No I don’t have a philanthropic eating disorder. We’re purging our house of many belongings. Why, you may ask. Well, for starters, who likes to dust all that stuff anyway? Also, I love antiques. Not only frilly victorian stuff. I like Art Deco and Eames style furniture too. So I’m slowly going to replace everything we have to something non-Walmart/Target related — preferably items from another century. But more importantly, I’m in search of simplicity. A lot of the time I feel like I’m pulled in several different directions and then come home to rooms that continue that pull. Why do I have all of this? Really, could I live without my Seinfeld DVD collection? …or the 14 half-used candles that I refuse to throw away? Would the world end if I sold my roadside papasan (side note: please don’t tell the people on craigslist I found it on the road. i’m trying to make some dough). No, I think I’d be much happier and less cluttered mentally & physically.
In the meantime though, I’d like to share a smidget of my favorite things. I know you just sang that last line to The Sound of Music. Don’t deny it.
There is nothing like going to an estate sale and looking through old books. It’s even more exciting when a message is written on the inside. Behold, a normal looking story by Dickens.. owned by a Geneva Hagenstaff Wollard in Hardin, MO dated 10/2/1913. Maybe the date she received it?
..and then outta no where. A list of all the “boys that I have gone with since 1915-1918″. In alphabetical order. This girl was detail-oriented. Who knew there were so many single guys in Hardin, MO and why didn’t we have a girls weekend there in my single days?
And of course, the ever present substance abuse scare tactic… The Curse of Drink. (but you must say it in a deep, throaty voice.)
Note that there are two titles: The Curse of Drink (deep, throaty) or Stories of Hell’s Commerce (non-chalant, happy.) That’s how I always read it in my mind.
Poor Hugh. He was probably headed out the door to meet up with his buddies at the local tavern for his 18th birthday when his parents grabbed him by the shoulder to give him his present. Did they make a big ordeal at the “presenting” ceremony? Couldn’t they have waited until after he played Flippy Cup for the first time?
I actually knew the person who owned this purse: my grandma. And inside is her phone number, back when I swear they used letters. I used this in college for a bit and am surprised it’s still in good shape.
Lastly, of my grandma’s, is an off-shoot of a plant from her home. All of the grandkids have one and its the only plant that I care about saving. I have a fern hanging in our screened-in porch that has seen its last days. They’re like cactus right? We don’t have to water them regularly. But Grandma’s plant…I’ve got to baby it. I love that idea though….passing on part of a plant/flower/tree. And would love to do something similar for my family. Why do I now have the urge to sing from the Lion King?
Great post! I found myself smiling (and singing) all the way through.-Bruce
[…] As I skimmed the chapter titles, my eyes got bigger and bigger. Oh my… Oh wow… and I started to fan myself. If only Geneva Wollard had read this before she went on her dating rampage back in 1915, her list may have been longer. You gotta see this book I found! […]
[…] of our kitchen window, where I am desperately trying to revive my grandma’s plant. Remember? I said I’d baby this one forever here. Turns out I’m a liar. It’s hanging on by a thread. Sorry Mary Margaret. I’m […]