eBay: The Mayberry Version

Before all the medical drama of the weekend, I initiated my friend Kristen into the world of the Moundville antique auction.

I've mentioned this auction before, and my thoughts of it are usually accompanied by guilty stomach pains (rather than gall bladder) because I always manage to spend more money than I planned.

The Moundville auction is "special." It's the auction for folks who don't mind their "antiques" a little dinged up, and who don't mind wading through a bunch of junk to get to them.

When you walk into the auction building, the first thing you notice is the heat. The room is packed with stuff and bodies, and there's no A/C. Your thighs stick to the metal chair, your clothes cling and crumple, your hair wilts, your face shines. You learn to wear extra deodorant.

Once upon a time, you were an auction newbie, terrified of accidentally bidding on something, but now you wave the index card with your buyer number on it to cool your face. You are unconcerned about being misinterpreted because now you know that eye contact with the auctioneer is the real key.

On all four sides of the room, antiques and non-tiques are piled, chairs on top of tables on top of desks. You wedge yourself between dressers and sideboards, around people and armchairs to check out the goods. You find almost nothing you want, let alone must have. That scratched up table might be good for the sewing machine. That chair is kinda cute. That rug is okay.

Then the bidding begins. Furniture, collectibles, glassware, picture frames, and other random junk surfaces in the arms of the shy, sweaty teenage assistants. Some stuff looks so much more appealing now that it’s out on display. Other stuff is hideous, but you must whisper about it behind your hand because at least one person here will want it.

One auctioneer down front singsongs the bids into a microphone, while several guys stand around the perimeter calling a staccato “yep!” when they see a bidder’s hand. When the bidding is fast and hot, you hear, “Yep! Yep! Yep!” and you slide forward in your seat to get a better view.

The other auctioneer is a character, like a grumpy guest star on the Andy Griffith Show. He barks orders at the teenage assistants, and he might even snap at auction attendees who are chit-chatting instead of bidding.

But he’s half the fun. You never know what he might say. He could wave his hand toward a table of glassware and say, “Let’s sell some of this junk next.” Or if the bidding isn’t going well, he could make outrageous – yet convincing – claims about the item’s value, or even berate the audience for not bidding. Then he could make you laugh or remember your name, and you would shake your head and forgive him.

The auctioneers, the stuff, the cheap prices, the hard sell, maybe even the heat – it’s a lethal combination. You bid on one item, and when you win it, you’re hooked. The bargains keep on coming. You find yourself with two rugs when you only needed one, and oh no, another chair! You write down the wins on the back of your index card, and the numbers are so small that you feel a little giddy. But then the column gets longer.

When you’re ready to leave, you hint to the auctioneer which items to put up for bid next. He obliges, and you end up with one more item, one more number on your index card.

Then you go to the checkout counter and hear the total and try not to flinch. All those great bargains you got add up to a big fat sum plus 10 percent plus tax, and you write a big fat check for way more than you planned to spend.

Your husband grumbles – or if he’s not there, you text message him, and you can imagine him grumbling. But he (or some other hunky male) obligingly loads up the stuff anyway.

On the way home, you talk about your wins in glowing terms to keep the guilt away. You unload the stuff and find places for it, or pile the more useless stuff in a corner somewhere and forget about it.

And just as you’re making vows not to attend another auction for a while, a sheet of tri-folded hot pink paper arrives in the mailbox. Across the top in black: AUCTION.

You’ll be there.




Bridge lamp with painted glass shade, $20, a purchase from last Thursday.

85

Last night I discovered that 85 is my lucky number. Or unlucky, depending how you look at it.

We went to an auction at our usual place in Moundville. We didn't really need anything, but several members of the Eutaw posse were going, and I couldn't resist. I told Darwin we were going for pure entertainment. I wasn't going to buy anything. I didn't even want to buy anything.

It's amazing how little I know myself.

Even after we strolled the place checking out the stuff, I saw nothing I just had to have. Darwin shot down my interest in a green-upholstered ladies' Victorian rocker and an old oak icebox. I liked a marble top round side table but figured it would go too high. I saw a beat-up mahogany desk that could work as a sewing table but only if it went cheap enough.

