Get rid of stuff, get more stuff!

I am back. Forgive me father for I have sinned. Actually, that is very apropos for my little tale of WHOA. Before that, though, a brief note of a "star", and I use that term extremely loosely her. I, or should I say we, were at Teroni's on Saturday for dinner (damn fine bottle of wine and tasty salad and pizza) on Yonge south of St. Clair. We are sitting outside and who should sit next to us.....Nick Kypreos.

Who the fuck is Nick Kypreos, you might ask. He played hockey in the NHL and was a Leaf until he got sucker punched by a New York Ranger (I think)(Ryan Vandenbusche, I think), got concussed and could not play again. He was a hard nosed player, not the most talented out there, but he did work hard. He is now a hockey analyst/reporter for Rogers Sporstnet. That is how I knew who it was (nobody else in my dinner party knew).

Here is the real story. When my father died, we split his shit. My brother got his black lacquer bedroom furniture (which was he did use and move to his home with his wife, where it was put in one of the then spare bedrooms and has since disappeared). My sister got.....I do not know what she got. I got his dining room set with the glass table top and black metal chairs.

Apparently, the wife never liked it, but the base had a granite looking veneer on it, so I always thought it matched our granite floor. Anyway, we are at the table on Friday night and I have finished my dinner and move my empty plate to the side. I guess I leaned on the glass and the next thing I know my plate is sliding off the table. With one hand I catch the plate, with the other I have a large piece of glass I am trying to keep in place.

The Wife is about to say something about me dropping my fork and knife, when I point out to her the angle of the table. I then have to point out the fact that my reflexes and instincts are so good that nothing came crashing to the floor that was breakable. I stopped the plate from falling and crashing into smithereens and the same could be said about the glass.

I pull back the tablecloth and padded thing only to find that it had snapped in some strange fashion. On top of the new kitchen, which is finished and looks great, by the way, we now must get a new dining room table.

The Wife had planned to buy one once her parents' condo sale closed. This just hastened the process.

My dilemma is this, I am kind of sad of it "passing" as it did belong to my father (however, brief his possession of it was) yet I am taking it as a sign to just move on. It is merely a thing.

It kind of reminds me of when I pitched my cassettes. It was not the music per se that bothered me but the memories of what I did when listening or acquiring it that flooded me.

Well, that is about as insightful as I will get for you all. Anybody know how to get rid of a big (close to 6 feet) slab of glass?

Ciao!