Category Archives: Thrifting

Week Two Down

Yeah, remember when I said that nights with Annie were going swimmingly? Well, the you’re-being-a-braggart gods heard my loud pompous cries to friends and family and decided it was time to strike me down. They always wait until after at least the third time you brag about something, because at that point you feel really comfortable in what you’re spewing and therefore spew it with much more vigor than you would otherwise.

And here is the result of said bragging:
ruth cryNormally I’m the one making that face, but she can’t hold the camera yet to capture it.

And this is after the fourth brag:

DSC_7517

And after the fifth and sixth:DSC_7519
Fifth is the spit up. Sixth is the saggy mom boobs. If I’d only not opened my mouth these babies still would’ve been skyward.

But stormy weather makes the sun shine that much brighter, because interspersed were moments like this:
ruth annie
…and then right back to the grind. We love you Annie.DSC_7512Some other happenings involved mixing play-doh to make different colors. DSC_7513A random garage sale up the street. DSC_7521We found a book on frogs and an unopened package of colored printer paper. You just can’t buy that stuff for fiddy cents at the ole walmart. So even though the dresser drawer that houses my random sheets of blank paper is to the point of exploding into one gigantic origami windmill, the package still managed to make it home.

We also made cloud dough.

DSC_7536You can see where Ruth gets her hair styles from. DSC_7537It’s been hot and humid this past week. A couple mornings, we went to the park and then collapsed onto the couch in a heap of sweaty limbs. So we tried to find a shady spot to play with the cloud dough.

DSC_7539DSC_7540DSC_7541
Later that night Ruth went to swim lessons. This is her swim hair when she gets home. DSC_7545Maybe I should take her swimming every day. I’m liking the flock of seagulls look (thank you for that line, Samuel L Jackson.)

Speaking of Ruth. She’ll say “Hold? Hold?” and then when we say “Hold you?” she’ll reply “Okay!” as if it were our idea in the first place. It kind of makes me proud.

In other news, she shoves her face like her mama. That also makes me proud.

DSC_7548We also gave Miss Annie her first bath.DSC_7524No cries from this babe. She liked it. Or maybe she was just too terrified of the knives behind her to show any emotion.DSC_7526
All I know is that while I’ve been tired, irritable, and short-tempered this week, I seriously love this new little addition and my growing family.DSC_7531
I can’t kiss her and Ruthie enough.

Family Game Weekend

I am so very lucky to be able to stay at home. It’s been a hard and easy adjustment at the same time. Hard in that I am now responsible for someone at all times, someone who has not yet got my sense of humor and, I’m assuming, is saving all of her laughs for one big explosive guffaw. And easy in that I have the time to make the adjustment. If today doesn’t go smoothly, tomorrow is right around the corner to try again.

But one aspect I’m especially enjoying is the flexibility. For instance, while R went on a business trip for 5 days, I visited my parents who live 4 hours away. Those times to connect are priceless for both me and Ruthie.

We started the week relaxing by the fire. I don’t really call that pose relaxing, but whatever floats your boat Ruth. One of us should at least have abs. And it sure ain’t gonna be me.

 

My sister came over later in the evening for a game of Scrabble. I used to hate that game, but now it’s one of our staples at mom and dad’s. Ruth did her obligatory “lunge and attack” welcome.

 

The next day aunts, uncles, and cousins came over to play Family Feud, eat pizza, and chit-chat. My favorite part of the day, actually, was us all cramming into the kitchen to talk. Ruthie met up with her third cousin, K. I’m so happy to have another little one around Ruth’s age.

Now I understand how my oldest sister felt, wanting her kids to grow up with cousins. Her youngest is about 4 years older than Ruth, which is no big deal when you’re out dancing in your mid-twenties… but right now the gap is extraordinary. At one point a few years ago, her husband tried to bribe us into having a kid so they would have others to play with.

The statute of limitations has apparently expired because he never paid up.

Look at those blue eyes! Just like her mama…

Snuggling with her oldest cousin, W. Poor W. He really needs some boy cousins. R wasn’t here to steal him away for a game of football unfortunately.

 

Before Family Feud began, we watched little K turn into a blur as she ran around the living room. Ruth studied her very intently. I was studying my mom’s white socks. She’s the President of Michael Jackson’s Over-55 Fan Club and takes the white socks/black shoes very seriously. It’s cute.

