Oodles and oodles

Friday roundup

Howdy, ma'am. I'm new 'round these parts, but the missus asked me to show you a coupla things while she's busy doin' that stuff that womenfolk do: soakin' a quilt and scrubbin' some Pyrex and washin' up some Lu-Ray dishes. I'm the best thing she bought at that there 'state sale, but I'll show you 'round.

Here's some buttons for mendin' britches and such.

A whole passel o' Christmas decorations.

 

Got no idea what's so special about this. Looks like a paper bobcat to me but the missus says it's a "vintage Halloween cardboard candy container."

 
If you ask me, this is the only decent thing she bought other'n me. It's a woven cowboy bedspread. It's a nice sandy brown color 'stead of gray, but the light's kinda funny around here. The bedspread's got these nice bloomin' cactus and a cowboy on a buckin' bronco and squares that look like a big old lasso. Right nice.

 
The cowboys are branding the cattle here. Makes you glad to be a horse sometimes.

So that's the Friday roundup. Straight from the horse's mouth.  

Things that come in twos

Here's the rest of the stuff I brought home from the auction Saturday: a pair of big McCoy vases, a pair of vintage souvenir pillows stuffed with balsam needles, and a handmade doll.

Love the detail on these vases.

The doll was a box-lot surprise. I'd actually bid on the box lot because I liked the pillows. And the doll came in twos, also.

She's a topsy-turvy doll. Flip her over and smooth down her skirt, and she's another doll. It's funny, because I am so charmed by her - but if I'd known she was in the box, I'm not sure I would have bid on her. I am so uncomfortable with vintage wares with images of African-American people. Most of it is ridden with stereotypes, and although I've read about the various schools of thought on collecting it, I've come to the conclusion that it's not for me. I think the fact that these dolls have identical expressions and clothing, just different hair and skin color, is what makes this doll different than a lot of the other stuff that's out there.

Each of them has a tiny dimity apron.

And the sweetest fabric for their dresses, which are joined at the hem by crocheted trim.

Finally, I lugged, and I do mean lugged, home this typewriter. It is in brand-spanking-new condition, right down to its case with the original key. It counts as a "two," too, I guess, because it's the second typewriter I've bought this season.   

 

Grandmother toys

I bought a box of tiny wooden nursery rhyme figures at the auction on Saturday. Nobody else bid on them, and so I got them for next to nothing. They're maybe three inches tall and made of a very soft wood.

They're the kind of toys I think of as grandmother toys, the kind that, years ago, an older person might have kept around to entertain a visiting child.

 
They're the kind of toys I'd have played with at my beloved great-grandmother's house. Nanny didn't keep a box full of toys for us. I remember just two playthings at her house: a plastic train with a small circular track, and an enormous teddy bear that sat on the bed in an upstairs bedroom. When we went to her house, we mostly did what she did: watched her sew, watched her stir pudding on the stove, sat with her on her front porch and guessed what color of car would come by next.

As these were the days of black and white television and three networks, Nanny did not have a library of children's movies with which to entertain us. Instead, I remember watching the Arthur Godfrey show and "Sing Along with Mitch."  I think they were on Friday night. She set up a tray table, and we ate peanut butter on Ritz crackers, and watched TV. It was pretty fabulous. If I spent the night, I'd sleep in the room with the big teddy bear. Saturday morning, I'd play with the train on the kitchen floor. She moved out of her big farmhouse and into smaller quarters when I was just three, so all of this must have made a pretty big impression on me.

I don't think anyone would dare to entertain a child in that manner now. I sure wouldn't. Expectations change. But when I see little toys like this, and I think back on all of the nights my brother and I spent with Nanny (which invariably ended with her telling our parents that we were "as good as gold"), I feel a little wistful.

And glad for the time I got to spend with her.

  

Missing pieces

So here's what usually happens when I'm driving back from a decent auction or estate sale: I think about the enormous amount of stuff I got, and what a good deal I got on it. I look forward to getting home and sorting through the box lots. I'm cheerful and optimistic.

