A Diamond By Any Other Name ...

     It never ceases to amaze me how quickly a seemingly innocent joke can blossom into certified bull goose Looney exchanges of the totally ridiculous.

     Case in point:

     My fiancé, Juli, and I have decided to have a less than complicated engagement and wedding. We both have been married before, and the trappings and traditions simply hold no great appeal to either one of us.

    One such tradition is the customary diamond engagement ring. Being an artist and working with her hands in clay and paint, I didn’t want her to have a ring that would constantly be removed. (Add to this the fact that our wedding bands will be a combination of Celtic and Southwestern American Indian design. Where do you find an engagement ring to match that?)

     So. Friends would not let that explanation alone, insisting that I buy my future bride a “big” diamond.

     So I did.

     Soon we spawned imitators. Apparently I struck a nerve somewhere, although I choose to not speculate on the cause, other than to observe the fact that we were playing the game of “my diamond is better than your diamond.” (What!? Are you kidding me!? I have friends in Canada and England who already think Americans are a bit on the odd side. MUST we prove them correct ALL the time?)

     Further, there was the question of the setting for the diamond. Nobody was happy with it simply nesting on the top of her fingers. “It needs to be seen in a better setting,” I was told. So – okay – we took a picture of it in another setting, and STILL received nothing but grief.

     As it turned out, I was not alone with coals of verbal abuse being lathered under foot. Last night Juli posted this picture of her stone beside the supper plate. “That’s not real,”  someone rudely commented. “Of course it is,” she immediately responded, “I made it myself!” (The fact that my future mate was referring to the potato salad did little to cool the heat of her response.)

     And – I will be the first to admit – I was also pulled into the debate when it was pointed out that the diamond was larger than the boiled and pickled egg on the plate. With indignation I was compelled to point out that looks are deceiving, that what the observer was judging was in fact a hummingbird egg, and that boiled and pickled hummingbird eggs have been my favorite for generations ...

      Ya know what? I think I need a drink. Or a vacation. Maybe both.