Semi-Daily Scribbles

Karla's grandmother served oyster stew every Christmas Eve in her harvest gold Limoges tureen. Karla loved the porcelain vessel, and hated its contents. Oysters were disgusting. The bivalves defiled the delicate china with its daisy and wheat motif. She always tried to decline the ladle of gray blobs floating in a buttery broth of milk, but her mother made sure her bowl was filled with the stinking mess. Karla knew one day she would display her grandmother's tureen in a china cabinet of her own, and she couldn't wait to break out the vintage table setting and serve something decent for her holiday meal, like grilled cheese and tomato soup. With a little chopped scallion tossed in the pot, Karla thought that was more befitting the holiday than the briny disaster her family insisted was tradition.