Alien Beings from Another Planet

The news is full of the incredible pictures of Pluto sent back to earth from the "drive by"  space camera.  They actually brought back memories of childhood and drawing pictures in grade school of the solar system.  I bet if you dug in a box in my folks' basement you could some up with one or two.  (Maybe I should frame them and sell as vintage.)  Or the more painful days in college when I took astronomy as my semester of science elective.  No math I was told.  Calculate the collapse of a black hole anyone?  Make drawings of quarks and hadrons?  I still shudder.

Now I am seeing possible evidence of outer space around every corner.

This lovely hosta flower is on the the tallest stalk I have seen--over four feet.  Sort of looks like the cartoon Jettson's  high rise apartment building in the 1960s cartoon.

Love love love vintage science fiction movies.  They seem to take one of two tracks--martians invading earth or oversized creatures that must have morphed because of the US use of the atom bomb.  There is usually a handsome scientist trying to get to the bottom of the problem and a buxom assistant who he does not notice till she takes off her glasses.

There is something about a summer evening and popping in a science fiction dvd and slurping a piece of cold watermelon and stepping back into the 1950s.

Not a martian sighting.  Just Dear One deciding that he needed to "visit the girls" and check the honey flow.

Reflections at the Mid-Summer Mark

Windows are open, the  air conditioner is off and  I am waiting for the umpteenth rain storm of the season this afternoon.  Just a few reflections on a quiet day...

*Visit a real farmer's market.  Talk to some of the sellers.  They are interesting people who care deeply about what they are growing.  St. Charles IL market on Friday's is charming--not large--but great vendors with food not candles.  Baker Church, 7-1pm.

*Jettison trash summer TV and go for some old series chestnuts.  Dear One and I are laughing through Northern Exposure from the early 1990s.  Clever, quirky and well written.  Also on the list are Man from UNCLE and Perry Mason.

*Experiment with vintage recipes.  This summer so far I have made Grandma's ham loaf and mustard sauce, potato salad and Best Ever Sour Cream Coffeecake.  Next up-- Sweet Refrigerator Chunk Pickles.

*Write a real ,handwritten note to a friend who will not be expecting it.  It will make their week.

*Meet a new person or new people.  Old friends are the girders of our lives.  But consider a venture into a new project or interest that involves people out of your usual sphere.  Search out someone you would like to know better.

*Save an hour on Sunday nights at 8pm CST to watch the new British serial on PBS.  Poldark.   A remake of the classic from the 1970s.   Trust Me On This One. 

*Grab a favourite childhood book off the shelf to re-read.  They were treasures when you were a kid--and I bet you will fall in love with them all over again.  My stack includes, "The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe", "A Little Princess" and "Ping".

Not to worry if your summerlist is long--there is PLENTY of summer left.

What is Dreck?

Worthless, distasteful or nonsensical material.  Trash or rubbish.

Depending on what dictionary you check, the definition of dreck gets worse and worse.  No dictionary tells you that it multiplies on its own.  And worse yet, when left alone in dark garages, basements and closets,  it morphs into huge piles that threaten to spill into your living spaces. (cue JAWS movie music here)

Dear One and I have been married nearly 30 years.  When one "keeper" (the nice term for me) marries a "bigger keeper" (nice term for Husbola if I want to be married another 30 years) and then the couple goes into the antiques business 26 years ago, the dreck accumulates.

We purchased our house without a basement thank heavens.  A large portion of the garage is where I store shop and show inventory.  We have a house rule--the dreck does not come into the living spaces.
But where does all this stuff come from?

I am sorting and giving away and selling--and it still seems to pile up.  What is it?  The extra stuff from auction box lots that needs to be "gone through,  inventory that used to sell well, but the public taste changes so rapidly and it does not sell anymore.  Items from the house that we have upgraded or downsized and I know no place to put them. "Stuff" I have been given by a relative and am thinking about its future.   Items that are too good to toss, don't want to donate, but might sell at a flea market.

ENOUGH!!!   Inventory birth control is needed!!

This summer has plenty of time left.  I am working through box by box, shelf by shelf.  Determinations are being made.  If it is not going to go into the shop or a show--it is GONE.  I am tired of sorting through it, tripping over it and giving too much of my life to thinking about it.

When I can see the garage floor, I will let you know.

