What do you think, Mole?

Do people still get baby shoes bronzed? Okay I just Googled it. Yes! They do! In fact the American Bronzing Company says that bronzing is back in vogue. I am SURE they have no ulterior motives there. I’m sure they gleaned that information from an impartial third party study on people’s feelings about bronzing, right? Anyway, they have a comprehensive list of bronzed items and perusing it has given me 10 minutes of pure joy. Cell phones, taco shells, gallstones, ostrich eggs, Pez dispensers, tea bags. It’s an impressive list and you get a real sense here that these bronzers feel they’ve seen it all.

Can you please pick something you would bronze that is *not* on this list? I would like you to make the American Bronzing Company’s list not comprehensive. I would like the alarm at their HQ to sound. I’d like them to call someone out of retirement in the middle of the night to help out. I would like his wife to tell him not to go but he goes anyway because that fire in him never really died. One last bronzing.

In short, I want you to make it count Moley. But most of all? No pressure. Have fun with it!



Dearest Ratty,

There is a part of me that wants to turn my nose up at bronzing. I put items like bronzed baby shoes in the same category I put Hummels: high price knick knacks. Honestly, I’d rather look in someone’s fridge than look at their display of Hummel figurines or bronzed baby shoes.  A full grocery cart is 10 times more revealing than a house full of knick knacks. What’s the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen in someone’s grocery cart, Rats? I can tell you mine: 4 boxes of Kraft Dinner and  4 boxes of glycerine suppositories in the same cart. “Hmmmm, maybe it’s your diet?” 

Anyway, where was I?  Ahhhh yes, knick knacks of the porcelain and bronze variety. What is a knick knack really? I’ll tell you what it is – an elaborate conversation starter.  But honestly what level of conversation can stem from bronzed baby shoes? 

I picture a summer evening when the neighbours come over. Two couples face off in the living room, and thinking for something, anything to say, the neighbour’s wife looks uneasily around the room, until she sees those bronzed baby shoes.

“Oh my, little Willow’s feet were so tiny!”

“You should see how big they are now!”

“They grow up so fast!”

Too fast

a lot of nodding and then a lot more drinking until the key party starts.

Look,  I get the urge to preserve special moments. I keep ticket stubs and cards in a tiny suitcase that no one sees except for me, but any chance I get to open up my suitcase and share, I I go for it.  

I’m a sentimentalist at heart.

 In fact the other day, I opened up my wallet to find a receipt from the Salvation Army. I saw the date and almost immediately my surroundings went into soft focus as I smiled softly, remembering the good old time I had snatching an eight dollar Marimekko dress out of some nobody’s hands. Hey to her it was just a dress, to me, it was a Marimekko

These days the things I want to savour are usually meals, but as much as I love food, I try not to overindulge. This is very hard, because when something is so good it is almost impossible to know when to stop. Let’s call this the Unbearably Wonderful syndrome. Once, I went to a swanky hipster restaurant in the Annex. You know the kind with the artisanal bread, wood burning oven and those Bolshevik style communal tables? I had a delicious meal of bucatini with dandelion greens, (dandelion greens!!!! ) red wine and crusty bread. I was very satisfied. Full. Satiated.  And yet I said yes to dessert. What can I say? That beautiful rustic interior went to my head. I ate dessert and I kept eating it until I had nearly finished it. And then I was too full. Unbearably Wonderful one minute; Unbearably Woeful the next.

But, if you could get part of your meal bronzed to remember how exquisite it was, now that is something I would seriously consider. I eat half of my meal and even take a few pecks of dessert. The waitress comes over and says, “may I wrap this up for you?” And I say, “actually, hon could you bronze it for me?”

Then I could take it home and display it.

What would you rather talk about baby feet or a great meal? 

For me, the answer is obvious.

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