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ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT, IT'S NOW a proven fact that I can't just sit on a pile of details. Nope--it's not a cushy seat, and I see no point in fidgeting around atop a mound of minutia! So, Dear Reader, I'm flinging out the details. You're free to ignore them. Or, sit on them yourself, if you feel so led!

First of all, I told the sales clerk at the jewelry store (I randomly chose one--there are six Fine Jewelry stores in the local mall): "My Yard Man's uncle is here from Arizona. He wants to buy his fiancee a ring." (Except I didn't really say Yard Man, for fear he would give me a very strange look.) I said, "My husband and his uncle will be here soon. Can you tell me a little about the diamonds?" And he was so happy to oblige.

When the actual, potential buyer of the ring showed up, the sales clerk shook his hand, "My name is John" he said.

"And my name is John," said the ring-buying man.

Then John set to with a will, and began to show John his array of diamonds. The cut, the color, the clarity, the size--they all make a difference, the one who was selling explained.

John the Buyer listened intently and looked at a few of the rings. Then he said, "Well, I just called and asked her last night." He chuckled. "She might not say yes."

Up went the sales clerk's eyebrows. "My, you move fast!" he exclaimed. I could see little beads of sweat appear on his forehead; was he going to make this sale?

But Buyer-John's nephew, standing behind him, laughed loudly. "She's been living with him for ten years!" he guffawed.

And I was laughing, too. This uncle of my Yard Man, he's adorable; last night he'd encouraged a clan-full of nieces and nephews to fly out to witness the 'I-do's.

Like my husband, however, he's not much of a shopper. Seller John hadn't shown us but three lovely diamonds, Buyer John was ready to narrow it down. When I said, "Well, this one is very nice! I like it the best" that was it.
 "I think she will like it, too." he said. "That's the one!" (That Yard Man breathed a sigh of relief.  He knew that left up to me and my own instincts, we'd still be looking at diamonds an hour later.)
The deal was sealed. John the Seller
shook hands with John the Buyer,
and my Yard Man and his uncle went happily on
their way.




And so did I. It had been a sparkly little spot in my day, and now I had the perfect excuse for loitering in the mall, buying myself a cheap pair of earrings.

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Oops, I was still sitting on one teeny-tiny detail: Just as the Uncle John started walking away, swinging that fancy little bag with the treasure for his true love's hand, I said: "Don't forget to get down on one knee!"
He grinned. "But I have arthritis!" he said.

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