But that's not how I felt when I was driving home from an auction Saturday. Oh, I had bought stuff, all right. But I felt like I spent a lot of money, and I didn't have much to show for it. I felt as if I'd made some rookie mistakes. I chided myself over and over again for buying some completely unremarkable Christmas ornaments. I missed out on some box lots I wanted. I regretted spending as much as I did on one lot, and regretted not bidding higher on another. Since this auction was some distance away, I had plenty of time for second thoughts and regret on my drive back. By the time I got home, I didn't even want to unload the car.

The lot that I regretted buying was a lot of Jadite. There were four mixing bowls and some miscellaneous pieces. I'm such a cheapskate I feel queasy any time I spend more than $25. Let's just say that when the bidding was done, I was feeling very, very queasy.

Last summer was a good year for finding some medium- and large-sized bowls. I already had a couple of small ones. Which left me with two incomplete sets of nesting bowls. The lot that I bought at the auction had more small ones. Which is why I was really kicking myself for buying them: I didn't need more.

Except, as it turns out, they weren't the small bowls. They were the next-size-up from the small bowls. Which meant they were the missing links, and I now had an embarrassment of riches: not one but two sets of Jadite nesting bowls. And my mood improved instantly.

So what I'm left with, aside from the bowls to complete the two sets, are a 7-inch swirl mixing bowl, another mixing bowl about the same size with a banded edge, and a couple of cereal bowls in the Jane Ray pattern.

And something else to look for, because the lot had a creamer and the lid to the sugar bowl, but no sugar bowl. But I'll find one eventually. Maybe not right away, but some day. I'm back to feeling optimistic.

Thinking small

Saturday's auction had lots of teeny-tiny treasures, like these doll dishes. I got two sets of them (destined for Etsy)(eventually).

I wanted them as soon as I saw the pint-sized napkin holder.

This is a child's apron made from handkerchiefs. I've found handkerchief aprons and children's aprons, but this is my first child's handkerchief apron.

Handmade doll clothes.

This one came with a matching hat and mittens.

I also was able at Saturday's auction to solve a problem. One of my elderly relatives has long been critical of, well, a lot, but in particular, the fact that I did not own a punch bowl. So I bought one.

 
I suspect this is not what she had in mind.  

If you were coming to dinner

If you were coming to dinner, I might have to keep the dishes I bought at the auction Saturday: Fire King Pink Swirl. (Think of Jadeite, but in pink.) 

If I were keeping the plates, then I might as well keep this tablecloth.

And the glasses I got last week.

Are you bringing your doll? She can sit in the pink wicker high chair.

If you were coming to dinner (with or without your doll), I would keep the net picnic cover.

And I'd keep the napkin holder.

I'd go pick a bouquet of sweet peas from the garden.

 
We could sit down and say "What a pretty table," and then we could ask, "Where's the food?" And I would say that I'm too busy building my antique-mall kingdom to bother cooking.

So since you aren't coming to dinner (I was afraid the lack of food might be a deal-breaker), I'll show you what I'm toting over to my display case - all of this stuff,  some that you've seen before, and some that I I got Saturday at an auction that was completely enjoyable.

Even though I didn't get everything I wanted, I got enough to make me happy. Like these hangers.

And a teapot grease can. How is it possible that anything designed to store grease could be so cute?

More from the auction to come - in the meantime, happy Monday!   
 
 

Auction report

I went to two auctions Thursday. Neither one of them was very good. In fact, the first one was terrible. I haven't been to an auction for a while, and so I forgot something very important: Unless there is a lot of stuff you're interested in buying, it's not worth staying. It's just too time consuming to wait for a single lot to come up, unless it's something you really, really want. More on that in a moment.