But then something happened. Once I was in my seat, watching each piece get hauled up front, talked up, chatted over among our friends, the quivering in my stomach began. It got worse when several nice items went for cheap prices and worse yet when I let Darwin distract me out of bidding on an old brass floor lamp that went for $35.

The first thing I bid on was the little marble top table. It was going so cheaply, after all, and it was so pretty. Besides, we'd bought a plain wood one for $75 at a previous auction.

I bid up to $85 - high as I really wanted to go - and then waited anxiously for the next bidder to fire back. But no one did. The table was mine and at a perfect price!

The win did something to me. The next thing I bid on was a pair of old wooden butter molds. Why on earth would I ever need a mold for a pound of butter? Okay, they're cute. But why? I got those for $25, my only not-so-bargain of the night.



Then came the oak icebox. Suddenly, with the cheap prices tonight, it looked more appealing. Then we found out the ornate original door handle was tucked safely inside the top, not missing as I'd thought.

Darwin shot me warning looks. Don't do it! Don't do it! But I've wanted an old icebox ever since we bought this house. I love anything that reminds me of the old way people did things.

So I bid. Again, up to $85. Darwin whispered, "No more! Don't go any higher!" So I waited, hoping. And by george, the other bidders stopped! The icebox was mine!

I was giddy with this development; Darwin was less so. In the end, he was pleased with all the purchases except that one. For some reason, that icebox is one giant oak thorn in his side.



But I'm getting ahead of myself. There was more.

A nice 1940s buffet for our dining room - $85 (see there! Lucky.)
Two Hitchcock-style (but not Hitchcock) chairs - $50
Green-upholstered Victorian rocker (got it after all) - $80
Gorgeous, large, rich-colored, excellent-condition Oriental rug - $140

Fitting it all into our vehicles without the need for the usual trailer-fetching/strapping-everything-down rigmarole - Priceless.

P.S. I'll update this post with pics this weekend.


P.P.S. More pics to come; I was busy cleaning like a fiend this weekend.

Excuse to Buy a Table Runner

It's official. We can now have dinner parties. Expect your invitations in the mail any day ... I just hope you like frozen pizza.



When we bought the table a couple weeks ago, it had a few little problems. The legs were a bit wobbly, but a little screw tightening fixed that.

Four of the screws holding on the tongue-and-groove boards that let the table expand for the leaf were missing and had been replaced with screws an inch too long. When Darwin started to tighten them down, he realized just in time that they would poke through the tabletop. He bought new 1.5-inch screws and removed the assembly and turned it around so he would have fresh wood for the holes. He also fixed a piece of the table edge that had come loose from its curve and been screwed down in the wrong place.

On Sunday we set the table upright in the room for the first time. It is just the right size for the space, with enough room to add another leaf (we'll probably have one made or maybe Darwin the handyman can make it himself). We've gotten so used to having a big open space in the dining room that I was worried having all this furniture in there would restrict traffic flow into the living room. Fortunately, that's not the case.

We bought a rug at the last auction that fits with the colors of the room but may be too small for the table. We haven't tried it out yet. For the moment, the paint-stained carpet gets to stay.

I'm still not sure how I like the Eastlake parlor furniture next to the Queen Anne dining table and chairs, but for now it's OK. How can I complain about that when I have a $10 dingy yellow thrift store armchair sitting in the corner?

Now that I'm looking at the picture again, I think it needs something. A table runner, I think, to break up all the almost-black of that table. Yes, I've seen some lovely ones at Pottery Barn via eBay ...

Black Beauty

We've had a turning-point event at 1902 Victorian. An event that will change the way we work on our house - what we can do and how fast we can do it. An event that will affect our lives and our finances for a long time to come.

Darwin bought a truck.



It's a black 2002 Ford Ranger with 29,000 miles. Darwin is a Ford man; as anyone from Alabama knows, a man must swear allegiance to one American-made vehicle brand at birth and never veer from his chosen course.

