One morning when coffee had no effect on coaxing my eyes open and the kitchen counter engaged in its normal trickery by retreating two inches from my reach, a favorite sugar bowl found itself on a fast track to the floor. The sugar bomb didn’t miss a corner and Boz and Gracie worked faster and more effectively than any Swiffer Sweeper ever had.  Super glue, a wee bit of patience and a handful of porcelain puzzle pieces later, the fractured bowl reemerged whole again, well almost.

Its rim of chipped teeth grinned on the way to the pantry, unaware of its new resting place on a pile of refined refugees sporting similar repairs.  Too pretty to toss, I retrieved the sugar bowl for an unlikely audition as a paint pot for trim work. The handle fit snuggly through the thumb; the lid lip was the perfect place to cut extra paint off the brush.  And while the artisans of Limoges could never have foreseen this role for their handywork, I think they’d agree that a longer life for anything as special–albeit chipped and glued–holds something just as sweet as sugar.