Today, whist searching for The Elusive 59H, which I have discovered is now 59C, I stumbled across a large market in Arnavutköy.
In this picture, it looks like there is only stuff but the entire market was full of fruits, vegetables, cheeses, and fresh fish. The market also had wooden spoons!
Now why would I notice wooden spoons? Well, we've had some problems in the last few weeks with house guests and wooden spoons.
Our first wooden spoon came with our apartment. It was so sweet and light brown. Abby's sister brutally killed it in a cookie dough frenzy. She claims it was an accident. It never saw it coming, and it didn't suffer. Our second wooden spoon was purchased within the week. An obviously cheap imitation, it could not replace the hole in the drawer that our first wooden spoon had left behind. Sadly, as hard as it tried, it went the same way as the first. This time Niko's friend was the culprit. He said they had been doing a lot of cooking that week; the new spoon was probably under a lot of stress. After a few days of physical and emotional torment, the second spoon snapped.
Now we have a third spoon. We're trying to treat it well, trying to keep the pressure for it to be like the others down, trying to treat it with the respect it deserves. We can't let this happen again. If we can't take care of spoons, how can we take care of ourselves?