Darwin did swerve a bit 18 months ago. Before we moved to this house and this commute, he traded in his gas-guzzling Ford F150 for a compact Mazda car. We thought this was a fabulous idea at the time, since Darwin has a 1988 Ranger that's been his ongoing project (besides the house) for the past four years. We thought he might finish up that truck one day this century, and we'd have a truck. Ha. Silly, naive fools!

Finally, we decided we couldn't live without a truck any longer. Without one, we had to rely upon the kindness of strangers (or our beleaguered friends) to transport auction purchases, cast iron bathtubs and the like.

Now, we can transport the cement backerboard to tile the kitchen countertops, wood to build a corner hutch in the kitchen, the TV to the repair shop, insulation for under the house, and about a million other projects put on hold around here because of this very reason.

The truck will also help us financially because, though it has less miles than Darwin's 2004 car (yeah, that commute puts a lot of miles on 'em), it is considerably cheaper and will eliminate a car payment. Also, since it's a little truck, the gas mileage is only slightly worse than the car's.

So this is an exciting development. This means no more excuses!

The Heaviest TP Holder in the World

I bought this old toilet paper holder from eBay, along with some other bathroom stuff:



It looks pretty ordinary, but no. This toilet paper holder doubles as an arm-strengthening device. Just sit on the toilet and while you, um ... do your business, just lift the toilet paper roll, HOLD, squeeze that tricep. Feel the burn!

This is the only explanation that comes to mind for a toilet paper holder that weighs probably 6 pounds.

Update: Ok, so it only weighs 2 pounds 10 ounces. That's still really heavy for a TP holder!

Auction Madness

This weekend was 50 percent awesome. I won't go into detail about Saturday, but it involved some food poisoning and many many trips to the bathroom. Sunday, needless to say, was much better. We went to an antique auction in Moundville (the same place I bought our Eastlake bedroom suite).

At first glance, the place looked sort of empty and depressing, more like a garage sale than an "antique" auction. But we actually had a wonderful time and got some good bargains. So did our friends S&B. Wish you all could've been there - no wait, that would mean more competition for me.

The largest purchase of the day is the one I'm least certain about. It's a Queen Anne repro dining room table (with leaf) and six matching chairs. The pieces have a very dark - almost black - finish, which looks nice with the pumpkin-colored walls, and I got it all at a bargain price ($460 for table and chairs) because the underneath needs some screws replaced. The chairs have some grandma-ish green fabric that's actually sort of cute.

But the Queen Anne stuff looks totally INSANE next to the Eastlake parlor set I adore so much. Oh well, I guess the parlor set will have to relocate. We've been needing a dining room table for a while now. We are quickly approaching mooch status, since we're always visiting our neighbors for dinner and never being able to return the favor.



Another important purchase was a washstand that we plan to convert to a bathroom vanity. That's right - we're taking your advice, people. I love this little washstand. It's got a nice, weathered color and is banged up and pathetic enough that I don't feel too bad about slicing and dicing it. This was also a bargain (in my opinion) at $105. It's a little narrow front to back, so we'll have to buy just the right sink to fit it. We'll probably remove the top part and hang a mirror/medicine cabinet on the wall behind it.



The rest was just fun stuff. Darwin bought a mandolin for $50. I bought a vintage glass refrigerator set and three wooden RC Cola boxes. Also, last weekend at that antique mall with the sink, I bought a fan with teenage Shirley Temple advertising RC Cola. Note her Hitler-esque staple mustache.

I'm not sure what the recent RC Cola fetish is about, but it might have something to do with the Moon Pies I've been eating lately.

The Better to See Myself

I just bought a lovely Eastlake mirror. If I paid too much, I don't want to hear about it, but if it's a bargain feel free to tell me so. ;)

Either way, I adore it. Don't know where I'll hang it yet - could be for the much-discussed bathroom, or it would look nice in the dining room or hallway.

eBay is Always the Answer

I know the placement of the sink is a little awkward. Too much space around it or something. The Home Improvement Ninja suggests an old vanity or dresser with a hole cut in it for sink.

Something like thiiiis perhaps? How much do I love eBay?

The only trouble is all the good furniture on eBay is in some faraway place like Ashland, Ohio. I don't want to pay $360 to ship the thing here, thanks.

