I can't find my cow plates.
I know I packed them. I wrapped them very carefully and put them in with the good china. I think. All I know is now that I want to display them I can't find them. Most distressing. I've found the wooden elephant I bought in Ecuador, some malachite rhinos from Kenya, a Tiki God of indeterminate stone, several porcelain penguins, a bronze owl, a stuffed toy octopus, and an orange-haired Troll doll wearing a San Francisco Giants jersey. All have been carefully stored away until today; now I'm recklessly hurling the crinkled newspapers on the floor and setting the rediscovered treasures off to one side while I look through my box of important breakables. Where the heck are my cow plates?
Hey, here's my genuine Captain Kirk Christmas ornament. It's about the size of a coffee cup. Ugly thing, but it's undoubtedly a collectible so I keep it. And here's the little bronze mouse that goes with the owl from Viriconium in Britain. Judith Hanna gave me that, I think. Ah, my Wedgwood candy dish. I was so excited the day I toured the factory. I made Bill Bodden go with me and he surprised himself by enjoying it. We had tunafish and sweetcorn sandwichs on Wedgwood plates in their cafeteria, and I bought this dish afterwards. What a good trip to England that was.
Yikes, the silver's all turned black with tarnish. I ought to polish these napkin rings and see if I can get the candlesticks to shine again. Why did I put those in with the onyx hippo, I wonder? Maybe John did; here's his Mayan head pounder or whatever this fiercely carved object is. I remember when he bought that in Mexico. It was on the same trip that a tiny fish bit him hard several times while we were swimming at Xel-ha. He hoped he would turn into a werefish. No such luck. I'll put the animal figurines away and get to the bottom of this box.
Rats. No plates. I found my inflatable globe, a stapl gun, and two decks of French playing cards, though. I'm glad I opened this box up. One down, five more marked "China/Glass" to go.
Wait, here they are. They were in with the antique Japanese porcelain. What was I thinking? My cow plates aren't antiques, although the Franklin Mint certainly would like to convince me they will becomes heirlooms and increase in value. That's not why I bought them, though. I was simply entranced by the lovely American naive folk art cows in their winter landscape. I like cows. There's no explaining it. I have baffled everyone around me since the age of 5 by expressing this sentiment. Some of my friends who grew up on dairy farms tried to tell me I wouldn't feel that way if I'd ever spent lots of time around cows, but that's a silly argument. I would probably dislike artichokes if I grew up on an artichoke farm, but I didn't, and I like artichokes just fine. I don't collect images of artichokes, though. Just cows. I don't have a lot of cowabilia, actually. One lampshade, a great country-style cow doll, and these two plates.
Which are now displayed front and center on my shelf on the china cabinet. They look like happy cows, rectangular and content as the snow falls on their maze of fields and deep red barn. I feel contented myself. Moo.
