In Honor of Best Friends Day: Friendships Are Like Paper Plates

  I’m a firm believer that friendships are disposable. I know that sound harsh, but look at it like this; some friendships are like paper plates and some are like your good stoneware. A paper plate serves a purpose and when that purpose is over or the plate is a bleeding mess you toss it. But […]


In honor of National Best Friends Day, one of my favorite blog posts is making a return visit. To all my stoneware: Thank you for your beauty, integrity, and taking up space in my cabinets. I love you all! S. 


ShoreProm1987 -2
My senior prom. Thirty years ago. (Time flies.) These girls were my besties back then. Betsy, on the left, is stoneware. Loren, on the right, also stoneware. I love them both dearly. Meredith, the one next to me, paper plate. Her plate got tossed thirty years ago. Just the way it goes. 


I’m a firm believer that friendships are disposable. I know that sound harsh, but look at it like this; some friendships are like paper plates and some are like your good stoneware. A paper plate serves a purpose and when that purpose is over or the plate is a bleeding mess you toss it. But your stoneware comes out every day, sometimes three times a day and is probably in your favorite color. Stoneware helps you, supports you, is reliable, loyal, accepts you for the cook you are, and heats up like a hot flash for you. You might buy thousands of paper plates over your lifetime, but you’ll only have a setting for twelve of that stoneware.

You don’t know when in your life you’re going to find that perfect set of stoneware. You might have to buy it in pieces. Some during high school, some during college, maybe even a piece you picked up along the way. But don’t look for a bargain. Stoneware is worth the price you pay. And if you do get it on sale, well, then, lucky you.

Paper plates are easy to find. They’re every where you look and they’re cheap. But they will always and forever be only paper plates. Don’t hold any grudges over them, though. I’ve had some paper plates I’ve loved over the years, but they still had to go when their purpose was served. I trashed paper plates in middle school, high school, college, from the countless jobs I’ve held, neighbors, committee groups, the list goes on and on. The best thing about paper plates is when you’re done with the package another package miraculously shows up in your cabinets. Right when you needed them the most. Paper plates are great-fill ins when you don’t have time to wash your stoneware. But when you’re making lasagna for dinner and the cheese won’t stick together and is running off the spatula nothing will do, but your favorite stoneware dish.

My stoneware set is much smaller than twelve, but I’m okay with that. We’ve been together a long time. My stoneware never disappoints me and is as vibrant as ever. It’s always there when I need it, shares secrets with me, makes me laugh, and reminds me why I bought it in the first place.

I’m thankful for the paper plates too. They’re quick and easy. They’re fun.

I often wonder if my Noodges have started buying pieces of their stoneware. Many times I look at the selection in their hands and think, “Dear Lord, that is a paper plate if I ever saw one. Put it down.” And sometimes I think, “that could be a keeper.” But that will be for them to decide. And I know for myself, there have been times when paper plates were disguised as my favorite stoneware. It wasn’t until the bottom leaked that I realized I’d been holding an imposter. I guess that will happen to my kids too.

How about you, faithful reader? What’s in your cabinet?




Blind Date

It’s prom season again. Girls are out buying dresses colored to match sherbert flavors. Limos glide up in their white and silver glory to scoop up the teenagers and dash them off to a fun filled night of laughter, sprinkled with dancing, and sweet memory making. Of course I’ve been thinking about my own prom experience during the Victorian period. Did you know they had proms back then? Okay, I’m not that old.

Let me set the stage. It’s the time of big hair, balloon skirts, and the boys dressing like Sonny Crocket. I’m 17, a senior in high school, and on again with my on again off again boyfriend. Let’s call him Dumb Boyfriend. (DBF) He’s a senior too and I’m thinking we might just stay together forever this time. Or at least until the end of the school year. Ah, young love. (I wasn’t much brighter than he was. Now, I’m smarter. Just ask my grandmother.)

DBF asks me to be his date for the prom. My heart swells, my face flushes, this is it. Destined to be together. I want to carve our initials in a tree. Instead, my mother takes me to buy a dress, I put out the money for the prom bids, and rent a limo with my BFF Loren. Plus my other BFFs Betsy and Meredith will be arriving at the prom, with their limo right beside ours, and we’re all sitting together at the big event. It’s planned, my hair is piled high, I’m ready, but there’s one problem. DBF decides to dump me two weeks before the prom! I know. Sad, but true.

Betsy went home and told her much older brother about my pathetic situation and he offers to take me. Or take pity on me. Not sure which. But I had never met Betsy’s brother. He’s ten years older than we are and was already out of the house so he wasn’t ever there for Friday night giggle fests. What’s a girl to do?

I’ll tell you what she does. She accepts that offer and says, “up yours” to the DBF. (Metaphorically speaking, of course.) No sense in wasting a perfectly adorable prom dress.

I went to my senior prom on a blind date. I met him right as he pinned the corsage on. And guess what? I had a fantastic time. We danced all night. I had a much better time than I would have with DBF. He would have been too cool to dance or too stupid. You pick. I never got to say, “thank you” to DBF for doing me the favor of dumping me. Maybe this blog post will do.

I did say thank you to my date. And I’ll say it again. “Thank you.”

Let this be a lesson to you girls, no situation defines you. And when someone says you can’t or you shouldn’t or I want to break up with you, you say….all together now…”up yours.” Metaphorically speaking, of course.