A little over a month ago, I was looking for my green bowl. It is the only one remaining of two sets of wonderful, useful Pyrex bowls that started my married life with me. I could not find it, and I was bummed, because I use it quite a bit.
I looked high and low, everywhere in the house, but it was just plain gone. So I whined to my daughters, (the two that live here) sure that one of them might know where I lost it, and therefore where I could find it. But no luck, the were a puzzled as I.
The next weekend, D1 went north with a friend to visit the friends parents, and have a fun “up north” weekend. Everyone in Detroit knows about that “up north” thing. When she came back, she said, “I have an anniversary present for you”. Here is what she had:
So I said (probably not a gratefully as I should have), “How much did you pay for those?” And she said ( in the voice that makes me wonder if we raised her or she belongs to some polite, proper family somewhere) “I don’t know why anyone would ask how much someone paid for a gift.”
So, I said thank you, very meekly. I put them in the cupboard, but I was afraid to use them. I know how much the opportunists at flea markets and (shudder) antique shops ask for these bowls.
Fast forward. Tuesday and Wednesday, I was carrying things to our camper. We haven’t used it much this summer, in fact the last time was at the Charlotte Bluegrass Festival in June.
OH. I put it in the cupboard so it wouldn’t fly off the sink and break. I didn’t remove it when we came home. OH.
D1 was happy for me, she said, “I was racking my brain, trying to think where I might have taken it and left it.” Funny, I was doing the same thing. It turns out it is just the “here-after” disease all us older folks get.
I guess this is a happy ending, after all, I now have MANY wonderful bowls.