Degritification

Yes, those are our actual rings.  And, yes, this is a weird picture.

I love my engagement ring.  Kurt picked it out himself with no help from me or any of my relatives.  The diamond is from a necklace given to me by my paternal grandmother, and I specified that I would prefer white gold.  Other than that, he was on his own.  And he did very well.  It is simple, but the etching gives it a little something extra.  My wedding band completes the set, so I always wear the two together, which suits me just fine.  (I did get a little puffy toward the end of my pregnancy with Elijah and had to revert to an old high school ring, but it never felt quite right, and I was glad to get the real ones back on once I deflated.)

The one and only downside the my beloved engagement ring is that because of the way it is set, from time to time strange things become trapped between the diamond and the band.  Play-dough, pizza dough, dirt, sauce.  I guess I shouldn't say strange things.  Everyday things, then.  

Sometimes I can get the debris out with a toothpick, or it dislodges itself.  Sometimes, though, the ring just needs a soak in this magical jewelry cleaning solution that my sister-in-law gave me.  A quick dip and the ring is good as new, or better.  

Which is why Kurt and I went away this weekend, just the two of us.  Rings, marriages.  They can both use a deep cleansing now and then.  Helps dislodge the play-dough, you know?