Loser of the Rings

My father-in-law lost his after preg checking about 200 cows. He didn’t know where to go back and start looking.

I’ve never (knock on wood) lost a ring for good, but I’ve had some close brushes. I took off my engagement ring in an airplane bathroom to wash my hands, and left it on the sink. Fortunately a flight attendant found it and, when I was able to describe it, gave it back to me. Whew!

In the winter, my fingers shrink in the cold. I mean, they get less thick, not shorter. Anyway, I’ve had rings just fall off as I walk down the street when I’m not wearing gloves. I’ve heard them land on the ground every time, though, so thus far I’ve lucked out. If they ever fall off in snow, I’m hosed.

I’ve had that happen. Once, after I’d been out in the snowy backyard with the dog, I came in and noticed my ring had gone. It had gotten dark, so out I went with a flashlight and carefully looked everywhere even remotely close to where I’d been, hoping to see a glint of gold.

After half an hour of this I was pretty damn frustrated and in need of a new approach. On a whim I closed my eyes, pointed the flashlight in a random direction, and opened them again. There in the beam, halfway across the yard, was my ring atop a snowdrift. Weird. It must have come off when I was throwing something for the dog and flown a lot further than I thought possible.