That'll Be Four Dollars

"That'll be four dollars,"  said the bartender to Dear One after delivering two gin and tonics to our small piece of real estate at the Mint Bar in Sheridan Wyoming.

Read that again Friends.  Two drinks.  Two bucks apiece.  And that included fresh lime wedges.

We have just returned from a long and much needed road trip to one of our favorite places these days--the American west, namely parts of South Dakota, Wyoming and Montana.  There is no denying the distinct regionalism of the western plains-and the appeal it has for Lady Antique Dealer and Dear One.

Now--don't get me wrong.  I am not going to make the mistake of national politicians and politician hopefuls who gloss over "flyover country" and make sweeping statements about gun ownership and education and sophistication and religious affiliation.

We find genuine folk who have to work hard to make a living and who are very comfortable striking up conversations with people they do not know.  It is not a simple life--but more of a straighforward, cut to the bone life.  Making a living--and sometimes with multiple jobs, what high school is playing who this weekend, when does the book mobile come to our town and what day are they giving free flu shots at the senior center are all concerns to towns with none or maybe only one traffic light.

How can you not love places where there are elk steaks for offer on the same menu as bison burger options, movie theatres are called The Roxy and The Roman, coffee shops offer strong brews called Rattlesnake Blend, jams are made from choke cherries and huckleberries, rangers giving talks on the mating habits of bears and waitresses ask the the sweetest question of all  "Did you leave room for pie?"

Guest Blogger

My writing fountain is running a bit dry this summer and real life has intervened and taken me away from my computer.

So this month--I am passing on a blog about antiques written by Dear One.https://waterlawg.blogspot.com/2017/08/antiques-have-their-privileges.html

He usually writes about nerdy technical stuff.  I am going to talk to him about becoming a regular guest blogger.

Enjoy holding on to summer by your fingertips--the air and light are really starting to change.  Is Halloween junk REALLY in the stores two months early?

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.