Might shave it

Really, I might.

Stuff I Didn't Buy 2

Remember this post? Here goes round two. I'm thinking that Stuff I Didn't buy needs to become a regular feature here on Bright Street. There are just too many awful gems waiting in thrift stores not to share the kitschy love.

Scarlett O'Hara plate, pretty as a picture (fit to be hung). A lady with shopping cart envy saw me with this and lamented that she hadn't spotted it first, what a treasure, etc., so after I finished taking this photo, I handed Scarlett to her with my blessing, and the lady behaved as if she'd just met the real Santa Claus. I'm a Christian martyr, that's what I am, a real Christian martyr.

No. Just no.

Wormy apple latch hook rug!

Impossibly overgrown acrylic doily. I'm sure it seemed like a good idea at Round One.

Oo! Ooo! What's inside?

Surprise! A deformed and neglected nightmare dolly! Quick, write a screenplay!

Half-truth: If this notebook had been free it would have come home with me, because look at the deep thoughts inside (click on pages for higher res photos you can actually read)—

Sauce, indeed. This is my kind of find. I probably just crossed a line, broke some intellectual property law, by posting this. Sorry, Kenzie Barrow. Thanks for sending your notebook to D.I. I wish you a happy, saucy marriage... someday.

Hand-carved ray. Maybe it could be used as a salad spoon?

So typical! Would you believe, this deer jumped out in front of a lady's cart, she swerved and missed it, but then I nearly ran it over while turning a corner? Why are deer always doing that, throwing themselves into us and causing accidents? Do deer have some vendetta against us?

I have this thing for buying jump ropes. It's really hard not to when I find them, especially when they have the great turny wooden handles. But I didn't buy this one. Good for me.

I was tempted, for a split-second, to buy this and send it to my cousin, Ryan, who loves bow ties and the occasional outlandish accessory. But he's not actually a clown, so I didn't.

Check out that Unique Dice Roller. Passports, check. Travel Yahtzee, check. Let's drive to Mexico!

 Butterflies are not free.

The poor little dead things.

'Nuther gift for a loved one, to add to her collection of odd round objects. But on second thought, no.

Do you ever wonder how somebody like Van Gogh would feel, finding one of his inspired creations serving as a mouse rug?

Okay, so I picked up this cookbook in a weak moment. My resolve to continue my month-long fruit and veg detox began to melt like the cheese on this glorious cover. Oh, me. For just a minute I hated everything that wasn't sharp cheddar. I'm over it now.

If I do make Stuff I Didn't Buy a regular blog feature, I think I should showcase a popular subset: Unsuccessful Baby Blankets. I often see them while I'm out thrifting. This one was done in acrylic oranges. Granny squares are cute by default, right? This one almost promises colic.

Crocheted in an even stiffer acrylic, this blankey had a more generally acceptable colorway, but it was practically Barbie-sized. I guess somebody was at the end of her yarn stash. Or that was some skinny baby.

Somebody must have loved this one once because it's got holes. Does that prove anything? How's my logic? Could it have been loved by mice? This handiwork made me mad because it sports a shrunken wool center, and the rest is baby acrylic. That's just wrong.

This was actually a really appealing find. What a cute green vent! If only I had a place for it in my house. Maybe I should move.

This is the sort of stuff some kids will lick if they think no grownups are watching.

Turkey candle.

Bleh! Ceramic angel heads! Bags and bags of them! (But one good thing, the heads made a great sound when rubbed together. Next time instead of taking photos of my rejects, I should make audio recordings.)

I always find it hard to say no to little plastic guys doing their murderous little jobs. Why? I said no to a bagful of fresh green soldiers too this time, not just cowboys and Indians.

This isn't kitschy, it's just a cheap jewelry box. I picked it up because it's a smaller version of the one my mom had when I was a child, and it smelled exactly the way hers did. It made me very nostalgic, and I almost bought it.

I unearthed this old clock part and it made the most amazing doi-oi-oing sound when struck. It really killed me not to have a decent recorder on me when I found this.

More pretty sounds I missed capturing. Phoo.

Six of these fairy girls! In all colors! Fairy friends! Why didn't I take photos of all of them? Fairies are real! Look closely, and you'll see.

Eraserhead baby. Extra chins at no extra charge. Scary!

Close-up.

