Wisconsin Treasure Hunt

Yesterday I arose at an ungodly hour to catch the 6:56 am Metra to Wisconsin, buoyed only by the prospects of fresh treasure awaiting in the wilds of Sturtevant. And it was SO worth it!

Laurie had boarded the train at Ravenswood even earlier than I did in Evanston, and such a schedule had not given us time for more than a cup of coffee before heading to the station, so once our partner in conspicuous consumption Mary picked us up in Kenosha, we headed right over to the The Coffee Pot. Mushroom omelets and stuffed nutty waffles were consumed, and the hearty fare sustained us through the entire day and three antique malls chock-a-block with goodies.

So, now to the loot:

I picked up these pieces of sheet music for a song (sorry!)--and guess what? The only one that doesn't include chords for a uke or guitar is... wait for it!... Aloha Oe! Go figure. But it's worth it to have that cover with its attribution to H. M. Queen Liliuokalani. "Love's Old Sweet Song" I bought for sentimental reasons. It's one of the songs my daddy used to sing to me as he tucked me in when I was very little. His repertoire also consisted of "Red River Valley" and "The Old Spinning Wheel" (for which I also have the sheet music). The other two songs I bought I don't know yet, but they have uke chord diagrams, so I'll figure them out sometime soon. I just liked the covers.

This tablecloth and napkin set had just been set out in one of the booths at School Days Antique Mall when I scooped it up for a mere $10. The tablecloth has some stains and weathering, but I think it a good soaking in a non-chlorine bleach solution should take care of that--or at least mitigate the problem.

School Days was also the place I found the navy blue straw hat with its red embellishments. If I can find a nice dress to go with it, I might just wear it to Erin and Tom's wedding later this spring.

So help me out here--is the little ceramic tsotchke an elven pig or a piggish elf? I could not resist the weirdness. And, remaining true to my magpie nature, neither could I resist the strange nephew-art Christmas tree topper. Why? Well, 1) because it is sparkly and 2) because it is sparkly.

Here are a few more goodies I picked up on the hunt: A box painted with a desert scene, a bracelet with crystal and pearl details (we all bought bracelets, by the way--once I had the case open to inspect MY bracelet, Laurie and Mary could not resist the lure of the other two that shared the velvet board with mine), a transferware Cape Cod souvenir plate and a hand-painted souvenir plate from Los Angeles (one of these days I'm going to have to put my souvenir plates on display again--yet another item on the ever-growing to-do list...), and one of the finds of the day--a school girl's journal from the 1920s. Let's look inside!

First up under "Spreads and Entertainments" is an account of a birthday dinner journal-writer Viola's friend Beverley's mother threw for her. It begins, "Mrs. H--- invited Alma and me over for dinner the day of my birthday.... Mrs. H--- surely would take first prize for her wonderful cooking. Boys, if I were you, I'd shine around Beverley!"

Oh, and for those of you who are wondering what "Elk's Big Production" touted in the clipping was, it was that famous musical "Lets Go Peggy." Heh.

The book has many newspaper clippings reporting on the results of high school football and basketball games, and Viola seems to have had a soft spot for a varsity letterman named Donald. However, in the back of the book there is an empty space where Donald's photo once resided, and his name is struck through. Alas, the vicissitudes of young love. One picture, however, is given the place of honor on its own page where it has lain all these years protected by a small sheet of parchment:

It's hard to top Viola's School-Girl Record, but I think that this might come close:

It's there on the right, sharing a place of honor with Jeff's mystic eye fez. It is not the bejeweled wonder that many Shriner fezes aspire to be, but its cache of cool lies in its simple metallic embroidery and its tassel of delicate brass springs. Not that I wouldn't make a beeline to a bejeweled fez if I saw one for sale (especially if it were from Moolah temple--now THAT would be awesome!)... but I like this simple old guy just fine.

I also scored a pile o' old linen postcards--two of which were of my hometown. No photos of those--at least, not yet.

Oh, and as promised... here's a photo of the lovely new concert uke to close this entry:

Two Weekends in Wisconsin (Part 1)

Okay, yes. It's been almost an entire month since I wrote in this. And I know I keep promising to do better, but... well. I'm a backslider of the highest (or perhaps that should be lowest?) order.

