I sense a tenderness in my distaste toward my winter flab.
I’ve been taking the stairs.
I want an eggcup.
In some cases I want my dishes to be plain and serviceable, no big designs or corrugated, elaborate rims on plates, that kind of thing. But I like there to be that variation that rises naturally out of gradual and whimsical acquisition (necessarily requiring time and patience), such that some pieces match one another but not all the rest, or don’t precisely match at all yet reflect a consistent underlying principle of acquisition. All this to say I want an eggcup with some rustic little handpainted something on it (some flowers or a stripe), in a German or Scandanavian style, and maybe ultimately a friendly jumble of stoneware and porcelain (one must have more than one eggcup, no? If one has any at all…). In this case I feel strongly that no single eggcup should match another.
[browsing….browsing…several weeks pass…et voilà]
Finland. My first eggcups are from Finland. I think it a very good beginning.
Likely I have spent too much on them but I am being good (5 days of goodness!), and may justify luxury gifts in this way (there is always a way). And what could be more luxurious than Finnish ceramics? There is something about these eggcups that expresses humble authority; the last word in eggcups. Could there be any doubt that they will suit all of my needs? There could not.
I felt compelled to get two, though I am only one. A proof of my excellent intention to someday share … it is inviting, this future of shared eggs. Could there be a better symbol of domestic harmony?
I wonder what other objects are in this future. A waffle iron? Grapefruit spoons? I really do want some grapefruit spoons.