A perfect set of cups

Yesterday Mr Starlights parents visited our apartment for the first time and they had the honour to be the first people who drank coffee from our new tea/coffee set, bought just a few hours before its first use.

When we first moved to this apartment, almost two years ago, we noticed that we didn’t own a set of cups; a proper set of cups with plates, for coffee and tea. We had plenty of lovely mugs though, but none of them matching each other. We agreed that we must have a set of cups and added it to our shopping list but there was always a good reason to delay this purchase.

The main reason why it took us so long to buy a set of cups is that we don’t really need them. We don’t get a lot of visitors and those who come by regularly like to have their tea or coffee in big mugs because they drink it with milk. We also like hot beverages with milk (and two teaspoons of sugar, please) and those cups we already had proved to be very useful.

Unlike us and all the other people we know, my in-laws drink espresso. Plain black coffee; no milk, no sugar. A shot of coffee one could say. They usually drink it from small espresso cups and we wanted to be good hosts and make an impression; the visit from my in-laws proved to be a good reason to finally buy that coffee/tea set.

Choosing the perfect set of cups proved to be a more challenging task than either of us expected. An even harder one since we didn’t have the slightest idea what we wanted. It took us quite awhile to pick out a set that we both really liked but we finally did it.

Photo was taken by my lovely friend Alja, you can find more of her magnificent photos here.

Handbags

I recently bought a new handbag, which was followed by moving contents of my old handbag to the new one. This is always, without exception, an interesting experience; I’m even considering calling it a journey.

You see, women tend to carry around a lot of things, almost all of them equally important and/or needed, and all of them need to be carefully moved to their new, most often bigger home. I’ve noticed that my handbags are getting bigger as I’m getting older and there are more and more things I can’t leave my home without. A makeup bag is one of those essential items my life depends on; and those also tend to grow as years pass, just as wallets do. There are several other objects that I can’t live without – a planner, a water bottle, hand moisturiser, sunglasses, my iPod and so forth. Then, there is also clutter that ends up in my handbag by chance, such as wrinkled receipts, old theatre or movie tickets and an old pack of gum; those can usually be found at the bottom of a handbag or in some more or less secret compartment. The clutter won’t be transferred to the new bag; instead it’ll be thrown away or, in some rare cases, left in the old handbag.

I always grab the first chance I get to move things from my old bag to the new one. This is usually in the car; while Mr S drives us home from the successful hunt I admire the catch and make the transition. This time it was different though; I bought the bag in the city centre and had to survive the whole bus ride home with my new acquisition patiently waiting in a huge pink shopping bag.

As soon as I got home I took my new precious out of the shopping bag and proudly displayed it on the white sofa, which is used as storage for all sort of things rather than sitting. The right end is reserved for my handbag and the left one for Mr Starlights bag; between those two we usually put our clothes when we change and don’t feel like folding them right away. From time to time it becomes a bookshelf when I put a bunch of books that need to be returned to the library right next to my handbag, making sure I won’t forget them at home just in case I’ll be leaving the apartment in a hurry the next morning.

I recently bought a new handbag, which was followed by an interesting journey. Moving contents of my old handbag to the new one always includes finding an item or two I forgot about and it recalls a happy memory that draws a dreamy smile to my face.  

Photo was taken by my friend Alja, you can find more of her magnificent photos here.

The bleach

Mia pushed the shopping cart in front of her as she walked past the sloppily stacked items on the shelves. The cart was already full of groceries for the coming week. Meat, vegetables, fruit and dairy products were neatly placed in the cart, separately organised. She stopped in front of the shelf with bleaches and started reading the labels. This was always her last stop in the store, her favourite one. She spent twenty minutes comparing the products and in the end she decided for the one she had always bought. She was satisfied with herself; knowing that she uses the best cleaning products calmed her.

Mia’s house was always spotless and she worked very hard to keep it that way. With two kids and a husband who doesn’t really care if the house is clean that’s a hard task. But nevertheless their house was always clean, Mia made sure of that.

When she got home kids were playing outside and Carl was mowing the lawn. Mia took the groceries to the kitchen and put the kettle on. She turned the radio on and sang while putting away the things she had brought from the store.

Everything had its place in her kitchen and she hated how Carl never put milk in its place inside the refrigerator. She never understood how some people can’t seem to remember where things should be.   

When Mia was done she didn’t sit down and drink her tea. Instead she drank it while cooking dinner.

After dinner Carl went to the living room and kids went upstairs to their room. Mia remained alone in the kitchen. She started cleaning the mess her loved ones made; she picked up the dinner plates and glasses and put them into the dishwasher, stored the leftovers inside the refrigerator and then she put on her yellow rubber gloves and took the bleach from the cabinet under the sink. She loved cleaning; cleaning was the only thing that she could control. Carl was always doing whatever he wanted, the days when he tried to please her and when he did something she liked were long gone. And the kids were too big to be told what to do, they only did what they wanted to.  Cleaning was the only thing she had left.

Are women shallow materialists or are we the best psychologists for ourselves?

There’s one thing that’s been rolling in my mind for quite a while now… It could easily be called a phenomenon, I think…

Girls I bet this has already happened to most of you: You have had a bad day and somewhere along the way you found yourself in the middle of the store with new shoes/jacket/purse/lipstick/nail polish in your hand. And buying that thing made you feel better.

Does that mean that we’re shallow materialists who feel better after buying some (usually completely unnecessary) stuff?

I bet Freud would have an interesting opinion on that topic. But it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, it matters what you think! And of course, how you feel :)

I would say NO, we’re neither shallow nor materialists. Everyone should know themselves best and should know what makes them feel better, whether it’s a new pair of gorgeous shoes or just going hiking. We’re all different and everyone finds comfort in something else. It’s important that we know what makes us feel better.

Also, there’s another positive side to new things that we buy. Usually, other women notice the new item and are usually so kind as to give us a nice compliment about it. And this compliment makes us happy.

It seems like every argument is in favour of treating ourselves from time to time, so girls, don’t feel bad about it :)