My Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Ring Scare

So...

We interrupt our regularly scheduled Thanksgiving catch-up to bring you this important news event:

This is the current state of my wedding ring:

In case yhe image demands clarification, the diamond should be inside the setting, and not separate and apart from it.

I mean, talk about HEART ATTACK, meltdown, panic and sadness, all rolled into one!

I put my ring on when we left the house for Chicklet's morning dance class, and when I looked down at my hand, gripping the steering wheel to leave that same dance class, the center diamond was gone. Gone.

I froze. And my gut just dropped out.

I mean, sure, it's insured and a tiny voice in the waaaaaay back of my brain said it was just an object and not something truly irreplaceable, like a child.

But.

That particular stone has been on my hand for sixteen years and it hurt baaaaad.

I immediately went back inside the dance studio, mostly miming what was wrong since I was close to losing it and couldn't speak much, and all the women inside immediately startled into action, searching.

And I cannot believe it, but less than ten seconds later, the stone was found by some benevolent stranger, who ended up on the receiving end of my massive embrace and tears.

I mean, wow.

That diamond could have been lost in any nook or cranny of that studio, or the parking lot, or--worst case of all scenarios, the wooded, leaf-strewn hillside we played on for a few minutes before loading in the car.

But it was right there, where it could easily have gone unnoticed or mistaken for a children's jewel, but it was found.

What a crazy unsettling vortex of emotions to have come and gone in just a few, short minutes.

I'm sooooo grateful for the relief of finding it, and I'm getting it fixed and checked and double-checked ASAP.

Over and out.