This is going to sound crazy, and weird, and like something you would expect to come from my little fingers:
I want a completely mismatched set of china.
Corey just had a face-to-palm moment.
Bonnie asked Gary if I was serious.
My sister Katie rolled her eyes.
Oliver licked his butt.
My mom said, "Ooooo, Fiesta ware!!"
Allow me to explain, beyond our four Pottery Barn plates, Corey and I have no china. In our current situation, were we to entertain guests they would have to settle for our finest Dixie and last years leftover Traver's Day Party cups.
We did try to acquire a nice, fancy set of dishware. If you know my darling husband at all you know he sought out the best of the best and registered us for every possible piece made. Then we found out (by "then", I mean just before the wedding) Macy's had none of our set in stock. Anywhere. All of the orders were on back order (by "back order" I mean on a list, waiting to be canceled) and we received nothing.
You call it an unfortunate situation.
I call it divine intervention.
So, in other words, we are in need of any set of china.
So, why mismatched? Because I'm crazy that way.
Hey, what happens when you make a major purchase in 1970 and you find out in 2010 orange shag is not the next taupe berber? You cry and get new carpet.
To save myself from tossing my old, outdated china out the window in 2040 in a fit of rage, why not start with old, outdated china?? Why not pick out a plate I like at an antique store in Provincetown and have a story like how the hubbs got propositioned by a fancy ladd and had to run and find me follow it around at dinner parties held by us, then our children, and our children's children?
PS. that actually did happen in Provincetown, however not while buying antiques. I like to recycle stories here.
Why not have a set that doesn't match to begin with, leaving us free to replace broken pieces with...whatever we like? Or why not have a dinnertime decorating scheme of, oh I don't know, every color?!
I mentioned in a Ten on Tuesday post that I would like antique plates for Christmas. In addition to having our own stories, I want to be able to sit down to a meal with friends, family, llamas, whoever and be able to look at my plate and know a certain someone picked it out specially for us. A warm fuzzy with every meal in addition to the warm fuzzies (read: Oliver hair) that have been cooked into the meal.
So with all that said, not so crazy anymore, eh?
Just wait until I ask for salt and pepper shakers in the shape of barnyard animals...