Like an elephant in a China shop

About a year ago, my mom pulled out her grandmother's china and made a plea for one of us to take it. I looked at the pink tea roses and the gold trim on eggshell white and said, "Well, they won't look so hot with my dark woods, frogs and Buddhas." I immediately though of my friend Tricia who has a Victorian, older home and who decorates with the pristine delicateness of antiques, chandeliers, and intricate knick knacks. Being at Tricia's is like being in an English hotel for tea.

Tricia texted me last night wondering if she could rent the china for the holidays and I said I'd bring the stored boxes to her. I brought them home from my mother's, and yesterday morning I washed them all by hand. As I did this, I thought about Mimi, my mother's grandmother, using these plates, saucers and tea cups to entertain on special occasions. I packed them back up and felt a pang for history and all the conversations of yesteryear I wasn't a part of and will never know.

Unpacking them at Tricia's, I couldn't help but feel a quirky sense of coincidence as each piece of china matched perfectly with her aesthetic taste for the holidays. The setting of twelve is exactly how many she feeds at Christmas. So, I now can add party rental to my resume. To reserve pink, tea-rose china, simply send me a self-addressed stamped envelope. All parties must be considered by Butch and Sue, first, before I'm licensed to deliver.