Diamonds Are For Fun

Cowgrit’s original diamond engagement ring was nice. It wasn’t tiny, but it wasn’t really big, either — we were both young and neither of us had a career yet. (I’ve seen some tiny diamond rings before, and I’d rather not give a diamond than give one embarrassingly small.) Five years ago, I decided to upgrade her diamond ring.

Several weeks before Christmas, I started shopping around. It’s not easy to sneak around on your wife, running out to stores during lunch hours, on the way home from work, and such. It’s funny to think about how much we are just all in each other’s daily routine.

It’s not that either of us is keeping a tight reign on the other, but we’re just so used to knowing we can pick up the phone and call. And we know each other’s routines. Basically, each of us knows for pretty near certain, exactly where the other is, and what they are doing, at any given time of the day. So changing that routine on the sly can be difficult.

At least twice, Cowgrit called me on my cell phone while I was in a jewelry store looking at diamonds.

“Hello,” I answer. The salesperson sits back and stays quiet, knowing I’m being secretive.

“Hey honey,” she says. “It’s five-thirty. Have you left your office? I’m working on dinner.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve left the office. I just stopped by the mall for a few minutes.”

“That’s a good idea. You going to get that toy for Calfgrit2?”

“I’ll get it if they have it in stock.”

“Great. You’ll be home soon?”

“Yeah, I’ll be home soon.”

Then I make sure to, after leaving the jewelry store, run by the toy store and see about that toy. It was moments like that, when I’m trying to sneak around, that I realize just how close we always are.

For our original engagement ring, I had Cowgrit directly pick out the ring, herself. I knew absolutely nothing about diamonds or rings. It was (and still is) a nice ring. But this time I was working on my own. And this time, I could get something bigger and better — something for a mature woman from a man with a good salary. Once I had a ring picked out, I had Cowgrit’s mother stop by the jewelry store to look at the ring and tell me her opinion.

Then, after six or eight weeks of secret shopping, I had the ring. I also bought her a cute t-shirt, and I taped the ring to the inside lid of the shirt box, and wrapped it up.

Come Christmas morning, I made sure to have the video camera in my hands and running when she was opening her “simple” gift from me. She’s so sweet — she said she “loved” the t-shirt. “Thank you, honey,” she said. She never let on that a simple t-shirt (no matter how cute) is a sorry Christmas gift from a husband.

“Is there anything else in the box,” I suggested, keeping the camera rolling on her.

When she discovered the ring . . . that look on her face. I’m glad I have it on video. The only thing better than seeing her happy and excited expression is knowing that I’m the one who caused it.

And I’m really glad I gave that gift that Christmas. Because the next Christmas, we had a second child, and now the two boys take up all our time and thoughts for Christmas gifts. Now the best gift I can give Cowgrit is a day of peace and quiet.

Bullgrit