Little Golden Books

Thanks to the Literary Library Baby Shower, I haven't had to purchase any books for the Peanut.

Until today.

The antique stores beckoned -- and even though I have plenty of Pyrex, I thought it would be fun to head out and at least browse. 

Browsing at antique stores is a bit like going to a museum without having to pay an entrance fee. As an added bonus, you don't have to wait for the gift shop at the end of your tour to make a purchase -- everything is for sale.

Today's trip yielded these Little Golden Books. 

 

They will go right on the shelf next to The Sailor Dog. 

I loved it when my mom read to me and I hope the Peanut grows up with a fondness for books like his Mama and Grandma. 

I think we're off to a good start!

Clearly Pyrex

It goes without saying that spring cleaning and purging means more trips to the thrift store to drop off items than to actually shop... although I have managed to eek in a few trips inside to scope out potential prizes. 

I've come up pretty empty-handed. (I'm sure I can hear the Sailor cheer from across the globe...) In fact, in my clear-out, I've sold some miscellaneous Pyrex that I decided I no longer used or needed in my collection. (Again, that cheer... the cabinets are probably breathing a sigh of relief too.)

But a few weeks ago I managed to dawdle through an antique store and I found another Pyrex See 'N' Store Canister in Wildflower. 

It was a little pricier than I wanted to spend, but you know what... I got the rest of these at such a bargain that I decided I could spare a few bucks. Plus, I use these things ALL of the time -- especially when I'm baking!

I love being able to open the cupboard and actually see how much sugar and flour and oatmeal I have available. For some reason, packaging tends to make me a little crazy. Sometimes it's nice to not bring some other company's branding into my home.  I know it's one extra step when I bring home the groceries, but for my sanity, it's totally worth it.

Plus, when I have the stuff on the counter and I spill liquid... I don't ruin half a flour bag. I can just wipe off the canister. So much easier!  I have other Pyrex canisters storing granola bars and nuts, and I even keep cereal in clear containers (although they are from IKEA and not Pyrex. It will take a while until I find enough of these glass containers at affordable prices for everything.) 

How about you? Is your cupboard clearly see-through? 

Buttons and Baubles

I confess to having a slight addiction to buttons. But really, who doesn't... especially those of us who make stuff? 

I have quite a stash of old buttons that my mom passed along to me -- I'm pretty sure some of them were my Grandma's, and over the years I've accumulated even more. Lately, I've been gravitating towards the buttons still on their cards. It's fun to see what the price used to be on them -- and if I'm out at a thrift store or antique store, even a small purchase of a few buttons on a card is somewhat of a thrill. 

Buttons can make or break a handcrafted project -- pick the right ones and your whole garment, bag, or hat looks amazing. Pick the wrong ones... well... just take them off and look through your stash to find an even better button! 

I have been known to buy a whole bag of buttons at a craft store for just one color.

I have been known to swoon at entire walls filled with buttons. 

 

I have photographed buttons for photo shows. (You can also do this... just get one of those clear baubles from a craft store with a removable lid. Insert buttons. Take photos!)

  

 But really, my weakness is those vintage buttons still on their cards.

Some of the latest acquisitions... stored in vintage Pyrex, of course.

I can't wait to use these buttons in something. How about you? Button collector or not?

Pretty Piles of Pyrex

Pyrex doesn't seem to be coming out with new patterns anytime soon. I think they're sticking with plain old clear glass, and letting the rest of us find our fun patterns in the thrift and antique stores as well as online on eBay and Etsy.

Etsy offers a plethora of fun Pyrex-related products. You can find notecards, posters, prints, jewelry and mosaics (made out of broken Pyrex!) and even lamp shades made out of Pyrex bowls. 

Not long ago, I came across Fresh Pastry Stand. The owner make all kinds of fun things, but her Pyrex screen-printed tea towels caught my eye. What's not to love about a tea towel? Useful, pretty and c'mon... they match my Butterprint Pyrex collection. I finally ordered a few towels tonight, because I know that with Fall around the corner, I'll be baking more and let's face it, washing more dishes. I may as well use pretty towels to wipe them dry.

Recently, the shop owner held a little Facebook competition to come up with new tea towel pattern ideas. Of course I entered. While I didn't win, I had fun coming up with new color combos and seeing the other entries.

