I've had a fantastic mail week! A birthday gift, notes and letters from a few far-flung friends, a couple postcards from a friend who's touring the country and knows I love postcards. Hooray! :) I can't even describe the joy I get in my driveway as I leaf through mail and spot a hand-addressed envelope with my name on it. I think I will spend tomorrow morning making some cards and doing some writing - something for which I have loads of supplies but never the time.
My great mail week was punctuated today by an unfortunate kitchen incident. I was carrying a stack of dishes - 2 bowls, a plate, 3 glasses - over to the dishwasher. I thought I had everything secure, but then something shifted, and CRASH! I lost everything but the plate to the unforgiving tile floor. I try really hard not to get hung up on stuff and things, but I really love my kitchen items - particularly little bowls - and of the casualties, I lost one of my favorite bowls, one of my oldest bowls, and one of my oldest-and-favorite glasses. I will admit I tend to attribute a lot of memory and meaning to my things. I could tell you where I was when I got them or who gave them to me, triggering a whole flurry of memories just by going to the cupboard. And as is human nature, I think I grieve the loss of intangibles more than the loss of the tangibles. Which is silly - it isn't like I won't ever think of these people or places again. And then there is the shock of a particularly catastrophic event - five objects in a fraction of a second. I've swept three times, vacuumed once, and mopped twice, and I'm still picking shards of glass and ceramic out of the soles of my shoes.
My great mail week was punctuated today by an unfortunate kitchen incident. I was carrying a stack of dishes - 2 bowls, a plate, 3 glasses - over to the dishwasher. I thought I had everything secure, but then something shifted, and CRASH! I lost everything but the plate to the unforgiving tile floor. I try really hard not to get hung up on stuff and things, but I really love my kitchen items - particularly little bowls - and of the casualties, I lost one of my favorite bowls, one of my oldest bowls, and one of my oldest-and-favorite glasses. I will admit I tend to attribute a lot of memory and meaning to my things. I could tell you where I was when I got them or who gave them to me, triggering a whole flurry of memories just by going to the cupboard. And as is human nature, I think I grieve the loss of intangibles more than the loss of the tangibles. Which is silly - it isn't like I won't ever think of these people or places again. And then there is the shock of a particularly catastrophic event - five objects in a fraction of a second. I've swept three times, vacuumed once, and mopped twice, and I'm still picking shards of glass and ceramic out of the soles of my shoes.
Dumpster outside ceramic studio, Assisi, Italy. June 2008.
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