Wouldn't of happened to Molly

I've been enjoying reading Orangette/Molly Wizenberg's A Homemade Life; her stories about food and cooking are so sweet. They have mostly happy endings, although she admits to eating way too much cake in the process of testing a recipe, for example. It's her process that I admire - eating something, encountering a recipe, and making it her own - and also that I aspire to in my own food writing.

I was pretty happy with my plum muffin recipe and story yesterday, but it has a coda. This morning, after eating one of the muffins while reading all the Woodstock articles in the Sunday papers, I left the muffin paper sandwiched between the shallow bowl with brown stripes I'd had melon chunks in, and the saucer I'd used for the muffin. Both old dishes from our house in Pittsburgh, where I lived the summer of 1969, when I was turning 14 and just a little too young to go to Woodstock. I was remembering that summer, and wondering what I might've eaten from these very dishes 40 years ago. I turned to do something at the sink, and one of the cats jumped up to get the muffin paper - just buttery enough to be attractive to her, I guess - and knocked down and broke the bowl. The saucer was Corelle, the dishware that was advertised as almost unbreakable when we were kids - when it does break, it basically explodes - so I guess I was spared that. Still, not at all the ending a Wizenberg story would have had.