Antique stores are indulgence. You don’t need anything. And heavens knows we do not! We are not minimalists as our kids are. It’s embarrassing. Beer steins? We collect them. We adhere to a price point. A low price point ensures that we go home with few steins. And yet, we still have to many on the shelves. Typewriter? No! I got the one that I typed my college term papers; it’s enough! Nope, room for one more… A clock…how quaint. It works! Empty or full, no Coke bottles. Nope! Perhaps it’s better if we do not walk into an antique store. It’s sport. There is an element of gambling. There is the thrill of the “find!” Sometimes you win. Often you don’t. It’s nostalgia. There is no admission and no cost to “look.” And then…be careful of indulging a whim.
A while ago
I have recounted our courtship and marriage before. Claddagh ring and Celtic knot – Colleen’s ring was made in Ireland, mine is of titanium. Symbolic? Colleen’s symbolizes friendship, loyalty, and love. Mine is a knot without beginning nor end – unity and eternal life. Titanium (was) – the material of spinal fusion screws that dominated my later neurosurgery career.
Dog year – it varies but, is considered equivalent to 7 human years. Our relationship is barely a year old. Baskets, beer steins, antiques, and cats are sprinkled liberally about our lives. We make elaborate baskets but nothing so woven as these from the museum. We have a real toaster oven. We did discover civilization as we got older. We have a fun and loving marriage. No, I do not know how a squirrel got inside a squirrel-proof bird feeder. Once in a while, I look back. Did I shoot that picture?
Colleen is tired of me for apologizing for our cozy home. We are definitely not minimalist. Our tendency toward exuberance is everywhere in the beer steins we collect to the refrigerator magnets. We have eight cats. I will add the Willow’s picture is a reminder of wide angle distortion, once more! I took old bobbins and made them into pens, not once but, as you see, many times over. Baskets? Ditto. One detail I will note: Colleen can weave! This cloth is being woven on a barn loom that dates back to the Revolutionary war. Wow! She can weave!! I like living large!
Home is a catalog of your life. In this case we had separate lives and have a joint life. It’s quite a mish mash of stuff. In making up for lost decades we have collected a lot in a hurry – old typewriters, old sewing machines, old spinning wheels… old beer steins. Colleen weaves. That shuttle is sitting on a Revolutionary war era barn loom. Yes, we basket. And, I built/constructed the bobbin display rack to hold spun skeins. We got old art and new art. The old wheel is our TP holder in the half bath. The master bath has too many cosmetics. I hid them in a nearby backpack. Yes, it’s all jokes in self-defense – we are out of room for stuff. Ditto, my pantry sits partially on the counter. We did not start out this way. They have shows about hoarders.
Us? We? Nah!!
I don’t drink. And, I especially don’t drink beer. It’s bitter. Colleen likes to laugh at my scrunched up face when I taste (she makes me) hers. She got to collecting beer steins. Real ones. Not Bud or Avon or Japanese. German, there’s a difference. (I bet you didn’t know or care.) Price-wise, we limit our purchases to under serious money. That is to say, I won’t agree to spend $100 and usually we are well under $50, like more in the range of $10. It’s no sport to find old steins unless you make a ridiculous set of limits. Occasionally we will break our rule, but on the whole it’s no fun to just scoop up anything in sight. It’s the hunt! Some days we find a lot. It’s always random. And, I still don’t drink beer. … gonna have to build a bigger bookcase.