Time for Pie

Sometimes when we go to an auction--I will bid on something I should't.  I admit, after all these years of buying--I will bid on something that just grabs me--without a great deal of thought of whether it is too odd to sell.  I will buy something and worry about how to unload it later.

Take pie plates for example.  Lots of pie plates.  Like 100 of them.

This is just a sampling of someone's collection of tin and other metal pie plates that we purchased--most of them with the name of the brand of pie embossed on the piece.

Take this one for example.  Helen Gates it says.  The pie dish has holes in the bottom which help the pie stay nice and  flakey and not get a soggy crust when baked.  My perfunctory research did not turn up a commercial pie operation for Helen Gates pies.

It did turn up a now deceased lady in Indiana--with that name--and her obituary mentioned her percolator was always on and she was known for her cakes and "mile high pies."  This conjures up a picture in my head--of a really tall, really wonderful lemon meringue pie-- With those pretty little peaks of  meringue that looks like ocean waves and disappears like a cloud when you taste it.  (not the sort of tough gummy top with lots of beads of sugar that seem to plague my two forays into lemon meringue pie)

Helen of commercial pie fame will continue to be a mystery.  But I know for certain--I bet our Indiana Helen was a very kind and popular lady--especially at church potlucks.

Poor Salvador

I am startled too, Mr. Dali.  We thought you were Resting in Peace.  But maybe not.

Well, actually, I have no clue if Salvador is resting in peace as I have no clue if he was a Believer.  Actually--that could be a discussion for another blog--and the topic here concerns his remains and how a judge in Spain has just ordered that he be exhumed.

It seems that Mr. D died in 1989.  The surrealist painter was buried in the theatre and museum he designed himself, in his home town of Figueres in the north-eastern Catalonia region.  A woman, born in 1956 has decided to pursue the claim that her mother and Dali had an affair and she is the offspring of that relationship.  There is nothing available from which to take a DNA sample--so they are going to dig the Poor Guy up and take a sample.

This just strikes me a So Wrong.  Where does it end?

Maria Pilar Abel Martinez, a tarot card reader, made the paternity claim in 2015.  Maybe she was flipping through her cards one day and had a favorable reading.  Actually-- many of Dali's paintings sort of look like the images often found on tarot cards.

Or maybe she went to an auction where--more often than not--there are millions and millions and millions of Dali lithographs forever coming up on the auction block.  Dali--or maybe a automatic pen signing machine--have been working for decades making prints that have been sold in shopping mall art shops.

I am not a surrealist fan.  I have never been to a Dali exhibit, let alone his museum.  But to dig the poor dead guy up for an unfounded claim is just WRONG.

There is Something About a Bottle of Soda

 Or is it bottle of pop?

It certainly depends on where you were brought up.

There are certain things that reside in my memories of Memorial Day's past--and one of them is drinking soda out of a glass bottle--and not with the twistie off cap--but with the bottle opener that had the pointy thing for opening cans on one side and the not sharp end for flipping off soda bottle tops.  It was attached by a string to a tree at my Grandma's summer cottage.

A ritual for the memorial holiday--which was the real kick off to summer--was to buy an 8-pack of soda bottles.  Soda was not a usual drink at our house--but summer meant one could drink it sometimes without guilt.  And you never poured it into a glass--you just kept it ice cold and got to swig it out of the bottle.  If you did not finish it--it got a funny plastic plug thing jammed in the top and put in the fridge till next time.  But it was never as good as the first swigs when the carbonation was full on.

When the 8- pack was empty--you took it back to the store--and put it in a wire rack or in a little window by the store office--and I think you got 40 cents refund. Talk about recycling!

I guess you can buy limited edition soda in bottles today--but they get dropped into your recycling bin when empty.  A nod to yesteryear is that some soda manufacturers have gone back to making beverages with real sugar--not the corn syrups that make the taste so "meh".

Our beverage of choice this Memorial Day?  Actually--it might be a gin and tonic before supper!!

Upcycle? Never Say Never!

I am the person that you never want to give a paint brush to.  Dear One told me early on in our marriage that my painting would be limited to the inside of closets.

Not any more!!  I have graduated!!  I am Queen of Chalk Paint!!

