ODE TO THE METAL PLATE IN MY HEAD
originally written 1/22/03
I am an absolute sucker for dishes. When the catalogues arrive in the mail, I positively swoon with anticipation.
I scour the flea markets, garage sales and going-out-of-business announcements to seek the long lost sugar bowl in a white, milk glass, grape pattern. I experience ecstasy when I read about an estate sale in the neighborhood. My head pounds when ever the goddess of dishes, Martha Stewart, shows off her collections on her television show. The fact that she has a “dish room” fills me with envy and fuels my desire to achieve my final goal. A Dish Floor. When I am rich, I’m going to have a “dish floor.” Each room will contain a season, wherein the specific dish pattern will match the proper mood, activity and function. Need a tureen for soup at Thanksgiving? Just head to the Fall room with the Fall patterns. Its opposite the Spring room that has the Spring patterns, where you will find a glass fluted bowl for the Easter Egg Bread display. Need a Christmas platter? Kindly turn left, go to the room to the left of the linen closet, you’ll find any pattern you need to set the perfect table.
That’s another thing. Setting the table. I delight in this activity almost as much as seeking out the perfect pattern and adding it to my collection. When I was 9 years old, I was given the task of setting the table for Christmas. Being the oldest of six, I guess my mother finally decided I was old enough to help her, and she delegated what she thought was a bothersome chore to me. For this special holiday, we only used the “fancy dishes”, brought out once a year. I learned to put the silver forks in the proper place, in the proper order, and where to place the dessert and coffee spoons, on top of the holiday tablecloth. The water goblets and wine glasses came next, a special treat for the kids because we got to drink our sodas out of the wine glasses. Only on Christmas. What a demonstration of love this was for me, she allowing me this delicate task, knowing I was so clumsy and so excitable. But I never broke a dish on Christmas.
This dish addiction is insidious because it also comes in many different strains. Linen Dependency, Candle Consumption, and Aroma Therapy Baths are also my demons, and I am losing control fast. Withdrawal must be swift and direct. I know I'm not strong enough yet, so I guess I’ll just go buy another set of dessert dishes in the Jazzberry pattern and put them in my china cabinet, along next to the Grape Vine pattern for everyday use. You’d think with this great love of dishes, I would learn how to cook.
Hey, I didn’t say I like to eat off ‘em. I just liked looking at them.