 

Then we plopped down into teams for Family Feud. Mom was the moderator. Well co-moderator. Her socks were also hosting.

See that empty seat? Yeah, there’s always an empty seat somewhere in my photos. Wanna know why? Because I’m always taking the photos. It kind of bites, actually.

So I asked my sister to take one of me.

And I used it as an excuse to see if there was anything up my nose.

There wasn’t.

Throughout the game, my mom made Ding Ding Ding and Buzz noises to indicate if our answer was correct. At one point, we were concerned that we’d have to call 911. She would say DingDingDinalupoding or Bivffff. And you could tell she was really trying to say the right thing. My future flashed before my eyes and I reassured her that they still had a spot in The Shack if need be.

D stepped in with the answer, thanks to his iPhone. If he hadn’t, we’d still be sitting there watching her try to get the right word out.

 

A family photo with Unc and K was simply not having it. Ruth avoided eye-contact so she wouldn’t feel embarrassed.

 

A couple other things happened over my trip which I’ll talk about later.

But first, check out the flea market where Ruth decided to have a blow out on our way home to Arkansas. Awe. Some. Ruth hadn’t gone boo snake (anyone else heard that phrase? My grandma would say it) for 5 days and when does she let loose? 90 minutes into our car ride. I even called it beforehand, so it wasn’t entirely unexpected.

After our walkthrough and clean up, we stopped for gas and, while there, saw someone who needed a Blessing Bag. Remember those that we made? I gave away two on this trip alone. It was great.

I sure did enjoy my time and am so thankful to have had it.

Time.

Don’t take it for granted.

Carthage Thrifting

Well, there went our budget for the week, but oh my it was worth it. I got some fun things and didn’t talk baby talk once the entire day.

I asked an old coworker of mine, N, to escort me around some thrift stores. She ended up being our chaperone. For the thrift store and me, I mean. She made sure I didn’t get too grabby with the store’s body and helped the store open up a bit more and show me its silly side.

I wasn’t only excited about thrifting, but also to get out like a normal human being for a day. Well, kinda normal. I did have my breasts unashamedly exposed on a highway so I could pump in order to return to being normal for the next 3 hours.

No one noticed though. I think everyone we passed could feel me boring my eyes into the side of their heads saying Oh I just dare you to look, my friend. So help me, if you even move your face one iota to the side…

You know how you get that subconscious feeling of danger every now and again? Sometimes it can come on so strong that you just keep looking forward and keep on keeping on. I’m pretty sure that’s what they felt and stared straight ahead.

We finally arrived and ran into the shop.

N, luckily, also likes to take her time browsing, so I didn’t feel rushed or like I was holding her hostage. My kind of thrifting experience.

This first store rocked it. We dove in and didn’t come up for air until 3.5 hours later. Awe-some.

There were many things I talked myself in and out of throughout those hours. For one, this band hat. My goal (once we’re out of The Shack) is to create an attic space, complete with old wardrobe, mirror, and mannequin, sofa etc. for a dress-up corner and this hat just about made the cut.

Six months ago, I wouldn’t have blinked. But now that we’re trying to stick to a budget and have bigger plans for our moulah, I eventually nixed it. Maybe next time I’ll pick it up.

N found many things too.


Like this old pastry cutter and a paper-mache Santa that lit up. I watched her wheel and deal for that one. We literally ran around like chickens with our heads cut off and every once in a while would see the same thing at the same time and take in a huge gulp of air before grabbing it.

It’s nice to be surrounded by people who get the same sort of joy out of similar things as you do. It’s also nice to watch people get excited about different things than you too, but nothing beats a shared passion.

After that shopping extravaganza I was starving and brought out our lunch.

PB & J’s, lemonade, popcorn, nuts, and fruit. Next week, at The Mobile-Homemaker, I’ll be showing you how to bake the bread used for these sandwiches. Just a plain white bread, but R & I both enjoy it.

You can’t really tell, but it’s oh only 28 DEGREES FREAKING OUTSIDE.

The conversation was short and we hopped back into the car to make another stop.

Enter Doris.

She was manning the front desk and, I believe, owned the place. Within 10 minutes of us walking in, she literally made us take several things for free.

I knew she was a girl after my own heart when we asked for her photo and after taking it, insisted on seeing how she looked. Yes, we thrifters are all vain.

