This is part two of an ongoing series about the short lifespan of my drinking vessels. I figure that this will be series, seeing that I am continually graceful. To subscribe to my blog go to the comments section and select ‘subscribe’.
Unexpectedly, I was gifted a mug from Robyn the other day by way of her husband as he was over to visit Kass. Later she explained why I received that particular mug. While having tea parties at her house on Tea Thursdays I use a variety of different cups. I am a bit thirsty typically and go through tea fairly quickly. So once in awhile I get handed a huge cup. One of these huge cups was my favorite, as I love anything that references the moon and stars (I have Starry Night tattooed on my upper right arm). Robyn, remembering that, sent this particular cup my way. I was thrilled and flattered by her thoughtfulness.
I noted that of my blog posts, the original “And This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things” post was one of the more recent favorites. Additionally, I note that when I am doing my impromptu stories with strangers that me breaking stuff is a crowd pleaser. I was explaining my penchant for smashing things unintentionally to a friend, when a 9 year old that was listening to the conversation interrupted to ask what else I have broken with a huge grin on his face. I obliged him with a story of course.
A couple weeks ago, some of Eowyn’s friends got married in our back yard. It was a lovely ceremony with delicious food and fun people. In an effort to aide the cleanup a bit, they rented tables, chairs and…. get this… drinking glasses. You’re a smart cookie, I bet you can see where this is going. After the round of funny and thoughtful toasts to the couple, the meandering and socializing began. I wandered over to the makeshift bar table, which was conveniently adjacent to my little house.
After pouring myself a drink in one of the glasses provided, I decided it would behoove me to use the bathroom before I got caught up socializing. I pondered briefly about leaving the glass on the bar table, but figured my likelihood of breaking it was slim, seeing as I was going to be outside most of the time. I walked about 6 feet to my house to go up the stairs. I have two steps (three if you count the landing), and I have a black rug I have had in the middle of the stairs for traction, mostly during the winter. Well this rug was not providing traction this day.
In the blink of an eye, the rug slips out from under me mid-stride, halfway up my stairs taking both of my feet with it. I become airborne, still clutching the cup determined not to drop it (or spill my freshly poured delicious alcoholic beverage). Before my rump can connect with a solid surface to land, my right elbow connects with the landing to The Fortune Cookie. In a super comical fashion, my elbow is struck in the portion that makes your hand release. In a brief second the $3.50 rented glass is skyrocketed upwards into the air.
I tried in vain to catch this glass with my other hand as my rump painfully connected with my stairs and my rug flew to the side. I watched the glass land in a slow motion mockery of my gracefulness as it SHATTERED into a million little pieces on my freshly cleaned floor. This cup looked fairly sturdy, like a thinner version of a mason jar. This appearance was a complete lie. It broke and flew 14 feet across my house. The amazing part of this entire display is that no one noticed. I mean, there was 30 some people in the yard and no one noticed. I cannot tell you how sad I was that I couldn’t share in my utter disbelief and humor at the ridiculous display I had just made of myself.
I collected myself and cleaned up the glass, used the restroom, grabbed a plastic cup and poured myself another drink. I told the groom I had broken one of their cups and he laughed, shrugged and said it was no big deal. I offered to reimburse him for it and he laughed and said don’t worry about it. I later told the bride and she said the same thing. I think a part of me wanted to repent, because I broke something that wasn’t mine… in my house.
However, I did end up with a large bruise on my elbow the shape of Texas. When I bruise you cannot usually see them, which is nice cosmetically but makes me forget that they are there. So for about a week, my table manners were excellent as it hurt quite badly when I would place my right elbow on any surface. Surprisingly, my rear connected in such a way with the ground that it didn’t hurt afterwards. I think I have too much practice at it now.
The second cup pictured is a cup Stone found for me recently amidst our piles of joint stuff. He remembered me drinking out of it and gave it to me, knowing that I’ve broken a few of my cups. Needless to say, I have two ‘new’ cups and I am up to three tea cups now. I’m pretty excited. Stay tuned for “And This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things” part three, I doubt it will be too long.