Oodles and oodles

A very brief history of some lanterns

 
I'm not a lantern collector. In fact, I don't think I've ever bought a lantern before this weekend. But I found these in perfect condition at a sale, and I recognized the name Dietz, a manufacturer that once was located in Syracuse, and so I bought them. I could go into considerable detail about the history of the Dietz Lantern Co., but it would be kind of boring. Instead, I'll tell you about the sale where I got them. Maybe you will understand what happened better than I did.

These came from an estate sale where the son of the dearly departed was "in charge." "In charge" is in quotations because he was "in charge" only in the loosest sense of the word. He seemed, well, not exactly "baffled" because "baffled" would require more effort than he showed. Perhaps it's best to describe him as "in attendance."

So here's the first thing that confused me. There was stuff in the garage. But the house seemed like it might be open.

Me: "Is everything out in the garage?"
Man (we'll later discover everybody calls him Mikey): "Yes. Except the lawn mower."

This was confusing because clearly there was a lawn mower in the garage. But I wasn't interested in it, so I didn't take much notice.

A few minutes later, another customer: "Is everything out in the garage?"
Mikey: "Yes. Except for some dishes in the kitchen."

So of course I follow the other customer into the kitchen to look at the dishes. Which were unremarkable. What was odd, though, was that the house was full of stuff that seemed like it was for sale. By this point, Mikey had wandered in.

Me: "I don't want to overstep my bounds, but it looks like there might be some other stuff for sale. Is it OK to look around?"
Mikey: "Oh yeah, sure. Look wherever you want. I have to get rid of it all."

Meanwhile, the house was filling with an assortment of neighbors. Some of them were a little wacky.To wit:

Neighbor #1: "Who did you say died?"
Neighbor #2: "Joe Smith."
Neighbor #1: "Oh, that's right."

Two minutes later:

Neighbor #1: "Tell me again: Who died?"
Neighbor #2: "Joe Smith."
Neighbor #1: "Oh, that's right."

Meanwhile:

Neighbor #3: "Mikey! How much is the Jell-O?" (Mikey had managed to get the boxes of Jell-O out to sell.)
Mikey: "Um, I don't know. Two for a dollar?"
Neighbor #3: "Two for a dollar? It's five for a dollar at Walgreens!" (Bargaining ensues over price of Jell-O. Neighbor #3 is a feisty elderly Italian lady. Her ethnicity will become important later.)

And then:
Neighbor #1: "Who did you say died?"
Neighbor #2: "JOE SMITH. JOE SMITH DIED!"
Neighbor #4, who has just walked in: "Oh my God! Joe Smith died? Oh, that's awful!"

(Conversation about Joe (not his real name) Smith ensues.)

Meanwhile, I've found two boxes of Christmas ornaments. Even though, out in the garage, I specifically asked if there were any Christmas items and Mikey said there weren't.

And then:

Neighbor #2: "Mikey, is there anything in the cellar?"
Mikey: "No, just junk."

Moments later:
Neighbor #4: "Mikey, is there anything in the cellar?"
Mikey: "Oh, yeah. Go ahead and look around."

I go down in the cellar with Neighbor #4. Soon we hear loud voices. The little old Italian lady is having a war of words with another neighbor who, it is revealed during the course of their fight, is Sicilian. There's nothing like an estate sale to rekindle ancient ethnic rivalries! Neighbor #4 and I decide to lay low for awhile. In the meantime, I find a McCoy flower pot.

Nothing had prices on it, by the way. Not that you'd be surprised by that. I was a little worried, given that Very Expensive Jell-O, but the boxes of Christmas ornaments were two dollars, the lanterns were a dollar, and the flower pot was a dollar. I paid Mikey quickly, before he told me something else. The neighbors were still in the house. I imagined they would be there all day, Neighbor #1 asking periodically who had died, and Neighbor #3 fighting with her Sicilian enemy over long-standing grievances, and Mikey just kind of taking it all in. I was pleased with what I found, and even more pleased that I did not live in their neighborhood.

 

 

 

 

Easing into an explosion

 
 
This photo is a deception. The post that follows has almost nothing to do with it. I put it here because it's pretty and fall-looking and I'm updating my Etsy shop today and it will be in there this afternoon. What follows is not fall-looking. It's an explosion of (I'll whisper) Christmas stuff. It can be hard to look at this much red and green and Santa stuff before Halloween, so I'm giving you this opportunity to leave. No hard feelings. I don't like to see it quite this early either, but I'm in the biz, as they say. So, if you don't want to see the holiday baking still life I've been plotting for my antique mall showcase since the day I signed the rental agreement, you should go now. See you later! Bye-bye! Thanks for stopping by!