At the same time, the thought of cutting a big round hole in a perfectly good Eastlake dresser makes me feel a little queasy. That's why this one on eBay appeals so much - the damage has already been done. All I'd have to do would be enjoy the benefits.

Take a Swim in East Lake

Yesterday I spent a good chunk of time browsing eBay, narrowing my search only with the category Antique and the search term Eastlake. I found some really cool stuff.

On the beadboard is the outline of some kind of shelf that once hung at about head height (my head - 5'4"ish). Like this clock shelf. It's exactly the right shape for the space - long shelf on top, longer-than-usual, narrow brackets holding it up.

I debated buying it for a while, but it's kinda beat up, and that's the very spot I plan to put my vanity. A real vintage/antique vanity with a little stool I can spin around on to gesticulate to Darwin as he brushes his teeth at the sink.

Speaking of stools, I found this darling and lovely piano stool. Sadly, it's in Connecticut, and it looks like it wants to be more expensive than I want it to be. Oh well, I guess it's really too pretty to relegate to a bathroom anyway.

Then there's the shaving mirror with towel bar and the walnut towel rack. Somebody please come up with an excuse for me to buy at least one of these!

As for things I actually have bought, check out these sash lifts:



And these weird-but-neato glass sofa glides:



Also, a co-worker has offered me a pristine-condition 1955 cast iron wall sink. I'm going to take a look. Though a wall sink wasn't what I had in mind for our master bath, it could potentially work for the half bath when we get around to that.

No More Bare Walls

After my two-week eBay spree, I realized I'd need frames for all this art. Turns out, dark wood frames (to coordinate with our dark floors and dark furniture) aren't so easy to find. I searched several stores in town on my lunch breaks last week without success.

Finally, on Friday I hit the jackpot ... twice. The first time was on my lunch. Out of desperation I went to Hobby Lobby again (hey, maybe I missed something). Next door is a Tuesday Morning store, where they sell discounted fancy stuff.

There I bought several picture frames, all different sizes and styles but all a similar dark shade of wood. Hurray!

Then once I got back to good ol' Eutaw, I decided to try the Dollar General (one of three dollar stores). Believe it or not, I found exactly what I needed there! Super cheap (but not too cheap-looking) 11x14 black and dark wood frames, along with 8x10s and 4x6s.

I couldn't find a proper frame for my three 1890s vegetable can labels, but then I found them at the Family Dollar yesterday.

So I'm all set! Well, nearly. I still have to figure out a framing method for the 1 million and 1 vintage postcards of Eutaw and Mobile I bought (thanks Mindy, for the suggestion!).

But I got several things framed and last night convinced Darwin to hang the art up in the kitchen. Finally, the eye candy:



I think that's also the first wider view of the kitchen since we've put the knobs on the cabinet doors. Turns out I bought two too few, so I'll have to reorder from Rejuvenation.

The black-framed art will tie in even better once we get the black and white hex countertops installed. I can't wait!

Still to do in the kitchen:

Install countertops.

Install backsplash (subway tile?).

Hook up electricity for disposal.

Paint walls.

Install less hideous light fixtures.

Build built-in cabinet for my Fiesta ware next to pantry.

Remove brick-print vinyl.

Refinish wood floors (or something).

It sounds like a lot. Okay, it is a lot. But the kitchen is functioning and not too terrible looking right now, so most of the projects remaining are non-urgent. Except the vile light fixtures. Oh, and I've already bought the tile for the countertops, so could we please get that done soon? Thanks.

Snapshots of History

On Monday a lot of photos I bought from eBay arrived. The title of the auction was "VINTAGE OLD 1900's HOUSE PHOTO PICTURE PHOTOGRAPH LOT." Who could resist?

The photos are even more delightful in person, and many of them have writing on the back, indicating who the people are and where and when the photo was taken. Some even say when the house was built.

Here, according to the back of the picture, is Frances Freeborn Pauley (who would later become a public school teacher and Civil Rights activist), William Elbridge Freeborn, Josephine Andrews Freeborn and William Wallace Freeborn. It's dated 1907.



Isn't that a darling house? And is that an outhouse I see?