Here are a few of my favorites from my own thrifted collection: 

And even though I mentioned in this post that I've never had a dishwasher, I do now, but it doesn't get much action. Vintage Pyrex should always be hand-washed and dried, preferably with a fun tea towel.

(Disclaimer: While I did receive a 25% off coupon for the Fresh Pastry Stand Etsy shop, for entering the Facebook contest, I received no compensation for this post.) 

Tea Time

Several weeks ago, I mentioned that I had been playing along with #7vignettes on Instagram and I promised to show you the photos. I had so much fun styling photos for the online 'event'. The theme for the first day: coffee/tea. 

Having caffeine running through my veins daily, of course I went with the coffee theme. 

Here's what I posted:

 And here's the story behind it: 

Coffee symbolizes some of my favorite things -- not only the drink itself! My thrifted vintge whole bean grinder, my Italian stovetop espresso pot (wedding present from a dear friend) and gifted Transcarpathian cups and saucers to remind to return to Ukraine someday. (All but one has survived several Transatlantic moves.)

Soon after I posted the photo, I started to realize how much tea I'd been drinking as well. 

Maybe I've been missing the British Isles lately, or maybe it's because I sipped so much tea while I was under the weather a while back. 

Or perhaps it's simply that I have so many cute tea cups and despite having a larger kitchen now, I'm still sticking to my small kitchen rules: everything must be fully functional.

Or maybe it's because I promised myself over New Year's, that I was going to have a Chilled-Out 2013, and this has turned into one of the craziest years of my life. Tea seems to have a calming effect on me when I need to chill out. 

Whatever the reason, I'm definitely having more tea these days. 

I still drink coffee like it's going out of style -- we'll always be friends. We were together long before tea introduced itself to me and if you told me I could only have one or the other for the rest of my life, coffee would win hands down.

 
But since I don't have to choose, there's room for both in my life (although the mug cabinet is definitely getting crowded.) Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go and boil the kettle.

Which would you choose? 

Vintage Snack Sets

Despite my love of dishware, I don't actually have a full set of dinner plates. The Sailor hinted at throwing a housewarming party at some point now that we're settled in, but I certainly don't have enough of any one style plate to serve more than two people at a time.

I'm still searching for a few more of the turquoise plates (oh plates, why do you elude me?!) But since they seem to be scarce, I figured I'd better have Plan B ready because I well and truly despise plastic plates and cups. (They have their place at a picnic, but for most occasions, nothing says 'you're not worth the risk of breaking my dish or my extra time for clean-up' to your guests than getting served on a throwaway plate.)
 
Never mind the plate problem: while my current kitchen could easily swallow my old one, I only have a four-person table. Seating is still a challenge. Obviously, one can mix and mingle at a party without formally sitting down at a table, but frankly, most guests also like to eat -- and drink. And there's no getting around how awkward it is to hold both your beverage and your plate while trying to eat with your hands. 

Then I discovered these vintage snack sets. I've noticed them before in my travels, but I've always passed them up. Apparently, though, they are quite popular in the South. Perhaps I'm simply noticing them more since there's not as much Pyrex to look at here, but they are EVERYWHERE! And fairly cheap, too. 

What better way to throw a party, where guests can mix and mingle? I certainly could have used them for last year's holiday party.

Over the weekend, I found a mix of 16 Federal Glass and Anchor Hocking trays and cups at both thrift stores and antique stores, for about $25 total. I'm sure you can get them even cheaper, but I thought less than $1.50 per set was a bargain. In some cases, single plates were even cheaper at antique stores than the thrifts! You can't even get plates at a department store that cheap. (Besides, if you did, would they be this cool?)

While some of the glasses aren't the original ones that matched the trays, they still look wonderful together -- if you are a purist and want to start collecting them yourself, there is certainly no shortage of them on eBay in their matching set boxes. It's fairly easy to figure out which cups match which sets.  

These snack sets would be grand for any party -- I've never been to an event where I've seen them in action, but I hear that people still use them for baby and bridal showers and meet and greet gatherings. I plan on using mine for sure! 

What about you? Have you seen these lovelies in action in the past or present?

{Total side note: This tray befuddled me at first since it has two indentations. I couldn't figure out why anyone would carry two glasses, but then someone pointed out to me that one is an ashtray! There's even a lip on the side for a cigarette. I don't smoke, but I could imagine a gaggle of gals in a different era, playing a game of Bridge under a cloud. Non-smokers -- that extra indentation would be perfect for dip, sauces, or anything you want to keep separate from other food!} 

Grease Jar

A few weeks ago in Tennessee, while paying a visit to the same antique store where I found this glass rolling pin, I noticed a gorgeous Jadeite 'grease jar'. For $25, I passed it up. I confess I have a slight obsession with vintage Pyrex, but I'm no expert on Jadeite. I wasn't even sure if it was the real thing.

But I was still intrigued by the thought of a grease jar.

In all of my travels, I've never been one to collect souvenirs, thimbles or frankly anything else except memories and journal entries. However, recently, I noticed that the top of my fridge is actually lined with cookbooks from many of the places I've visited. Not all of them actually come from the country, of course. My former proficiency in Russian may have helped me to barter in the Ukrainian market daily, but I'm not fully convinced of my ability to accurately translate a pelemeni recipe from Cyrillic.

One afternoon I stared at those cookbooks and realized that I didn't even have one from Pennsylvania Dutch Country... the very place where I grew up.

I decided to remedy that when I saw a review in a magazine for Ian Knauer's cookbook, The Farm.

  

I ordered the book and proceeded to devour it. 

In the book, he describes 'master fat' -- and how people used to (and still do!) collect the fat drippings from any meat or bacon products they use. I often make Yorkshire Pudding with meat drippings, and I have been known to use the same oil to fry things like onion rings more than once, but collecting the drippings all together was a new concept to me. 

I love to recycle and reuse all kinds of things -- of course I was on board with this idea.  

So when I saw the 'grease jar' in Tennessee, I knew I had to add something similar to my kitchen.

Although I passed up the Jadeite, I did manage to find a drip can when I returned home. On an antique outing with a friend a few weeks ago, I found a gorgeous enamel pan with a lid (above), as well as this drip container. I squealed a little when I saw the price was only $2.50. 
 

I had to use it right away, so I actually went to the farm market the next day to purchase some bacon. Only a few minutes after I consumed said bacon, I was already straining the grease (I didn't even think to get a photo of the 'clean' jar before I put it right to use!)

I've already added more drippings, and even the Sailor seemed impressed when I showed him the jar and how quickly it was filling up. Not everything agrees though. A good friend emailed me and said the whole concept sounded 'gross'. 

Maybe it does to some people. Then again, maybe it's a little strange that I'm so excited about it? 

Comfort Food = Mac & Cheese

I love pasta. I'm sure I would have made my grandmother's family proud. Somewhere out there is a distant Italian relative who just shouted 'hurrah' across the ocean.

I have always been a macaroni and cheese kind of gal -- of course as a child, it conveniently came out of a box, and was one of the first things I probably learned to 'make'. Most of my pasta still comes out of a box, but only the pasta itself, and not the packet of orange powder.

When the Sailor isn't home, I tend to eat far too much pasta. He doesn't eat it, nor do I ever expect him to. A friend's father in England often used to say, 'If God wanted me to eat pasta, I would have been born in Italy.' 

The Sailor tends to agree with that line of reasoning. 

So the only pasta dish that gets made when he's home is the occasional lasagna, or some sort of dough stuffed with either potatoes or meat -- a pierogie, for instance. Floating noodles (like in the case of Pennsylvania Dutch Pot Pie*) are also acceptable, perhaps once if not twice a year. 

With temperatures at -19 F this morning (seriously, Old Man Winter -- isn't that a little chilly, even for you?) I was craving comfort food. 

I also wanted any excuse to use this gorgeous 2.5 quart Butterfly Gold vintage Pyrex casserole dish I found last week, at an antique store with a friend (it's the one on the bottom. The top one is a 1.5 quart I found ages ago.)

I had been lamenting not nabbing this piece months ago at the Weekend Antique event I went to, but at $20, I couldn't really justify it. Plus, I already found the refrigerator dishes I wanted that day. Sometimes you need to space out the joy.
 
But last week, I had just put down several pieces of Butterfly Gold that I didn't really like or want (the divided casserole... a few bowls that I already had...) and then I spied this lovely beast in a corner, for only $4. 

That's right. FOUR dollars! It had a few burn marks on it -- and it came with a clear lid, not the white patterned lid like some of the casseroles did, but I couldn't have cared less. I wanted the actual dish! 

 Turns out 2.5 quarts is just the right size for this classic mac and cheese casserole. 

I based the recipe off of this one from Annie's Eats. After I threw the casserole in the oven, and double checked the cooking time, I realized that I somehow completely skipped an entire main ingredient. 

I didn't add any colby jack cheese. 

(Not only did I not add it, but I didn't make up for it with any other cheese. How sad is that?)

I also had about half the amount of panko bread crumbs the recipe called for in my cupboard, no parsley, and no chicken broth (how is this possible? I ALWAYS have chicken broth somewhere.) Fortunately, I happen to save the turkey juice from Christmas lunch, so I used that instead, along with a little bit of veggie broth to get it up to the required amount. I was pretty chuffed with myself, since I do like to use up what I already have in most cases.

And, I used almond milk instead of regular milk, and quite possibly more garlic -- this dish definitely had some heat.
 
In my world, classic macaroni and cheese pairs perfectly with stewed tomatoes. But I only had a handful of cherry tomatoes that I needed to use up, so I sliced them in half and tossed them on top of the casserole. 

Regardless of my kitchen mishap with both directions and ingredient lists, the dish was delightful edible. And I have more than enough leftovers for lunch until the Sailor gets home.

I think next time though, I'll definitely try to stick with the original recipe -- with one exception. I will most certainly keep the tomatoes in there.

* For my true opinion on Pennsylvania Dutch Pot Pie, click here.

Family Kitchen Mergers

Growing up without much money, my family got creative with how we entertained ourselves. As a child, I would page through my mom's old, dog-eared wartime cookbook whenever she used it, especially for baking. I loved the photos -- they transported me to another era with pictures of dinner parties, jello molds and decorative cookies.  

When I was old enough to understand the significance of this cookbook in my mother's life, I told her it was the one thing that I wanted her to leave me when she died. The book had been my grandmother's, passed on to my mom at a young age. 

Several years ago, my mom decided that I shouldn't have to wait until her funeral to have my own copy. She found another one online and presented it to me as my very own -- yet still promising me her heirloom edition one day.

I have several old cookbooks from yesteryear, but this one is by far my favorite and I use it frequently. Recipes may have changed over the years, but some things are still classic -- like Yorkshire Pudding. Now I have my own notes and bookmarks falling out of my copy. 

Nowadays, I also appreciate the back section of the book with wartime recipes on a budget.

Around the same time my mom gave me the book, I had recently returned from the Sailor's hometown. During my stay there, I made the Sailor's family a pie. I searched high and lo for a rolling pin -- frustrated that I didn't know where anything was in the kitchen. (Read more about that here.)

My mother-in-law saw my frustration and dug into the cabinet. She handed me what appeared to be a glass bottle. 

I looked at the lid on one end and then I looked at her.

She explained that it was for keeping pastry cold -- you load the rolling pin with ice-cubes and then it keeps the dough chilled while you work with it. 

This was ingenious! I had never seen such a thing before. I somewhat joked with her that she could leave it to me in the future. Sometime later, I realized I needed to acquire my own rolling pin, before I continued to covet the one in the South African cupboard.

Last week, I found myself in the throes of antique hunting in Tennessee. I have spied a few glass rolling pins over the year, but they were always out of my price range. This time, on my second trip through the store, I found one for only $8. It's missing the lid, but I'm sure the Sailor can find something for me that fits. Besides, once the ice-cubes are in there, they're  not really going to 'fall out'.

This week, I realized that I now own two kitchen items that are symbolically related to my mom and mother-in-law -- and I still get to ask them both cooking advice. A perfect family history and merger. The only question remains is which recipe from that cookbook am I going to try out first with my new rolling pin?

Driving Myself Crazy

I haven't created much in the past few days, except lists. To do lists, shopping lists, places to visit lists. 

It's not that I didn't want to create -- it's just that I've been driving. A lot. Seven hundred and twenty miles worth so far. And it's a little hard to knit, crochet or bake while I'm behind the wheel. In fact I'm feeling a little crazy that I haven't made anything in the past few days. 

But it is wonderful to do a bunch of other things when it's just me in the car.

