Jen's Choice

Goodwill wasn't part of my plan this morning but a small voice in the back of my mind urged me inside. I wandered aisles of castoff possessions wondering what treasure I might stumble upon. I don’t need more coffee mugs but I always look anyway, just in case, you know?

 

I scanned the shelf of mass produced mugs and picked up one with Disney character. It felt cheap and misshapen. My eyes fell upon a an obviously handmade cup, but it was clunky and uncomfortable. Then I saw her and knew right away that she was different. She is signed by the artist and even has a name. How sweet is that?

 

In November I signed up for an advanced wheel pottery class. It doesn’t start until mid January, but I’m just not there yet even though I’ve had my hands in the mud for years. I called and canceled last Friday. What I need is an intermediate wheel thrown class instead, and maybe that will happen in the next year, but the cup I bought today isn’t wheel thrown. 

 

On Friday nights my cousins and I do pottery together. Julie's husband has affectionately dubbed us "The Man Haters." We recently acquired a second hand electric slab roller from a retiring potter. Perhaps Jen's Choice, the cup I rescued from Goodwill, will be my inspiration to once again build some slab pottery. She’s so very beautiful. I really did find a treasure today.

More Mystery Solving

 This afternoon I again went to visit my friend Gail at her cottage. We walked down to the water and scoured the rock shore for beach glass, she searching for large pieces, and I picking up crumbs. Tiny bits of glitter on the shore; clear, white, amber, green, and cobalt blue. 

I sat directly on the rocks as I searched the shore, scooching over every so often, picking bits of glass from the stones, and once in a while getting up to look from a different perspective. We'd started at the far east end of the beach and worked our way toward the opposite end, dropping whatever we found into plastic bags.

I'd already reached the other side when I put my hand on my back pocket to check my phone, but my pocket was empty. I was certain my phone was back in my car and didn't worry. It wasn't until we were on our way back when I remembered I'd had my phone inside Gail's cottage before we'd headed to the beach. Maybe I'd left it in her bathroom...  Nope.

I told Gail I'd lost my phone, and headed back to the beach to look for it. I didn't worry that someone else had picked it up. Holland's Cove's a private little beach, tucked into a small cove, and there weren't many people there today, just a few women sitting in lawn chairs toward the western edge.

It was a short walk. I said a quick prayer as I started across the rocks toward the water, and there on the shore was the biggest piece of "beach glass" I'd ever found! (It was actually my phone.)

Pictures are from this evening's jaunt to the park in Pultneyville. Gail and I bought sandwiches at the deli and ate them in the park. The lake was smooth and calm again.

* I lost my phone last week too, while my sisters and I were on our way to Ithaca. I'd had it when we stopped halfway to use the potty, and when we got to our second potty stop half an hour or so later (It was the coffee...), it was missing. I looked around in my car and saw nothing. Rachel called me and we couldn't hear anything, but her service is spotty.  I thought Priscilla should try, and if someone answered, we would know it was in the convenience store in Ovid. If successful, we could call Laurie (Priscilla's SIL) and see if she would retrieve it for me, but when Priscilla called my phone, we heard it ringing. It had slipped under my seat and was hiding.

I'm okay, friends. I'm really okay. Doing fabulous and enjoying the life with which God has blessed me. He is so very good.

Angelica Antiques

There is a part of me ready to quit going off to work 3-4 days a week. I'm ready to stay home, clean and organize my house, make savory soups, and bake flaky desserts... and maybe take a nap on a dreary, golden afternoon. Autumn does that to me.

Deborah and I set off into a world of golden sunshine this past Friday. We drove long and far (and I took the long way every time...) and found a tiny town full of antique shops. 

We wandered to our hearts' content, took fancy photos, brought home selected treasures, and left others behind. We're both wishing we took this sweet swinging doll home to stay, but she made her way back only in a photograph... There's always something left behind that I'm wishing I had purchased. I've save a lot of money that way through the years



 Bling, lots of bling. It's the first thing you see in the shop window. So fun, even for me, and I have never been a collector of bling.

These twin lamps graced an upstairs table creating a mirror image. I initially thought them rather gaudy, but every time I look at the photo I love them a little bit more. I don't know why, but they make me smile and every home should be filled with people and objects that bring a smile to our faces. (I read that in a book once...)

We're done traveling far and wide for a while now. We're both worn out and running out of money. (ha ha!) Actually I spent more buying grape pies on the way home for my October birthday kids than I did in any antique shop. And yes, I left the lamps behind too.

Paintings in the Attic

My father's aunts were painters. They aren't world famous, and they don't show up on the list of American Painters, but their artwork is still treasured. On the wall in Mom's room hangs a painting of an old mill in Ashantee NY. In the bottom corner is the artist's name, H. Torpey. It has been in my parent's possession for many years. Some of Aunt Harriet's grandchildren had never seen it.

When we moved Mom from her own house to ours, a couple more of Aunt Harriet's paintings came along, but rather than be hung on the wall, they were stowed in the attic of our barn. The other day I went in search of them and brought them into the house; two elongated, yellow floral paintings.

I took their pictures. I posted them on Facebook and tagged my second cousins. They were delighted and the father of one asked to photograph them and add them to his "Harriet Torpey Artwork Collection". In March, when they return from Florida, I will take the paintings to his house and we will enjoy a visit. I'm rather looking forward to it.

My online search lead me to another painting. I'm not the only one posting her artwork. :)

Stepping Backward

Frantically clawing to keep from falling in, I fight to escape the pit of holiday madness... There will be gifts to buy or make, presents to wrap and cookies to bake, and those favorite movies to watch.

I took a ride by myself Friday morning, but not necessarily Christmas shopping. There was no Black Friday rush where I went. I poked my way through Goodwill and took a leisurely walk through an antique shop. I bought little to nothing, at least in those two places. We won't talk about the grocery store...

In the antique store I found myself strangely drawn to old children's books and an intense desire to curl up in a corner and lose myself in a book. I resisted the urge to purchase this time... Do I really have time to abandon my house and family to read?

Upstairs I found myself smiling at vintage pull toys and wondering again how hard it would be to duplicate them. It's the old Fisher Price toys that always catch my eye. We never owned a chicken pull toy, in fact, I'm not sure I'd ever seen one before, yet they make me smile. (I truly am a hopeless case.)

Then there were the dishes. Lest you think I have suddenly matured, I will have to confess that almost every "little" girl loves a tea party and a fancy table. They are fun to look at and probably even more fun if the tea party actually becomes a reality.

I'm not certain what draws me to antique stores. They are expensive, smell musty, and are full of old things I don't need, yet I wander about taking in the sights and feeling comfortably nostalgic in the process. I like antiques. They take me back to safer childhood days, visits to grandma's house, and days spent on the farm, usually Uncle Joe's.  Hey, I've got a table almost just like that in my kitchen!

The Unexpected

Sometimes treasures are expected and other times they take one completely by surprise. Priscilla and I took a look up in the attic at Mom's house today. We pulled out a lot of garbage and inhaled a load of dust. (Does anyone else out there have the propensity to collect empty shoe boxes?) I have to admit there were only a few items of real interest to either one of us, but we did find a few things to laugh at and a few things to carry home.

Priscilla pulled this painting out of the darkness and we found it to be a piece of my grandmother's artwork. This makes a total of four paintings, three of which are in the possession of our cousin, John. My grandma's sisters, Harriet (here and here) and Margaret (here and here) were also painters. My dad was an artist in his own right and we spent many winter evenings gathered around the family dinner table both drawing ourselves and watching him draw. Mom drew with us too, she once took an art class with my grandma, so I guess it's not at all surprising that we love to paint and draw too... maybe I ought to keep those craft paints after all...

Small Treasures

But the boat was now in the middle of the sea, tossed by the waves, for the wind was contrary.
Matt 14:24

It may not look like much, but yesterday I found a small treasure forgotten in a drawer. At first I thought it was just a broken piece of wood, but once in my hand, it magically transformed. I held the little boat in my hand and peered into the back of the drawer. Was there also a mast for the tiny vessel?

I am finding that it is really the little things that make me stop to think. The bigger pieces, like furniture, do not hold the same place in my heart that this small carving does. Held in the palm of Dad's hand, carved because he loved both wood and ships. What looks worthless to some is priceless to me. I'm not quite sure what I will do with this tiny treasure. For now it is resting on a shelf in my living room, kind of like it once rested on the mantle behind Dad's wood burning stove.