When my mug crashed and burned (okay — here’s where I admit that I am still using it despite its precarious nature, BUT only for as long as it takes me to find a beautiful one to replace it).
(I’m sorry, Kathleen, it was a great and very practical suggestion that I open up my cupboard and choose a different special mug, but the row on row of stark white sameness that came with our plate settings was less than inspiring.)
And it needs to be inspiring! And beautiful. And colorful. Light me up when I see it. Have the perfect feel in my hand and against my lips.
Whoa. Sounds like I’m calling in the man of my dreams!
Since I already have him, I’ll focus on a new mug.
Anyway . . . when my mug crashed and burned, I got to musing about simple pleasures, everyday delights and rituals that enrich our lives and I thought I’d share another one with you.
But first, let me set the stage:
We were on a family outing — dinner and a play in one of my favorite Alberta towns, Rosebud, to celebrate my birthday AND Mother’s Day (it kind of sucks to have both those celebratory events so close to each other, but it does often result in extra-special outings like this one).
It was a lovely, lovely time with my family. I always feel more connected to my creativity when I stroll the streets of this hamlet that has very successfully devoted itself to the arts. The play was a delight. The food was delish. The company exquisite. Cindy at Rosebud Gifts and Crafts took a whole box of Down in the Jungle and a few more copies of Leaf to sell in her beautiful store and I got to spend some of my birthday/mother’s day money on treasures for me.
This was one of them:
Isn’t that the most cheerful bowl you’ve ever seen?
I love that flower winking up at me every time I dip my spoon. And out at me every time I open the cupboard door.
It fits perfectly in my hand.
And it’s so versatile. It holds my morning oatmeal and my noon soup and evening dessert and anything else I might like to fill it with throughout the day.
I once attended a potluck gathering where a young traveller pulled her bowl and utensils from her backpack to partake in the meal. This is the kind of bowl I would want to bring with me if I was travelling the world.
And it cost me $10.
All that pleasure for a ten spot.
It’s paid for itself a hundred times over since I brought it home last May.
Such a simple pleasure.
It really is the little things that up the joy ante in our lives.