One evening while in Homeland Grocery Store doing our weekly shopping, I heard Thad gasp from the next aisle. I ran over, afraid he had hurt himself, or more importantly hurt someone else, as he was a hapless shopping cart driver. I found him standing, staring up at the end rack display of Blue Willow china, his lips quivering.
The store had brought in the china as a promotion a few months ago. Each week they ran a special where you could get a different piece at 25-50% off, depending on how much you spent at the store. Each week he would moon over whatever new pieces were on special, running his fingers along the delicate navy blue and white lines, tracing the Chinese inspired pattern, mumbling sweets things to the covered boxes. And thus far I had talked him out of forcing me to buy any of it by citing that “even at half price, it’s too much, especially on one professorial salary-plus we already have formal china, daily china, and, don’ t forget, that Christmas china you had to have last year.”
But now, I could just tell by the look in his eyes, this was going to cost me.
With thrilled, thrilled eyes he pointed to the sign that said, “CLEARANCE-80% OFF!” And before I could take a breath he grabbed me and screamed, “We have to get it! My Grandmother has this same pattern and I have always wanted it! Always! And I haven’t felt complete since I saw it here! Please! We have to! It’s almost all gone! And I only want four place settings!”
“Sure…sure, whatever,” I said, prying him off of me, as the polite passing heterosexuals tried not to stare at the middle age homosexual having a complete God-damn hissy fit melt down right in the middle of aisle five over decorative dishware.
“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” He gushed, as if I had just promised him a lung, or cashmere. He grabbed the cart and began filling it with boxes of the china, singing a joyful muttering chant to himself as he did.
I stood back, afraid if I got in his way he might take my arm off. It was a good deal on the dishes, and it was pretty china, but I’m not sure it was worth hyperventilating over. But at this juncture, I decided to keep that observation to myself.
As we left the store, we were now in possession of four dinner plates, four tea cups with saucers, a large serving platter, a large salad bowl, two fruit bowls, six dessert plates, and a covered sugar bowl.
In the car he tore into one of the boxes, pulling out a gleaming new dinner plate. He held it like it was gold, pure gold.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” He flashed the plate at me. “It’s the oldest china pattern still in production. The design is based on a story of two lovers, see here they are…”
He shoved the plate in my face.
“Driving!” I screamed, swerving the car.
“Oh, sorry.” He pulled it back, “I’ll show you later. But the pattern tells the story of a rich girl who falls in love with a poor boy, but the girls’ father wouldn’t let her marry, so she runs off with her lover. But the father chases them-see, that’s the evil father there on the bridge.” He held up the plate and pointed to something I could not make out.
I glanced over and said, “Uh huh,” while trying to also keep my eye on the road.
“And them something happened, and they get killed or something and the gods turn them into birds, and the whole time the blue willow tree watched over them, or something like that. See the birds.” He held the plate back up, again pointing.
I wanted to backhand him, but did not as I had not seen him this excited about anything in a while. Since we had really started to settle down recently, things had been more, shall we say, staid. So, when happiness came and alighted upon us, I figured we should embrace it, no matter how ridiculous it seemed to me at the time. So instead I said, “Uh huh. That’s neat.”
“Whenever we eat at Ma'am's, she pulls down her Blue Willow china and tell the story and point to the little people on the plates. I always thought it was so romantic. She has a beautiful collection.” His wide eyes innocence always made me happy.
“Do you think the other Homeland stores have their dishes on clearance too?” he asked.
“Probably,” I answered before I realized the implication.
By the end of the day I had to drive us to the other three Homelands in Norman, where, indeed, they each had a motley hodge-podge collection of clearance Blue Willow china. He collected four more dinner plates (as he had changed his story and now wanted eight place settings, not four), three salad plates, six soup bowls, two large serving bowls, a creamer, and two more tea cups with saucers.
As we drove, he held the boxes to him as if they continued life-giving forces from the unknown.
That night he sulked until I promised to take him up to Oklahoma City the next morning to check out their Homeland stores. He swore he only needed a few more pieces before he could die happy.
The next morning we went to four Oklahoma City Homelands before noon, and only one store had some of its collection left. He found 3 more salad plates and treated the finding like he had discovered radium. Between stores he tried to sweeten the pain by going on and on about what beautiful luncheons we would have on the china, but I was tired and just wanted to done with dishware for the day.
As we drove out of the parking lot of Oklahoma City Homeland #4, heading to Homeland #5, he sighed, “Dinner plates, dinner plates, dinner plates? What about salad plates? Why not a tea cup? How hard is a tea cup? I mean, you can't serve a proper high tea with enough tea cups...”
And I lost it. “Do you know how you sound? You sound like a crazy old woman. You sound like the Garden Rapist! You need to get a hold of yourself.”
“What?” He seemed genuinely taken aback, as I had so far faked having a nice time.
“I mean, all of this. It just seems silly. Don’t you have enough yet? You’re just obsessed. For God’s sake this is our second day out on a dish run! It's like you're addicted to decorative china!”
His face tightened and his bottom lip quivered and I knew I was in for it.
"Oh, and this coming from a man who pushed a woman with a metal leg over to get to a piece of Wedgwood?”
His face tightened and his bottom lip quivered and I knew I was in for it.
"Oh, and this coming from a man who pushed a woman with a metal leg over to get to a piece of Wedgwood?”
My mouth fell open. I paused and took a breath to regain my composure, to belt, “Well, that was Wedgwood! Now that’s completely different, and you know it!” I had loved the jasperware pale blue and white china since I was a child, and now finally had a decent curio collection of them. “And I didn’t push her down, I just nudged her and she happened to fall.”
“You pushed her down! A woman with a metal leg!”
“Well, what the Hell? It was the first day of the estate sale. If you have a metal leg you should learn to just get out of the way when they first open the doors! I mean, Lord have mercy!”
“And I need to get hold of myself?” He sneered.
We frowned at each other, both holding our own.
I loved Thad because he was one of the only people I had ever met that could stand up to me, one of the only who didn’t back down from my bullying. But I hated when he bested me. And I had the distinct feeling I had just lost this argument.
“Okay, Fine! But just one more store.” I sighed. “What more do you need?”
He chuckled triumphantly looking down to his little list, “Two tea cups, two soup bowls, and two salad plates. Then I’ll have eight complete place setting. That’s all. Just those pieces and I’ll quit.”
“Good.” I said, “Now where are we going?”
“Head north.” He showed me where to go the little map he had printed up just for the occasion.
“Okay,” I said pulling out on to the main road. “And that’s all?”
“That’s it. No more. I swear. Oh…” he exclaimed. “And a tea pot. I have to have the teapot. I mean what’s the use of all the tea cups and saucers without the matching tea pot?” he tittered like a confined maiden aunt.
“Fine” I boomed, hoping to the bottom of my heart of hearts he would find the tea pot of his dreams so then he would just let me go home and sit in silence.
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