I don't consider myself to be an extremely sentimental person.
I do, however, have a few small treasures from my travels around the world.
They are carefully guarded and very precious to me.
One of my very favorites is a Shona Family Sculpture that I collected in Zimbabwe.
I'm pretty sure I drove a hard bargain that included some cash money and one of my bras.
I bought it at age 20 with the romantic thought that someday my prince would come.
So idealistic, I was.
Anyway, it's a persistent little bugger of a statue.
It's been with me through nearly 13 years and countless moves from state to state (and to other countries).
When I married Husband, I put it in a prominent spot on the back of the stove where I'd see it every day.
It's supposed to symbolize the accomplishment of creating a loving and supportive family environment full of health and happiness.
Or so I've been told.
So, imagine my surprise the other night as I was cooking dinner and I heard a loud thunk.
I looked up to see this:
The lady's head just fell right off and busted into a gazillion pieces.
My only thought was, "Yeah. That's about right."
Two-thousand-eleven has not been kind to the Peters' fam.
Husband's hospital stay and long convalescence.
Carolyn's hospital stay.
A (very early) miscarriage.
Dealing with government agencies, trying to get even a smidgen of help.
All that and now, Husband is having to look for a new job.
It's a long, long story, fraught with misinformation, unkept promises, and so-not-fairness.
All I'm saying is that when it comes to suffering, we're right up there with Elizabeth Taylor.
This whole situation made me think of this.
If 2012 doesn't start out in fantastic fashion, I may just give up, pack my bags, and head for Mexico.