(This blog was supposed to be primarily for -- well, the sort of things it's been for. I write the other stuff elsewhere, normally. But I was bored, I had access to a computer, and the computer happened to be online. All of this could have lead to mayhem, death, destruction and mass chaos. Instead it led to rambling stupidity.)
Just so you know, my birthstone is peridot. It should be a matter of public record and taught to children in school, but sometimes these things get overlooked. My birthstone happens to be peridot primarily because I managed to be born in August. Go me.
Problem is, peridot is very rarely turned into pretty jewelry. In fact (there has been research), large quantities of the jewelry made with peridot are sold to ugly people to make them feel better. There has been only one pretty ring from peridot and ... I think Gorbechev stole it.
I posessed this ring. My parents had given it to me for my 16th birthday. I'd never seen another one like it -- and probably never will. Turns out, it was a custom design. What were they thinking?
Anyhow, I wore that stinkin' ring everywhere. Including, I might add, to the concert in which I and several hundred other Harding choir/chorus/singers members serenaded Gorbechev with a song in Russian about a tree -- and a couple of English songs, too. The rest of the time we spent propping our eyeballs open trying to pretend that the translator was interesting. Because he wasn't.
While I was sitting on a hot stage in ... some month in the spring semester of that year,whenever that was, my hands began to swell. So I took the ring off and placed it in my inadequate pocket.
Short story long now, I lost it. Very sad. (I actually lost another gold ring and a gold bracelet that same year. This may explain why I wear so much silver now. Much cheaper to replace -- which I do nearly so often as I have my oil changed.)
And so I'm cursed to sort through ugly peridot jewelry in search of a decent ring that doesn't exist.
Fin.
No comments:
Post a Comment