...

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.

...
...
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.

...

...


HEAVEN KNOWS, I HAD no idea yesterday morning that this morning I'd be out with a 71-year-old gentleman shopping for a diamond engagement ring. (I've known him for a very long time, but this was quite a surprise!)







It was something like ten o'clock last night when he popped the big question; shortly after, I said that I'd really like to help choose a ring. So you see, Reader Dear, there wasn't much time to contemplate this morning's happy shopping trip.


I loved the little excursion--I learned a few things about diamonds (and we picked out a beauty). But, goodness, far be it from me to bore you with details--if you'd like to know more, simply pop me a question!



...

...

IT'S 3:30 A.M. I'M SLOUCHED AGAINST THE HOTEL'S front desk, bleary-eyed. My chauffeur is waiting in the car. "Any vacancies?" I ask the night clerk.
"Sorry, no. We're filled up," he says. " And so are the next three hotels down the road--I was sending people over to them."
"Oh," I groan. "You're kidding..."
"There are more places you can try." He pauses. "They're farther away...and might be full, too."
I'm just standing there. I'm pondering my options. I don't wish to carry bad news to my chauffeur. I laugh in a doomed kind of way. "I told my husband I'd even sleep on dirty sheets."

Suddenly the night clerk looks up with raised eyebrows. "Well," he says, and his voice has a hopeful ring. "We do have one room where a businessman had an early flight out. I don't know if it's been cleaned. I can give it to you cheap." Before he's done talking, I've yes-yes-oh-yes, absolutely claimed it.
"Let's go have a look," says he.


That's how I ended up playing chambermaid at 3:45 in the morning, cleaning up after a single businessperson who managed to mangle the bed covers on a king-sized bed, over-stuff the trashcan and leave behind his slippers from an Asian hotel.







The night clerk brought us clean sheets and emptied the trash. He brought us an armload of shampoo and conditioner. Perhaps he was thinking: fewer hours in the bed, more stuff for the head.





At any rate,
we got a cool deal on a very hot night!






...

7-26

....



I TALKED MY CHAUFFEUR into driving me to southern Virginia to check on the house of my childhood, languishing there beside the Warwick River. The fig trees were thriving in the yard, but, alas, the mold and mildew were following suit in the house.




Which meant that: (1.) We would have wished--the chauffeur and myself--to spend all our time outdoors, waxing nostalgic over the scenery; except that any day since August 7, 1819, would have been a better day for this, temperature-wise. The thermometer read 105.

Which meant that: (2.) We felt compelled to abandon our blow-up mattress on the floor with the sheets that are supposedly queen-sized but didn't quite fit (corners of the sheet popping off the bed whenever we moved)...and head out into the peak-vacation- season-weekend-night at 3:15 in the morning to find other lodging.



(Con'td.)
...

...


ARE YOU IN THE HABIT OF RACKING, Dear Reader?


Your brain! Can you rack your brain?!
(Surely you've done it a time or two.)
You'll rack up so many points (with me only, I confess) if you'll venture a guess.


...