First thing this morning, the electricians came to hang my PH 5. My excitement was palpable, and I regaled them with the story of how we acquired the lamp and tenderly carried it home in our hand baggage, thanking kind flight attendants along the way who smiled at the misshapen, slightly oversized parcel, and kindly tucked into their coat closet and my overhead bin.
So you can imagine my mouth-agape-slo-mo-horror as one of the electricians (two of the nicest guys) bumped the just-hung lamp from the plate that attaches it to the cord, and we all watched it FALL TO THE GROUND with a crash.
"Please tell me that it's not dented," I gasped.
"I am so sorry," one of the guys said as he handed me my very dented lamp. Y'all, time stopped. I took a deep breath, told him I understand how sorry he was but could he please give.me.a.minute, and gingerly assessed the damage. Fortunately, I was able to mostly reshape the shade, but the entire fixture was slightly off-center and no one could get it back on the mounting plate.
I did feel so terribly for how terribly I knew these guys felt, y'all. I had literally JUST told them that this was a thirty-year-old treasure that I had carried home from Denmark. And then bam. But still. And there is a gash in our newly-refinished floors.
I took another deep breath, bid them adieu, met with a darling client, picked my mom up from the airport, called Tom, and decided not to think about things until he, my dear and infinitely capable husband, got home.
Readers, he fixed it. Mostly. It is such a gem, and I just love it. And now Mom and I are sitting here, me writing, she puzzling, under the perfect, non-glare, non-shade glow of Henningsen's genius.
Tomorrow, she and I embark on a road trip to Maine. We are going to get the boys!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
While this road trip will be fun and special for many reasons, it also marks the 20th anniversary -to the month- of the road trip we made from Lake Charles (Louisiana) to Philadelphia to move me to graduate school. For that occasion, she had caps monogrammed for us: Thelma and Louise, Road Trip '98. She was Thelma, I was Louise, and we were going to make that endless Uhaul-towing-a-car drive fun.
A windshield crack started on the passenger side early on. That side mirror shook SO violently that we wondered if it up and broke the windshield. In any case, that crack travelled all the way across the windshield as we drove east and north. Somewhere in Mississippi, we pulled into a truck stop for gas, and there Mom bought a truckers manual. We filled in various bits of information about our "rig" all the way to Philly and managed not to have to back up once. We couldn't, so doing so really wasn't an option.
We actually did have the best time, and since then, the hats have marked important times in our lives: my wedding, my sister's wedding, and now this trip to Maine. I sent mine home a few months ago so Mom could get the monogramming done at the same place she always has. Sadly there are new owners, and they seem to have zero humor or joy, but alas. The hats look great.
We are renting a minivan in the morning, packing up, and heading out. We'll stop in Philly, for the obvious reason but also to see one of Mom's friends, and on and up and into Maine by Saturday for the camp parent social. After pick up on Sunday, we'll make our way back down, arriving home on Wednesday, all together once more.