The Suitcase Lady

Trumpets

April 2, 2019, 10:10 pm

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The other day my husband was absorbed at his computer, and I asked him what he was working on so intently. I expected him to say “water quality graphs” or “zoning laws”. His answer was “champagne glasses”.

Champagne does not flow at our house. But we do celebrate special events with Prosecco, a lovely and affordable sparkling wine from Italy. Valentine’s Day, anniversaries and other celebrations would not be complete without bubbles rising in our two tall champagne glasses.

After this year’s  Valentine’s dinner, I was clearing the table and accidentally toppled my elegant glass which promptly shattered. And I did feel sad, a sentiment I don’t usually have for a broken dish. Our two glasses weren’t family heirlooms and weren’t expensive. But they stood tall and sparkling at every celebratory table at our house for well over thirty years. My husband and I both love traditions.

After losing my glass, I started checking the glassware sections in every thrift store I visited in search of two more equally beautiful glasses. I saw literally hundreds of glasses, but none were as perfectly proportioned as our broken one. So I joined my husband at his computer for an online search.

We both quickly discovered that wine connoisseurs take their glasses very seriously and that champagne glasses come in a variety of shapes.

Unfortunately, none of these styles matched our broken glass. Continued searching finally revealed the more unusual style of glass we owned. It’s a trumpet.

The happy news for us is that our search for “trumpets, champagne” came up with a replacement at a down-to-earth price. Our anniversary is coming up on April 4th, and we will be ready. Bring on the bubbles!

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2 Comments for this entry

  • Alyce Weiss

    Happy 55 years. These years certainly are flying by. We used to have glasses very similar to yours. Loved them.

  • Evie Robillard

    Mary & Russ–You anniversary??? Oh, thanks for letting us know. And I’m happy to hear you found the right trumpets . . .
    cheers,
    evie