I picked up some wool socks (R and I are addicted) and a piece of artwork that knocked my (wool) socks off, along with some other things.

We stopped at a couple more places before heading home. The drained feeling of exploring and searching and squealing and buying makes for a laid-back ride home. We chatted, I soaked in the setting sun, and stared out at the rolling fields.


I was happy.

But nothing is as exciting as when you arrive home and get to show off your wares. Most of the time R just laughs and he didn’t disappoint this time. Except he threw in some head shakes and “What the heck is that” questions.

My absolute favorite buy of the day, and I can’t even tell you how much it was because Doris just said $5 for everything (and I had a good pile going…) is this artwork:

What the.

I just couldn’t take my eyes off it. It grabbed me, spun me around, and dipped me. So you know I was in love.

This deserved a prominent place in The Shack.

And there she be. Right above our french press that we use every day. So now every time R wants coffee, he’ll have the pleasure of soaking in that glittering beauty of a print.

This is one happy mama.

Junk In My Trunk

Yes, there too, but also my estate sale finds. Between the 9 circles of Dante’s Inferno that was last summer and my overpowering swollen ankles during the last couple months of pregnancy, I didn’t make it out to many garage sales.

I probably could have, since my car has an a/c now – an upgrade from the Aerostar minivan without a/c that I drove through college. Yeah, it had a carpeted dashboard. I know, I was pretty hot. No literally, I sweated like mushrooms in a skillet. It was tasty – but I didn’t think every person hosting their sale would like me asking to use their bathroom. Hey, how bout I don’t haggle you for this whatchamecallit that I’ll eventually donate back to the Goodwill in a couple years if I could just. use. your. toilet. Thanks.

No, it wasn’t worth it.

So needless to say, I’ve been itching to get some junk.

With winter upon us, so are estate sales and anytime I go to KC, my mom tries to find some for us to attack. She’s my junkie wingman. Wait, that didn’t sound right. You know what I mean. We both like the kind of places that has layers of items, making you dig through for that special find. So knowing that she understands the patience of this archeological adventure, I can roam without feeling rushed.

Some things fun were discovered, some practical, and some sentimental.

Like that mid-century style glass holder (which will probably get spray painted)… did I hear Mad Men calling? I know, me neither. The only mad man in my life shook his head as I unloaded it onto the kitchen table.

Why do we need this?

That’s the thrifter’s worst accusation. No, we don’t need this, you’re right. But, luckily, at the last second, I’ll think of a reason for its being here that will make you wonder why you asked me in the first place.

Next in line is this whale desktop paper clip. And I mean a literal desktop, kids.

Wow, I’m really letting this gray hair get to me. Back in my day…

If only the Shack had room for a little desk. Until then, it will have to settle holding Christmas cards on our bookshelf.

Along with a couple glass jars, biscuit pans, and an embroidered dress that my mom spotted, I also bought a tablecloth (complete with 12 cloth napkins) and a new book.

I can’t tell you how many of this type of book I have. I mentioned my Old West collection here, and have since bought several other series. I cannot put a price on those huge photos from the past. Someone else did, though, and if I remember right, it was less than a dollar.

Steal.

In fact, the most expensive thing here was the tablecloth/napkin combo at $5.

The dollar spent on this glass holder was not enough to sell Mr. R. So I quickly  remedied it by putting in it a few of the thousand jars that I own (I have a soft spot for them). These jelly jars will be perfect to house leftover herbs that I’m starting to collect. A couple of these above were used in a cold/cough syrup recipe that I got from my new favorite blog: Frugally Sustainable. Can’t wait to share it with you.

But couldn’t you also see them filled with craft supplies in our kids’ room, too? See? Plethora of possibilities, R.

Until then, I’ll be daydreaming about my next junk sale run.

What is Essential is Invisible to the Eye

One aspect of this approaching 18-yr marathon on which we’re about to embark that makes me especially happy is all the book buying. I mean, I’m pretty sure my baby’s going to come out reading, right? At a 5th grade level?

Oh just kidding, folks. Maybe a 3rd grade level. I don’t want to put pressure on the kid right away.

So despite (or because of) my ignorance to age-appropriate books, I’ve been scooping up all sorts of fun things.