Next is my favorite house of the lot, built in 1893, photo taken 1910:



I was all fired up to go to Decatur, Ga., or Montgomery, Ala., and track this place down. To knock on the door and gain entrance, waving this photo like a badge.

But then I saw another photo of a different house - a large Craftsman - but with the same address listed on the back. And the words: Built 1915 to replace house that burned in 1914.

I studied the two photos and realized they both have the same church to the left. This Victorian mansion burned down 91 years ago. My heart just sank as I saw it. All that beauty up in smoke, literally.

It makes me nervous about my own house's mortality. And it makes me long for photos like these of my house. Surely some exist somewhere. Two or three of the original owners' grandchildren are still living, and I have a plan to meet with them. Of course, they don't know it yet.

These photos also make me wonder if some of the other houses are still standing. And if they have owners out there hoping for a glimpse of the way their house once was. Random Internet Person, if one of these houses is yours, I will sell you the photo for what I paid for it, just to get it back home.

326 Catoma St., Montgomery, Ala.
211 Washington Ave., Montgomery, Ala.
614 S Court, Montgomery, Ala.

I looked at the Google satellite images of these addresses and saw nothing that looked like houses. More like office buildings. More like parking lots. Montgomery has a lovely historic district, but I've only been there once so I can't say. I hope the addresses are wrong or I'm reading the satellite images wrong. I hope these houses haven't all gone the way of the dinosaur.

The Addict Has a Setback

Apparently, just talking about auctions made me go on an eBay spree. Oops.

I've been coveting a set of four framed botanical prints from Anthropologie, but they're $392 plus $30 for shipping. I can think of about 422 other ways I could spend that $422.

I am a strange combination of spendthrift-shopaholic and cheapskate. When it seems I could find a cheaper way to get something, you bet your sweet bonnet I'm gonna do it.

So I decided to search eBay for botanical prints. Maybe, I thought, I could even find authentic Victorian-era prints. Turns out there are about 1 million and one botanical prints available on eBay, most of them quite reasonably priced. They're mostly lithographs out of vintage books, which is good enough for me.

I ended up choosing six from eBay seller Andrea's Garden. They're by Pierre Redoute, who - according to Andrea - was known as the "Raphael of Flowers" in the early 19th century and was court painter and preceptor in four French regimes. Okay, so that's not Victorian, but I don't care. Botanical prints were popular then, and an anatomical drawing of a plant looks pretty much the same no matter when it was done.

I received the prints yesterday. They were very well packaged to keep them from getting bent, and I had to take a few deep breaths to keep my trembling fingers from tearing the packaging to shreds to get to my prints.

It was worth the wait because these are some GORGEOUS prints.

This probably won't be the final frame, but I wanted to see what they looked like framed:



That's Fritillaria, a plant I've never heard of. I also bought Oleander, Galardia, Primevere, Anemone and Peony (that last one is in homage to the Peony I planted this spring but managed to kill).

I may hang three of them in our bedroom and three in the dining room. Or I may buy more and drown my whole house in botanical prints.

Why is it that when I break down and buy something from eBay, it renews my obsession and I start buying everything in sight? This week, I've bought three 1890s vegetable can labels and two fruit crate labels to frame for kitchen artwork. I'm also buying up turn-of-the-century photographs. Eeeeeek, HELP ME!

Auction Addicts Anonymous

This weekend we stumbled upon an antique auction on our way to the grocery store. That’s Eutaw for you. No movie theater, no restaurants, but by George, we’ve got the antique auctions!

I was good and didn’t buy anything. It’s easier to resist with Darwin sitting beside me looking disapproving.

The house whose contents were being sold was the most tempting item of the day. It was built in 1906 and has amazing unpainted woodwork downstairs. The fretwork! The wainscoting! The mantels! *sigh*

If anyone wants to move to Eutaw, Alabama, and live in a really cool house on a street with really cool people (not us, though, sadly), check it out: Malloy-Jones-Shaw House.

Checks and Balances

Hurray! In spite of our action-packed weekend, we managed to follow Greg's advice and check off two items on our "to do" list.

