Years ago Mark and I went on a cruise and became hooked on that kind of vacation, so we decided that we’d take the kids as their graduation gift, providing they could make it out of High School successfully. As we would stop by all the fun little Islands I would pick up a mug. A memento that I could actually use, rather than something that would sit and gather dust. So I had cool little mugs from all sorts of Caribbean Islands, National Parks, Old Town touristy sections of towns. If I couldn’t find a mug that struck me, I would make one with one of my old photos.
Over the years I’ve become increasingly picky about the type of mug that I would buy. Especially when it came to the handle. I have some mugs that are so adorable, but the handle barely fits two of my fingers. It has made searching for the perfect mug a little more difficult, but that’s OK. The search is part of the fun of collecting things, right?
Well, I used to have this shelf hanging on my wall where I would display my mugs. A couple of years ago I bent over to pick something up off the kitchen floor and when I stood up my shoulder caught the corner of the shelf and it came crashing to the ground, along with about 15 mugs! Mark just stood there with his eyes wide open, happy that it was HIM that destroyed years worth of travel souvenirs. All I could think to say (once the cursing had stopped) was, “Well, I guess we have to go back to all those places.”
These are some recent mugs. The elk in the front…my picture. Placed on a mug. And it happens to be one of my very favorite mugs.
Mark went to South Dakota recently and asked if I wanted him to bring back a mug. I had to explain to him the “handle” requirement. I showed him examples of what “not to get” and what “to get.” He said, “Wow. I didn’t know there was so much involved in buying a mug.”
If I’m going to have a souvenir it’s going to a useful one.