After a long absence, I have been reunited with an old friend. To eat lunch with my spork is to recall my ascent of Mt. Whitney, that trip with Andy to the Channel Islands, camping with my daughter, adventures too numerous to count...all bound up in that featherweight utensil. Lately, I had been using this indispensable piece of backpacking gear to eat my lunch at work. Instead of wasting a disposable plastic spoon, I began relying on my spork. Then it was lost. Our crack cleaning crew had cleaned off my desk and, along with the moldy coffee cup, my spork entered the mysterious system that somehow results in restocked cupboards filled with personal mugs. It is always a scramble to find out where my favorite mug ends up. But my spork! I couldn't find it anywhere...for months. Until today, when my dear friend told me where it would be. Saving my life again. Over a simple mouth tool. Another tale for my spork to bind to its titanium tines.
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