Drinking habits...ad nauseum

Lately, Pearl has taken to drinking out of a measuring cup—milk, water, juice, her usual beverages. I let her do it. What’s the harm? And the truth is that our cup supply has dwindled to a pitiful collection of plastic tumblers—many of them given to us as holiday gifts from kindly neighbors, teachers and other caring adults who want to express their affection for our children in the form of inexpensive, non-cavity-forming presents. During a typical Waters Family supper, one of us might be drinking from a Disney princess pink cup, a scary black spider orange cup, an Easter egg-dotted pastel yellow cup, and or “The light of Jesus shines in me!” Christmas tree cup with the smiling star. We use these cups year-round.

When guests coming over (which is infrequently—as I’ve written before, the pre-guest cleanup process is prohibitive), we try to cobble together a collection of semi-dignified beverage vessels: we do own a few plain turquoise and lime green tumblers, plus we have occasionally borrowed (on a more-or-less permanent basis) some real glass stemware from my mother (and promptly broken them before they could be returned…well, at last check, there’s one glass left—and it has a chip in the base that wasn’t there before it arrived at our house).

Last summer I took advantage of the deep-discount display of picnicware at the A-Town Dollar General. I purchased two 4-packs of plain red cups for 25 cents each—50 cents total for 8 cups. We have a red accent wall in our kitchen. I thought the cups would sort of “go” with our…ahem…“décor.” And obviously the price was right. Except that when I got the cups home, washed them out and set them on the table, Little Pearl almost lost her head in one. Apparently the cups were made for very thirsty picnickers—each holds roughly a liter of liquid. The red giant cups quickly became the cups of last resort in our cup drawer. Until 2 days ago, when I decided they were detracting from our quality of life and I threw them into the recycling bin.

(Does this post really have a point? I mean, besides airing our pathetic houseware habits? Not really, but now that I’m this far in, I’ll finish by mentioning the mugs.)

Like almost every household in America, we have too many mugs. (Am I wrong in this assertion?) That’s why you can find them so easily and inexpensively at garage sales all summer long—sometimes in the cardboard box marked “FREE” next to the rickety garage sale checkout table. Our collection grows more copiously than some because of Will’s profession as a small-town journalist. He attends lots of banquets, fundraising events, grand (and not-so-grand) openings—the sorts of occasions where fledging and/or flagging organizations distribute “free mugs” as tokens of thanks, signs of support, and promotions of their products or services.

Some of the mugs have significance to our everyday lives:

• The one from our local library, for example, where we are frequent patrons. It makes sense for us to incorporate this object into our household.
• The “Good Morning Baltimore” mug I bought on a business trip last fall—that one earns its keep because of the catchy song and the charming Inner Harbor.

A few of our mugs have extra-special sentiment attached to them:

• The water tower mug from Ypsilanti, Michigan, for example. Will went through a water tower obsession about 11 years ago, and my dear aunt from Ypsi sent us a pair of burgundy mugs bearing a line drawing of that city’s somewhat famous public utility structure. One tragic day, 1 of the 2 water tower mugs broke, but we still have the one, and it adds enjoyment to our hot beverage consumption experiences.
• Then there’s the “I Gopher You” mug that my friend Amy gave to me as a birthday present approximately 25 years ago. She bought it at Peterson’s Drugs here in A-Town. The first mug she had purchased as my present had been dropped and damaged in my driveway during the chaotic 15 minutes prior to my party. So, her dutiful dad drove back to the drugstore and bought this replacement one, which has lasted an impressively long, long time.
• (I probably should leave out the unfortunate incident recently when we stood up with our friends at their infant daughter’s baptism. Afterward, the baby’s mother sweetly gave us gifts, including a mug for Will that read, “I am the godfather.” He promptly dropped his present into the freshly christened family’s ceramic sink. Cringe!)

Some of the mugs are mysteriously meaningless—why do we keep these??

• A “Learn To Earn” job fair mug dated 2005…from the nearby correctional facility?!
• Another from a 2008 benefit auction for “Aplastic Anemia Research”?! (I don’t even know what that is, much less know anyone personally who would be helped by such study.)

The presence of so many mugs in our cupboard—and so few normal-sized other drinking vessels—is part of the puzzlement of this wild and crazy life we live in A-Town. Do you think we should have a garage sale?