At any rate, earlier this month, I found myself in Wisconsin two weekends in a row! The first was a Saturday sojourn in Racine and environs, treasure hunting with Laurie and Mary. The second was Jeff's and my long weekend getaway to Madison by way of the incomparable House on the Rock. This entry will deal with treasure hunting... the next one (which I promise you won't have to wait another month for) will deal--for the most part--with what I've come to think of as the nation's quintessential house of horrors.

But first, treasure hunting!

Here's the way it works: Laurie and I take the train from Chicago to Kenosha (only $5.00 round trip on a weekend!), where Mary, who lives in a grand old house and work in progress in Racine, picks us up. From there, we visit some of the local antique malls and such... but our main destination is always the School Days Antique Mall in Sturtevant. It is a veritable TROVE of treasure, as you will see...


Just look at what greeted us as we entered the main room, which used to be the gym of the old school in which the mall is housed. Yes. It's a stuffed bear cub, horrified at a book about Hitler.


This booth, near the entrance to the gym, is always densely but artfully arranged by themes. This is a garden theme. It's also way overpriced. I've coveted many a treasure from this booth, but alas, I have never treasured any of it enough to pay the asking price.


Most of the booths have a more reasonable pricing policy, yet even so, sometimes it is hard to justify paying the prices asked. The souvenir pillow above, for example. I believe it was in the neighborhood of $20 or so. Not exorbitant, but not cheap either. I still think I should have sprung for it, but the thought of schlepping it along with my other treasures back on the train made me snap the photo and keep only the memory of it.

Here's another item I decided to forego:


I love the decorative foliage, but what really attracted me (magpie that I am) was the ring of lavender glitter around the photo. But it was really quite too expensive--in the $30s, I think. Too dear for my blood, even though it sparkled.

One thing I love about treasure hunting (aside from treasure finding) is the inevitability of odd tableaux created when a bunch of old stuff is put on display. Not arranged with a theme or motif in mind, but just kind of jumbled together, as here:


The Indian is aiming at the cowboy, who in turn has the tin bunny in his sights...

Or here,


where Rudolf referees a cage match between Santa and a plush soldier.

This one is a tad more disturbing:


Naked doll parfait.

The theme of this treasure hunt shaped up to be all about creepy ceramics, however. Just take a look:










I actually brought the one directly above home with me--it now graces our mantel.

I came close to bringing this little number home:


I am very partial to tiaras (although I have absolutely nowhere to go where it would be appropriate to wear one). I wore this one around the mall for a while and then put it back on the pile where I found it, lagniappe for another magpie.

But I tried VERY, VERY hard to justify bringing THESE treasures home:


Oh. My. God. Sparkly, multicolored, pointy-toed shoes. Made. For. Me. But no. These were made for Cinderella, and I was but an oafish stepsister who could not cram my toes in them, much less make any real attempt to claim that they fit. And I do NOT have big feet! Wah! I was disconsolate!

So what other treasures beside the creepy pixie planter did I bring home with me? Well, I bought several kitschy souvenir plates (I collect them, and one day I will build a plate rail around the dining room on which to display them), a candy dish in my crystal pattern (Cambridge Caprice--vintage glass and crystal), and the most amazing find: a 1930s needlework book with instructions for crocheted hats and bags. Not winter toques or stocking caps or berets, either, but stylish little confections of that era. I'm crocheting the "jockey cap" now--if it works out who knows? I could have a little sideline going in a few months... IF it works out!

Stay tuned--I promise, promise, PROMISE that I will regale you with more Wisconsin wonder in a few days!

Marfa 5.0

Gosh, it's been more than a month since I promised to write more frequently--alas! I will try to do better in the future! And I know I also promised a little post on Mifune and her ongoing battle with the Ugly Dolls, but that will have to wait. First, I'd like to bring you up-to-date on our latest foray into far west Texas--our fifth trip to Marfa.

