The Ring Story

No, this isn't the real story of how Terry got the ring. For that, you'll need to check out our previous post. This story, much more recent, makes me appreciate my ring all the more.

When Terry and I started talking seriously about marriage, we ventured out to Tiffany's to check out styles. The "experts" at Tiffany's, likely disappointed to find out we already had a diamond and would therefore not purchase a ring through them, promptly and with annoyance announced that my ring size was 6. Armed with our new knowledge, Terry proudly told Jeff, our jeweler, the proper size and his desired specifications. Jeff created my dream ring, but I have been dealing with it sliding side to side for eight months, and we finally brought the ring, along with the wedding ring, in for a legitimate sizing the last weekend in March. My parents would be coming down to LA the following weekend, so they would bring it with them.

The plan seemed perfect. How could it go wrong? Well, that's where Dad steps in. A brilliant man when it comes to police work, yard work, and navigating any roadway, my father is apparantly less than brilliant in understanding the intricacies of engagement rings versus wedding rings. You see, when my father proudly presented Terry with the "fixed ring," Terry smiled and thanked him. But it took a few minutes for us to realize that the wedding ring was what my dad thought was the engagement ring. Soon we all figured it out.

He had brought the wrong ring.

Now, of course, it wasn't the end of the world. The engagement ring sat safely at home in Fremont, and obviously the wedding band was safe. But, much to my dismay, I would suffer without a ring for a full month before I could get to the Bay Area.

Of course, my dad felt awful, but I assured him it would be okay. I tried my best not to make him feel bad, but I think that made him feel worse. The next day, incident forgotten, my dad presented me with a beautiful ring. To remedy his mistake, Dad had bought me a legitimate-looking cubic zirconia to stand in for my missing ring. He and my mom had both had the same idea while shopping at Macy's, and I was rather grateful to have something on my finger again.

While I wished to have my ring, I have to admit that my dad was quite sweet to pick up the rings from the jeweler, bring one (although the wrong one) to LA, and then purchase an $18 replacement to get me through the month. Plus, it's an awesome story.

Finally, after a month of yet another too-big ring, people asking where my real ring is, and missing the one Terry gave me, I have my ring back. We are keeping the fake one as a keepsake, but it's great to have the one Terry bought and designed for me. So that's the ring story.

Oh, and it fits!