Darwin braved a swarm of red wasps to fix the cornice board that fell off a month ago, and I finished painting the kitchen cabinet trim. Okay, I have to say it again - hurray! Now that the trim painting is finished, Darwin can install the rest of the cabinet knobs, and then that will be another notch on the Finished belt.

Also, my lovely green and white curtain from Anthropologie arrived. I intended to use it for the half bathroom, but once I saw it in person I thought it might be too pretty to relegate to a bathroom. Besides, the green kind of coordinates with the two other shades of green in my kitchen (on the cabinets and my shamrock Fiestaware).

I persuaded Darwin to tie the curtain on the rod in the kitchen so we can think about it for a while. We better think fast, though, because these curtains are on sale and might not last much longer.

One concern is that a whole wall of this busy fabric might be a little too ... well, busy. And it would be darker than the sheers we have now, which wouldn't be a good thing. The natural light in the kitchen is one of my favorite things about it. So now I'm thinking a valance in a similar fabric - or maybe even made from the Anthropologie curtain - might be better. A bit of color and interest without blocking the light.

And all this talk about curtains is a stall tactic because I'm afraid to confess what I did at the antique auction. Somebody take away my checkbook, please. I can't control myself. If I went to Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, I would be the one the squirrels dragged to the garbage chute (or the one who the "eggdicator" declared a bad egg ... depending on which film version you prefer).



Shhhh. I bought a matching Eastlake bed, marble-topped dresser with mirror, and marble-topped wash stand. They're beautiful, but the guilt at spending UNDISCLOSED AMOUNT is eating away at me ... especially since I've spent the morning wrangling with the gym people to get out of my contract and in the end still having to watch $90 slip down the drain (p.s. Cory Everson's Fitness for Women is the DEVIL).

Cool Old Stuff for my Hot Old House

Update: Sorry about the broken and messed up links. They're fixed now. I apparently forgot to upload the new photos of the parlor set and fainting couch ... there's a photo of one of the parlor chairs. I'll post more later.

I'm back and bronzed. OK, I'm not really bronzed. I have never been bronzed in my life ... unless you count those brown patches on my knees and ankles whenever I tried self-tanners. I didn't even set foot on the hurricane-flattened beaches of Gulf Shores, though I did sit out on the balcony and enjoy the view.

Now I'm back and suffering from some sort of mild stomach illness that allows me to feel fine most of the time but then strikes after I eat or drink anything. So I'm home from work today.

But, industrious woman that I am, I couldn't stand to hole up in the house all day. So I went to the first day of Eutaw's Antique Alley Trade Days. We were planning to go on Saturday, but I figured it's always better to get there early and snatch up all the good stuff before someone else does.

My Veruca Salt tendencies came out in full force. But I got good bargains, I swear!

I would name my favorite purchase of the day, but I am pleased as punch with every last item, so I'll list them all:

5-piece Eastlake parlor set (4 chairs and a settee)

Upholstered Eastlake chair

Fainting couch (that another antique dealer told me I got a real bargain on)

1928 toaster (still works)

1950s/60s GE electric fan (that works like a dream, ahhhh)

vintage wooden level (the dude estimated that it's pre-1940s)

Pink and red brooch

Eastlake full-size painted walnut bed

Two Gerbera daisy plants and 1 hot pink geranium

Little halfmoon side table

Total: $1,490. Yes, that's a lot of money, but I got a lot of stuff for it. The best part was when we brought the parlor set home and realized it looks as if it belongs here.

In spite of my illness - and the unbearable heat - this has been a wonderful day. The only real fly in my ointment - almost literally - is the 15 unbearably itchy mosquito bites I got while put-put golfing at the beach. I wore bug repellant, so I guess I would be one giant mass of swollen red spots if I hadn't. Ah, the Mosquito Queen's work is never done.

Made in Iran

The two vintage Persian rugs I bought from eBay arrived Wednesday, but because of our Episcopalian adventure, I didn't get to de-package them until last night.

The big boys were very interested in the rugs right from the start. Anything new in the house - or at their eye level - gets a thorough sniffing right away.