Now, this looks like a genuine treasure. What could it be?

A dream come true! It's an old short wave radio!

It even picks up the Vatican!

If only I had $40 to burn, I'd buy that Golden Throat certified!


Thanks for taking this thrift store tour with me. I hope you enjoyed yourself, and go on a treasure hunt of your own. Take me with you!

G C E A

There's a gypsy caravan parked in front of my house.

Guess what's been my dream since I was a little girl?

That's right. To live in a gypsy caravan. How did you know?

It'll be here until Thursday morning. You should come by and see it. Then you and I can talk about how romantic it is, and how all our lives we've dreamed of traveling light, playing wild music, and maybe selling a little snake oil on the side to fund our adventures.

It's very hard to sleep at night, knowing that bright, dreamy, hand-built, hand-carved, hand-painted caravan is out there. Not that I'm blaming my insomnia on my gypsy dream.

The people that came along with the caravan are not themselves actual gypsies, but are book artists Peter and Donna Thomas, and we are doing a broadside project with them. It's been a pleasure to spend time with these lovely new friends. They are making their way across the U.S., peddling wares, giving lectures, and making connections and art. Yesterday we drove all down to Thistle together and collected soil samples in a gorgeous rainbow of reds and browns. Today we sifted them to get at the fine particles that can work for making pigment. Ooooo! I'd like to know just who it is that thinks Utah is not a colorful state. You need to come over and play in the magic dirt with us—you'll certainly change your mind.

Last night I tried playing a few quick songs on one of their ukulele books. (Click the awesome link. Do it.) My most successful tune was "Rubber Duckie." Man, that's got satisfying chords!

So now I'm determined to get a ukulele.

And one day, if I'm very very lucky, my own gypsy caravan.

*sigh*

Sunday funnies, Mormon-style

Q. What do you get when you multiply one Sunday dinner at Tribal Headquarters by too much sugar, then add one grinning uncle with a silly idea?

A. The church hymnal, collaboratively revamped. And lots of giggling children.

Come on, everybody! Sing with us!

(You'll never get through this awful list. Unless you're related. Or OCD. Sorry.)

• Awake and Arise in the Bathtub
• Come, Rejoice in the Bathtub
• What Was Witnessed in the Heavens in the Bathtub?
• An Angel from on High in the Bathtub
• What Glorious Scenes Mine Eyes Behold in the Bathtub
• Awake, Ye Saints of God, Awake in the Bathtub!
• We Ever Pray for Thee in the Bathtub
• God Bless Our Prophet Dear in the Bathtub
• Now We'll Sing with One Accord in the Bathtub
• Praise to the Man in the Bathtub
• A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief in the Bathtub
• O God, Our Help in Ages Past in the Bathtub
• The Happy Day at Last Has Come in the Bathtub
• The Wintry Day, Descending to Its Close in the Bathtub
• Let Zion in Her Beauty Rise in the Bathtub
• Glorious Things of Thee Are Spoken in the Bathtub
• Let Earth's Inhabitants Rejoice in the Bathtub
• All Creatures of Our God and King in the Bathtub
• On This Day of Joy and Gladness in the Bathtub
• For All the Saints in the Bathtub
• Great God, Attend While Zion Sings in the Bathtub
• Dearest Children, God Is Near You in the Bathtub
• I Need Thee Every Hour in the Bathtub
• Master, the Tempest Is Raging in the Bathtub
• The Lord My Pasture Will Prepare in the Bathtub
• Come, Ye Disconsolate in the Bathtub
• Ye Simple Souls Who Stray in the Bathtub
• Lean on My Ample Arm in the Bathtub
• I'm a Pilgrim, I'm a Stranger in the Bathtub
• Though Deepening Trials in the Bathtub
• Be Still, My Soul in the Bathtub
• Does the Journey Seem Long in the Bathtub?
• Where Can I Turn for Peace in the Bathtub?
• Be Thou Humble in the Bathtub
• Did You Think to Pray in the Bathtub?
• Secret Prayer in the Bathtub
• Prayer Is the Soul's Sincere Desire in the Bathtub
• Sweet Is the Work in the Bathtub
• Sabbath Day in the Bathtub
• As the Dew from Heaven Distilling in the Bathtub
• God Be with You Till We Meet Again in the Bathtub
• Father, This Hour Has Been One of Joy in the Bathtub
• Now the Day Is Over in the Bathtub
• The Lord Be with Us in the Bathtub
• Abide with Me in the Bathtub
• I Stand All Amazed in the Bathtub
• While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks in the Bathtub
• Ring Out, Wild Bells in the Bathtub
• We Are Sowing in the Bathtub
• Come, Let Us Anew in the Bathtub
• Because I Have Been Given Much in the Bathtub
• Have I Done Any Good in the Bathtub?
• I Have Work Enough to Do in the Bathtub
• Improve the Shining Moments in the Bathtub
• There Is Sunshine in My Soul Today in the Bathtub
• Scatter Sunshine in the Bathtub
• Father, Cheer Our Souls Tonight in the Bathtub
• Let Us Oft Speak Kind Words in the Bathtub
• Nay, Speak No Ill in the Bathtub
• Should You Feel Inclined to Censure in the Bathtub
• Behold Thy Sons and Daughters, Lord, in the Bathtub
• Know This, That Every Soul Is Free in the Bathtub
• Count Your Blessings in the Bathtub
• Behold! A Royal Army in the Bathtub
• Carry On in the Bathtub
• Rejoice! A Glorious Sound Is Heard in the Bathtub
• The Time Is Far Spent in the Bathtub
• Come, All Whose Souls Are Lighted in the Bathtub
• Truth Reflects upon Our Senses in the Bathtub
• The Iron Rod in the Bathtub
• Men Are That They Might Have Joy in the Bathtub
• Welcome, Welcome, Sabbath Morning in the Bathtub
• O My Father in the Bathtub
• From Homes of Saints Glad Songs Arise in the Bathtub
• Home Can Be a Heaven on Earth in the Bathtub
• I Am a Child of God in the Bathtub
• I Know My Father Lives in the Bathtub
• School Thy Feelings in the Bathtub
• O Home Beloved in the Bathtub

