Month: October 2011

Getting The Goods: Part Two

I hit my friendly thrift store to see what great vintage goods I could find and it did not disappoint.  Burgundy candle holders, $2.99.  Not old, but great for the holidays.  Small cloche, $2.99.  Good for putting a wee, little feather Christmas tree under.  Two small vintage plates, $1.99.  Just plain good.  Two strawberry serving pieces, $2.99.  Thinking ahead, great for next summer.

All told, I was pretty pleased with myself, and brought everything home to clean up.  Burgundy candle holders.  Original price tag still on under thrift store tag, $.99.  Ripped off for $2.00.  Times two.  Small cloche.  Couldn’t get the adhesive off so I sprayed it with Goo Gone.  Left a film that won’t come off.  Looks like the feather tree is in foggy weather.  Strawberry serving pieces.  Realized they were part of a set.  Left the rest of the set on the shelf.

Painted a wood cabinet I scored at a flea market for $2.00.  Used an “oops” paint from Wal-Mart that was half off the regular price.  Put three coats on.  Hated it.  Loathed it.  Wanted it out of my driveway.  Put it on the curb with a free sign.  No takers.  Looked at the receipt from Wal-Mart.  Charged full-price for the paint.  Oops.  Gave up.  Weekend over.

Sometimes you get a great deal, and sometimes you don’t.  Sometimes you need to walk away, and sometimes you need to just light a match.


Getting the Goods: Part One

Nancy and I are now in the full-fledged vintage business, with a rented space and sales twice a month.  With this new space comes the pressure to change it up, keep it fresh, and add new merchandise.  And to be on the hunt all the time.

I hit some sales over the weekend with a big ‘ol dollar in my pocket.  Un huh, real business like.  I was on my way to Wal-Mart when the signs started calling me……stop here, good stuff, cheap.  1st stop was a garage sale with vintage Boy Scout stuff.  Sniff, sniff, give me a boogie wipe…..I think I hit Vintage Lotto.  With a dollar.  I did some batting of my non-mascared eyes, and I no longer have eyebrows so that didn’t work out for me like it did back in the day.  Oh please, oh please can you hold these for me while I go get some money, I pleaded.  Mr. Old Codger said it’s been his experience that people who want you to hold stuff never come back for it unless you have something of theirs.  How ’bout you give me your wedding ring?   For some Boy Scout patches?  You’ve got to be kidding me.   We settled on some mints I dug out of my purse.  New in package, never been opened.  The mints were in mint condition.

I was on my way back from the ATM when I came across an estate sale.  The dearly deceased loved dolls.  Thousands and thousands of dolls.  On shelves, in boxes, in the closet, on the beds, lining the windowsills.  I’ve never been watched so intently by inanimate objects in my life.  And. It. Creeped. Me. Out.  I ran into a friend and after a few minutes of chatting, told her I had to get out of there.  Psssst…….these dolls are listening to everything we say.

I made it back to the Hostage Mint Taker and got my bootie.   It’s rough out there, and without a wad of small bills, you either have a pile of vintage or a pile of disappointment.  When the stars do align?  Oh, happy day.

The Doctor

When The Big Daddy and I got married, he was a graduate student and I was a loan processor for the local bank.  Four years into said marriage, The Big Daddy received the Big Diploma.

From that point on, he became an expert on everything.  On and on he’d spout about any subject, until one time he got up into my business one too many times with his pontificating.  So I said, “Ever since you got that degree you think you know everything.  You’re being a real asshole.” 

To which he replied, “That’s Dr. Asshole.”

Up until that point, I could throw him a snark bomb, and he’d kind of kick it around and not do much about it.  This time, he pulled the pin and lobbed it right back at me.  The Man had definitely graduated.

The Week In Pictures

Oh, I’ve been in a real funk lately.  I just can’t put my finger on what’s wrong.

I got to thinking about those years of dating The Big Daddy.  Those were real special.  Why, we were like two peas in a knitted pod.

Seems like the romance and the conditioner had gone out of our marriage once Sissy…..or is that Junior…….came along.

Source: awkward



I wondered who I should call about this problem, and then it came to me.

They said we needed exorcise the Fat Ghosts, and The Big Daddy got right to work on working out.  Lord have mercy, when he put those weights down and came up from the basement, I about had a heart attack.

Well, I needed to spend a date night with that hunk-a-burnin-love.  He loves when I put my hair up, so I gave it a zip and put a fancy dress on.

And The Big Daddy got extra handsome, too.

We went on our date and it was as special as could be.  You could say it was magical.

Since then, The Big Daddy and I have been inseparable.  A little older, but still like peas in some kind of wrinkled, hail-damaged, sagging pod.

Source: google.ca via

Once in a great while, this boy tries to sneak into my dreams, and I say, “Ben Whofleck, you go home to that pregnant wife of yours…………….

I don’t need you showing up here.  Why, I’m married to Eye Candy.” 

And we were so happy for so long until the warrants came-a-knocking.

