Broke me again

We have just hit home after three weeks in the USA. We tend to cram a lot into our time away, this trip being no different.  We met new people, reconnected with people we've met before, saw, tasted and experienced things alien til that point.

I had a mental checklist to tick off. Some things remain unticked, some things got ticked that I didn't know should have been on this list and some got the big checkmark against them.


I didn't get my hair braided. I've been growing it for a while and told my (now adult) children I was getting cornrows. They were so disgusted with the thought I knew I had to go ahead with it. 
Then I found out  it can take all day - time I didn't actually have! I toyed with just braids... and then decided it was all too hard and I had too much to see. 


I didn't get a meal at IHOP (International House of Pancakes) but DID go to chuck-e-cheese, a different ... tradition. We discovered eateries of many varieties and experienced a range of menus.


While a certain part of me looked for a young adoptee - out of the thousands adopted by US families, I wanted to find just one in particular, good luck to me - I found instead other little people who'd been adopted by beautiful loving families, and their presence was part of what gave me joy.


I did manage to put voices and physical presence to many social media "friends" - now actual friends - and added more to my 'collection' along the way. How small the world becomes when it's seemingly only two keyboards and monitors separating you from people across the other side of the world. 

We saw the majestic splendour that is the Grand Canyon, the lights and apparent glamour that is Las Vegas. The faded grande dame Los Angeles, the hurry that is New York. We stalked St. Louis, the main reason for our visit. 


A good cup of coffee eluded me this visit, except that one cup in a Harlem restaurant. I received less quizzical glances when I asked for gluten free, and the novelty of never ending "candy" and "soda" had well and truly worn out.

So now three days later with a travel hangover, photos selected for printing, the suitcase unpacked and gifts distributed, I am beginning to process the beauties, the despair, the joys and the history experienced.


There is just a certain something about the USA. Hard to pinpoint, hard to even generalise. Just a something. It gets into that micro-micro-mili space between the layers of my skin and I can't wash it out. While it uplifts and embraces me, it also breaks me. Every time.

One woman's treasure

Maybe it's a leftover from watching "The Goonies" for the eleventy-seventh time, but I have a hankering for other people's treasures and non-treasures. I have de-cluttered my own shelves and collections many times, but I still find others cast offs intriguing. I do wonder if anyone ever looks at my discards in the local thrift stores and wants them....like I find myself wanting someone elses. Or if they are actually just rubbish.

Today my daughter and I went antique shopping. We only visited one store which we have both used before and have loved trawling through the shelves for hidden treasures and then scrounging through boxes of "stuff" in the hopes we could find an elusive something that we could make into a special something.

We were slightly disappointed, however. Our usually rewarding store appears to have been discovered by city folk, and the prices have increased, the eclecticness of the stock has decreased and the store is more crammed with genuine antiques (which we can't actually afford) so the visit wasn't as special as we had thought.

I did however find some treasures to photograph. Taking photos is one way I can have a keepsake without cluttering my house, and saves my bank balance as well. A visual record of the delights of bric a brac is a coffee table book waiting to happen. Or a blog, whichever...

The kids and i are long time antique store / op shop / garage sale fanatics, so have a lot of stories to tell of the stores we've found and the items we have or haven't bought.... And the staff who have or haven't looked after us. 

The world of "junk" shopping is one only diehard fans can truly appreciate. Time spent elbow deep in a tub of who knows what looking for a who knows what that is different to the others; haggling the price of something you know has no value to anyone because the shop owner doesn't even know what it IS, but it will match your other indeterminate bits; the joy of finding a button, a clock part, an ugly statue or a tea cup that complements the others on your shelf simply by its colour texture shape or absurdity... This is a way i find to relax the mind and minister the soul. A day without buying anything is still a productive day because I know no elusive 'something' or 'doohickey' has escaped me this week, but has given me ideas for next time's hunt.

The "treasures" which faced us today were a mix of things I would have bought and things ... not. Amongst the century old organ, the 60's hairdressing gear, the chaise longue and the rusty spanners were some onetime loved delights.

 

 Dillon struck me first. His manly likeness was such a change amongst the antique sideboards and china plates. His demeanour was that of a pacifist and he didn't complain about having his photo taken.  What more could one ask for?

The fine netting holding his gringo moustache in place? Undeniably attractive.

 Should one be tempted to date a man with such a divine facepiece as Dillon's, one must be prepared to entertain in style. The ice bucket holder pictured at right may suffice.  The glass marbles grapes are a sight to behold.

 

A lovely addition to any entrance foyer is this striking gentleman. A wooden butler to greet guests. Standing about three foot tall 

he wouldn't be the least intimidating....

Maybe he is a hat stand, maybe the house confessor. He could be placed on the seat of a missing dinner guest, or fitted with a remote controlled speaker to frighten the dog. Indeed he has many uses. One is only inhibited by one's imagination!

And speaking of imagination, tell me of any verandah, backyard or conservatory that can't be improved by the installation of this porch swing. Of course having the bananas in pyjamas as passengers cements its place in romantic folklore. Your life, nor your evening swing sessions, will ever be the same again. 

Walking around the corner I was struck dumb in wonderment at the next item. My daughter talk one look at it and uttered "oh my Lord". Kind of sums it up really.

We have been on and off collectors of chicken (chook) paraphernalia in our time, and I was sorely tempted by this beauty. 

Sorely. 

But I felt by removing this treasure from its current home I would disturb the force, the vibe of the thing and therefore Shelley - for yes that is now her name - should stay where she was. 

I may have been slightly swayed by her $49 price tag, also. 

I believe she was to a point anatomically correct, should that be of concern to you.

Shelley therefore lives on to grace the store and awaits a new owner fully appreciative of the 

grandeur of her.... being.

There are no words to describe the next object, a genuine antique. The blurriness is due to using my iPhone, perhaps the modern implement vs the antique implement caused a rift in the pixels, who knows.

 

The tag says "1920's dicta phone blah blah blah $795 firm"

 I couldn't get close enough to have a better look - well not without climbing on a desk and leaning over, therefore being caught anyways) which is why i have no more words, but it is a bit of a spectacle and not one to consider purchasing lightly. I imagine quite the conversation starter as well.

 

 

Then my daughter found a single bed sheet. 

A genuine from before her birth bed sheet.

With pictures on it..

of..

 

Elliott and ET 

Much subdued hand flailing abounded (you can't let the shop owner know you're keen) before she nonchalantly handed it across said "oh and I'll take this" and scored the store's discount as well.

 

Aah it seems she has inherited the genetic trait for hunting and gathering of "stuff". I see through her and my other grown up children they have the knack of finding treasures amongst the many faux treasures and the things the world holds dear. 

That amongst the antiques, the expensive, the gilded and the shiny; the century old fragile and the never used silver, what pleased her heart was the key to a piece of a childhood memory. 

A treasure others would - and did! - discard, fits her sense of what works. And that's treasure to me.

"For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." Matthew 6:21