I’m Dreaming of a Gold Christmas

As the holidays approach, the adrenaline is pumping both at work and at home.

At work, we’re working rushing to ensure all tasks can be done despite the yawning chasm of lost man hours laid bare by everyone’s vacation schedule.

At home, I’m thinking of threatening my boys that if they don’t cough up letters to Santa soon, they’ll end up with nothing but socks and underwear for presents. Waiting for them to draft their lists, there’s plenty of other things to do, cards to mail, concerts to attend and cookies to bake.

The one thing I have gotten done, however, is purchase my husband’s gift. While I won’t tell him what it is, I have made a point of telling him what I spent on it. Just so he knows I’m not afraid to drop some big bucks on the man I love.

It’s just my way of laying on the guilt.

Since my engagement ring/wedding band “went missing” several years back, not a birthday, anniversary, Valentine’s day, or Christmas goes by when I don’t remind my beloved that I would really, really like  “something shiny” to replace it.

And he’s obliged. I have since received a brand new and quite shiny pressure cooker – too heavy and a little clumsy to sport on my ring finger – a lovely little light-up and somewhat shiny music box, a new phone,  and lots and lots of chocolate to ward off any residual disappointment.
I think I’ve finally accepted the fact that I’ll never see my ring again.
While some are certain it was absconded during a large party we hosted, I’m not convinced.  Instead, I’ve watched as my dear spouse fruitlessly disassembled our dryer, poked through every pipe in our house and up-ended every bit of furniture we have.
We’ve since replaced it with a simple gold band. Utilitiarian. Gets the job done. Signals to the world that I am indeed betrothed.

But after all these years, I still miss my hard-earned bit of bling. I’m talkin’ six and a half years of dating before we made an appointment with one Bob Kamen on Jeweler’s Row to pick out the .79 round cut hunk of ice and custom, engraved setting.

I never should’ve removed it.

Oh well, lesson learned. I’ll just look forward to another type of shiny present sitting under the tree this year – like keys to a new car.

I can dream, can’t I?

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