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| Who's got the Blues? |
What I’ve discovered during
the time I’ve been in ‘Jersey is that adventures aren’t only found on the
road. Sometimes they’re discovered in an
attic or basement. Or even a local
museum.
I’ve spent most of my time
sorting, cleaning and clearing out Mom’s house, including a few favorite pieces
of my own which I’ve managed not to
hock over the years. What’s been
surprising it how much fun I’ve had discovering what Mom held on to, most of it
from the 60’s and 70’s, now ‘collectible’.
Go figure.
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| Gold dust scale, c. ?? |
It’s like being in a time
warp. Imagine what our Revolutionary Forefathers
would think of their belongings going for a King’s Ransom nowadays. Kinda makes you look around and consider what
clutter you currently have which MAY become a hot item. Remember, in the future, water may be worth
more than gold.
So which of my own treasures are going on the auction block? What can I possibly live without, or fit in a coffin? That’s often the determining factor.
My Matchbox cars; my roller
skates. The kind you place your foot (and
your life) on, and tighten around your toes with a metal key. Can’t imagine doing more than dusting them,
even if I ever have space to display ‘em. And while I did trepidly-try* standing on
them in the hallway, my broken/mended ankle reminded me that even if I feel young enough to hit the sidewalk…
Well, you get the
picture. You know, even a rusty
skate key goes for 10 bucks on ebay. Mine
are on my new Etsy store, AnjaSurprises, but if they don’t sell (in their original box), I just might copy another
artist’s idea: turned them into very
cool bookends. And I don’t have to be a
metallurgist.
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| 1960s Beautybug hair dryer |
If you’ve got one of these
stashed away in an attic, take note:
this crazy Beautybug hair dryer is something (some) girls nowadays pine after. I just happened to find the Christmas morning
photo (left) last night. Wasn’t it
adorable? Too bad I didn’t find it sooner.
When I discovered that Mom had stashed
away the hair dryer for posterity, I remembered that at one point in my teenage
years I decided that I needed a more sophisticated hairdryer, so I pulled off
the eyes, lips and antennae. No, I don’t
pull the wings off of…
Back then, I didn’t know
about WD40 (if it was even invented) so the residual glue was still on the ‘bonnet’. When I found that another Beautybug went for
$99 on ebay, I looked around for felt scraps to at least put some eyes and lips
on it. Figured I’d hit a craft store for
antennae parts. Looks like Stephen King
had a go at it. If it doesn’t sell by
the end of the auction in another few days, I’ll give her a makeover.
Naturally, the most
valuable items to me are the least valuable on the open market. Like my wedding dress (the first time-round). Not because it reminds me of a fabulous
marriage, but because of the accompanying memories to the only church wedding I've had.
I’ve always been impulsive;
an attribute which never distinguishes between logic and emotion. I married X-Man One
within 4 months of our meeting. My
parents didn’t have a wedding fund; any extra money was earmarked for college. So, in 1974, Mom gave me a $200 budget for
the whole shebang. Can you imagine? Sis made my dress (shown) along with her M-of-Honor
dress (beautiful job on both). As you can
see, mine was designed with Mother in mind:
high neck, nothing showing. Looks
more like a confirmation dress. I’m
lucky I wasn’t fitted with a chastity belt, but I still love the Dotted Swiss
fabric yoke and sleeves.
The balance of the allowance
paid for a nice church and minister (a decent crowd in attendance). A couple of bouquets and a few simple floral
arrangements. The organist didn’t know
the tune, but learned Chicago’s Color My
World, just for me. Talk about
cheesy. Our reception consisted of the good-‘ol
sandwich meat platter and pasta buffet, with cake, for 20 or so at Sis’s. We honeymooned (our own expense) on Long
Beach Island on the Jersey Shore before my husband returned to active duty. Despite its simplicity, a good time was had by
all.
The marriage lasted 7
years; maybe not as long as I’d imagined, but longer than some other splashy
affairs I’ve attended. I often wonder
how the parents of couples who split after a brief marriage feel, having spent
tens of thousands of dollars for a few hours entertainment. Put the money into a down payment, or buy the
kids a motor home; then they won’t be homeless and have to move back in.
I uncovered a mosaic Tortoise for Mother’s Day, which I had
such fun creating in 3rd grade.
Why don’t I do mosaics now? And
then I unwrapped an oversized, construction-paper envelope containing two paper
ties for Dad. Maybe I’ll frame them, or
create a cool family collage. I was
wondering which direction I should head after being a gourd artist for so long.
Inspiration comes from the oddest places…
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| AJ and Leon Trotsky |
Mom, who could open a store
to rival Barnes and Noble, kept just about every book I ever owned, from
Politically Incorrect Little Black Sambo to my college copy of Socialism: Utopian and Scientific by Frederick
Engels. I’ve written about my radical
tendencies in the past; see how a poster in a child’s room can affect a
developing mind? This is the just the kind
of stuff the FBI digs for in bewildered relation’s homes.
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| What are YOU looking at? |
Rolling down memory lane
is mostly fun, but you know what’s the most frustrating thing for me? Not
being able to strap on these Union skates and hear the Ker-chunk, Ker-chunk of
the sidewalk cracks. You just can’t get
the same effect in a roller rink.
* Should be a word.
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