It Takes A Village

And so, as I was saying, a few weekends ago, Sarge and I took Frodo-Bob ring-shopping.

Maybe it was the complimentary champagne they gave us in the first shop, but the third ring I tried on made me cry.  It was as if it had always been there.  I (grudgingly) left it to traipse around other shops.  But every other ring looked like costume jewellery.  Which has its place, but not on your wedding finger.  And there was no more complimentary champagne.

I had found The One.

We met Dad, Anne and two of the bridesmaids for celebratory noodles, before the final sign-off on my ring and our wedding bands.  Sarge tried his on, and my heart skipped three whole beats.   Maybe ten.

We brought everyone with us to see the rings.  As I said to the very lovely and patient salesperson, ‘It takes a village.’

Now, my actual ring had to be made.  A two week wait.

The ring was early.  I may have screamed in Sarge’s ear when he told me it was.  As a matter of fact, I did.

On Saturday, we took Frodo-Bob to fulfill his purpose as ring-box.  Everyone in the shop was very impressed with him.

Sarge, FB and I carried the precious ring to the coffee shop where we ended our seven-hour first date.  He got on one knee and asked me.  Again.  And I said yes.  Again.

 

And in a full circle moment, I believe the people at the next table were having their first date.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Back to our story, some time later…