As we traveled the now-familiar route from El Paso to Marfa, it dawned on us that we knew a lot of the landmarks... more than we would have expected! For example, I knew within two minutes prior to seeing the sign that we were approaching the immigration checkpoint near Sierra Blanca, and I even made a comment to Jeff along those lines. Then voila! There it was. And this time, for the first time, we were actually questioned as opposed to waved through--of course, this time I could not figure out how to lower the windows on the rental car... sheesh. But they bought our story that we were American citizens (heh), and on we went. Anyway, the landmarks kept coming: the pecan orchard that signaled we were getting close to the ruins of Lobo (a town sold and bought on ebay), the famous Prada Marfa installation north of Valentine, Valentine itself, the drug blimp... and then Marfa, where we checked into our usual digs at the Hotel el Paisano

and headed to Maiya's for a lovely dinner with Rachel and Chase. We ended the evening at the town's new watering hole (well, new to us since the last time we were in town), Padre's. Good bar--lots of room indoors and out, plus game tables, a great jukebox, and live music on many occasions.

Our stay in Marfa reinforced our opinion that it is a charmed place. Our adventures this visit included a jovial cocktail party thrown by the brothers who host the book review program on Marfa Public Radio. It was great to find yet more kindred spirits in the Chihuahuan Desert. We had excellent meals, both out on the town (or should I say "towns," as we fine dined in both Marfa and Alpine) and prepared by Rachel and Chase. They are good vegan cooks, and quite a few of the dishes they prepared were right out of their own garden. There are a number of good breakfast places in town, from the basic bacon and eggs and migas (including the superlative pecan waffles at the Austin Street Cafe,) but we really loved the breakfast at Cochineal, a restaurant that has opened since our last visit.



We witnessed several storms making their way across the vast expanse of desert toward and over the mountains,

but no rain fell on Marfa while we were there.



We went to Ft. Davis, where we browsed a used bookstore,


hunted treasure at an antique mall,


and observed this little guy, a street-wise horned lizard.



We drove a bit farther to Balmorhea, a town with a very productive spring that feeds the local state park swimming pool, and the run-off from the spring gathers in one of the most unexpected land- (or should I say water-) scapes in west Texas: Lake Balmorhea.


The town itself, although Rachel and Chase say they love the place and want to buy a vacation home there, is--to be most charitable--a diamond in the rough.


Seen better days, if you know what I mean. And this was downright scary:



Back in Marfa, we had great milkshakes at the laundromat/ice cream stand. On Saturday night, we attended a reading by Ibrahim Muhawi at the Marfa Book Company, followed by a wind orchestra and choral concert--a benefit for Marfa Public Radio--at the local auditorium, followed by a launch party at Padres to celebrate the release of local artist, musician, and Food Shark maven Adam Bork. Somehow in the midst of all that, we managed to grab dinner at Cochineal... whew! I got pulled over by a cop in Alpine for exceeding the speed limit (got off with a warning--thanks, officer!), and that same night, I saw a meteor streak turquoise and gold across the broad western sky.

During almost every one of our sojourns in Marfa, either Jeff or I comment that we could live in that little town. After all, the more we visit, the more people we get to know--and they remember us when we return... But that comment is always the cue for the other of us to say "What? Are you kidding? It's TEXAS, fergodsake!" This time, the comment came when we were walking up Highland, facing the courthouse... and neither one of us said a word... That said, I don't think we're cut out for small-town life OR life as Texans. However... we do love to visit, Rachel and Chase are such fun to be with, and they make us feel so welcome that we get a tad melancholy when it's time to leave.

And so ends another trip to the high desert. We definitely are looking forward to next time!

Fall Is upon Us...'Tis Time to Rummage!!

Yes! This past week, I took a day off so that my fellow treasure hunter Laurie and I could make our biannual pilgrimage up to Winnetka for the big rummage sale. The fall rummage mecca is Christ Church, and its sale is always a doozie. So... let's get right to the spoils:

First, the shiny things:


The box is an old tin candy box with a hinged lid. I love the detail--it would have been way cooler if the flowers could have been some kind of paisley-esque motif, but hey, you can't have everything. The crocheted thing with the paillettes is a tote bag from Von Maur... it still had the tag on it. It's probably the least practical thing I got at the sale, but I cannot pass up paillettes. Nosiree! I didn't get the moniker "Magpie" for nothing!

Of course, the rummage has become a pretty reliable place to find cool table linens, and this year was no exception.


The small vintage tablecloth was a steal at $4.00, while even the large cloth (which will grace our Thanksgiving table this year) was a tad steep at $7.00... but it is pristine. The napkins are the coolest green paisley. I don't have anything to go with them... yet. But they are lovely and in such good shape. And at $2.50 the lot, who could resist?

Then there were the books...


