Dave and I bought these somethings on our last day in New York. They're fragile, and I wanted ten. I swore to Dave I'd carry them the whole way home, as my hand luggage.
(Proof that Dave ended up carrying them. They were heavy!) My helper and I sat down this morning to open all of the "presents."
I told him they were special presents for all of the family. They were plates.
They were the best plates I have ever seen. Some women "have to have" shoes or handbags ... I HAD to have these plates.
Hummingbirds, bumble bees, grasshoppers, puffer fish .... and iguanas. In pairs, ready for the Ark.
It took thirty hours travelling from America to our house, with that big bag of plates. And a few latte glasses thrown in, for good measure.
We bought a beautiful blue tablecloth from the same place as the plates, (Anthropologie) ... and today I dug out the new cutlery set we've been saving in the pantry. "For good."
I decided today is finally "for good." Even dug out the iron for the crumpled tablecloth. Rocco had never seen me iron before.
"Mum, why are you vacuuming the table?"
Decorated with the lone jonquil that Dave bought me in from the garden in this morning.
"Here ya go hon. It'll look at you all day."
And it has.
That's one of my favourite paintings, it's Mount Solitary painted in the form of a woman. I bought it thirteen years ago from local Blue Mountains artist Chris Harrison ... she is extraordinary.
Mum, can we go swimming now? Now? How 'bout now?
Dave rode home on his bike ... he hasn't ridden it in months. I told him to come inside, check out the surprise. (He's been telling me to unwrap those plates for ages.)
He loved it. The table has never looked so good - I kind of fail at homemaking. Always get distracted.
I'm so in love with these plates. They're alive. I know they're just "things" but they made me feel really happy.
This post was brought to you by nothing more than the meaning I found in this guys hair this morning.
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Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell