Antiquing

Yesterday was a banner day. It began upon waking with the realization that my children were not here, that they would not be here until next Wednesday. I was alone.

The shout heard around the block ensued, and if you'd looked into my living room window, you'd have seen a grown woman dancing like a burning serpent, dressed in only her bra and underwear. Yes, it was that glorious. I have not been without a child's presence for more than 24 hours in over 20 years. Twenty years.

I caught up on some reading and made notes for hours and hours, an absolute luxury of time I almost felt guilty about using. Almost.

I called a couple of friends and treated them to lunch at a lovely Mexican restaurant that serves the most exquisite seafood this side of the coastal range -- chile rellanos stuffed with spicy crab and prawns, calamari with pico de gallo -- I didn't indulge but opted for the fresh salad instead. My friends, however, reveled.

Then, on a whim, we went antiquing in Old Town. I don't normally spend a lot of time in Old Town as it's much too conservative and stuffy for me, but the antique stores there are some of the best in the city. We chose the largest and oldest store, and began a'huntin'.

My friends were looking for antique kitchen ware -- potato mandolins, pastry cutters, rolling pins, mashers, sieves -- whatever little doo-dad they could find to fix up their future home with. I was looking for perfume, apothecary items, and wine-making supplies. I found several amber apothecary bottles with mismatched glass stoppers, an enormous 10-gallon glass water bottle from the 1920's that would be perfect for making vino, and a few empty perfume bottles of questionable origin, but nothing, really, that I felt like whipping out my money for.

Until I found the vintage, hand-painted bottle of Devon Violets. It was nearly full. And the contents smelled like a mock violet fragrance I made a few years back. I was stunned at how truly sweet and beautiful this fragrance was. So I bought it.

I also found a vintage bottle of Jergen's Atom Bomb perfume with a little of the syrupy dregs in the bottom. Very 1950's, that perfume. And the bottle -- cute as hell, looks like a little atom bomb, rocket thingey. And, of course, I'd take pictures of them both for you and post them here, but somebody stole my camera.

Comments

  1. Oh this gave me a laugh - I could just see you dancing for joy, with all that extra elbow room!

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  2. The dance scene is wonderful. Me to have been known to let go at a good 70-80th tune on the radio, but a wee bit more clad LOL.

    It sounds like you had a marvelous day and more will come until the gang is back in the house again. Lucky gal!! Hugs and kisses,
    Ylva

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  3. Very interesting and witty post. Really nice blog.

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  4. Diana,

    It was pretty comical. I had a little niggling feeling in the back of my mind that the front door was going to open and somebody would catch me celebrating. Now that would have been really funny.

    I am enjoying it.

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  5. Ylva,

    No music to my dancing -- it was all in my head. I think I might have been chanting, though -- "my kids are gone! my kids are gone! my kids are gone!" or something like it.

    Very lucky, me :D

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