Everything in this post came from the second auction, including these swell Tipp City salt and pepper shakers. The first auction was noteworthy mainly for the appearance of the scrap guy. The scrap guy, who is a very nice guy, as far as I can tell, is not a stickler when it comes to personal appearance. I don't think he's trimmed his beard or combed or cut his hair since I first saw him some years back. He kind of looks like David Crosby (of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young), but much wilder and unkempt. And if David Crosby weighed 300 pounds. And showed up at an auction wearing only work boots and bib overalls. As in nothing but bib overalls.

I'm not sure if you've ever given this a lot of thought, but bib overalls really were designed to have something worn underneath them. Like a shirt. Even a sleeveless undershirt. A rag loosely wrapped around the torso. Anything. "Scrap Guy, are you sure that outfit is legal in New York?" the auctioneer asked. The scrap guy just chuckled.

This sifter and the very pretty glasses (there are four altogether) came at the end of the second auction, when people could pick things up for a dollar or two. It's fun, but it's hard to survive that long. Especially when your day has consisted of 1) nourishment consisting of one seltzer water, one diet root beer and a package of oat bars 2) extreme heat and humidity and 3) a vision of the Scrap Guy. I did have an epiphany, though. It's been a pretty hot and humid summer, especially by Central New York standards, and in the same way that people down South don't know what to do when it snows, people here don't know how to dress when it gets hot. The Scrap Guy was just the beginning of some of the wardrobe horrors I saw yesterday. All I want to say is: Not every woman can successfully wear a halter. In fact, most women cannot.

A pile of hankies, also from the end of the second auction. Good thing I got them, since I am down to almost a full vintage suitcase that won't close because it has so many hankies. I don't know what I was thinking.

A child-sized hanky with a glass knife rest, which I think came on the tray with the salt and pepper shakers. I also bought a very cool typewriter and some skeleton keys. Which I like, but wouldn't have waited around hours before. In fact, one of the few things that could make me stick around as long as I did was ...

the prospect of acquiring more Swanky Swigs, including my first Tulip #3 in yellow.

six Cornflower #1s

and two Cornflower #2s.

Yes, what for me would be two or three season's worth of Swigs, on one tray. Which of course did not come up for bid for hours. After the rusty chains, the box lot of half-rolls of Saran Wrap and a Hess Truck load of Hess trucks.

Did I mention I think I might have gotten a little poison ivy on the hike back to the car? I'm staying home and recovering today. Tomorrow, I'm going to another auction.
  

A lot to like

I'd be hard-pressed to figure out what I like the best about my new purse. Probably the button. Or getting to actually use a button from my stash. Or sewing on the button the way my mother taught me long ago, with a sewing machine - adjust the zigzag to right width, lower the feed and stitch away. (Maybe this only works on a sewing machine as old as mine.)

I like the fact that it's big enough to hold the stuff I need (cosmetic bag, wallet, checkbook, cell phone, notebook and tape measure) but not big enough to tempt me to put everything I own in it. I also like a purse that's wide at the top so you can see what's in there.

I like the lining fabric, a vintage print that I've had forever (and the fact that it kind of lined up nicely is the result of good luck, not effort on my part).

I like the little pocket on the outside, where I try to remember to keep my keys.

I like that I finally found a use for this fabric, a cotton print heavy enough to use for pillows and cushions and such. I like the pattern that I used, and the fact that I could actually start and finish a project so quickly. I like that I was shopping with my mom when I bought the pattern, and while I sewed, we just kind of hung out and talked about everything and nothing.
   
I think it's safe to say I pretty much like everything about this purse.

 

New in our other departments

Here are some non-Pyrex, non-church cookbook buys from the past weekend. New to our Toy Department are these charming (though not Consumer-Product-Safety-Commission approved) plastic rattles for Baby. 

Also available in pink.

Also new to Toys, and also not approved by the CPSC, are a bunny rattle, a swan bath toy and some extremely dangerous teething keys.

Available in our Craft Department in a variety of colors is our line of paper parasols, some with patriotic ribbons.

