Thursday, March 8, 2012

The little tea pot that could

Currently watching a train movie with a very similar name for the 345th time and the coffee is black as night, except, we all know night is actually blue.  Blocks are turning into trains, tall zebras, and things to throw on the floor as I sit here ready ready to witness more of the great thaw of 2012. 

Last night, we took our little family to the store.  Our children laughed with puzzled faces as we tested out all the comfy looking chairs and touched interesting pieces of furniture.  Surely, they felt the injustice of being just onlookers.   We brought home of a fantastic rug in the remarkable colors of grey and yellow, no one is shocked and a new tea pot.  The latter is kind of big deal.

It was 2007. We were cute little newlyweds, living in the nicest and largest apartment that we have lived in to date (funny how that works, huh?)  After a marvelous week in the Smoky mountains, we come home to wedding gifts and our first home furnished with secondhand items galore.  It was perfection.

And we were totally and completely broke.  You know, as it should be.  Pay check was coming in few days and so began the list making of items we could not go without until that day.  Sheets for our bed. And a tea pot to boil the water for the French press. So sleep and coffee were the priority, some things never change. 

There we were standing in front of tea pots both grand and small, poor and beautiful, when we realized we had no frying pans or spatulas.  And that was the day we brought home the cheapest, smallest, little stainless steel-esque tea kettle in all of creation. (plus a skillet + spatula).

That little guy saw us through year 1, 2, 3, and half of four.  He boiled our water after two months worth of sleepless nights upon welcoming child #1 and a whole year of sleepless nights with child #2.  He traveled from our first apartment to our second to my brother’s basement to here.  A faithful friend, reliable and steadfast, always whistling the same strange tune, despite his very forlorn appearance.  Poor old guy, what a champ.

And the it was yesterday, that we were standing in that store, when my husband declared he would not be making the move with us to next place.  Without a moment of hesitation, I picked out a beautiful green thing, twice as large and five times more pretty.  I came home and tossed old faithful into the trash.

Just like that.

This morning, I must pause and pay tribute.  Thanks little guy, couldn’t have done it without you.


  1. We received our teakettle as a wedding present, a beautiful yellow number that I had picked out and registered for to complement my cheery yellow kitchen that I was sure to come very soon after the pending nuptials. Ah, the hopeful dreams of the not yet wed. The teakettle has lived in no such kitchen so far, only those basic, boring, ever so slightly ugly kitchens found in rented apartments and townhomes. You know the kind. However, every time I use that kettle, it makes me smile and close my eyes and imagine my cheery yellow kitchen that is surely just around the corner in our lives : ) I'll miss my teakettle when he finally kicks the bucket, whenever that may be!

    1. Yes, I know the kind of kitchens you speak of. But, perhaps, when your pretty yellow one kicks the bucket, you'll be surrounded by your lovely yellow kitchen!


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