I hate it when my face turns a brilliant shade of embarassed red.

It doesn’t happen very often. When people try to embarass me, I simply
revell in the noteriety, making their insinuations even bigger than they
planned. I love it when someone gets embarrassed themselves while trying to
make me blush. I like to say that the only person who can embarass me is
myself. Even when I do something stupid, I’m usually able to turn it into a
joke. But tonight that wasn’t really possible.

I attended a Seder, the traditional Jewish Passover feast, put on by a local
Messianic Jewish congragation and held at a local hotel ballroom. It was
fun. This is the third time I’ve attended it. I drank two glasses of wine.
But although they made my ears buzz, that was AFTER my face had turned
crimson.

Before the ceremony began, I took my grandmother, who uses a wheelchair to go
long distances, to the restroom. While I was waiting for her, I noticed
three rings sitting on the counter. Closer examination revealed a monogram
ring, what looked like an engagement ring, and another expensive looking
piece of finger jewelry. I told my grandmother I’d be right back and trotted
downstairs to the front desk to tell the man behind the counter about my
find. He suggested I bring them to him, so I ran back upstairs, retrieved
the rings, and left them at the front counter.

About halfway through the ceremony, someone at the front announced that one
of the ladies there had lost three rings that were very special to her in the
ladies room and that… “They’re at the front desk,” I spoke up, figuring
that was a good enough place to interrupt. Every head in the room turned
toward me. It was about then that I felt the blood rushing upward. “You
took them to the front desk?” asked the announcer. “Yeah, I took them
there.” “You found them?” “Yes,” I answered again, “I found them. They’re
up front.” Whatever else the person up front was saying was lost as the room
was suddenly filled with applause. That was when my face probably turned a
color akin to purple.

I was chewing a bite of chicken a little later when a woman walked up to me,
sniffled, and asked, “Are you the lady who found my daughter’s rings?” I
nodded while hurriedly swallowing. “Thank you so much!” she sobbed, throwing
her arms around my neck. “Mmmmff,” I replied into her shoulder. “You don’t
know how much this means to her!” she continued and rattled off something
about how one of them was her grandmother’s ring, and she died last week or
some such. She finally released me and said thank you one more time. “No
problem,” I shrugged.

Another lady, I guess her daughter, the one whose rings they were, came up.
She looked like she had been crying. “Thank you, thank you! Give me your
address! I’ll send you Christmas cards! Birthday cards!” “Uh,” I shifted
uneasily and shrugged uselessly while she continued to chatter excitedly.
Finally, they all left me alone so I could finish my dinner.