 

(Are they gone yet?)


(Out the drive, down the road?)

(All clear?)

 

 
So now that it's just down to us crazy vintage Christmas people: Here's the stuff I'm pulling out to take to the antique mall Friday. Which will be combined with some other Christmas things, and some vintage kitchen things already there, and it will look very festive.

 
Pretty mint-green LuRay dishes. Red and green are just so good together. (The plate holder is going in Etsy later.)

 
Jolly Santa salt and pepper shakers, and some Santa dishes (they could be wall plaques, spoon holders or little candy dishes) in the back.

 
Baking basics.

 
Vintage sprinkles and decorations.

 
Here's some other stuff that I'll arrange when I get there. The combination of the pine-tree pillow and the bottle-brush trees was complete serendipity, but I really like it.

 
This scene is straight out of my childhood. Every year my brother and I would get a little plastic manger scene (the little ones, not quite as big as this) at the Christmas Eve service at church.

 
Thanks for stopping by!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A guide to the good life

 
First, always look your best. Be well groomed. Choose the right accessories, like a roaring fire and a cozy afghan.

 
Have a purpose in life. Look alert. Make sure the noisy car keeps going down the road and doesn't stop in front of your house.

 
Have fun. When your mama isn't looking, steal her slipper.

 
Take time to dream.

 
And don't stray too far from home.

Don't be afraid

 
 
I'm not wild about scary Halloween things. I don't like haunted houses. Or scary movies. Or creepy costumes. I do like dark October nights, a little bit of wind and maybe a mildly suspenseful old movie. More "Rear Window" than "The Birds," if you know what I mean.
 
This is about the scariest Halloween object I own, and he's really not all that frightening. He was much worse when I found him. Fortunately, surgery went well, and now I can't really tell where he was repaired unless I look pretty hard.

 
Here's where he's sitting, on the hutch in the living room.

 
The friendlier-looking pumpkins live on the shelf on the other side of the living room.

 
This wooden horn is one of the few additions to the collection this year. I did my best to conceal the creepy clown on the trick-or-treat bag for the photo. Talk about scary!
 
And in my only other bit of Halloween news, I mailed my last Halloween corsage today. Hope you like it, Angie!

 



 

Weekend finds

 
There were lots of estate sales this weekend, but the pickings were a little slim at all of them. Still, go to enough of them, and you end up with a few things. Like refrigerator dishes, a syrup pitcher (these little red handled pitchers sell like crazy at the antique mall) and a pastry cutter that Linda was kind enough to fish out of a box for me. (There may be photographic evidence elsewhere of our junking adventures this weekend.) The fabric in the background is a duvet cover - yards of really pretty fabric. Not sure whether I'll use it as-is or use the fabric elsewhere. The colors are perfect for our bedroom.

 
I've been a little curious about the market for community cookbooks after seeing a bidding war break out over some at an auction this summer. They're usually cheap (50 cents to a dollar) and pretty good reading. That Iowa cookbook promises 150 pickle recipes!

 
A head vase, a ring holder and the legs of a chippy white bench that really is starting to grow on me. I should have taken a better picture of it.

 
And a shoebox full of Gurley candles. Some of them are in rough shape, but those turkeys will be trotting straight over to the antique mall this week.

I bought some Christmas ornaments, too - a mixed box Saturday and another one today - but I took these photos outside and it was just starting to rain. You'll probably see them soon enough, because it's almost time for the annual sorting of the Christmas ornaments.

 

{almost} 40 ways to love a quilt

 
The first reason to love this quilt (#1) is because it's a crib quilt, and there's something inherently great about a crib quilt. Especially a crib quilt that was intended to be a crib quilt, and not cut down from a larger quilt that was worn. Also, this crib quilt has lots of pinks (#2) yet lots of blues (#3) and a smattering of reds (#4) and it could be for a boy or girl (#5).

 
This is the fabric on the back of the quilt. (#6). I would pretty much trade every piece of fabric - not any piece, every piece - for a bolt of this stuff.

 
It's a typewriter key print. Which makes it not just adorable but gives it educational value. (#7) Once you're done swooning over it, you can simply gaze at it and see how many words you can spell with it. Box, son, ox, an, ban - well, you see the possibilities with just this snippet.