The Hob Lob

I am a crafter, sewer, hot gun gluer, spray painter, framer, scrapbooker, creative person.  If that’s how you roll and Hobby Lobby happens to be ten minutes away, you could find yourself there at least twice a week.

I loathe The Hob Lob. 

Much as I’ve frequented the place over the years, I’ve never had a single employee acknowledge me.  Not, “Oh back again.  What did you forget?  New project in the works?”  Nothing.  Not one word.  Debit or credit, and do not question if we forgot to give you 50% off on that frame.  We don’t do that.  Ever.  Hey, have you guys ever heard of a scanner?  It’s this thing that beeps and automatically charges the sale price.  You should give it some thought since they’ve only been around about 40 years.  All the while, the faint tinkling of a piano playing “Jesus Loves The Little Children” is playing on the loudspeaker because they’re a Christian company, don’t you know?  That’s why they’re not open on Sunday.  For worship.

I can understand why you would need to take a day off when you bulk sell Christianity.  Considering that the majority of Hob Lob’s merchandise is mass-produced products from China, including the Christmas trees that come out in July to celebrate His birth, the 7th day must be a much needed opportunity to cleanse the tainted, commercialized soul.

Source: google.com via Shay on Pinterest

Showing Off

Every year our hood has a block party, and the neighbors gather to share food, conversation, and brewskis.  It’s an opportunity to get to know everyone better, and inevitably, the topic of home improvement comes up.

The womenfolk lean toward home decor.  It’s how I always lean, so I am more than happy to join in any discussion regarding furniture, bedding or paint.  At a block party several years ago, I was telling some neighbors that I was in the midst of striping the walls in our bedroom.  Oh my, they were excited and could they see how it was coming out.  Well, it’s a mess in there.  I’m halfway done.  We know how that goes, they said, and we don’t mind one bit.   Well, it’s just that the whole room is torn apart and I’d rather you see it when it’s done.  No, no, no don’t worry about that.  Well, o.k., but give me a few minutes to pick some stuff up.  And by a few minutes I meant a day and a half.

I ran up the street and into the house, and geez, it smelled funky in there, but I was frantically picking up the living room and hiding toys and clothes and throwing dishes in the sink when they knocked on the door.    I hadn’t even made it to our bedroom to pick up and what is that smell???  I took them upstairs, turned some lights on and started telling them the process of striping the walls.  And the smell was definitely worse up there.  Then, as if a beacon was shining upon it, all at once the eyes of three women landed on the pile of dog shit in the bedroom.  Oh, geez, oh gosh, oh I’m sorry, oh that dammed dog, oh let me clean it up and I’ll finish explaining what I’m doing.

But it was too late.  My budding career as the newest design talent on the block was forever and always a victim of turds.

WHAT?

The Big Daddy has some issues with his hearing.   Too much rock and roll is what he says in his faux Brit accent.  Then he pretends to brush the hair off his face like Ozzy Osbourne, and oh, how cute.

Except it’s not.  It is irritating the crap out of me.  Every thing you say to him, he responds with “WHAAAAAAAAAT????  I can’t hear you you’re mumbling.”  Or looking right at you and speaking.  I was on the phone talking to my sister, and he’s upstairs yelling, “WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?”  I yelled back, “I’M ON THE PHONE.  I’M NOT EVEN TALKING TO YOU!!!!!”  Oh, he says, I thought you asked me something.  You are making me crazy in a bat-shit kind of way.

After a weekend of us screaming back and forth, I decided to slow down and enunciate every word so The BD would have a better chance of hearing it the first time.  So I yelled down the stairs.  “COULD    YOU   TAKE    THE    BUNS    OUT    OF    THE    FREEZER?”

And he said, “TAKE THE FUN OUT OF WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?”   Oh nothing, just my life.

The Tree

When we moved to the Kansas City area, it didn’t take long to figure out that we might be able to afford a house.  Coming from the outskirts of D.C. this was a crazy concept, but we crunched the numbers and started our search.

We’d go all over the area on Sunday afternoons, and nearly always end up in an argument.  I liked older homes.  The Big Daddy liked the newer neighborhoods.  Once we looked at a new house that had the kitchen on the second floor, and I asked if I really was supposed to haul four gallons of milk and all the groceries up the stairs every week when I came home from shopping.  We looked at older homes and The Big Daddy said they smelled like somebody died in there and they buried the body in the basement. 

One day, I was reading the classifieds and saw a house with four bedrooms in our price range.  As in low.  We drove over and walked through, and when we were upstairs, I looked at BD and said, “I love this house.  I crazy love this house.”  And he said, “I think I do, too.”  We knew nothing about the area and asked the single woman selling the house if the schools were good.  She said yes and we took her word for it.

The day we looked at the house was in October.  This was in the front yard.

I have nineteen years of pictures of that tree.  Every year I tell the kids that this is the best color our tree has ever had, and they sigh very deeply and say, “Mom, seriously, you say that every year.”   

I know, but did I ever tell you about the day that Dad and I took you guys to that open house?   Did I tell you that when we saw that tree we knew this was exactly where we wanted you to grow up?