Regrettably, our buyer was able to procure only one stars and stripes umbrella, shown here with a 1955 U.S. Geologic Survey map of the United States.

That map, along with a few others, will be available in our Back-to-School Department. Also featured in Back-to-School (a phrase that will not be uttered again until at least Labor Day): a vintage wire in-basket, and a painted milkglass apple for Teacher.

The Housewares Department is featuring a snap-front apron, a dress pot holder and a napkin holder. The apron, by the way, is perfect for lunch ladies. So maybe it should go in the Back-to-School Department. I don't know. Retailing can be very confusing. (Fortunately, I'm nowhere close to selling any of this stuff. This is a make-believe department store.)

We'll move to a department where I have a high level of comfort: Christmas! These ornaments came in the bottom of a bigger box, and while they're nothing all that special, the colors are pretty.

Here are three - or maybe two and a half - Christmas trees. Some of us are more excited than we ought to be at the prospect of decorating the plastic tree. The trees in the green planters mix the charm of a Charlie Brown Christmas tree with the appeal of the bottle-brush tree.

Just look at those lovely snow-frosted branches. One of the trees is missing its top limb, and the other is a little thin on its lower limbs, but a trip to our Repair Department will fix that. 

  

This delightful cardboard sleigh came with a Santa, but it's missing its reindeer. No problem! Our Repair Department has some reindeer missing their sleigh!

Finally, some miscellaneous Christmas: a plastic Santa candy container, a wax Santa ornament and a Rudolph ornament. Our buyer nearly killed the wax Santa not once but twice, first by leaving him in a hot car, and then leaving him in the sun on the porch. By some miracle he survived, and our buyer promises to do better in the future. 
 
   

A little treasure

Until Friday, this cookbook existed for me only in legend. I'd heard stories about it from the women at the church we joined when we moved here 16 years ago. How it contained recipes for the most incredible pastries one could imagine - kolacky and rozky and cerstve rohlicky. How almost no one seemed to have the cookbook any more - and the few people who did would rather loan a stranger money than let someone borrow their copy.

My daughter volunteered to work at our library's book sale Friday morning, and so I decided to browse around when I dropped her off. I don't know why it occurred to me, since I haven't thought about the cookbook for years, but it dawned on me that if I were ever going to find a copy, this would be the place. And almost as soon as I started looking through the cookbooks, I found it. I don't think I've ever been so surprised to find something, or as happy. (If it were acceptable to pump one's fist and yell yesssssss! at a library book sale, I might have.)

You just know that any cookbook that has an entire chapter devoted to dumplings and noodles is going to be a good one.

 

Or a whole chapter on filled pastry. Not to mention chapters on doughnuts, cakes and tortes, and, my favorite, yeast doughs, which has the subtitle "Glorious Czechoslovakian Recipes."

I recognize a lot of the family names in the cookbook, although most of the women who contributed recipes have gone on to their heavenly reward. (The book was published in 1957.) I know a little bit the woman who illustrated the book, and she's one of those people that is instantly admirable: hard-working, independent, opinionated and skilled in so many of the practical arts, from farming to chair caning.

Most years the church has a fair, which is kind of a combination rummage sale, bake sale and farmer's market. In the old days, when the ladies who contributed recipes spent days baking for the sale, people would line up at the door to get the first chance to buy their pastries.

The church offered services in both English and Slovak through the 1960s, and as the older members of the church died out, so did the tradition. The final service in Slovak was held on a Good Friday a few years before we moved here. One Sunday - and I don't remember the occasion - the Lord's Prayer was recited in Slovak, and the elderly women in the pew behind us began to weep, hearing those familiar words in their native language.

And so though I'm not Slovak, and though I may never make halusky or pirohy or huspenina (the huspenina being jellied pigs knuckles), I treasure this cookbook. We all were strangers in this town at one time, and then we weren't. That's what I remember when I read through its pages.

Which is why I'll leave out, right where it's handy, at least for a few more days.