Nurturing my inner... not so special occasions

The second I heard the sound, I knew what I had done wrong.  As much as I love my hard-as-diamond granite counter tops, I do realize that many a plate has gotten chipped by what appears to be a slightly underestimated bump by a heavy hander.  The sound like a fallen icicle rang in my ears long before I opened one of my squinty eyes to assess at the damage.  Oh man!  It was one of my adorable Moroccan style juice glasses from World Market.  (And they were a little pricey too because they were hand painted.)  Before I go any further, let's think back to happier times...

The remaining juice glass family in tact.  Look at how cute they are:

Strong, solid, able to hold beverages
without leaking. Everything you ever
wanted in a glass... and more.

Things break.  Eventually.  Over time.  From being well used.  I know this.  You know this.  We've all proven it over time with our own life experiences.  Does that bit of news make you want to avoid the possible pain of future loss by going plastic or paper from now on?  No, me neither.  Pah!  I laugh at the mere mention of such low cost, practical options even being suggested in my very presence. (Ha!)

My mom's generation and those before her had a certain view point about nice things which was evident with a term like "the good plates."  Well, I don't have good plates.  I just have... plates.  That I use all the time.  (Ecru ones they no longer carry from The Pottery Barn.)  And I prefer real glasses over plastic cups, just so you know.  There is obviously a certain risk that comes with having and using such delicate items, but hey, it's a chance I'm apparently willing to take.  Though the pain never gets any easier with every casualty...

Cut to the crime scene:

Sniff, sniff - "I'll be so blue, just
thinkin', about you..."

And I really, really liked the azure one in particular because I used it most often.  Which you can tell.  Because I was using it.  When I broke it.  (Retrospective *grumble*.)

As I was mourning my little blue buddy, my first thoughts to myself were, "Ugh, why did you have to use it?  If you hadn't, it wouldn't be broken, now would it?!  That glass was so nice.  And nice things should not be used, they should sit safely in a protective cabinet, under lock and key or armed guard, and only be visually admired at a distance and certainly never touched.  Like the Hope Diamond."  As I looked around the room for what surely only a 90 year old could possibly have said to me (I was alone), I had to take that back.  And fast like.  Would I rather not have the enjoyment of using something that makes me happy and instead, treat it as a museum piece that sits in a case gathering dust, free from human contact, because I may possibly break it one day?  No.  I really wouldn't.  My grandmother's sugar bowl, okay, maybe that because it's particularly sentimental.  But just about every other beautiful thing I owned?  I had to be kidding myself.  That seemed to be such a sad existence!

I don't want to just collect things and put them aside.  I want to own things that I absolutely love and wear them out!  Make lots of fond memories by sharing them with friends.  I'm not opening a museum that houses pretty stuff behind lit glass while I make my guests eat off of paper plates with plastic forks.  What fun is there in that?

For the record, I do understand that early in the 20th Century when my grandparents were young and just getting started, they had so much less than we do today.  Less stuff and less money.  (And I'd challenge you that they were much happier than we are today as well.)  What they did own was saved up and paid for in cash, not as widely available for immediate pick up and much more precious than we'll ever have the chance to know with a strip mall on our every corner.  I appreciate where they were coming from.  But I like the sound of spoons clinking against a festive cut glass dessert dish.  Or a fork as it's twirling up spaghetti in a ceramic hand-painted bowl.  There is just no way I am giving up that kind of simple delight for practicality.  Bah!  When you come over, you can eat off of any plate in my house if it makes you happy.  And if you should break it, it's okay.  I'll live.  (Just don't touch Nana's sugar bowl or it's go time!)

I'm not Greek and planning to yell "Opa!" while throwing my plates on the floor, so let's not get carried away.  But the thought of the day is this: don't save up the "good stuff" waiting for some special occasion that may never come.  A graduation, a wedding, a baby shower, a promotion, a new house.  Break out (poor word choice) those glasses you've been storing in the back of the closet and pour the wine or cranberry juice when your friends come over for Chinese take out on an ordinary Friday.  Wash up the depression era bowls you got at an antique market 10 years ago and christen them with your favorite ice cream as you sit on the couch in your lambie jammies!  Savor the dining experience for all its tactile richness because every day is special.  Otherwise, when you are old, you're going to feel great loss while you stare at a big box of pretty, unbroken plates you never used while waiting for the perfect day that never came.