Complementary colors

Yesterday I went to the Gap to buy myself some yellow tights I've had my eye on, but they were sold out. To console myself, I made a quick trip to my favorite department store to see what I could find. It wasn't until I went into the dressing room with a healthy armload of second-hand bargains that I realized I had gone on an unintentional color spree: practically everything I'd pulled from the racks was purple. PURPLE! The complete opposite of what I'd originally gone out for. I don't think I had one single purple item in my closet before this visit to D.I. I certainly took some home though, loving and laughing at every royal bit of it.

When I think back a few days, it may well be that my morning poo-rambulations with my dog Izzy might actually be responsible for my new-found interest in purple. There's a woman who lives a short leg stretch from my house. I have a friendly crush on her. We've never actually met, but have greeted one another in passing and she feels like soul kin. She's got a lush, crazy yard full of beautiful vining and blooming things. She's grey-haired and groovy. AND. She drives a dark purple VW bus. It's terrific! Did I say I had a crush on the hippie lady? I have a bigger crush on her auto. Just recently a "For Sale" sign appeared on its windshield, and every morning I pass by that bus I imagine myself behind the wheel. Sure, I'd get plenty of ribbing for it. Think I care?

We don't need a second vehicle or the expense of one, but I can't help thinking about it.

So. With all this backstory in mind, imagine my surprise when last night at Saigon Café with Rob and Annie I cracked open my second fortune of the night (the owner likes us) and The Cookie Oracle said: "Focus on the color purple this week to bring you luck."

!!!!!!!

(I still need those yellow tights.)

Georgia's got a squeezebox

So many reasons to smile today—

1. I was at Costco, browsing through the nicer cheeses. A young woman came up and began restocking the cooler. Her name tag said "Bree."

2. When I pulled into my driveway I noticed that a big fat orange rosehip on one of my rose bushes was wearing a smiley face. At first I thought some kid had drawn it on, but after I parked the car and walked over to inspect, I discovered that the rosehip had grown the marks naturally.

3. I found a bathing suit from the Esther Williams era at Savers. I feel sure it could swim all by itself.

4. I saw a portly little old lady wearing an incredible top covered in iridescent sequins that looked like scales from a fiery fish. She glowed! I gushed out a compliment. She expressed a little uncertainty about having worn it, but I told her not to worry, that she looked glamorous. She rewarded me with a Hollywood smile and slowly walked away, talking to me and to herself about glamour.