Like this lot from an estate sale for $5. The Collier Junior Classics (if only because our name is on it) as well as a 15 piece set, ranging from fairy tales to biographies.

They threw in the Little House on the Prairie bonnet for free. You know I’ll force them to wear that while reading certain stories.

But you know which book I simply cannot wait to read aloud?

The Little Prince.

I was studying in Spain for a semester and lived with a host family which included a 10 yr old girl. It was in her room that I slept. One day, after a 5 hr intensive study class, I came home and plopped on the bed. That’s when I noticed it: The Little Prince sitting on her desk. I think the shock of seeing English was what caught my eye, so I hungrily grabbed it.

And then promptly laughed and cried. Antoine, you killed me that day.

Right from the start, he captured me. Like, when describing how the protagonist, as a child, drew a picture of a snake eating an elephant. But the grown-ups could only see a hat (above).

They couldn’t see this:

So as an adult, he would test people with his drawing of a snake, saying:

In the course of this life I have had a great many encounters with a great many people who have been concerned with matters of consequence. I have lived a great deal among grown-ups. I have seen them intimately, close at hand. And that hasn’t much improved my opinion of them.

Whenever I met one of them who seemed to me at all clear-sighted, I tried the experiment of showing him my Drawing Number One, which I have always kept. I would try to find out, so if this was a person of true understanding. But whoever it was, he, or she, would always say:

“This is a hat.”

Then I would never talk to that person about boa constrictors, or primeval forests, or stars.  I would bring myself down to his level. I would talk to him about bridge, and golf, and politics, and neckties. And the grown-up would be greatly pleased to have met such a sensible man.

Or another favorite part of mine: the fox.

Sigh. The fox…who asked to be tamed by the little prince:

“But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat…”

……

So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near–

“Ah,” said the fox, “I shall cry.”

“It is your own fault,” said the little prince. “I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you…”

“Yes, that is so,” said the fox.

“Then it has done you no good at all!”

“It has done me good,” said the fox, “because of the color of the wheat fields.”

I tried reading this aloud to R and ended up crying through it all. We’ll see if I can buck up with my little one.

Thrifting

I always love to point out how much I hate to shop.  And I do… for new things. Give me access to pre-used, bargain deals, then my mouth salivates at the thought of going store hopping. It’s to the point where I can’t even stand being in regular stores, because I think, “Oh I’m sure I can find a better deal on this.” or “Who would pay that much for this?!”

In effect, I’ve become a snob. A reverse snob, I guess.

There’s a thrift store trifecta that I hit every time I’m in the neighboring town. Even if it’s for a quick run-through due to limited time, I cannot not stop. They all help satisfy my different needs, so the steering wheel literally takes on a life of its own and plops me right in front of the door. It can’t be helped.

First stop, Goodwill.

Here I get clothes, books, bric-a-brac, and occasionally a piece of furniture.

It was at this place that I landed on a pile of discarded Eddie Bauer sweaters. If you know me or R, then you know of our love affair with EB (or Ed, as he likes us to call him.)

Then onto the Salvation Army.

Here you can find a great piece of furniture and bric-a-brac. The clothes are still too pricey (can you believe me!?), and the kitchen ware is slim.

Okay, I’m not a complete imbecile.. where I refuse to buy anything new. It’s just become a knee-jerk reaction to question the need to pay such inflated prices. I mean, yes, I will buy new and unused underwear. (However, I did buy and wear a vintage 1940s swimsuit for a summer. Discuss.)

A hairbrush? New. (This has especially been cemented in my head after working in an elementary school where those insects whose name rhymes with ‘mice’ tend to congregate. Shudder.)

If I were to jump out of a plane, then yeah, I’d pay extra to make sure the parachute was new and in working order.

See? I’m not demented.

The last stop on the holy trinity trail is just a generic THRIFT STORE (per the sign). I found this puppy while getting lost one day.

It feeds my do-it-yourself projects, my kitchen ware, knitting, and occasional piece of clothing.

It was there that I bought these bushel baskets. R thought it was a great idea, since we have an orchard not growing anywhere near us. (He never appreciates my purchases).

And who could forget the great book buy of 2010: a Gardening Encyclopedia set. The cashier rang up each book at 25 cents when I thought they’d be a dollar. Will I read them? Probably not. But I saved almost $14 people.

