Methinks they mistake me for someone else

About twenty minutes after we were married, the “china” pattern (it’s not china, you understand, but “china” – far nicer than what you tend to get at MegaDiscountRetailer.com, but not “ohmygah, don’t use THAT plate, it’s $400 a setting!” china) we picked out, the one the saleslady assured us was not ever going to be discontinued…was discontinued.

Time, and four children, worked its wicked wiles on our collection.

First there was the problem of having four children in the first place, which at first was no big deal because, you know, I was the bottle and then later they ate off plastic plates because ha ha, who would put porcelain in front of a toddler (she said Way Back When, not realizing that the destructive capabilities of children when it comes to things like ceramics is not limited to toddlers but carries on well into at least their forties, if what has happened to most of our broken plates is any indication).

But then they got older and we started giving them regular plates and suddenly we’d be out of plates all the danged time.

Then there was That Thing that happens when you have a larger-than-average family. While I know that statistically speaking it isn’t true and that actually, most of the time it’s “just” the six of us…it feels like I’m always turning around from the stove to find eight or ten or fifteen people staring expectantly at me.

And they expect, you know, a plate. With food on it.

And then, of course, there’s no getting around the inevitable, which sounds like this: “::crash!!::…sorry, mommy!”

(Or, in other [most] circumstances, like this: “::crash!:: AW FER THE LOVE OF {BEEP!} I CAN’T {BEEP-HONK-ARRRRRRUGAH!} BELIEVE THIS NOT ANOTHER {BEEPITY-BEEPIN’-HONKIN’BEEP} BOWL WHYYYYYYYYY IS SOAP SO {HONKITY-BEEPIN’} SLIPPERY?!?!?!?!?!”)

Bowls in particular have a way of getting smashed around here. Slippery little devils, I suppose.

SO. A long, long time ago, before I had a couple really awesome eBay scores and filled out the collection pretty nicely (it helps when you’re not too fussy about ‘pristine condition’ or the color of the ‘new’ plates matching that of the ‘old’ ones exactly), I registered at Replacements, Ltd.

If you haven’t heard of them – they specialize in helping you find all the stuff you’re missing from your china (or “china”) collection – as well as silver, crystal, etc. etc. etc.

I can entertain myself for hours in the silver category. Oh look, a tea set, pot, sugar/cream, tray, only fifteen THOUSAND dollars! I’ll take two! Plus the matching coffee pot, for a mere $8,000! Why not?!

Ahem. Anyway. I got an email from my esteemed friends encouraging me to register my other patterns in time for the holidays – with instructions on how to do this so they can immediately begin scouring the world in search of the pieces of silver, crystal (uh…Mikasa? From their, erm, outlet?) and china (or “china”, Replacements doesn’t judge) missing from my collection.

Now on the one hand, good idea! I mean, if your holidays are going to be utterly ruined because you do not have the gravy boat that goes with your beloved family heirloom china, the time to be thinking about that is not four days before the Festive Event. (In fact, arguably, two days before Thanksgiving may also be a tad too late to be pondering these things, but let’s just move on.)

On the other hand…I think they have me confused with somebody else.

I have one (1) “china” pattern. And then I have three other sorta-sets that fill in.

One cheap functional set of Ye Basic White dishes.

One REALLY cheap very casual set of brown dishes I bought one fall in a fit of Martha Stewart-ish behavior brought on by not having enough dishes for a party I was stressed out about throwing. (These were purchased before the very functional white ones. They were a tad on the affordable side, and if you look at them too hard the glaze chips right off them.) (But I can’t get rid of them because I never know when I’m going to need them, because everybody invited two friends, who invited two friends, and so on and so on and so on.)

And a too-small set of Christmas plates. They’re fun, but again they’re (ahem) not exactly “china”, or even “not-china.” They’re mass produced cheap Christmas themed plates like you see at every MegaMassDiscountRetailer.com, every Christmas. You can practically see through them, they’re so cheap.

I think there are sturdier paper plates.

So, really…I don’t feel the need to search out the salad plates that go with the dancing reindeer dinner plates, you know? (If they even have such a thing. If Replacement even deigns to admit they exist. There are limits to the non-judging thing, after all.) And I wouldn’t throw good money after bad on the brown ones. Furthermore, the white ones? Yeah. They’re standard restaurant issue – available just about anywhere you pick up restaurant supplies at very reasonable prices.

They make up in sturdiness and low cost what they may lack in aesthetic delights.

And it can be amusing when people come over for the first time and are all, “Oh! My favorite café has these same exact plates!”

Of COURSE it does! Because they are cheap but sturdy the perfect blank canvas for culinary brilliance!

In a way, I feel kind of bad. It’s like when you’re walking through a fair and some vendor is trying really, really hard to create a need so s/he can fill it for you.

“Hey! Are you short on phlegm? OF COURSE YOU ARE! And you should totally come over here and tell me all about your phlegm problems, which by the way I can totally solve for you! Seriously! Come on over…tell me your phlegm needs…I am here for you…”

I have no particular need for any more phlegm. (Believe me, we’ve got that covered for now. Thanks all the same.)

But I feel bad ignoring the vendor because I know how depressing that gets. Standing there. Hawking the phlegm to a crowd that just keeps milling past, not sparing you a second glance, until you wonder if perhaps you actually are existing in a parallel universe, where you can see and hear them but they cannot see or hear you…Echo! Echo! Echo!

Top grade phlegm, right here…solve all your phlegm needs…right here…hellllooooooo! Anybody?!

And right now I feel a little bad that I’m such a rotten customer for Replacements.

I wish I did have a burning need for a gravy boat with snowmen on it, or wanted more bowls, or perhaps a couple sets of salt and pepper shakers.

Or wanted to take up collecting silver (ha! HAHAHAHAHAHA! Yeah, I’ll get right on that…because, you know, it would be great to have something incredibly valuable lying around this house! I’m sure the kids wouldn’t use The Good Silver to pry open Coke cans or dig for worms in the backyard, right…?).

Or…something.

But I just don’t.

So. Uh. Good luck with that, Replacements.

I hope your other contacts are better than me, and care whether or not the gravy boat matches anything else on the table.

Me, I’m just happy if it has gravy in it, and it isn’t more lumps than liquid.