At first, new friends thought we were one of those cool couples that never married (like Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell). It only took 10 minutes into a Happy Hour for me to blurt out that I had misplaced my wedding ring. Not taking it on a hiking trip was a good idea; not remembering where I had hidden it was not.
Soon neighbors (some I had never met) were chiming in. When out walking, I’d receive a friendly wave and a comment such as “Did you check behind the washer and dryer?” Friends that entered my home asked if they could take a quick look around for me. Unfortunately, I remained anxious and the ring remained lost.
A lovely woman insisted I borrow her Guatemalan worry dolls. Apparently, there is a legend that if you have a problem, you share it with the worry dolls, place them under your pillow and when you awake, the dolls will have taken your worries away. In the morning, I awoke in a panic to find them missing. After removing the bedding and crawling around, I found them nestled together under the bed. Hoping that their mojo would still work through a mini zip-close bag, those one-inch tall little devils were sealed up from then on.
“How about a hypnotist?” suggested another woman. A friend of hers would soon be performing locally and maybe she could assist. Unfortunately, the hypnotist was not available, but steered me to a colleague. New at the hypnosis game and eager for the practice, the young gentleman was eager to work with me over the phone at no charge.
With a silken voice, he instructed me to get comfortable in a quiet space and relax (hard to do with Mr. Wiz* curiously peering in at me every few minutes). With eyes closed and headphones on, I listened to him softly directing me to think of myself looking down onto a map of my home. “The map is white and there is a blue dot where you are standing. Is the blue dot moving anywhere?” he quietly asked, repeatedly. Hard as I tried that darn dot wouldn’t budge. The session ended and though disappointed, I thanked him profusely for his time.
If only I had a metal detector; was that my thought or was I still a bit woozy? I decided to put an announcement on the community bulletin board, asking if someone could BYOMD (bring your own metal detector) and help me find my ring for a reward. Not more than an hour later, a neighbor (whom I had not yet met) texted me to say he would gladly assist. Mr. Wiz was taken a bit by surprise when he asked what that noise was and I said it was just my good friend, Harry (not his real name), in my closet. As hard as he tried, Harry had no luck, but he did compliment me on my closet organizational skills.
At this point, months had gone by. Still ringless, I now found myself with a new problem to focus on; an itch that just wouldn’t go away. It arrived out of nowhere and commanded my full attention. Out of the blue, Epsom salts came to mind and relentlessly stayed there. Let me just interject here that Epsom salts and I have no history. Confused as I was, I finally acquiesced and decided a bath might do me some good.
As I pulled the zip-close bag out from under the sink in the guest bathroom, something in a smaller zip-close bag sparkled in the light. It was my ring! I slinked down the wall and sat on the floor, lovingly hugging the bag and scolding it at the same time, just as you might when you’ve found a missing child. I tenderly gave it a bath in jewelry cleaner, placed it back on my finger and ran to find Mr. Wiz. Little did I know then, that the itch would vanish just as quickly as it had presented itself.
Guatemala, hypnosis, metal detectors, Epsom salts and many zip-close bags later, I have no idea what the moral of this story is, but the next time I decide to hide any jewelry I’ll be sure to let you all know first.
*Who’s who? See “Cast of Characters” on the “About” page.
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