The Woodster Comes To Call

Well my, my, my.
Who is this, occupying a chair in our sunroom?

This is Woody, and he owns our very good friends

Betsy and Phil, who are on vacation this week.

Woody, though, is vacationing

chez That Old House.

If he looks familiar to you, it's because he is not just a

Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, like our Dion.

He is also Dion's great-nephew.

While it is lovely to hear the pitter-patter of little paws

in the house again, I am glad that Woody, despite his resemblance

to Dion, is very different in personality.

Woody is just about the best-behaved, easiest, least demanding

dog I've ever met.  No, not much like his Uncle Dion.  :-P

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Meanwhile . . .

my antiques booth has stretched

to hold some of our Saturday auction haul.

 Oops.  That's my turquoise handbag on the desk in the right corner.

The desk sold yesterday, after I left the store.

Some of my favorites include this 6 board blanket chest,

with lovely trace memories of old red paint.

A tole tray with an Asian design, on a folding stand.  It can serve as a

coffee table, or a side table to hold a glass of some elegant swill.

Then there is the hunt board, one end of which you can see here.

The carved apron is just so much fun.

But this is my favorite find of all, I think:

A New Jersey decoy -- a hollow, hand carved swan,

by J.P. Hand, who works near Cape May.

Mr. Hand's family came to Jersey from Eastern Long Island, 'way back in the 1700s.

That Old House was built by "refugees" from Eastern L. I.  

Anyway, the swan is gorgeous, probably from the 1980s.

I lust after it in my heart.

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Now, I must fly!

I need to return to the house where the auction was held

and pack up more winnings.  Then, back to the booth to fill in

the gap left when that big desk waltzed out yesterday.

Sorry, Woody, I have to bail on you for awhile.

I leave you in charge of That Old House while I am gone,

and I'm pretty sure I will not find toilet paper festooning

the first floor when I return.  Be good!  -- Cass

Oh Country Auction, How I Love Thee!

"SOLD! to number 26."

Howard and I heard that a lot on Saturday, as we bid, and bid,
and bid some more at a wonderful auction in New Jersey's
Hunterdon County, where the horsey folk live.

The skies were threatening, and fewer than 50 people showed up.

Good news for the auction bidders.

Bad news for the auctioneer and the homeowner;

so many of her beautiful things went for far below their value.

For instance, that china in the above picture?

That's old Booth's china, made in England between

1912 and the '30s, in the Dragon Green pattern.

Service for 8.  $5 a place setting.  $40 for the whole shebang.

And it's mine, all mine.

Poor deluded Howard thought I'd bought it for the antiques booth.

Oh, ho, ho, ho.  The poor dear innocent.

See this cupboard, below?

It is tiger maple, and was custom made by a local

Hunterdon County cabinetmaker in the 1970s.  It is to die for.

And as soon as we can figure out how to transport it,

it's coming to live at That Old House.  Another surprise for Howard!

But

we did buy things -- lots of things -- for the booth.

Like this reproduction hunt board, or tall sideboard, below.

Each drawer locks and has its own key, and the drawers

are set up to house your valuable silverware.

We snagged a primitive blanket chest, 6-board,

with traces of old red paint.  Love it, but it's in the booth.

Other things we got include . . . a Queen Anne tea table, a Hickory wing chair in like-new shape, a perfect Federal settee upholstered in pink silk -- oh it is SO gorgeous -- Chinese porcelain fishbowl planters, brass trays, oil paintings, watercolors, needlepoints, a huge old stoneware crock, several beautiful lamps, a Majolica style luncheon set, another sideboard, mahogany, that because it was missing the bail on one handle sold for $15, and on and on and on.  OH, some gorgeous monogrammed and heavily laced old napkins, some tablecloths, an old handstitched quilt, a chamber pot, an ironstone soup tureen, a bit of carnival glass . . . . and some of these things set us back a whole dollar.

Howard and I had a blast.  After the auction we stuffed what we

could into the red minivan and headed off to empty things

into the booth, where we ran out of room!

So goodbye, my friends, we're heading back to Somerville to

price the new things, and re-jigger the booth.

I am an auction junkie now! -- Cass 

P.S.  The pictures in this post are from the auction listing by the auctioneer -- Robert Heller Auctions.  I hope they don't mind my using them!  I'll be checking out their other auctions in the future.

Look What Followed Me Home

I'm a sucker for one-drawer stands.
Which are not at all the same as one-night stands.

This morning, early, when the temperature
outside had already reached 88 degrees and the sun
was blazing hot, this little darling came to roost:

I spotted her on Craigslist, and thought, "Oh my!  That's the real deal."

Not many ladies would think it a great compliment to be called

really old, but among one-drawer stands, it is high praise.

I met the seller outside of Macy's this morning, and when he took

the table out of his truck I was disappointed.

She looked too new, too youthful, too perfect to be the real deal.

But for $35, I figured I would buy her anyway, as she

seemed to be a really good quality reproduction,

and I could just tuck her into a quiet corner somewhere.

Then I got her home.

