As I kick back with my feet up, I reminisce and think about the spontaneous Saturday late lunch with my Dad, then a Spontaneous Luminary Loppet snow-shoeing with my Mom on Lake of the Isles, Minneapolis. In my reflection, I pour myself a nice glass of Spanish wine into my favorite carousal wine-mug. I continue tipping the wine-mug back, in pure satisfaction with my spontaneous day, until, lo and behold my wine-mug is empty. I look inside the mug and can't help but notice the red cracks that, in metaphor, paint the picture of the veiny long-lived life of liquid enjoyment. I also notice the stained spots from which it was poorly hand washed. Nevertheless; dirty, stained, & cracked, my wine-mug is loved and appreciated by me.