5. Izzy got a haircut, long overdue, and for once he didn't come home from the groomer looking like a naked rat.

6. I didn't drown during my swim lesson.

7. A nice kid at the rec center who reminds me of my cousin Casey gave me free admittance to the pool, etc. during the weeks I am in class.

8. I voted my conscience.

9. We got an accordion! It's a petite one, a 12-bass, second-hand. It sounds great. When we went to check on it (and the larger one we hope to also buy), the price was down twenty-five from last week, and then a guy with a vest and a key knocked another twenty bucks off once we decided to buy it.

10. Rob made omelettes for dinner and read me Isaac Bashevis Singer while I painted.

11. I got the last coat of paint down on the office floor, finally. Is that room ever white!

12. Mel Bay.

13. Maybe Roxanne found us a third accordion in Alaska. Honestly, what's the matter with me?

But seriously, who gets hula hoop cuts?

It finally arrived.

I sent for it early this year, during the time when I was discovering Kundalini yoga and ordering workout and dance DVDs in lieu of joining a gym. It was on backorder for a couple weeks—okay, I can deal with that. When it didn't arrive by the promised date, I gave it a couple more days for good measure then called the company. Still on backorder, the supplier's fault, they said. Nothing we can do, lady. You still want it?

Of course. I want it.

Meanwhile, I did my Kundalini, my Bollywood, some ballet conditioning. I started learning basic salsa again, and some hip hop. (Hey! I heard that snicker!)

Still it didn't arrive. Am I going to have to call and get my money back?

Then I got pregnant. Fatigue and nausea set in, along with wild cravings for gingersnaps, Manzanilla olives, and Café Rio chicken tortilla soup. I flopped. Then I got busy and ordered pre-natal workout DVDs. No gym for us, but movement was still a must, so I switched over to bellydance (appropriate), Pilates, and exercising with a pregnant acrobat from Cirque du Soleil.

I still wanted it, but the thought of trying to use it with a growing belly made my eyes roll. Okay, I said, I can wait for it a while longer, since obviously I must, and since I won't use it for a few more months anyhow.

Long story short, it kept on not coming and then I forgot about it. My mind was taken up by the miracle at hand, and by trying to keep a level head, in case that miracle should turn out to be short-lived like the others.

And it did. At the tail end of June I started miscarrying. Rob and I hadn't told people about this pregnancy, not even our families, hoping to avoid getting some dear-to-us hopes up only to have to dash 'em again. We hoped and prayed we'd eventually have some fantastic news to share, or that in time folks would finally figure out the secret—that I was getting too fat to blame it solely on Eliane's French Bakery.

But. That's not the way things went.

So July has largely been about big pain and a drawn-out recovery. About fat and slow and a frustrating inability to stand up straight. I really hated being forced to quit the circus.

But by golly, it—that thing I ordered months ago—finally arrived. It showed up when I least cared, when I was still deeply Lortabbed and weepy with hurt, just as we were leaving for a family wedding and visit back east that I felt more than unprepared to handle.

I pulled it from its box and hated it almost instantly—bubble gum pink and flashy gold!—is it possible that colors exist in this world that are any less "me"? I shoved it back into its box, and away we flew to upstate New York.

(It was an exhausting trip, by the way, but I am so glad I didn't stay home like my body wanted me to. It was good to spend that untimely time with Rob's clan. I love them all, boy howdy.)

(I didn't love having to be there fat and sick though.)

(My fattest ever.)

(Ugh. Vanity hurt my feelings.)

We returned home from our traveling last week. Two days ago, I pulled pink and gold parts from the box again and this time put the gaudy thing together. I gave it a half-hearted swing, but still didn't care.

Yesterday I picked it up with real intent, and what's the first thing that happened? It sliced my hands in three places. But I set it in motion. I forgave it for being pink and gold. I also forgave it for giving me ridiculous cuts.

The only time I went back on that forgiveness was for a few seconds today at lunch, when I got balsamic vinegar in the biggest cut. OW.

Today I gave it another good swing, and kept it going 'round just a little bit longer. Tomorrow, I'll keep it circling for a little longer still.

Maybe if I keep at it eventually I'll be truly ready for the circus.



Photo: Mädchen mit "Hula Hupp" Reifen
from the German Federal Archive via this page