When Andrew and I were Christmas shopping a few weeks ago he asked me what I'd like for Christmas, and the conversation went something like this: I said, "Just pick something out--I'm sure I'll like anything you get for me." I could tell my response made him a little agitated. He said, "well, I just don't know what to get for you. You like things that are chipped and broken, and I don't know how to pick those things out." I had to think for a second . . . chipped I know I like, broken was the part I had to think about. In any case, I told him not to worry about the chipped and broken stuff and that I'd be happy with something that wasn't chipped or broken. He always gives me thoughtful gifts that I love. Later when we got home I looked around to see what I could find that was chipped and broken. A lot as it turns out. Then when I got to my mom's and looked around there, I knew for sure it just runs in the family. A few missing seashells, a broken frame, a chipped table, a chipped headboard--all perfect and beautiful to my mom and to me. In the recent issue of Victoria, I remember Corey saying something like if she sees 4 urns at a flea market and one has a crack in it, she'll buy the cracked one. We would too.
Wednesday, 2 January 2008
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2 comments:
Ah how sweet is Andrew! I appreciate the broken as well, oh and the chipped too. Happy New Year.
Andrew is right their is chipped and then there is chipped.
Chip is music singing an old familiar song.Comfortable in its skin.
I like your taste Leigh!
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