Crash

Woke up to a giant crash and scatter sound.  I knew it must be a cat fight.  I forgot to put Lizzie and Portia out of the apartment before I fell asleep.  I gave Izzy the order "get the cat."  Izzy loves to break up cat fights.  He is the policeman of the farm, always jumping in to animal disagreements, not necessarily to fight but to say What's going on here?  He gets all puffed up and prances around between the combatants.  Sadly, Izzy could not save my very favorite blue bowl, purchased from a potter at the farmer's market in Burlington, Vermont, when Mia was attending UVM.  I took a chance bringing it up from the tractor shed and setting it out on the counter here in this crazy little apartment.  I just wanted to see it again as it reminds me of the delightful times we spent in Burlington visiting Mia, when she was still a little girl.  Not a good decision as the two feet of counter space I have in here won't accomodate the basic necessities one needs in a kitchen, much less big classy bowls.  I had it on the kitchen/dining room table but the dogs sent it over the edge while I was at work.  It was cracked but this very thick, beautiful, intense blue bowl survived the fall.   I was using it for fruit and potatoes and had it on top of the microwave (not installed on a wall or cabinet - that status is reserved for real kitchens) and thought it was safe.  Enter Lizzie and Portia.  Portia is a very big and strikingly gorgeous white cat with green eyes.  Lizzie is equally beautiful and is a tortoise shell girl with lovely gold eyes.  They hate each others guts.   I don't know who attacked who but Lizzie remained on the high breakfast bar, or whatever it is, that separates the little galley kitchen from the rest of the apartment.  My favorite bowl was in a dozen pieces.  I'm mulling over piecing it together.  I had an insane Art History professor who took our class to the Metropolitan Museum of Art years ago. We were seated around a table in the cafeteria, me next to him.  All of a sudden he took his coffee cup and smashed it on the floor.  The sound reverberated around the cavernous room which was suddenly silent.  I thought, oh, please, let me out of here.  The professor bent over and picked up the several pieces and started fitting them back together.  I knew there must be a lesson coming and there was.  He told us the cup was still a cup but the character was different.  Maybe I'll do this with my precious bowl.  My area is replete with talented potters and I know I could find another bowl, but this bowl was special.  I often tell myself, now what would I say to the kids if this happened?  I would say material things are not important and don't let it ruin your beautiful day with family and friends on the way.  That sort of thing is what I telling myself right now.  Hope it works...