A few days ago I was looking over my life and thinking how nice it would be if my life was a little less mass-produced. I was thinking about my kitchen gear in particular since I happened to be in my kitchen, but as I considered replacing things I realized that I'd have to sacrifice items that came from people who love me. I quickly decided I wasn't ready to do that. Mass-produced or not, each bowl and pan represented someone's good wishes, and so I settled back comfortably into conformity.
And then there was the crash.
My favorite Pyrex mixing bowl, an engagement present from my mother-in-law, hit the floor full of chicken salad from my lunch with Alison. I was heartbroken on several levels. I'd been planning to nosh on both the chicken salad and the memories of my lunch date, and my beloved bowl was no more. Ready or not my conformity has abandoned me, and now I'm confronted with the freedom to choose for myself. Shall I search out a replica of my ever-faithful and practical bowl, or shall I allow a one-of-a-kind original to find me? Perhaps I should go to that pottery place and paint my own? I don't know what I'll choose, but I now have options because the known and loved is cracked and broken beyond repair. This new freedom isn't what I was looking for, but perhaps it is what I need.
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