 
If the typewriter key fabric wasn't enough cuteness, here's the floral fabric that's used for the sashing. (#8) In my fantasy fabric shop, we'll have this in every color.

 
It's a basic nine-patch quilt (reason #9 to love it, which is fitting, and really, is there anything more authentic and good than the nine-patch quilt block?), which in this quilt is a combination of print and shirting (#10 for a good combination, #11 for any quilt that uses shirting.) Reasons #12 through #24 are for each of the 12 nine-patch blocks, some of which are about to appear.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Amongst the nine-patch blocks are smaller blocks set into the sashing. (These would be reasons #24 through #30 to love this quilt.)

 
 
 
 
The center square on these blocks is about half an inch wide. (#31)

 
 
The quilting on the patches is a straightforward X. (#32)

 
The quilting on the sashing is a little fancier. (#33)

 
I don't mind the corners on the sashing where it's a little faded because it's a quilt that has a past. (#34)

 
And I don't mind the worn places on the binding, a few of which were gently mended (#35). This little place along the edge is right where it might have been clutched by a little hand (#36).

 
It's a hundred pieces, and all of a piece. (#37) I even (sort of) love the idea that it will go to a new home (#38) because it will be on Etsy (just click on the sidebar) as soon as I finish here. Someone new will love it (#39), and they will find reasons all their own.
 

 

 

 



 
 












 

 
 


 
 

Hoosier Halloween

 
I know I told myself I needed a Hoosier for storage, but really I'm pretty sure I just wanted to be able to put stuff in it for Halloween and Christmas. Especially Christmas. I could do a different Christmas display in the Hoosier for every month of the year, but that would put me in the category of "crazy lady who keeps Christmas stuff out year round." So we'll focus on Halloween.

 
There aren't many new additions to the Halloween collection this year - the black cat party favor on the bottom shelf is one, though. In a good year I find one or two new things, and that's OK. It's more fun when a collection builds slowly (and a dollar or two at a time).

 
Some old favorites.

 
It's a real leap of faith, putting the Halloween napkins out where they could be mistakenly grabbed and put to actual use. I wonder how I'd react. I'm guessing not well. My daughter is having a few friends over Saturday night, and I might have to hide the napkins first. It's that, or explain to each of my daughter's friends exactly what they can and cannot use. Which do you think my daughter would prefer?  (I can see the texts now. "OMG! Carrie's mom is psycho!")

 
The little shelf is devoted to black-star Swanky Swigs! I'm so excited* because this year I remembered to get them out, and I have more than I recalled. I recently purchased a guidebook to Swanky Swigs. Carrie picked it up and said, "Wow. It must be hard to write, like, an entire book about Swanky Swigs." Meanwhile, I'm thinking there's just one book and not a 12-volume set?

Anyway, the arrival of the guidebook means (lucky you!) more informed commentary on Swanky Swigs (I will never, ever tire of that name.) The star pattern, as it turns out, is one of the earlier Swig patterns. It is from 1935. That's kind of impressive, isn't it? I don't generally think of them being that old. Anyway, there were orange star Swanky Swigs, too - and how awesome would that be at Halloween? - but apparently they are so rare that there are only four of them known to exist.

Also, I want to share a comment I received the other day:

Comment by: Secret Pepper Person

Oct 7, 2010

I have never seen a Swanky Swig in Florida! what's the history?

Thank you, Secret Pepper Person, thank you! All of the rest of you may be shouting, "No, Secret Pepper Person! Don't ask! Don't get her started!" but it is TOO LATE. I now have a legitimate reason to photograph and go on AT LENGTH about my beloved collection.

But not immediately.

I am hoping to post about 45 pictures of The Cutest Quilt Ever. Two hints: It's a crib quilt. And it has typewriter-key fabric. If cute's not your thing, you might want to skip it.

Also, you may have noticed the * after the words "so excited."  Finding my four star-patterned Swanky Swigs was fun. I was happy. Let me say that what would make me actually very excited is peace, a 100 percent literacy rate, and a cure for every kind of cancer. Just for starters. Some times I don't feel like a very serious person here, and I don't want to be a very serious person here. But I think it's fairly important to be a serious person. For some reason I needed to say that.

 

In a perfect world

 
In a perfect world, I would not be selling this quilt.

 
In a perfect world, this quilt would be on my bed, which would be an antique pencil-post bed in a large but sparsely furnished bedroom. With a large window that framed a magnificent view of the Vermont countryside. The hilly, dotted-with-farms part of the Vermont countryside. ("Vermont must be beautiful this time of year..." - know the movie that line is from?)