I Know Green Is A Color

I am not complaining.  Really.   Rain is great.  Ask drought riddled California about rain and how terrific it is.

But here in the Middle West,  we are working our way into summer and green has taken over and our yard and garden could be mistaken for a jungle.  Rain daily.   I need color.  The buds are here.  Now. Just. A. Little. Sun. Please.

I know all the design magazines and that 25 pound pile of Restoration Hardware catalogs show gray and beige and brown and beige and cream and Very Seldom Any Color.  Here in our world,  in The Green Envelope as we fondly call our yard, I am ready for the bursting forth of color. Even our beloved  New Mexico desert towns and museums  have bold  color right now-inside and outside.

Even our own light summer antique inventory--infused with color.

Even the petite but special Saint Charles Farmer's Market on Fridays has color...as evidenced by blue sweet peas, micro greens, Illinois  red strawberries and warm yellow lemon scones.

Patience Lady Antique Dealer.  Patience.

A Very Expensive Hat

June 18, 1815 is the two hundred anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo.

This is not a story that just falls off the American lips--but details of the battle are emblazoned on the lips of school children in the United Kingdom that is for sure..  The short version----Waterloo, located in present day Belgium,  was the site of a battle between the French Army under the command of Napoleon Bonaparte and the Anglo Allied Army under the command of the Duke of Wellington.  Wellington won.  Napoleon earlier in his career was a tactical genius who is responsible for bringing an end to the Holy Roman Empire.

Few pieces of clothing are as iconic as Napoleon's bicorn  that he wore in that distinctive sideways style.  NO ONE wore the bicorn that way--everyone else wore theirs with the points front to back.  But egocentric Bonaparte wanted to be able to be recognized on the battlefield.  He was 5'6"--which actually was not short for the period.

One of Napoleon's hats, one of only 19 known, was sold recently at auction at Bonham's in London for the equivalent of $1,680,000.  It sold to a South Korean food company.  Go figure.

The Little Corporal would be proud.

Is That A Rotary Phone???

Seriously, some conversations are just too unbelievable to have made up.  Take one that happened in our home recently.

Dear One and I use technology as much as our patience will allow.  We received numerous mailings from A Large Telephone Provider who finally sent a screaming red beacon to our house (or at least it seemed like it)

"YOU MUST CONVERT YOUR INTERNET OVER TO *********** AS THE TECHNOLOGY THAT YOU USE WILL NO LONGER BE SUPPORTED."

The two technicians arrived.  Courteous men who fumbled around a bit--but were able to convert us to Whatever the Heck It Is that we now have that provides our phone and internet.  While wrapping up conversation and passwords and account numbers in the kitchen, one of the Dear Technicians spied our 1940s vintage phone and squakked,

"IS THAT A ROTARY PHONE OVER THERE?"

Now, this guy was certainly not a teenager or twenty something.  If truth be told, he was well into his 30s.  The way he spit out "rotary phone" and rushed over to it  was like he had just spied a lump of gold sitting in the middle of the road.

His next exclamations of "wow" "look at this" and "does this really WORK?" "It can't work on OUR system."  His comments when he spied the ringer box on the floor and wondered if it was a MODEM defy logic.

Yea Pal, it's a rotary phone.  Still works, actually--better quality than the junk we have through the rest of the house made in a land far away and over the sea.

Sure Do Wonder About That Vintage Purse in Noto

Why is it that antiquers always obsess about "the one that got away."

You can be at an all day auction, come away with fabulous buys, and then mull over and over that one piece that you should have bid higher and it slipped away to another buyer.

Or the piece you see at a fair or a show--and it is priced a bit too high--you walk away and come back a minute later just in time to see it being sold to someone else.

It was not my fault.  One got away in Noto Sicily.  And I am STILL thinking about it. 

Noto is a wonderful town--made for strolling and soaking up history, eating the best granita in the world from Cafe Sicilia and noshing on wonderful deli treats and condiments at Sabbinirica.

But I keep thinking of that darn purse. 

At the end of the long main shopping street was a second hand shop--or vintage clothing shop --and it was CLOSED.  It was Saturday morning--but the shop was closed.  An adorable 1950s purse, convered in glass and plastic flowers and beads--and-- only 30 euros.  Translation--about 32 bucks.

Lovely day-adventures-food and experiences.  But I keep thinking about that darn purse.