And got a closer look.

 Up close and personal, peeking inside her drawer

(not the same as peeking into her drawers),

I found hand planing, signs of use and wear, and other giveaways.

She is indeed really old,

 with just a little too much surface refinishing for her own good.

You know how it is, gals.

As we age, we need to dial back the makeup a bit.

So, instead of hiding her in an obscure corner here at

That Old House, she's heading for the glamorous life

at the Somerville booth.

She won't even get into the house.

Have you met our fierce guard bunny?

Question:  Why do weeds flourish in droughts?

The annuals and perennials are near death's door, and the weeds

are whooping it up.  What a revolting development this is!  -- Cass

When Last We Met . . . .

. . . I was getting ready to take off with my
friend Emily on a furniture-stalking Friday
adventure, headed for an estate sale.

We didn't make it to the estate sale, as we detoured
to a secondhand shop and found a nifty antique desk.
A little Old English and Feed'n'Wax, and it was ready for primetime.

So we hauled it down to my booth at Somerville Center Antiques,

and settled it in.  After lunch at Kyma, a fabulous Greek restaurant

just down the street from the antiques mall.

Emily helps me a lot with the booth.  I "pay" her in lunches.  It works.

:-)

Bonus: our waiter spotted us wrestling with the desk,

and carried it into the shop for us.  How nice was that?

Now this guy pulled our car to a screeching halt outside

Wickham's farm stand in Cutchogue on eastern Long Island on

Saturday morning.  His nose detected the scent of

fresh, hot, greasy, homemade cinnamon donuts.

That is a serious doughnut face.

Our weekend getaway to the beach house was excellent.

We were very busy doing absolutely nothing.

Well, we ate.  We ate well.

Here's Howard leaving Southold Fish Market with our takeout lunch.

 Lobster roll and . . . 

 flounder sandwich.

At the end of a narrow road, we found this,

a secluded beach on Long Island Sound.

That dark strip on the horizon is Connecticut.

 Later that day, we'd watch the sun set over Connecticut

while dining out with my cousin and her husband.

 I love Long Island Sound.

Not many boats out just then.

 And looking in the other direction . . . .

Our weekend away was quiet, and just what we needed

after the emotional week just past.

Now I'm off to work today at the antiques mall.

Play nice, my friends -- Cass

Eye Makeup On, Red Minivan Gassed Up -- Estate Sale Here We Come!

Friday.   A gorgeous sunny, hot summer day and I 
am waiting for my friend Emily; we've got a date.

First, a trip to my antiques booth to deliver a desk

I bought on Tuesday, then it's on to a promising estate sale.  

Promising . . . as in "Whoa! Some great old furniture!"

Estate sales around here are often what I consider over-priced,

but then I am a horrible, unrepentant cheapskate

and hate to spend more than $35.00 on anything.

Thrifty?

Oh, my dears, when it comes to furniture, I eat Thrifty for breakfast.

It's not your imagination.  That last sentence made no sense at all.

(Sorry about the quality of these shots.)

So I've put up a few pictures of items I hope to see today,

things that I'd like to pop into my antiques booth.


Or . . . let's be honest . . . pop into That Old House.

There's always room for just one more table

or cunning little cupboard, isn't there?

Or maybe a bit (more) blue and white china?

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For several days I have not put makeup on; too many tears.

But today I'm stepping out with a dear friend, and

I'm making a big leap of faith and slapping on some mascara.

So as not to frighten the natives.

I can't guarantee it will last long, as I'm pretty sure Emily and I

will share some fresh tears, but if my makeup melts off my face

that will give us something funny to laugh about.

Although, come to think of it, my face

is funny enough to always laugh about.   :-)

Wish us luck.

I'm hoping to also negotiate a good price
on this highboy at a local secondhand shop.  

Ain't it a beaut?

I need to get out of That Old House, where there are reminders
of Dion in every corner, and I keep thinking I hear him.

This weekend Howard and I will be at the beach house,
where we will sit on one of the decks, and contemplate this:

Something about salt water is very healing.

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Our family deeply appreciates the caring messages you have sent;
 it helps immeasurably to know
that there are people who understand, and so many who
have been there before.  Many thanks, my friends. -- Cass

And So, We Let Him Go

That's our Dion, Memorial Day 1999.

He was 10 weeks old, asleep on a desk,

tuckered out from the parade festivities.

(Thank you, Suzanne, for finding this puppy picture and sending it; I'd lost it!)

Dion, December 2010, at 11-and-3/4 years old

Yesterday, August 1st, Howard, Anne, and I

fulfilled the promise we made to not let him suffer,

and said goodbye to our beloved boy.

A snuggle with Daddy, yesterday morning

My friend Karen posted a quote on Dion's Facebook page:

"Godspeed!  Be thou comforted little dog.

Thou, too, in the Resurrection shall have a golden tail."

-- Martin Luther

A good dog.

There is no better epitaph.

Thank you all for your kind and understanding comments

the past couple of days.  I know so many of you

have traveled this same path. -- Cass