I was much more disciplined this year than in years past, but to tell you the truth, we arrived a tad later than usual this year, and we had to park about a mile from the sale. Knowing you have to schlep your purchases offers a little incentive to rein in impulse buying. (Okay, okay... the damned spangled tote bag was an impulse purchase. But it weighs ounces, I tell you! Ounces!)

One book I couldn't resist, though, was this small journal:


Now, I already have more journals than I'll probably fill for the rest of my life (or, at least, until civilization implodes and we no longer have access to the Web and blogs and stuff), but I couldn't resist this one. And why? Well, I know you can't read it, but just take a gander:


It was inscribed! And very sweetly, from Gina to Brian, with hopes that he will record his travels, thoughts, and adventures. On the first page of the journal, Gina has copied out and slightly adapted the first sonnet in Christina Rossetti's "Monna Innominata: A Sonnet of Sonnets." It is dated May, '94. What a lovely gift! But, alas, one that doesn't appear to have been appreciated:


All the rest of the pages are untouched. It certainly appears this journal was a gift to a departing lover, but did Gina know that Brian would never come back to her? Given the way she adapted the sonnet, it could well be a parting gift, with the hope (probably vain) that Brian might reconsider. At any rate, I felt so sorry for this little book (there I go, anthropomorphizing again!) that I had to purchase it. Fifty cents is not too high a price to pay for this artifact--and who knows? Maybe it will inspire a story, or more.

Of course, the sale yielded the usual big man's shirt (only one, this time) and a couple of pairs of designer shoes in never-worn condition...


You know, Laurie and I were talking about all the shoes we've picked up at the rummage over the years, and how even if you figure that the shoes averaged about $3.00 a pair (this year, the going rate was $6.00, which we thought a bit steep, but these ARE Italian and never worn), the sum of all our purchases would not equal the original price of one pair of them. Ah, rummage, sweet rummage!

But, the piece de resistance, the BIG find, was this never-before-worn winter coat:


Only 40 smackeroos! Now, that's kind of pricey for the rummage, but, as I said, this coat has never been worn. And, as luck would have it, I have been pricing winter coats of late, as my trusty overcoat--which I bought in 2001 when my pals Barb and Beth came to visit--is getting a tad threadbare. That now-old coat cost at least a C-note more than this coat, BUT now that even mid-priced wool coats were going for $400+ at Carson's last weekend, I would say that 40 bucks is a really good deal. I'm happy. Can you tell?

Next up, in a day or two, I'll present our newest appliance. Oooohhhhh.....

A Restful Weekend

No, not this weekend, which is rainy but warm and sticky. And which will only get more so, what with the remnants of Ike on track to bluster through starting sometime tomorrow.

Now, LAST weekend, that was a keeper. The perfect last gasp of summer at the Michigan shore, our annual weekend at Gintaras Resort in Union Pier.

Although at first we had to contend with the remnants of a previous hurricane--Gustav--that brought some clouds, some sprinkles, and some very rough water. This year, our room overlooked the beach, so we were lulled to sleep by the sounds of the waves. Thing is, they were so loud we could hear them even through the closed windows!

The next morning, though, was lovely. It was sunny, but not hot, so rather than swim, we decided we'd go antiquing. Or rather, I dragged an accommodating Jeff with me to explore the local treasure hunting.

He was rewarded by a chance to strum down memory lane on an old Silvertone electric.

The only treasure I found to take home was a small print of a cabin amidst a snowy birch forest (it was a comforting scene, and comfort is very important to me these days...), but the photo ops were rich this trip.

Skeery dolls AND bronzed baby shoes... ah, a tableau after my own heart.

At close to two grand apiece, I could never afford to have my own Timothy Treadwell Memorial (and yes, I know that these are black bears and not grizzlies), but a girl can dream, can't she?

This is one of the great joys of treasure hunting: discovering the bizarre juxtapositions of American culture placed just so for our edification.

I don't think anything can beat this strange assemblage: a reading primer, its cover graced with a frightening clown and the title Many Surprises,, presiding over the head of a roughly decapitated mannequin. I think the placement of the head was not really intentional, as I could not find a price tag anywhere on said cranium. But you knew I looked, right?

It was a lovely, calm weekend spent with an eclectic mix of folks. Bittersweet, because we were still aching from losing Shelly (and we are still), but restorative. A nice walk on the beach can soothe many an ache.