Bloomin’ Post

We have had a couple of rare mornings where there was just a tiny nip in the air, along with a ton of smoke from the California wildfires. As far as I am concerned they can just come and get their nasty old smoke. We had our own last year, thank you very much, and for the first time in a couple of years, we are not ablaze up and down the state. Instead, we have to borrow haze from another state. Sigh. Guess this is the wave of the future, but I don’t have to like it. All that was just to preface that as fall approaches, it is time for my hibiscus to do its thing, and boy did it:

Most of these hot pink blossoms are the size of a dinner plate. Makes the bees very happy. I have another one in a dusty rose that is just behind it, but you can’t see it for these! I have one more plant coming along. A hint of fall is worth it for flowers like this.

We managed to hit some garage sales last week, although they have been few and far between. We stopped at one and spotted this table sitting back behind everything:

The lady at the sale said she had put it back because it was worth a whole lot of money. Now, I don’t know if it is worth a fortune, and I don’t care that she paid a ton for it, but for some weird reason it really wanted to go home with me. Thank God, she wanted mucho moola for it, as there was no way I was going to be able to justify something this insane to my hubby. How crazy would the lampshade have to be to compete with the rest of it? I still loved it. Luckily, she let us take a photo of it, and I have to be content with that.

At the same sale we saw this little table:

The owner must have had a thing for flowers. This is one of those heavy dark tables from the ’40s, but I actually approve of the makeover, mostly. The tables aren’t worth a whole lot and they are pretty ubiquitous, so paint away. The flowers are a rather cutesy touch. Just not crazy about the broken china white stripes. Could have done without those. Overall, it is just a little too feminine for most men, but hey, put it in your boudoir, and enjoy it.

It’s only fair that we make fun of some masculine stuff now. They saw this fisherman coming:

What, you catch so many fish there isn’t room in the boat? If you are on shore, you can just plop that beer in the stream, and what happens when you go rushing back to the dock and forget to reel in the cooler? It just bobs along after you till the rope breaks? I forgot to look and see if it was insulated, or if you were just supposed to use the chill of the lake to keep things cool. While it looks like a bit of fun, if you are into that sort of thing, I think it probably spent most of its previous life living in the garage, till it met the light of day with a quick trip to the thrift store.

We wanted to like this:

I mean, how can you go wrong with deviled eggs? Well, you can, but that is a food safety talk for another time. First off the fellow is GREEN! Is he sick, or just, trying to match the décor? And since when does the rooster get to crow about eggs? Seriously, you don’t even need him to fill up the plate, and here he is taking all the credit. I think the hens should get together and oust him from his roost, and get the credit back to where it is due.

I absolutely hated dolls like this when I was a kid:

They came as pre-printed fabric that some well meaning Grandma could cut out and sew together for the delight of the granddaughter. Well, let me tell you, I was NOT delighted. Can you tell I had a couple? Why in the world would I want some poor lass with gingham skin? Is there a treatment for that? And what fun was a doll that you couldn’t even change her clothes? She was in a perpetual state of pseudo country charm. I could think of no earthly reason for this when Barbie lived in the world. My mom kept thinking I needed some baby dolls or toddler dolls, so I could practice those mommy skills. Who needs that when you could go to the ball or a date with that hottie Ken? You gotta catch the fellow first, and then you just hire a nanny. I had it all planned out.

We were really worried about these:

They were huge, well over a foot tall, and to us it looked like they were both wearing those skin colored tights and not much else. Actually, we might have been generous thinking there were tights involved. They just sort of looked naked … and ugly. To top that all off, they were made of plaster of paris, so they weighed enough to cause your walls to collapse in on themselves, if they happened to be hung on the same wall. For some strange reason, they were still at the thrift store the next time we happened by. Wonder why.

Someone had a lot of money to burn when they were in Europe:

Here is back of one for your edification:

I just looked them up and someone REALLY spent a lot on them, but it is a sad state of affairs that this sort of thing is almost completely unsaleable. No one wants this stuff anymore, and in the case of this I understand. Can you imagine dusting them? Both of them had broken fingers and things, but I would bet it probably happened at the thrift store, which is too bad, as there is a little old lady turning in her grave at the thought of it. They did seem to go away very quickly, so maybe there is someone, somewhere, that doesn’t mind the dust and can see the beauty. We left them with nary a backwards glance.

Hope there is something beautiful blooming near you to brighten your day. Winter is coming.