And I love how they look in our eames style TV stand. We found that curbside in our old KC neighborhood and I made R carry it three blocks home. You know, instead of me running ahead to get the car. I was afraid it would be snatched.

Yes, I am that person. A dumpster-diver.

There, I said it. I’m a dumpster-diver and I love it. During my sister’s annual neighborhood large-item pickup day, she and her husband would grab a six-pack, sit in their screened porch, and make fun of my fellow divers.

They don’t understand.

Then what about the Shack’s mini, almost microscopic wine (and champagne?) cellar. With my $4 wine rack and $2 carafes. I bought the carafes back when we lived in KC and they were next to 12 mini wineglasses of the same decor. Those glasses still haunt me to this day. Why I didn’t buy them, I’ll never know.

I think I didn’t want everything to be mitchy-matchy. I still get queasy about mitchy-matchy, but in this case I would’ve come to love the matching set eventually.

Note Klimt’s and my mutual friend, Judith, gazing longingly for a glass.

And then my ‘Medicinal Plant’s’ poster. At the checkout line, a lady said that she was this close to buying it.

Half of the fun is the competition. There are not several of these in the store, with more in the back storage room. It’s a one and done deal. Who knows when you’d see it again, if ever. So you have to grab fast if you like it, because others are just as quick.

For the record, I have no idea which plants these are, as they are all written in the latin names.  I know one day I’ll see something outside that looks similar and then end up with poison ivy on my tongue.

But when you live in a Shack with limited storage, you have to be creative. So when I found this 60s (maybe earlier?) laundry basket, I immediately thought where it could go.

In front 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 trying.

It also holds the cute set of vintage mixing bowls, one of which holds our compost goodies.

You need storage, Carolyn? Then voila! That little guy opens up to find all of my awkwardly sized bottles. These have been stashed randomly in the kitchen, bedroom, and who knows where else.. so it pleases me to have them all in one place.

The Shack’s wallpaper & white linoleum, on the other hand does not please me. Oh well. I’m blessed to have a roof over my head.

Happy Thrifting everyone!

Wild Wild West

Have I mentioned how much I love our library’s bookstore? We’ve had to take out a second mortgage on The Shack to keep up with my addiction, but it’s been worth it.

And if my future kids don’t just curl up in a corner and daydream about the wild wild west after reading these, I don’t know.. I’ll throw a fit.

I mean, look at those embossed front covers!

And the wonderful colored pictures that just beckon you to step right through them to another century of lassos and Native Americans and ghost towns…

You just cannot put a price on these two-page photo spreads either. The books are full of them! …And for a buck a piece, I think I got a steal.

Happiness.

Reading Character At Sight

Not so long ago, I was digging through some books at an estate sale and came across these beauties. From 1918, they delve into how to read people’s character (and your own character).

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 what was written in an old Charles Dickens novel!

So I took my time looking at the headings… Not really wanting to read the description, knowing it would dispell my first initial reaction.

The Refined, Sensitive, Beauty-Loving Man – Oh hello, sir. Look at that rose sunset. Sure, I’ll sit on this blanket with you. Tea? Why thank you, kind gentleman.

The Vigorous, Virile, Coarse Man – Yes, the sunset is divine isn’t it. But who is that laboring in the field below? He’s just so, so virile. I think I’ll take a walk. NO! Ahem, I mean, no thanks, you don’t need to accompany me. I’m just going to stretch my legs… right through those hay fields.

The Hard, Unsympathetic, Driving, Close-Fisted Man – On my way to meet Mr. Legends of the Fall, I trip and tumble down the hill. The 7th Earl of Carolyn’s Daydreams rode up on horseback and yelled at me to get off his property. Oh, how rude you are! I was only taking a walk. But I’m sure there’s a sweet man inside you somewhere.

[side note: this is taking the tone of Beauty of the Beast, one of my most hated Disney movies. But it is any easy plot, so I write on…]

The Impressionable, Indolent, Extravagant Man – The King is taking a tour of his countryside and happens upon the scene. He calls out for the nice young woman with graying hair to please ride home in his carriage. Why thank you King! While we’re in here, let’s talk about your son…

At the end of each lesson, you are given activities. One of which is to observe people and list where they rank in each category.

What have you learned at the end of this lesson? (Besides that Carolyn needs friends. Real ones this time.)

