I’m the kind of person who accidentally puts bleech in the dishwater and scrub everything shiny clean with a steel sponge before noticing those pretty decorated plates are now white. That’s why I like Pyrex because it even survives most of [i]my[/i] housekeeping talents. The only thing you will never find in my house is that vintage crap everybody is fighting over, but I can appriciate most of their stone and glassware.

I was surprised when I found six little Pyrex ramekins at the thrift shop for less than the cost of the latest ImagineFX magazine. Actually, I was thrilled. I’ve been wanting to get some ramekins ever since I shattered the few I had a year ago, but it’s the kind of thing that you don’t want to be spending a lot of money on. I mean, they’re tiny and to be honest, not that special. So I got my Pyrex ramekins. The only thing I didn’t like, is the fact that they were darkish blue. Bordering on cobalt. More on that later, but you can imagine I had thoughts about bleech and steel sponges. Though seeing how they are Pyrex, that probably won’t even make a dent.

A week later I wondering around the same local thrift shop because my son likes to give piano concerts on the ancient piano they have there. That piano must be like a thousand years old and it grosses me out so badly but he’s hell bent on playing on THAT particular piano, and not the four other ones (and cleaner ones) they have. So anyway, I was wondering. Then I spotted a stack of plates and my heart skipped. It’s that moment when you see something, and before you can even think it’s pretty or anything like that, your body just reacts.

I picked up a plate and looked it over. It was white porcelain with a scalloped edge and cobalt blue and gold trim. I hate scalloped edges, and I hate gold even more. I also have a stange love/hate relationship with cobalt blue, but 9 out of 10 times I just hate it.

So there I was, holding a plate that embodied my worse dinnerware nightmare, and I was just in love with it. Completely marry-me-now in love. Like finding yourself daydreaming about that beer-drinking, porn-watching caveman collegue nobody likes. Only with a plate.

I thought to myself: “No, this won’t fit on my Christmas table and it’s too expensive to let a three-year-old eat his dinner off.” I also thought: “No. I need six because any other number would cause serious chaos in my heart and soul and there are never six of them when you need them”.

I looked at the stack and there were a total of six plates. I picked them up and payed a lot of money and nearly forgot my son on the way out. I recognized them at the shop as being Hutschenrauther and the mark confirms that. I absolutely hate Hutschenrauther and their perverted collections of under-aged Christmas figures but what the hell, my little plates will match perfectly with my cheaper-than-cheap Ikea dinnerware for a perfectly balanced Christmas table. 🙂