Breaking Badly

By Patti Parish-Kaminski, Publisher

Precious cargo: My one remaining UT wine glass bubble wrapped for safe keeping.

I tend to break things.  I don’t know why; it just happens.  It’s a hodge podge of this and that – these things I tend to break.  Plus, I also fall – a lot.  It’s not that I’m particularly clumsy, at least I don’t think so.  It’s just that I move with purpose, at a significant pace.  I do not amble; I do not roam.  I do not meander nor do I stroll.  I move with intention.  I’m always intending to be somewhere as quick as possible.

That mindset likely contributes to my breaking issue.  When Bub was in high school, I was rushing in for his basketball game.  It hadn’t started; I wasn’t late.  I just move – quickly.  I stumbled over a rug at the gym door and fell off of my high heel.  Fashion first, I always say.  It hurt.  I limped up the bleachers and watched the game.  The Eagles won!

The next morning my ankle was huge and ugly.  Yes, that definition can be used for multiple things in my life.  I iced, I cursed, I limped – at a steady pace, of course – and carried on.  Two weeks went by, and there was no sign of improvement.  With my ankle ginormous and gray, I acquiesced and went to the ortho doc.  It was not an appointment I was looking forward to; I was simply tired of wearing ugly shoes.  Heels weren’t cooperating with my tainted tootsie, and I was done.  After all, it was winter, and I have really cute boots.

When I complained to the doc about the size and pallor of the afflicted ankle, his response was abrupt.  “Of course, it’s big and ugly.  It’s broken.”  He immediately ordered a cast; I immediately declined.  After a brutal and intense negotiation, I departed sans a cast.  I had negotiated down to a boot – a big, black, burdensome – yet removable – boot.

My breaking habit isn’t solely applicable to bones.  I may or may not have broken pieces of my car on occasion over the years.  There was the tree that jumped out behind me while I was backing out at Safari Texas. That broke a taillight, and I’m pretty sure Alison said the tree was terminal post event.  The mailbox incident was not my fault.  Someone erected it far too close to the driveway.  That error in distance judgement was not mine.  Mr. Kaminski was smart enough, however, to move it over four additional feet, but that was after Kassidi took it out as well.  See?  Not my fault.

Lately, it’s wine glasses.  I’ve broken all of my favorite wine glasses, and I’m not a happy girl.  Mr. Kaminski keeps bringing me the stemless glasses as replacements, and I’m not about that.  I need the stem.  Without the stem, my wine warms up from my hand’s firm grasp. That’s not okay.  I don’t’ like warm wine.  I did try the stemless out of sheer desperation.  I set the glass down and vowed not to touch it.  I was promptly informed that apparently, it’s uncouth to consume wine with a straw.  Go figure.

The blingy ones, the regal ones with crowns, the festive ones with glitter – all broke.  I’m down to one wine glass, and it’s stressing me out.  It’s a Texas Ex glass, and football season is still two days away.  I can’t watch my beloved Longhorns without my Texas Ex wine glass!

I’m currently taking donations on wine glasses.  They will have an excellent home if anyone has any to regift or simply wants to donate to the cause, because I’m just not convinced this breaking thing is going away anytime soon.  In the meantime, I’ve wrapped my Texas Ex glass in bubble wrap for safe keeping.  See y’all next week – on the porch!

Patti Parish-Kaminski

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