At our usual Wednesday morning knitting meeting day I mentioned 
the Squire having done something “the other day”. One of the women – not a member of our congregation – looked at me, rather startled. “Oh! I always thought you were widowed.”
“No, very much married – almost forty years.”
“You never wear a ring, and I just assumed…”
Actually, I can understand her confusion, and I wasn’t the least bit offended, but I do think I’d better start wearing my ring more often!
Two factors are at play here. As you can see, we have very ornate rings, and we have always worried about getting bread dough, paint, wallpaper paste, cement, what-have-you stuck in all those nooks and crannies. Also, our rings are wider than most, and both the Squire and I are left-handed, which means that using pliers, pruning shears, a butcher knife, etc. makes the ring cut into our fingers. So – mine spends most of the time in my jewelry box.
The Squire’s hands have swollen to the point that he can’t even get his ring on his pinkie, so several years ago he took it to a jeweler to see about getting it resized, and the man quoted him a price of well over $1,000! That was when I got him a sterling ring with a Celtic design on it at the local Renn Fest!
Somebody suggested I wear my ring on my right hand “the way they do in Europe”, except that in America, that is generally a sign that you really are widowed. I don’t think I’m superstitious, but…
thisendoftheswamp 