 
In fact, in a perfect world you would see this quilt on the bed in "Country Living," where my house would be featured, and you would agree with the writer who comments that what makes this quilt so great is that it is old but it is happy. It has all those somber dark homespun checks and the black-and-white shirtings, but combined with the brightest colors.

 
Pink and purple and orange, and here and there a little red and green.

Alas, this is not a perfect world. The quilt's on eBay this week. My virus came back, and I had to call in sick yesterday. Mad Men is over for another year, and Don Draper is ...engaged?

I came home from work early today, and I'm going to lie down. Underneath a quilt. But not this one. It is not a perfect world.

(And the movie, before I forget, is White Christmas. I love that movie. It's possibly also the reason I love Vermont.)

CSI: Pyrex

Friends, it has perhaps happened to you that you have not had a good night's sleep in more than a week. Perhaps you could not sleep because of a very stressful situation involving your daughter, which you cannot help but think you made worse because you could not keep your big mouth shut, but which turns into a completely positive situation not because of anything you did but because your daughter is blessed with a personality that is equal parts substance and sunshine.

And just when you believe your jangled nerves have finally settled and you think you might finally sleep through the night, you feel that annoying tickle at the back of your throat. And you get the worst virus you've had in years. Which wasn't so bad the night the Chilean miners were rescued, because at least you could lift your head weakly from the pillow on the couch where you fell asleep watching CNN and emit a hoarse, pathetic cheer every hour or so, but which was not so much fun as the week wore on.

And so, when you wake up on a raw, rainy Friday morning, after yet another restless night, and remember the ad for a sale that sounds kind of iffy, you wonder if it's worth the bother.

 
But you tell yourself that weariness, illness and rain is no excuse, and the sale season will soon be over, and you go. And your instincts were pretty much right - the sale is kind of iffy - but once you return home, just before you slip into your narcotic-induced nap, you comfort yourself with the thought that at least you found a couple of Pyrex bowls cheap, and without the usual bleached-out, dull surface.

 
And it's not until Saturday, when you're feeling a little better and you wash up the bowls, that you notice something very peculiar about the red Pyrex bowl. It's in nice condition, all right - except for the big white blob of missing glaze. Which of course you didn't see, in your incapacitated state. And which, sick or not, you might not have really looked for because you only gave the bowl a quick look, apparently not all the way around, because you didn't really expect to find a permanent fingerprint. And so instead of getting for $3 a bowl that usually sells for $20, you have a bowl that you might set on a shelf with the bad side to the back, except that it would annoy you every time you looked at it. And then all you can say is that at least you got the small blue Pyrex bowl (which you already had) and a little bird at the stupid sale.

 
But you're starting to feel better, a little feisty even, and you tell yourself that if it's the last thing you do, you'll catch this guy. Because nobody leaves a fingerprint like this on your Pyrex bowl and walks away scot-free.

Good old fabric

 
Here's the other quilt top I bought at the half-price sale over the weekend. It's folded in quarters for the photo - it's big.

 
This is not the design I'd have chosen, had I been the person making the quilt.

 
But there are so many fabrics, crisp and bright and some of them feedsack, that it had to come home with me.

 
This is the other quilt top I bought at the sale, which I showed you yesterday - the crazy quilt that didn't quite work.

 
I finished taking it apart while watching "Mad Men"* Sunday night, and here's what I ended up with - lots and lots of good old fabric. Because of the crazy-quilt design, a lot of the pieces were layered over each other, so there was more fabric than it appeared at first.

* re "Mad Men": How is it possible there is only one episode left? Why did I become addicted to a series which is not broadcast 75 percent of the year? Didn't you think Don was a genius for writing that why-I-quit-tobacco piece? Did you fall for the Robert Kennedy joke, all the while thinking that the accent was really bad? Do you read the weekly "Mad Men" commentaries on Slate?

 
Returning to the fabric: Here's what I ended up with, after the pieces were washed and pressed.

 
Itty-bitty cherries! I'll show you the rest without commentary.

 
Except when I can't help myself.

 
 

 
Always a sucker for juvenile prints, I thought this one was my favorite.

 
But I really, really love this one, too.

 
 
Lollipop flowers!
 
And strawberries.

 
 
 

 
There are more, but I'm trying to show a little restraint.

If you spend the rest of your day on that "Mad Men" link, don't blame me.