Treasure Hunting

Alright, I have been all over the place in the last week and I have tons of stories to tell. Even though some are more significant than others, I am going to proceed chronologically.

Last Thursday, I bailed on my last two days of summer school and took the morning train down to Portland. The reason for doing so is central to the next story, so I am going to leave that part out for now. By the way, taking the train is way better than driving. I read the last 600 pages of The Girl Who Played with Fire and watched The Lives of Others on my laptop. Much more entertaining than sitting in traffic juggling NPR stations trying to avoid repeat programs. I digress.

Anyway, my mom picked me up at the train station around four. We had been in the car not more than five minutes when she informed me that we were “going on an adventure.” As it turns out, my brother had lost his wedding ring and we were supposed to look for it. Our conversation went a little like this.

Me: Does he know where he lost it?

Mom: Well, he was working for Dad.

Me: He lost it in the field?(!) Does he know when he lost it?

Mom: On Tuesday.

Me: Can he narrow it down a little?

Mom: Your dad thinks he saw it on his finger at lunch.

Me: Where exactly was he working?

Mom: Well, he ran the combine in three different fields.

Me: Three? (!)

Mom: If your dad is right, we only need to look in one field.

Me: Great.

As it turns out, he could have lost it anywhere, at any point during his 12-hour work day. Let me summarize the situation for you.

The Needle.

The Haystack.

Excuse me, one of three possible haystacks. Mom, Willow and I combed this particular haystack (the last one he worked in) for roughly an hour and a half with rakes and a borrowed metal detector. No dice.

I know what you’re thinking. This is going to be like The Mango Incident all over again. How could a girl who loses a mango in laundry basket, find a wedding ring in a field (or three for that matter?)

What you don’t know about me, is that I am generally good at finding things. Not my things (case in point, the mango,) but other people’s things. What you don't know about my brother, is that he is generally lucky.

Fast forward to Saturday morning. We have looked for the ring a bunch, but have pretty much resigned ourselves to the fact we will have to wait for the hay to be baled before we can continue searching. Mom and I cut hydrangeas to take to a friend. I am wrapping the ends of the flowers and walking toward the truck, when I happen to glance down.

That’s right, I found it. It was sitting right about here in the driveway.

Shouting and dancing ensued.

Sister of the year? Yeah, I think so.