Ode to Fiestaware

  Six years ago I set my sights on acquiring new dishes.  My dream: a colorful collection of Fiestaware.  I wiled away the hours browsing through my Betty Crocker catalog and imagining various color combinations.  I'd hold up the pictures to my curtains and ponder place settings in the dining room.  I changed my mind dozens of times over particular choices before settling on four stunning colors.  Then, with just a bit of trembling, I approached my Hubby for his consent.

"What's wrong with the dishes we already have?" he politely inquired.

"Well, nothing, really..." I stammered, completely thrown by this unexpected logical question.  "Wouldn't it be nice, though, to have a change?"

This was not a powerful argument, considering Hubby is a color-blind man.  Totally color-blind. He sees only black and white and shades of gray - much like a dog.  When I paint a room, I'm sure he wonders what the fuss is all about.  "Is it darker in here?" he'll ask me.  Or, "What's different?  It looks the same as before."

So the prospect of taking his meals on a perpetual rainbow spectrum of plates was no big thrill.  

He continued down the rational path:  "When we got married, you said you loved our grapevine dishes so much that you could never, ever get tired of them."  

I said that?  I can't believe he remembers me saying that.  Admittedly, it did sound like something I would say (in a dramatic, excitable, awestruck tone of voice - of course) at the innocent age of nineteen-years-old.  Back in those days I thought it was a thrill to dust my house, too.  Shows you how silly and idealistic I was.  

 

Clearly, I am capable now of broader perspective, and those Pfaltzgraff Grapevine dishes (my service for 12) are so 90s and so not me.  (Also not a good argument for new plates).

But Hubby loves me and he knows that sometimes shallow things make me happy, so he patiently asked, "Well, how much would it cost to get these new plates?"

Ah, the big question.  There really was no way to package the answer well, so I just blurted it out.  His eyes got big.  His eyebrows darted north.  There wasn't much to say after that. 

I sighed in concession and gave up my designs on new dishes.  A few days later, I happened upon a decent set of four dinner plates, salad plates and bowls (NOT Fiestaware) in a dashing cobalt blue color at my local Goodwill.  For a measly eight bucks, I gained a fresh look in dining accessories.  I dismissed the Fiestaware dream and chose contentment.

Two years ago we were wandering an antique mall in Bolivar, Missouri.  Hubby and I share a deep love of antiquing.  There's just something about being around a lot of old stuff!  It gives me perspective on life and an appreciation for our modern conveniences, too!  We both enjoy scouting around for a few specific things we collect:  Hubby loves Civil War history (books and paraphernalia) and vintage baseball stuff;  I hunt for Texas-ware bowls, and more recently, Fire King jadeite.  That day, I ran across a large display of Fiestaware seconds.  I heard glorious music swell in the background, and my heart leaped into my throat.  We were in dire need of a water pitcher, so Hubby bought me a large Fiestaware disk pitcher in a gorgeous violet color.  (It actually coordinates with my grapevine dishes quite well.)

He didn't realize he was playing with fire.  Those banked embers had not fully cooled...

Fast forward to this last Christmas, 2009.  By now we've been married nearly eighteen years and have come a long way in regards to budget control, savings, and generally getting established.  I'm also a more dedicated and accomplished cook.  Anyway, my dear father sent us a generous Christmas check...and all I could think about was Fiestaware.  Ever since I'd been enjoying that new purple pitcher, a Fiestaware urgency had been growing.

Usually we use dad's Christmas gift for an important need, like a new toilet or to re-roof something.  But this time I put together a fresh proposal (in my mind, not on paper or anything) for us to spend a portion of the money on Fiestaware.  I delivered my plan with excellent timing and panache to a happy Hubby (probably right after a good meal) and held my breath.  To my great surprise and delight, he smiled and said, "Sure.  Go ahead.  Have fun picking out your new dishes!"

Hip-hip-hooray!  I began watching for sales with a vengeance...cruising the internet...contemplating colors all over again.  I picked up a few place settings, played with them for a while, and exchanged a few colors along the way. In the end, I chose Evergreen, Turquoise and Tangerine.

Recently, I had a little spending money stashed again, which coincided beautifully (ironically?) with a rock-bottom Fiestaware sale at Younkers.  Now I'm certain my "little" collection is complete, rounded out beautifully in a perfect panorama of pigments.  I added two settings of Peacock and ordered a few open-stock plates of the now-discontinued violet color, Heather, from an internet dealer.

In case you're wondering, I realize I can't take this stuff with me into eternity.  And if I end up in a nursing home one day, I just hope I'm too forgetful to realize my gorgeous dishes were likely garage-saled away to a new owner.

For now, I'm fully enjoying the Fiestaware.  We eat every day.  And we entertain often - sometimes large groups.  Now I can serve 22 people in gracious ease.   

Besides, you know what I've discovered?  Food really does taste better on Fiestaware!

 "It is good and proper for a man to eat and drink, and to find satisfaction in his toilsome labor under the sun during the few days of life God has given him - for this is his lot.  Moreover, when God gives any man wealth and possessions, and enables him to enjoy them, to accept his lot and be happy in his work - this is the gift of God."    Ecclesiastes 5:18-19

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