I Am Brave, because I entered the consignment store that disparaged my taste in furniture and very politely asked if there was a check for me . Did any of my beloved crap happen to sell?
My Beloved Crap
I took my mother with me, because who is going to yell at a woman with her mother standing next to her? There is now $48 more in the MorePie Sound Equipment Fund (she announced proudly).
I Am Contagious, because my mother bought a coffee table at the consignment store. Sirens went off, confetti and balloons dropped from the ceiling, clowns danced across the room. In other words, my mother doesn’t buy furniture easily (not that I have anything to brag about in that department, because I can’t look at new furniture without tears and panic attacks, but I can haul the used stuff home without batting an eyelash, much to Banjo Man’s distress).
Distressed Banjo Man
My mother is a superstar shopping for clothes, jewelry, make up and shoes (I unfortunately didn’t inherit that). She always looks fashionable and trendy and put-together (I didn’t inherit that either).
Mom and Dad on a date in New Orleans, 1945
Sometimes she talks me into buying things for myself, such as the most incredible sewing machine, with all the bells and whistles a gal could ever lust after (thanks for the nudge, Mom).
My Incredible Sewing Machine
Today my mother and I went to Newport for our dentist appointments. Yes, Newport, home of the Naval War College, Vanderbilt mansions, colonial neighborhoods and cobblestone streets. My parents rented an apartment in Newport for a year or so after WWII and they always loved that part of Rhode Island. My father was in the Navy for 20 years and long after he retired we’d still go to “the base” and look at the ships. When the weather is good, it’s a treat to drive across the bridges and admire the bay.
My mother has been longing for a different tv stand in her bedroom. She thought she’d found one, but we agreed–on the way to the island– it would be too small. So later, with clean teeth and bellies full of fish & chips, we stopped to see if there were any candidates at the place-that-sold-my-red-chair. And for me to bravely see if I had money waiting.
Then Mom saw a coffee table. She decided to buy the coffee table in less than 7 minutes. It was an honest-to-God miracle and I didn’t actually believe it was happening until the salesclerk and I slid the darn thing into the back seat of Mom’s car.
Never mind that the new table is almost an exact replica of the former table, except for being 8″ longer and 4″ wider. The new one has prettier wood and prettier legs. It will hold more Thanksgiving appetizers, which is what Banjo Man and I really care about the most. He and I carried it into her house, wiped the raindrops off and set it in front of the couch, where it looks like it has been all its life.
(FYI: my mother bought a new living room chair in 2011. It replaced the one she bought in 1995. And that one replaced the one she bought in 1983. Everything else was new in 1964 and/or 1955).
She is going to shriek when she reads this. I can hear the phone ringing now. Good thing I have caller i.d.
At the risk of sounding like a shop-a-holic, I will confess to what I bought in the shop-that-didn’t-like-my-red-chair.
This is for my grandson, who will certainly like a cake shaped like a dog. You may all borrow it.
And these are for the lake, to hold lots of munchie things out on the deck. You know, for when the band gets hungry before practice.
I can’t decide if these are really cool or really weird. I guess you get to vote. You won’t hurt my feelings–they were only $3.00. I can always use them to hold hundreds of paper clips. Or my nightly medications.
