Monday, November 26, 2012
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
One of my favorites is my 1980’s Beistle jointed scarecrow. He is as tall as me and in mint shape. I found him hanging in a little lady’s garage. She had bought him for her son’s Halloween party and had never bothered to take him back down. I was thrilled with my find and she was happy to tell her story. He was given to me, free of charge.
I have saved the best for last. One Saturday my husband and I saw a moving sale. We had $5 cash and decided to stop. Into the house we went and there on the living room floor was an osteology map from the 1920’s. Those who know me know I love skeletons so you can imagine the excitement I felt when I saw what was at my feet! It was calling to me. I wouldn't leave the chart in fear someone else would grab it. Finally Mike got the owner. When she started talking about antique dealers coming to look at it, I knew it was out of my price range. She asked me to make an offer and I pulled out my $5. She smiled and shook her head. Without any control, these words came from of my mouth, “But you don’t understand, I love skeletons. An antique dealer will just sell it. I’ll treasure and love it!” Her smile never faded; instead she held her hand out and took my five bucks.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
A day before today, 16 years ago, my husband and I were signing the final papers on our first home. We ran from here to there, making sure all those important details were done; getting the power turned on and changing our address. This all happened in the eleventh hour. We were to be out of my childhood farm house the very next day. My parents had sold it and the new owners were moving in.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
I enjoy monsters of every sort but I have a great fondness for skeletons. It’s not like I go creeping around digging up graves stealing bones. I imagine they look rather lovely left in their pretty boxes. When I look at a cemetery (I call them ‘boneyards’), I don’t see the headstones, sepulchers, or the plastic flowers. What I see is what’s underneath. I can see wooden boxes with bones dressed in frilly gowns and fine suits.
How much do I like skeletons you may ask? I doodle skeletons in notebooks. An entire folio is dedicated to skeletons on my Pinterest page. Vintage skeleton masks, pictures, books and so many knickknacks of my boney friends can be found in my writing nook. My very best friends know what kind of gifts to give me for holidays. Instead of my children drawing me pictures of sunsets, they draw me skeletons coming out of sunsets. My children love to pick me wild flowers but they get extra excited when they find me jaw bones and skulls from little critters. Heck, skeletons even come to me in my dreams!
What I find appealing about skeletons is that one day we will be one, (well, besides those who are cremated, in which case they become bone dust, which is still bone). A skeleton is a monster we cannot avoid becoming. It will happen. We will be monsters! What a comforting thought that is to me. ;)
My skeleton will be very short, like a child’s. My skull will be tiny, like a little bouncy ball. I’ll still have that missing tooth which makes me unique. I wonder if my knuckles will still be big from popping them as a kid? I kind of hope so.
Around one’s bones lay what makes us; our veins, brains and organs. Take away all the squishy stuff and we all look pretty much the same. When I see bones, or, think about them in boneyards, I wonder who that person was. Their feet learned to walk. Their boney hands held another’s. Inside their skulls carried all kinds of memories. They were once like me and you.
So the next time you pass a skeleton on the street, maybe you should stop and say, “Hello, brother”. Remember they were just like you once and the day will come when you will join their club. Embrace our skeleton friends for they do get a bad rap.
Art work done by one of my daughters: Bella Filetti
Thursday, January 26, 2012
I am the collector of stuff. I can’t help myself. It is an addiction! I love flea markets, I love yard sales, and I love auctions and antique malls. I love the hunt of that perfect little something to add to my décor. I love the feeling I get when a little something is appreciated again. Nothing looks more pitiful to me than someone else’s junk heaped on a table for strangers to rummage through. Don’t think of me as a hoarder, for I don’t take everything. I only take what speaks to me.
Normally, I stick with old stuff or dead people’s stuff (as some like to point out). I like the history in a vintage pull toy, an embroidered dish towel or a tattered Mother Goose story book. I often wonder whose it was and what they were they like. They must have been a little like me for I was connected to their junk. Would I have been their friend? A soul mate? I like to think so.
Rarely, I’ll stumble upon something brand new, which call’s to me to be played with. When I find something at a store that I like, I always tell myself I’ll find it at a yard sale in year or so. I’m usually right; plus it will come with memories and be a whole lot cheaper.
But one day a new toy begged for me to bring her home. I found myself in a store’s toy aisle. For nearly thirty minutes I stood in front of a tiny something, wishing I was a little girl again. When my husband found me, I showed him my potential friend. I pointed out her black button eyes, her black and white striped tights and her purple hair. I had to have her. I loved her already! Into the basket she went and I think I even skipped!
When I got her home and opened her up, she was even more perfect. In my palm she sat and smiled up at me. When I looked down at her, I saw me all over again as little five year old. I might have looked like a normal child but deep down I was different and I knew my new little friend was too. She was going to fit in perfectly (or imperfectly which, ironically, fits me better)!
I looked around my writing nook wondering where I should place her. I have a thing for monsters so they’re all around me when I write. All are hand-me-down rejects and one seemed most excited for the new addition. In the giant hand of a once discarded friend, Lacy now sits. Mr. Hyde promises to be on his best behavior and Lacy seems quite content in his care.