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Traffic report for August 13

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Supey, Alba and Sabaluski to continue field hockey careers at Division I colleges

<p>I&#8217;ve recently experienced a teeny, tiny crisis here at the Asylum.</p><p>Perhaps more of a calamity. A mishap, if you will.</p><p>No one was maimed or killed, so that&#8217;s always good, but I&#8217;ve misplaced, or if I&#8217;m being honest, actually lost &#8212; probably forever &#8212; my wedding ring.</p><p>Gone like my previously flattish abdomen and spunky disposition.</p><p>Gone, baby. Gone.</p><p>It began as most ill-fated projects do around here: I had a vision. I decided to wallpaper a &#8220;feature wall&#8221; in my living room (damn you, HGTV) and took-off my ring so the toxic paste wouldn&#8217;t eat away at anything other than my flesh.</p><p>And, that&#8217;s the last time I saw it.</p><p>Upon awakening, I realized, as vomit rose in my throat, my ring was gone. I don&#8217;t know if I swept it into the trash with the wallpaper remnants, if I ground it up in the garbage disposal, if the fairies took it, if the dog ate it or if it simply vaporized like the three Krispy Kreme doughnuts I ate for lunch. I searched high and I searched low, overturning everything in the house, including the kids, the appliances and the laundry pile (which was no small feat), to no avail. (But what I spied under my refrigerator would curl your toenails).</p><p>When I finally confessed the loss to my husband, I attempted to blame him; stating desperately: &#8220;Maybe if you forgot to take the trash out on Saturday night like you usually do, I could&#8217;ve found my ring in there!&#8221;</p><p>And then he asked the one question I hate most (next to: &#8220;are you pregnant?&#8221;): &#8220;Where did you see it last?&#8221; This query, in my mind, is as rhetorical and inane as asking what&#8217;s for supper when he clearly sees the Spaghetti-o can on the counter! If I knew where I saw them last, then that would be the very first place I would look &#8211; don&#8217;t you think? (Gritting teeth).</p><p>And, no one felt pity for me.</p><p>My daughter shook her head forlornly and pronounced:&#8221;You just lose everything, Maria. You need to be more careful! I found your ring mixed in with the cotton balls once. It was just a matter of time before it was gone for good.&#8221;</p><p>Helpful.</p><p>My husband, seeing the opportunity to distract me from a large purchase he was about to make, stated:&#8221;Well, if you lost your ring, then I&#8217;m buying new clubs.&#8221;</p><p>Way to share the pain.</p><p>My son suggested I pray to St. Anthony &#8211; patron saint of all things lost. I explained that I tried that, but since his father&#8217;s name is also Anthony and he already thinks he&#8217;s earned saint status for being married to me for centuries, it all just got too confusing.</p><p>I cried about the loss, but the ring is really just a hunk of gold and rock. It doesn&#8217;t represent my family or my life and everyone&#8217;s all right.</p><p>Well, I&#8217;m not really all right; I&#8217;ve lost my bloody mind in addition to the ring and still I search for both.</p><p>Yesterday, I actually looked in the Raisin Bran box and my glove compartment for that ring.</p><p>Still gone.</p><p>Perhaps if I search this diligently for my aforementioned misplaced mind, I may just find a small morsel of my discarded sanity.</p><p>Now, where did I see that last?</p><style>
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<div class="metaInfo"><bylineMeta><p>By Maria Jiunta Heck</p><p>Life Deconstructed</p></bylineMeta></div><div class="metaInfo"><shirttailMeta><p>Maria Jiunta Heck of West Pittston is a mother of three, a librarian and a business owner who lives to dissect the minutiae of life.</p></shirttailMeta></div>

Life Deconstructed: One misplaced ring and one lost mind