Alistair quickly got bored, but Henry is in love. Like me, his favorite is the purple one. He wouldn't even leave it alone long enough for me to get a photo without him in it.



The purple is even more beautiful in person. The other is more faded than it looked in the eBay photos, so I'm not totally happy with it. But the first is so pretty it is worth the price of both, which were really cheap but were expensive-ish to ship. When Darwin asked me how much they cost I said 2495 and let him assume for a moment I meant $2,495 instead of $24.95 just to see the veins pop out on his forehead. I'm evil.

Either way, I feel all fancy-pants because I now own rugs ... other than bathmats.

I haven't decided where to put them yet, though I'm thinking the master bedroom for the purple one. I was originally planning to buy a huge rug to go under the bed, but then they all had such pretty center patterns that I didn't want to cover them up with a big stupid bed. So I think I'm going with runners like these instead.

Sadly, if I put the purple rug in the bedroom, Henry will no longer have access to his favorite new friend. Maybe that's for the best. The boy does have a shedding problem.

In other news, my turn-of-the-century Moroccan slippers (aka, impulse buy) arrived this week also. They are delightful.

Top o' the World

Today we hung a new chandelier in the entry hall. It's a reproduction turn-of-the-century gas and electric fixture from J.F. Pegan, and it's been hanging out in the front bedroom (aka junk room) since before Christmas.

We didn't have a tall enough ladder to install it before, but we got one at Lowe's week before last when Darwin's car was in the shop and he had a big-ass Dodge Ram rental truck. When I heard he would have a truck for a couple of days, the first thing I thought was, "What can we buy?" Yes, I'm a shopaholic - why do you ask?

Here's my sweetiepie being a good sport about perching 12 feet in the air dealing with this chandelier:



Good thing he's not afraid of heights.

I am strictly a ground dweller. I helped about as much as our younger cat Henry (who totally disregarded the rules of plastic bag safety), hovering around with my camera ... oh and unwrapping the shades and passing them up to Darwin. See there, I had a purpose. And I was also the one who found the missing stockpile of light bulbs.

This weekend was so productive. We did all that pruning on Saturday, and then did some more this afternoon. I cleaned up a couple of dolls and sewed a dress for one. I printed out photos of our niece E's 6th birthday party and of our pruning adventures for my scrapbook.

Ahhhhhhh. It feels so good to have accomplished something. With my business trip at the end of March and then birthday parties galore, we have had a dry spell.

Plus, I enjoyed the physical exertion of the pruning and hauling limbs all over kingdom come. Really, I did! Once upon a time I was an active human being. I even took aerobics, tennis and dance classes in college. But since I became a real-world adult (supposedly) two years ago, I have become a large mushy vegetable.

I feel tired but not because I am entering a boredom-induced coma like usual. I am tired from doing REAL WORK!

And now it's sleepy time.

House Stalker

My time off had a way of disappearing itself ... the way time off tends to do. I began coming down with a sore throat/cold on Wednesday evening, and now I'm feeling miserable sometimes and OK sometimes.

In the OK times on Thursday I got a lot accomplished. I finally took the ornaments and lights down from the Christmas tree. After watching an episode of Christopher Lowell on de-cluttering, I tackled three huge boxes of clothes we had never unpacked from the move. I put away one box, packed up one box and found a whole box full of stuff for charity. I'm proud of myself for that one!

I also painted another coat of green in the kitchen. And I folded some sheets. Hey, that's something, right?

On Friday, I went to Bed, Bath & Beyond. *siiiiigggghhh* I am in love with that place. I bought three huge bags of organizational stuff and found a beautiful curtain rod for the kitchen. Darwin is hanging it right now, and I can hear his grunts of frustration while I type away in my comfy office chair.



When Darwin and I got home at 8:30 that night, we had a message from our across-the-street neighbors inviting us for dinner and dessert. Lucky us, they were still hanging out and having dessert.

So we walked across the street - so fun to be able to walk there - and had tiramisu with them. We also met two other Eutaw-ites (Eutawans?) and had a blast. We also got a tour of the neighbors' house, which you know I always love.

