My mom is writing her memoirs on her new blog, http://memoirsofawildrose.blogspot.com/. She is taking photos of special family mementos and writing wonderful little stories to go with each one. She asked me to take photos to send her of anything that she's given me over the years that I'd like her to inlcude. Among the few things I recently sent her, was a photo of this cute little pink teapot. It sat atop our fridge at home from the time I was a little girl. It was never used for tea (my folks, and now me, were always straight up black coffee drinkers). The little pot was (and is) a storage container for all sorts of odd keys collected by my parents over the course of my years at home with them.
Anyway, Mom politely declined to write her story associated with the shiny pink glazed pot. Her memories associated with it are not a 'sweet' as mine....
I always knew that the heavy little tea pot came from one of the restaurants where my mom waited tables, called "The Rickshaw". I was really little, maybe 6 years old or so, and I mostly remember her working at night while Dad and I were relegated to finding supper on our own. BUT, once in a great while, my dad would load me up in the car with him to pick Mom up at work. The best part of the outing was my dinner date with Dad. We would sit together at (what seemed to me) the most charming little place in the world, with low candlelit tables, a mysterious menu, and people speaking something other than English. I don't really remember too much about what kind of food we ate, but instead remember how wonderful it felt to be Mom's favorite, and best, customer for the evening.
So, Mom, that is the story of the Pink Teapot. From your best little customer's perspective!