Somewhere Under The Rainbow

I blame Tom Hanks for my romantic delusions.

I guess I should include Meg Ryan too, if I am going to point fingers. After watching 'You've Got Mail' and 'Sleepless In Seattle' countless times yes, I believe in "Magic."

But real, not movie, magic is probably what is needed to make my dream come true - my dream of finding my silver wedding band.

I have written about this before. The sad tale of a girl who, along with her husband,  boarded an ocean kayak only to be hit by a sudden wave. The wave knocked both occupants out of the vessel and, as I fell beneath the water, I felt my band slip off my finger. It was gone. Lost in the depths of the blue/green water.

Even though it was 18 years ago, I never really gave up hope that one day it might return to me. Yes, a bit unrealistic I admit. But if Tom Hanks could find the love of his life across the country, I could find my ring washed up on the beach.

My tale becomes a little more plausible when I tell you we often return to the same beach each year. We may not be at the same house, but we've stayed pretty close. Each vacation, I take walks up and down the beach - hoping some silvery glimmer will catch my eye and close this unfinished chapter in my life.

The wedding band was my mother's so to me it is irreplaceable, but she even admits my hope in finding it is a little far fetched. As a little girl I remember seeing that plain thick band on her finger or laying on the counter when she was making meatloaf and thinking there was not a finer ring in the land. I still feel that way although I've always wanted a replica of Princess Diana's sapphire engagement ring. But, I digress.

While we were away last week, again it was my mission to find my ring. I took walks each morning and even spoke with a nice gentleman with a metal detector. We were far from where I actually lost my ring, so I didn't have hopes that he would find it, but he did regale me with stories of the items he has found.

Oh, that my story would have a similar ending.

At the end of our conversation he actually said something quite profound to me. "My good day is someone's bad day." But that sentiment changes if he is able to reunite someone with their lost item, which he did recently with a set of car keys.

The second to last day of our trip, a pretty hefty storm blew through. It was dark and nasty. The waves were really crashing and it was terribly windy. But after the storm, there was a lovely rainbow. As I admired the colors and took photos, it seemed like the rainbow's end was just over the area where we had stayed 18 years ago. I thought maybe, just maybe, the storm liberated my ring from the depths of the ocean and washed it ashore. And, as if Nora Ephron was directing me herself, I was off on a journey.

The walk down the beach was pleasant at first - still following the rainbow's glow. But at some point I realized I had a long way to go and at that moment I was already committed, so there was no giving up. I began hallucinating at one point and thought I actually saw Tom Hanks who I imagined would speak to me softly and say the words I wanted to hear "Kristen, are you looking for this?"

My sweet husband, back at the beach house knew I was in over my head and brought the car down the road. Once he parked, we met up close to the exact spot of infamy and briefly looked together for my lost jewelry.

To be honest, I really didn't look that hard when we got there. Something happened to me during what turned out to be a 2 mile walk. (Besides losing feeling in my legs.) I realized, finally, that my ring was gone for good. I let it go just like Elsa from the movie Frozen sang. I let it go and was actually at peace. I wasn't going to look in the sand anymore. I wasn't going to hold out hope that one day the ring would reside on my finger. I LET IT GO and it felt good.

I've been married almost 20 years and at this point no hardware is needed. Don't get me wrong - if I find a 14K Artcarved white gold band on Ebay, reasonably priced, this girl is getting it, but the things I have accumulated during the past two decades are worth more than the ring I lost. I have lots of great beach memories, which outweigh the one dark day. And as I wrote before, with my ring sitting comfortably beneath the waves, part of me will always be at the beach and all I have to do is close my eyes to return to the place I love the most.

A Plague of Our Own

Where are the cicadas?

I mean yeah, I've seen video on the 6 o'clock news of people in Sewickley, Fawn Township and Murrysville dealing with the pesky creatures. But at my home, a little further south, not a wide eyed bug around.

Now don't get me wrong. I am not complaining! I didn't want to see them face to face. But after all the hype for weeks leading up to this? The cicadas are coming! The cicadas are coming! Team coverage at 6. I feel a little left out. I don't remember anyone saying there may be some here, there may be some there but you will not find them everywhere.  (Major Dr. Seuss vibe there.)

I even saw the video of a TV reporter "eating" one. You may have seen it too and I have my doubts. It happened so fast. The reporter, John Shumway from KDKA-TV, had one on his hand and popped it in his mouth. Yuck! Not on my hungriest day would I eat a bug. Not covered in cheese. Not covered in chocolate and not even with a side of Heinz, mind you, ketchup.

Funny thing is I never heard about cicadas until 2004. My oldest was two and we were driving from our home in Virginia to my brother's place in Maryland. Prior to this trip, I had seen a few around our neighborhood, due to the emergence of Brood X, but nothing major. While stuck in traffic, on I-95, things got biblical. I mean cicadas were bouncing off the windows buzzing around. There was a swarm enveloping the vehicle. It was scary. Here I was, a new mommy, and I was wondering if these flying nuisances would be able to get in the car through the vents and harm my baby.

Luckily, once traffic started moving, we left the swarm behind us, never to see a cicada again. Until now. And this time, only on TV.

It is funny that my son was born during a cicada year and, every 17 years, he will celebrate this weird little ritual of them emerging to find a mate. The next time this will happen he'll be 34 and I'll be, well, that's a little too much math for today.

I've always kind of admired people who got excited about bugs. I mean there are so many different kinds, with different features and purposes. It really is fascinating. But once they start moving or flying my fascination ends. Not so fast bug, this is my house and you and your creepy ways aren't welcome.

The other morning one of those ridiculous thousand leggers was spotted on my daughter's wall. Now, over the years, I have become more respectful of creepy crawlies, stink bugs and 'piders', as my former college roommate's baby cousin used to call them. I have begun capturing them and releasing them outdoors. "Carpe diem, Bug!"

This is a huge development for a girl who used to command her younger brother to "KILL IT!" when an invader crossed her path while riding her Hot Wheels bike.  But for those fast moving centipedes, there is no way to capture them first. They are too fast and I just envision one getting on me and then I'll die instantly.

My daughter was in a panic and I said, "Just close your door until dad gets home." But she was running late for school and needed to gather the rest of her things. It was do or die time. I took this as a teachable moment to show my daughter what "Girl power" is all about.

"I got this," I thought to myself, hesitantly. So I grabbed my husband's shoe and went it for the kill. I may have told her she owed me big time. I don't remember. Heck, I hadn't even had coffee yet. 

First, I stared it down. Then we exchanged a few words, probably something like, "You've messed with the wrong middle aged lady thousand legger" and then, as I uttered my best kiai - martial arts yell that contracts the diaphragm and chest and allows you to put tons of energy behind the strike, helping to focus on the moment of impact - and boom, it was smooshed to bits.

My daughter thanked me and was able to get out the door on time.

Now back to the cicadas. I guess the season is winding down and we will all be able to return to our regular lives. But until then, I am keeping my eyes peeled, just to be prepared to run for cover if I see one. I am happy I do not live in the epicenter for the current invasion. The car ride I took 17-years-ago, exposed me enough for a lifetime.