening from holding back big, fat crocodile tears. I'll say yes to the first man or woman who presents my ring to me with a proposal, regardless of a lack of an actual relationship, that's how crazy I am about this ring.

But the joke in all of this is that I have a perfectly good ring already, and when, in 25 years time, Rod is ready for marriage, the pressure is off of him to have to look for a ring. Think I should pawn the old ring and put a down payment on the nearly perfect one? I know it won't get used, but it would be so nice to have tucked away somewhere where I can take it out and look at it from time to time and smile smugly cause I own it. Doing so would add to my already-eccentric charms, and when I'm 75, living alone with 300 cats, all the kids on my block will whisper about crazy old lady Poitras hugging a ring on her front steps. Now there's a picture for you!