I love a good junk, er antique, shop. There's something very satisfying about poking around dusty displays hunting for treasure. Oh, the bounty I find is rarely a valuable item priced well below its worth; my reward is usually in spotting something I remember from my childhood that I haven't seen or thought of for decades.
Over the years I have been reunited, briefly, record albums, collectable glasses, Christmas plates, toys, and lunch boxes. Usually those items are priced a little too high for me to reacquire them, or at least high enough to make me consider why we parted in the first place. I do actually own a few things that are replicas of stuff we had when I was a kid.
The set of pyrex mixing bowls in turquoise and white with the farmer design is a prominent example. The largest bowl of that set is what my dad always used for popcorn when he made it on nights he was babysitting us. I can still remember dragging my finger through the salt and butter pooled at the bottom of the bowl when all that was left were the unpopped kernels.
Several years ago, my mom found sets of those bowls and gave them to the three of us for Christmas. You can bet I always put my popcorn in the popcorn bowl. And today, wasn't I surprised to find not something that I used to have, but rather something that I actually have now for sale in a junk, er, antique store.
Now that's a sign of age!
Over the years I have been reunited, briefly, record albums, collectable glasses, Christmas plates, toys, and lunch boxes. Usually those items are priced a little too high for me to reacquire them, or at least high enough to make me consider why we parted in the first place. I do actually own a few things that are replicas of stuff we had when I was a kid.
The set of pyrex mixing bowls in turquoise and white with the farmer design is a prominent example. The largest bowl of that set is what my dad always used for popcorn when he made it on nights he was babysitting us. I can still remember dragging my finger through the salt and butter pooled at the bottom of the bowl when all that was left were the unpopped kernels.
Several years ago, my mom found sets of those bowls and gave them to the three of us for Christmas. You can bet I always put my popcorn in the popcorn bowl. And today, wasn't I surprised to find not something that I used to have, but rather something that I actually have now for sale in a junk, er, antique store.
Now that's a sign of age!
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