SF is up north for the week and Spring Breakin' with his grandparents. It's nice because I get a few moments to myself. After running with my new four legged trainer and then taking the gremlins for a two block stroll, I went to Goodwill.
I found a book about large sunken liners(SF's current obsession). Cool. I bought myself one of those embroidered abuela smock dresses. It's black and I can't wait to wear it with my old eight eyelet worn and weary red patent leather Docs. I'll look like some groovy weirdo, for sure.
I continued to look around and found myself in the "furniture" section. It's so pathetic. I have a found a few cool things there, but in general, this section is crap. There was this little 50's homemade footstool. It was reminiscent of Japan meets ranchero caballero! It was covered in nailhead tan Naugahyde. What kicked me though was the strip of yellow construction paper taped to the underside of the sturdy well made little piece: written in a medium point black felt tip marker in handwriting that reminded me of my Polish granny it said "Made by Dad."
I thought golldammit! How could you?! What the eff is wrong with people? This really wasn't some groady piece of junk. I thought right away I would buy it. Then I wavered. I am bent on being more of a minimalist, so it stayed behind. I felt sad leaving it behind. I hope someone appreciates it again.
Continuing on to the housewares section, I found my prize: a ceramic mod owl wind chime that we had when I was a kid. We had it for what seemed like forever and I really don't know what became of it. I'm not sure if my mother is reading this, but I am going to wrap it up and give it to her.
It reminds me of childhood, when we all still had everyone in our lives. Here is to the time we have with the ones we love. XO
4 comments:
Oh, that is so cool, I really enjoyed reading that!
geez. sorry dad, but your lovingly made footstool doesn't match my new sofa...
Gah, love the wind chime. Don't be too hard on the footstool. Sometimes families, or other people even, end up going through things, and treasures fall through the cracks. I know some of the things I would really like to have had of my mom's have gone missing. And I can't ask her, so I don't know if she threw them away, or if they got lost in the move to California, or what. Sigh.
I once wondered into a used book store in Russia -- 15 years after I left, and found a cook book we used to have in our family -- it was in German but I was fascinated by pics in it since I was 5 :))) I bought it and I still pull it out and stare at the X-mas cookies now and then. Nobody gets it :)
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