We purchased several "blonde" 1950s small dressers.  They are very solid and dovetailed and have great plated hardware.  And we priced them super reasonably.  But they are slow movers.  The color was --well--"meh".

So--I toddled myself to Ace Hardware and bought two colors of chalk paint.  (All right--I am VERY slow to the party.)  I removed the hardware--painted the drawers a seaside blue and the frame and top and sides a dark gray.  I sealed it with a clear coat after two coats of color.  Voila!

Guess the fate of two more similar chests that are currently in storage?  Can you say a combo of Orchid and Vintage Affliction Blue?

The closets will just have to wait.

Chomping at the Bit

It has arrived!!  Farm market season in Northern Illinois.

Courtesy of Fox Trot Organic Farm in St. Charles Illinois.  Wild garlic ramps, lettuces and french breakfast radishes.  Happy happy day.

Next order of business--ramp pesto for later in the week  and a delish salad with my new favorite dressing--white balsamic, dijon, honey and salt and pepper and good olive oil.  A VERY happy day.

Paralysis of Choice

It has happened to me several times in the past few months.  Too much choice has stopped me dead in my tracks.

First is the slight hyperventilating.  Then the sweaty palms.  Then the immoveable feet.  The only thing missing is the pounding chest.

I have recently been in person in stores--mega box, antique shops, coffeshops, grocery stores, restaurants and presented with Too Much Choice.  It stops me dead in my tracks every time.

I hope this is not an age thing--I hate admitting that I am coming full throttle on more things in life that best be described as Advancing Age Things--but I think it is just a reaction to an American world that just has too much stuff--too much clutter--too much too fast too over the top.  I really have always had this feeling--so I am firmly in the introverted camp of It Is Not An Age Thing.

In our antiques business--at shop and shows--we work really hard at not overstuffing the booths--let people really take a look at what we are selling--the can't see the forest from the trees kind of thing.  But many dealers do not subscribe to the minimalist look--if sales are slow--then they need more inventory stuffed in the booth--because the buying continues even if the sales have slowed.

But recently--while looking for a chalk paint to buy to upcycle a piece of brown furniture,  some 75W light bulbs,  concentrated chicken soup base (sans chemical sand salt), emery boards and a restaurant to have lunch with a friend-- I was struck paralyzed by the excessive choices.  The same feeling came over me as I perused a booth in an antique mall that was STUFFED with green glassware.  (Note to Dealer:  NO ONE wants your mass produced green glassware.  No one.)  I walked from one end of the aisle to the other, eyes glazed over, unable to make a decision.  The three page menu confounded me.  Too much too much too much.

I have been doing alot of thinking as to whether there are places to live and be where hardware stores have three kinds of lightbulbs, grocery stores have five brands of ice cream, not 50, and the emery board selection has the choice of five or 10 pack.  Aldi comes close.  Ace Hardware comes to mind.  E and S Seafood (in St. Charles Illinois--fabulous place with choice of four entrees)

And of course our booth at Odana Antiques Mall in Madison WI.

It's All a Bunch of Fooey

It is all about Chinese inventory these days.
As the trends in decorative vintage continue to evolve--sometimes a dealer needs to stick the toe into uncharted territory--for us--that is mid century Asian goods.

I don't pretend to know much about Asian anything--except some mighty fine food made by some good local restaurants.  But auctions these days--at least those around the Chicago area--are seeing more and more Asian influenced decorative items offered for sale.

We have sold several silk and wooden room screens, a fabulous pair of 1950s foo dogs (lions really--those that protected palaces and the inhabitants)  and some paintings with oriental figures and birds.  We even sold a pair of Chinese cabinet doors in a glorious shade of cinnabar.   I find Asian art  calming and attractive--and the look really blends with any other style you might have--certainly mid century and victorian.  Try blending an asian print with art deco or art nouveau--it is a really striking look.

We just attended an antique show filled with beautiful items for sale--but all of a particular style of antiques.  I did not see any Asian influenced items mixed in.
Be bold!  Give it a try.  Good design does not have to come from only the 1800s.  A great Asian piece of more recent vintage can really blend with any era--and that is not a lot of hooey.