You Can Never Have Enough Crockery

Today I enjoyed an outing with Hollaback. We met for an omelet brunch at Fred's on the Upper West Side and caught up on the latest and greatest events in our little lives. It was good to see her. Despite her sadness over her greyhound's health issues, she was enjoying her work and life in Manhattan. She looked good.

After we'd consumed our meal, we debated how to spend the rest of the day. A pedicure? Naw, not really in the mood. A walk to the east side to see the Museum of Modern Art? I wasn't feeling contemplative enough to meander the quiet halls of a museum. Then I suggested a visit to The Pearl River Mart in SoHo. Hollaback brightened and vigorously agreed. Off we went.

In case you don't know it, the Pearl River Mart is the ultimate store for all sorts of Chinese goods: Chopsticks and rice bowls and saki containers and paper lanterns and embroidered slippers and shrimp chips and plastic Buddhas. I love it. I have lamented the sorry state of my tea mugs which have slowly been gathering chips on their brims. I wanted to buy a new selection.

Upon arrival, I didn't know where to look first. There were beautiful enameled plates everywhere. Chinese embossed bowls. Laquered chopstick collections. It was a feast for the eyes. I went to work browsing and within minutes, had amassed a collection of mugs to replace our beat up collection. The dozen I had selected had fanciful illustrations of geishas and sumo wrestlers and monkeys and cherry blossoms and bamboo motifs. Each one was lovely and charming.

I schlepped this collection home and upon arrival, gently unwrapped each one to show Fang. Fang couldn't understand why I should need to buy new mugs. The old ones were perfectly fine, he reasoned. Being a man, he queried me on my choices; was this crockery microwave and dishwasher safe? Did I check the price on them? Did I know that some of these cost $7.95 each? Blah, blah, blah, Ginger. Of COURSE, I didn't ask any of those questions when I bought them. I just thought they were pretty.

I was about to give up during this interrogation when I unwrapped the last mug, my homage to Fang. It was a simple white mug with a blue line illustration of a monkey on it. He saw this and he visibly softened. Suddenly he didn't seem to care too much about the collection of crockery I had bought. He really liked the monkey mug.

Good thing he did; I paid $9.95 for it.