I could write a book about the mugs that have entered my life only to be tragically broken. It would be a short book, and not a very interesting one, but I could still write it. My mug memoirs….
After my paisley sister-in-law mug was broken this summer, I stopped feeling. I died inside.
Just kidding. (The lying drama queen took over for a second up there. Here’s what I really meant to write:) After my paisley sister-in-law mug was broken this summer, 3 different friends gave me a “replacement” mug. I’m happy to report that those three are still intact.
Today it was a tall, pale green ribbed mug that my friend Nikki gave me 10 years ago. She originally gave us a set of two – one blue, one green – and we loved using those things. I’ll miss wrapping my hands around it’s warmth and running my fingernails over the ridges….
Poor little Malin. She was sliding something over on the table, and the mug tipped and the handle broke off. She feels so sad and sorry in those moments. The day before yesterday, she scared me a little bit. She walked out of the bathroom in her green princess dress, crying and saying, “I’m really sorry, Mom!” A mother can imagine all kinds of horrible things in a moment like that. I was relieved to find that she had just dropped one of my necklaces down the heating vent in the floor.
I’m pretty sure it can be rescued.
In the Asheville Mall, there used to be a corner store, right across from Auntie Anne’s Pretzels that sold coffee and tea and shelf after shelf of beautiful mugs. I used to walk through on my way to who-knows-where just to breathe in the amazing air of the place. I wonder if that store is still there. I’d like to go check out the mug selection with my grown-up brain (and wallet) and appreciate the aroma with my coffee-drinking senses.
And I think I may hang on to the green mug. It will make a pretty container for cut flowers.