Fine China

Posted on by stilllearning2b

It seems like people possess one of two mindsets when it comes to their dishes.

Some invest in a glorious set of matching fine china with visions of dinner parties and holiday dinners dancing through their heads. The dishes are prized, often protected behind the glass barricade of a cabinet. Every use requires an internal debate – is the perceived benefit worth the possible breakage that could occur? Most “china” families that I have known usually ere on the side of caution. The china becomes something to admire from afar while more plain plates grace the dinner table. No event seems quite good enough to unlock the doors.

Those on the other side of the divide either fill their cabinets with accumulated ware or purchase a budget-friendly matched set. There is no debate about bringing out a certain plate. After all, plates are meant to be eaten from. Sometimes, a bowl may chip when it meets the counter’s edge or a plate may shatter if it is dropped to the floor. It is a loss, certainly. But it is understood that some loss is inherent in the use of dishes.

I see that same dichotomy in people’s mindset after heartbreak.

Some people, after experiencing the crushing blow of the end of a relationship, vow to never risk that feeling again. They work to repair their heart and then they hide it away, afraid that using it would open them up to further heartbreak. With each encounter, they carefully weigh the potential risks against the possible reward. And usually they ere on the side of caution. Nobody ever seems quite worth the risk of tearing down the barriers.

Other are less cautious. They feel the heartbreak just as intently, but they understand that some amount of loss is inherent in love. Once their hearts are repaired, they are ready to put it back on the table. Even if that means that it may break again. After all, aren’t hearts meant to love and be loved?

A note to those of you in “china” families: I don’t get y’all, but I’m jealous. My home will never look as good or as put together:) Keep rocking that china! And, on a related note, please don’t judge if you’re over for dinner. You will be eating off chipped plates. Which I happen to think are perfect.

 

Perfection in a Chipped Plate

Posted on by stilllearning2b
Image from growingyoungereachday

In my old house, I strove for perfection.  My ex and I were constantly laying tile, painting walls, building furniture, and then repainting walls. We looked for furniture, dishware, and accessories that would give a Pottery Barn look on a Target budget. I once spent over 30 hours looking for just the right throw pillows for the couch after we repainted the living room. We both had a similar level of neatness, so the carefully selected objects in the carefully crafted house were not obscured by clutter. Perfection always seemed attainable, although slightly out of reach.

In my new home, perfection is laughable. My boyfriend’s talents do not extend to homemaking; in fact, as far as the house is concerned, I feel like I live with a scattered 16 year old boy. Our furnishings are a compilation of his twenty years of bachelorhood and my on-a-very-tight-budget IKEA run to furnish the apartment I was in for year 2 of my new life. The cupboards are filled with an odd assortment of dishes and glasses, many of them chipped from being carelessly loaded into the dishwasher. The couch, a remnant of bachelorhood, is stained from spilled drinks and muddy paws. It is topped with throw pillows that don’t match much of anything. Even the house itself is a rental, so we have done the bare minimum to improve its aesthetics.

Sometimes, when I visit other people’s homes and I see their perfect serving dishes and their matched accessories, I feel inadequate. I think about hitting the stores and upgrading some of our things. But then I realize that I don’t want to travel that road again. I don’t want to feel the pressure to create a perfect home. In my old life, I took pride in my surroundings, yet I was also a slave to them. I like living in a home where I do not have to be worried about a spill on the rug or a chip in the wood. I like not being owned by my home.

So, if you ever make it over for dinner, I can promise you a mean Mexican lasagna on a chipped IKEA plate, plenty of wine (although it may not be served in a wine glass), and lots of laughter and good company (oh, and pit bull kisses too). That’s my idea of perfection.