Crocks

We had a couple days off from school this past week due to weather, so I ice skated my way to some antique stores. I always try to have a game plan before entering these fun-filled edifices. If not, I’ll wander aimlessly and you’ll find me in the corner many days later overdosing on other people’s memories. It’s not good.

One of the items on my list was a crock. My co-worker gave me a recipe for biscuits and gravy, but she suggested I use leftover bacon grease.

Whaaat?

You see, it’s these little things that I just never think of. This is just one more way to extend the food I eat. Another similar idea is the sourdough starter for bread. I’ll be trying that someday soon once I get some courage. I don’t know why it intimidates me so. But absolutely no yeast needed. Kneaded is needed. But not yeast, and the starter just grows and grows and grows. A new deliciously informative blog I found has already helped at least prepare my mind for this feat. Here’s her post on sourdough.

So, anyway, I found two crocks and immediately strained the grease into one of them through a cheesecloth.

And there she be. I know, I know.. you’re wondering why I just don’t wash my hair for a day and use that grease. That wouldn’t taste good on biscuits, silly.

My other crock I used on the side of the stove, where I store utensils and other frequently used ingredients. Remember, we live in a teeny apartment, so any space is crucial. Above is how it was before…

And here’s the after. The new crock just freed up an entire drawer in the kitchen. Sweet!

Oh, and guess what else I bought? A pressure cooker/canner. A co-worker owns 100 acres and has offered to set up a garden this summer.

I. AM. STOKED.

When the Cat’s Away…

R has a business trip in KC next week, so he wanted to drive up earlier to stay with a friend.

One problem.

We’re a one car family and I’ve had an antique shopping day planned with a couple girls from work for about a month now.

Solution? He took the bus. It left at midnight and arrived around 5am. R didn’t get a lot of sleep, between a man grabbing his shoulder in the dark and asking loudly “Where are we?” and watching the guy stumble to the front of the bus and getting off right before an exit on the highway to thinking about the KC bus station and hoping his friend, B, makes word on his promise to pick him up.

The KCMO bus station is not exactly in the best area of town and B has a tendency to get worked up about things.


So Little Miss Carolyn took off early Saturday morning for a full day of antiques. On the original email, it said “this is not for wimps.” And man, was she right. I was exhausted by the end of day.

 


We stopped at two Amish stores for breakfast and lunch.

D I V I N E — Fresh made donuts and a roast beef sandwich, respectively.

My bread never ever turns out this good. I ate it up, literally (and I guess figuratively too.)

We attacked a lady and her 4 month old English Sheep Dog as they exited the beauty parlor. I think I may have found my new favorite breed. I could’ve scooped him up and took him home with me right then and there.

He would’ve liked the Dorm, right?
Antiquing was a success. Found three more of my Butterprint Pyrex dishes for twenty bucks total. Easily saved ten dollars. R mentioned not too long ago that he read the new Pyrex refrigerator dishes are having issues exploding in the oven. And since living sans microwave, it was crucial that I find the older versions to be able to reheat foods. Right. Right?

I debated about mixing different styles of Pyrex, which I normally would not be opposed to doing. In fact, I kinda like that look better…not so mitchy-matchy. But we’ve talked of the idea of exposing the dishes (plates/cups etc) in our future kitchen, and so in that case, I prefer having similar colors, but different textures. That way it doesn’t overwhelm the eye (or at least my eye) but it still creates some interest.
Was that straight up HGTV or what.
Believe it or not, I felt like I had been too practical in my finds and had to get something tasty just for myself.

What’s better than snuggling up to a 1932 journal filled with outings, bridge parties, and trips to California?
Well, I guess one thing.
Snuggling my feet under someone’s legs with a 1932 journal.

Squeal!

Look at my birthday present! It rang the doorbell and patiently waited for me to answer it.

Squeal!

If you don’t remember, I found this lil guy on the front lawn of a house. It was sad and ripped and broken, but I loved the lines. It was taken to a reupholster in town and quietly stored in their barn while I sold a couple organs on the black market to pay for it.

But little did I know that behind my back, R had contacted them to move forward with the process…as long as they had it done by today (pssst, my birthday).

I’m not big on presents, I’d rather *do* something than *receive* something, but this was just so unexpected and over the top (for me). Plus, you all know how I like my trash to treasures.

R’s a treasure, too. I’ll keep him.

Purging for Peace

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?