Okay, that might be an exaggeration. But it’s in the top five, easy.
And I’m not talking about the kind of rock that sits in a setting and causes certain women to believe that they’ve found true love. Frankly, that kind of rock has never done it for me. So now that I’ve established that it isn’t a diamond, it should go without saying that it’s also not any of the other gems. (And still, it seems to bear mentioning.)
Nor is it a shiny pretty rock of the sort that bedazzle clay pots or necklaces at summer art festivals, or worse yet, that carry the promise of magical powers when fingered at a Renaissance Festival. (On a separate and irrelevant note, I read a blog post once about getting fingered at a Renaissance Festival.)