A Mug Like No Other...

I can't believe this happened. I just don't want to think that it can be true, that it was ME who did it. It was over so quickly; I was just transferring it from the cool rinse water into the dishdrainer and then, the distinctive clink-hiss of pottery breaking. Aimee and I have spoken of this, but not now, not today.

This may look like just a regular old stoneware mug but it is so much more! There is this strange sort of connection I feel with the two mugs my sister, Aimee, sent me from Korea. She was there as an ESL teacher and both of these mugs made it all those thousands of miles without breaking. I didn't think too much of them when I first saw them (oh, that's nice!) and put them in the cupboard with all the other matchless mugs. But soon I began to understand her secret obsession with these mugs. They fit my hand just right, like the potter had cast my hand and made the mug to sit just so within my palm and fingers. They are thick and heavy (like good chocolate and ice cream) and they keep my coffee, cocoa and tea steamy on cool autum evenings and crisp winter afternoons. The mugs are just the right thickness around the rim too. Ceramic mugs are too thin, they don't offer enough room to blow directly into your drink, pushing the steam up to warm a cold nose. The mugs aren't too thick either, making you feel like you are putting a horse bit into your mouth. They are just perfect.

Now, to be completely honest: Aimee sent this green mug to me and a seperate mug to my-then-finace (now husband). But I coveted his mug. It's cream colored with little hand-painted autum leaves on it and it is just a tad smaller and just a tiny bit lighter. I never actually asked to trade mugs, I just started using his and serving him his Saturday morning coffee in the larger green mug. He would sometimes fight me for his mug, but most of the time was too bleary-eyed to put up much of a fuss (that's the downside of being a night owl, I suppose). Meanwhile, I would be up at 6:00 a.m. Saturday mornings and quickly claim the cream mug for myself, chuckling in my ability to out-do my husband in this one, very small arena. (Ha! You might be a fantastic musician, a well-coordinated athlete and superior at diagnosing small, funny sounds in my car...but who's drinking out of the cream mug this morning, huh?)

But now....there is nothing here. I don't think that this handle can be fixed and I feel so sad that it happened. Stupid cheapo dishgloves! I knew I should have gone with my regular brand but no! I HAD to have these stupid coral colored gloves because I was just so tired of my regular old yellow ones~see where that got me?

Oh dear! I hear my husband stirring on the couch! I have to hide the remains and try to see what can be salvaged tomorrow while he is at work. Do you think there is any chance he wouldn't notice a missing handle?