fussbudgetiness

I have always related to Lucy in the Peanuts strips. Particularly her fussiness. I am like that about things. But not people in general. I like what I like. And what I like, I usually love. There are few things I love more to do than to go thrifting. Because I usually find me some love there.

Last week, the kiddo’s Babci took me along with her. We went to a new place she’d discovered a few towns over, a stuffy little town with a private boy’s school. It was a tiny little hole in the wall, inconspicuous, save for a 50% off sandwich board prominently displayed in the front. But it was a goldmine for oodles of material for my fabric stash and two giant bags of poly-fill. I’m going to try my hand at some quilted bags and a softie or two for the kiddo.

And then I found a little love:

 

I love the trees in this. So stylized. The birds, I could live without. I kind of collect transferware…blue, red, brown, and black. But not green. It just doesn’t look right. I don’t like eating off of patterned china though. For that, I like white ironstone, in some strikingly simple form. I’m a little concerned about that light tea stain spot near the bottom, but I’m thinking I can get this out with a cotton ball saturated in hydrogen peroxide set upon it for a couple of days. If any of you peeps just happen to collect pottery or have a treasured pattern from your wedding you care for, don’t ever….NEVER….let it near chlorine bleach. EVER. It slowly eats at the pottery. You won’t see it at first, but eventually, it will have its way with it. I used to sell some of the pieces I tired of, and this was one of the little tips that was passed along to me. Hydrogen peroxide or even oxi-clean are more than capable of lifting out stains and are safe.

I’ve noticed when I’m at Babci’s place, new old pieces tucked in here and there. When I’d first met her, most of what she had was new and I knew of no collections to speak of, save for her milk glass collection. She’s a very refined woman who goes to the opera. And knows a nice thing when she sees it. She covets some of my furniture, which I’d gotten second hand at some tag sales and thrift shops. So much of the furniture today makes me want to cry…either the price is reasonable but made of particle board (sob), or, it’s well made but out of my reach financially. Second hand is the only way I’ve been able to find nicely made furniture with solid wood.

I miss thrifting with dear mom. She’s the only person who takes longer than I do and finds the most fabulous things, usually nestled in a box lot at an auction, or deeply buried underneath a pile of junk. Though the junk often finds its way to the house too. And Mom didn’t laugh at me when I, as the sole bidder, had raised an opening bid of fifty cents to $5.00 at my first auction for some plaster bust I’d just had to have.

Maybe this summer we can make some rounds.

 

 

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