We ALSO found out from them that my favorite house in town is for sale. AND they have a key and offered to give us a tour of it today if we want it. Do you think we might want a tour? Hmmmm, let me think about that for a minute. YES, YES, YES, WE WANT A TOUR!

Oops, did I sound too eager there? Like a house stalker?

That's the good news for today. The bad news is, I got the day wrong for the auction. So clever of me. They told me Feb. 20, but I assumed it would be a Saturday. Oops. You know what they say about assuming.

Turns out the auction is on Sunday at 1 p.m. ... we already have plans with my parents and sister for lunch on Sunday. I'm disappointed, mostly because this auction has DOLLS.

But there will be others. Anyway, after all the wise comments on antiques the other day I was feeling less jazzed about antiques in general. And the neighbors' house last night? It was a regular house inside, like ours. It had excess stuff on the kitchen counters; it had "vintage" furniture rather than antique. It looked LIVED in.

And heck, that's more "us" anyway.

Time to Work

I am taking some much-needed time off from work. Thursday and Friday I'll be home working diligently on the kitchen instead of sitting behind a desk daydreaming about being home working on my kitchen.

I am NOT allowed to spend half the day reading blogs and tinkering with the html on my site.

On Saturday, we're going to an antique auction in Eutaw. The town is slightly famous for them. I hope some of our more knowledgable old house neighbors will be there to give us some pointers. Antiques are apparently a very important part of old home ownership in Eutaw. When we went on the tour last year, the guides kept spouting names of furniture designers, china manufacturers, etc., and we just nodded along, pretending not to be totally ignorant of it all.

Across-the-street neighbor Miss Judy (Darwin's sort-of aunt) pointed out that antiques are an investment that increases in value, while new furniture decreases in value (at least in the short term). That's an excellent point, but it's still tough for us to plunk down $3,500 for a dining room suite that's missing a leaf in the table when our kitchen reno is still in progress, we need new flooring in the back hall and office, the north side of the house and the front porch need new paint soon, the entire interior of the house needs new paint (all the way up to the 12-foot ceilings), and the whole master bathroom is due for a total tear-down and redo.

So I think this first antique auction will be more of a learning experience than an actual shopping trip. The card table in our dining room will have to do for now.

Presents for my Old House

Someone please take my checkbook and credit cards and hide them until after Christmas.

The Christmas season makes me want to spend every dime I can get my hands on. So many pretty things in the stores. So much Care Bears wrapping paper at home that needs something to wrap itself around. So many sales and bargains and no-interest-till-Aprils.

Monday I bought two chandeliers from J.F. Pegan, one antique, one reproduction. It's not that we don't need chandeliers - we most definitely do - but there are so many projects in line ahead of lighting replacement. Like painting, lots and lots of painting.

Then today another good deal came my way - a wonderful clawfoot tub that doesn't even need refinishing. I found the tub at the same salvage place where I bought the two armoires and the trunk a few weeks ago. The outside needs to be stripped and repainted, but I can handle that.

It's deeper than the others I've seen, and it has a wonderful slant on one end. I am already daydreaming about the luxurious bubble baths I'll take in it. I'm conveniently skipping over the part about extracting the current cast iron tub, ripping out all the '60s bathroom tile, replacing it with hex and subway tile, repainting the exterior of the tub, buying new pipes/faucet for the clawfoot, maneuvering the tub into the spot and hooking up the plumbing.

This is not a subject Darwin gets excited about, mostly because he'll be the one throwing out his back moving our current tub out and the new/old one in. That's a lot of cast iron to be moved and finagled.

When we toured old houses in our town, he did admit the clawfoot tubs looked wonderful. But admiring the image of it and making that image happen are two very different things.

Then there's me ... the most strenuous work I'll have to do is signing the check (ouch, I threw out my pointer finger!). Maybe I'm feeling a bit guilty for making Darwin do all this heavy lifting, wall bashing, tile destroying.

But hey, I'm doing the research, right? Anyway, I couldn't pass it up. It was a bargain!

Is there such a thing as Shopaholics Anonymous? And can a person be addicted to two things at once (like shopping and chocolate ... oh wait, or three things - shopping, chocolate and Mexican food)?