Is This You?

The Good China

I just had what would have been my 50th wedding anniversary. But since my wedding partner zipped to heaven some 8 plus years ago, it was not celebrated. It was supposed to be friends and family and cake—always there should be cake at celebrations. It was just me. But! Yes, an always celebrated fine “but.” On the good side of all this hullabaloo I have finally given myself permission to use the good china. You know the set most of us happily received as a wedding present. Well mine hasn’t been used for about 18-20 years. It has just been stacked in the place where the good stuff is stuffed. Lots of fancy stemmed glassware and the like. But for some reason I have always felt the good stuff was for only special times. Well, apparently all my special times are now and tomorrow and all the tomorrows to come.

I assume that if there were children in my life the good stuff would be handed down. I gave that a lot of thought and came up with this. I am my own recipient of my own hand-me-down special china. Then I had a visitor and I was schooled on what makes my good china real china. I still am not sure what kind of china I have. I do know that I like the pretty of the stacks of plates in three sizes, serving bowls and pretty cups and saucers.

It seems almost irreverent to eat my tacos on Tuesday off these plates. But I did. Left a nice pile of the red-orange taco meat grease with pickings of lettuce and smears of sour cream on the plate.

How decadent of me to then fill one of the fancy bulbous wine glasses with ice and Diet Coke! Then swirl it around, sniff it and take a drink. Leaving greasy fingerprints. I had the most irrational urge to throw the glass at the fireplace, like they do in the movies. But I got over that as I do not want to be picking glass shards out of my feet for the next year. I just filled the dishwasher with the pretty things right next to the frying pan and utensils. Was there guilt? Maybe a twinge. I did it anyway.

The reasoning we use to convince ourselves we are allowed to do things out of the regular box we put our regulations of life in, is as strong as our mother’s admonishment when we don’t follow the rules. Now there’s a mouthful. That is exactly what I find I do. I give a whole slew of words, a mouthful at least, when I am trying to go a different path from the “norm.” Like the dishes used for only special occasions. That anniversary day I sat and looked at the cupboard where the dishes are housed. Telling myself that I should just look at them. Not, for goodness sakes, USE them. Then off in the distance of my pea brain I heard the teeniest “DING.” A light bulb moment. Why? Why can’t I use the things I covet?

And the rest is taco history.

I wonder now, how I can go further with this. How far should one go when the reins are slackened?

Of all the things I could think of, it was the set of china that I really wanted and enjoyed fully. To think I am eating off 50-year-old plates gave me the thought of going out into the garage storage and get out my mom’s old china. Shoot, her china is 78 years old. I know she never used them for tacos! That is really too bad. It’s sad too that I have it and its life with family will stop with me. So I grabbed a few plates and brought them in and stacked them with mine. They too will be in line for many unceremonious meals.

I actually think this train of thought started some time ago. We used to love to pick our way through antique shops. He in tools and me in jewelry and dishes. I remember often thinking about the people who had once owned the stacks…