A few days after the Valentine's engagement, Dreamer was chopping vegetables for a casserole dish. All was well with the world as she peeled, and chopped, and minced while adding to the casserole.
And then she screams ...
"Oh, no. My ring is missing!"
*** Here I insert the fact that the ring was sized at 7 1/2 and Dreamer's finger is only a 6 1/2. It's amazing how one size can make all the difference! ***
Meanwhile back in the drama of it all ... Johnnie-Girl flies down from the second floor office and 'us three' go into action trying to find the missing, less-than-a-week-old engagement ring.
Fortunately Dreamer remembers seeing it on her finger AT HOME IN THE KITCHEN while chopping the veg. Fortunate, yes, as we had spent all that morning thrift store shopping and running one errand after another.
After about 10 minutes of frantic searching ... with much prayer for assistance from God Above, Johnnie-Girl miraculously fishes the ring out of the compost bucket.
Sticky and dirty and smelly ...
but the ring was found.
What a relief to Dreamer
Without a moment's hesitation she runs it up to her bedroom and places it in a secure place in her dresser drawer.
She comes back down to the kitchen and lays prostrate on the floor.
The last 10 minutes of her life had indeed paid its toll on her body.
As I type this post, Dreamer is on her way to the jeweler to have her ring sized down a notch. I heard her say that she would rather lose a finger by having the ring too small than to go through losing the ring again.