Wednesday, April 14, 2010


So my husband got me a diamond ring recently. We’ll have been married for sixteen years this summer and I’ve not ever had one. When we got married, we were extremely young and poor so we couldn’t afford fancy pants wedding ring sets. We got some nice bands, but they were not super-duper expensive.

Last week, he took me to the jeweler and showed me the stone he had picked out (round cut, as I had mentioned before that I liked, but he picked out the specific stone) and told me to pick out the ring part to set it in. I looked at what they had and found one that I liked but 1) it had extra diamonds on the sides of the central setting and I didn’t really want or need those and 2) it was platinum and was waaaaay out of budget. We talked with the jeweler, though, about what we liked about its style and he said he’d find us something similar without the extra stones that could be gotten in white gold, which was perfect. He let me take the stone in a temporary setting (I think it was a Tiffany setting—I’m really pretty ignorant of this whole fancy ring thing, to be honest) while he ordered the new ring and I’ve been wearing it for a week.

Last night, though, Robert took the temporary ring so he could run over to the store on his lunch break and get it replaced. While I was at work today, he texted me to see if I could run outside to get it from him if he stopped by. My kids have been using the glass walled stairwell vestibules as giant light boxes to trace their drawings onto clean paper this week, so I told him to come right on up to us, that he’d probably see us through the window.

Fast forward to several minutes later when he drove up outside the doors. I stood up from where I was sitting, chatting with one of the kids who had finished her work and was relaxing for the rest of the class period.

“Where you goin’, Miss?”

“I’ve got to run out there and see my husband—he just drove up.”

“That’s your husband?” All the kids turn to see Robert driving up in his silver Charger.

“Yup. That’s him.”

“You be rollin’ in that, Miss?”


“Man, Miss, you be ballin’!”

They loved his car. The ring, yeah, they liked it, but they loved his car.


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