Guest blogger Nia:

I guess when it’s all said and done, it’s a good thing it happened.
Because for upwards of 8 years now (we’ve reached the point in the story when the author dates herself), my class ring has been accompanied by the standard disclaimer: “they got it wrong! It’s an MT, Master’s in Teaching, NOT MS!!! I don’t have an ‘MS’!”

and I guess it’s also a testimony to what happens when you and your spouse are too busy attempting to continue a meaningless and overly noisy conversation 3 blocks past the bar, when you should be noticing the quiet, pure white snow gently fluttering above you and around you.

But no, the pressing preoccuppation with the pointless and inflammatory motivates you to fill the dense winter air with your noisy voices.

And in a passionate conversationally oriented gesture, you throw your hand into that night…and down goes….your precious…class ring. Athena/Minerva graces its face, which flies forward into the snow. Goddesses aren’t used to such low temperatures.

You are distraught. This is mildly ameliorated by the fact that your husband orders a $60 metal detector the next day, as the snow continues to fall, and the the snow plows responsibly shove the snow, and everything that rests beneath…up against the sidewalk.

Eventually you and your husband venture out to track down that precious gold circle. As he peers over the snow through his new electrified contraption, you cry, “I found it!!!” and hold up the crushed, mutilated, once-glorious golden rendition of Wisdom’s deity, which you have found on the clean snowless pavement.

You needed a new one anyway. The old one was wrong. You don’t have an MS. What IS an MS anyway??

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