So fun, in fact that I made up a list of the reasons why I love a good solo road trip.

1. I can stop anywhere I like, anytime I like, without consulting the other passenger/driver -- aka, the Sailor. In my case, I got a little distracted by 'junk'. I stopped at no less than half a dozen antique shops along the I-81 corridor within a 24 hour period. Seriously, people... there is no lack of stuff waiting to be purchased by collectors and vintage hunters alike, right off the highway -- like that nifty little Pyrex sugar bowl I scored for only two bucks. The good news is, there are even more antique shops that I didn't stop at, and there is always the drive home. 

The downside: Nobody is telling me to get a move on so that I actually make it to my destination at a respectable hour, like before dark.

2. I can eat whatever I like, whenever I like, including the Sailor's turkey jerky I was saving just for him when he came home, along with leftover Christmas cookies.

The downside: It took me the best part of 20 minutes to wrestle the turkey jerky bag open by myself. And I ate too many cookies and felt quite lethargic by the time I reached my destination (and of course I couldn't even go for a walk to burn off at least one cookie, because I spent too long looking at junk and it was dark by the time I arrived.)

3.  I can pack the car however I want, which means I can take up the entire trunk with my stuff. Plus, I can keep my enormous handbag and the aforementioned snacks all within reach on the passenger seat.

The downside: I packed the cooler in the wrong place and therefore couldn't reach any of the drinks while driving. Plus, I had to load and unload all of my stuff. I never have to do that on a road trip with the Sailor.

4. I can listen to whatever songs I want and flip through as many radio stations as possible, singing at the top of my lungs. 

The downside: There really is no downside to this. Singing at the top of your lungs should be compulsory on a solo road trip. Or any road trip for that matter. Who cares if there are other passengers. They probably want to belt out some tunes too -- sing loud enough, drive them crazy enough and they'll start singing to drown you out. (Oh wait... maybe that only happens to me?!)

So there's that list done. Now to create that list of projects I still need to finish -- starting with this lonely sock:

 

Pyrex Mania

I have a small confession. Ever since the Sailor and I got our own little apartment, I have been somewhat obsessive about the kitchen. When we first got married, we didn't always have our own place to cook. For a while we lived with my in-laws, then we lived in Cape Town with another family while the Sailor finished his studies; later we lived with my family.  

Sharing a living space is one thing, sharing a kitchen is quite another. I didn't realize how stressful it was until one day I nearly burst into tears as I told the Sailor that I just wanted to pick out my own dumb tea towels.

The truth was, the tea towels were only the beginning. I was tired of using someone else's dishes, pots, pans, and cutlery -- even if that someone was within my family. I wanted my own. Even if I had my own stuff at that point, it's not the same having to share the space with someone else. 

(I do realize how selfish this sounds... and I also know how blessed I have been over the years considering how many people share kitchens all over the world, but hear me out nonetheless.)

Sunset from our flat near Cape Town

Before we got married, I had been living overseas. I never really had my own kitchen. Even in the few years in England where I lived on my own, post-university, I had a slew of guests come and go, and I was using dishes and the like that had been given to me. When I moved back to America, I felt like I had missed the last decade and everyone else moved forward by owning kitchen gadgets they hardly used (at least in my version of the story). I simply wanted my own knives and a few dishes. Maybe I was being selfish. Maybe I was just being practical. But I'll never forget trying to make hash browns from scratch on our honeymoon. They were a flop, but the Sailor simply reminded me that the cooking equipment at our bungalow was inferior. Right then and there I knew I married a man who understood how much a kitchen meant to me, even if I didn't know yet how to wield the equipment with which to cook.

We had some seriously stunning views in the places we lived -- especially in Cape Town, but I was also using the equivalent of an easy bake oven to make our meals. I was pretty proud of myself for learning how to make meatloaf on a hotplate until we got the little oven, and I was even prouder of myself for baking an entire loaf of bread in the thing -- even when said loaf rose precariously close to the top of the oven.

Moving into our own apartment, the Sailor had his say as to where some of the furniture went, but when it came to the kitchen, he told me he didn't mind what I did with it -- it was all mine. 

Because we were nomads for so long, most people gave us money for our wedding. The cash suited our lifestyle at the time, far more than toasters and blenders did. Besides, we never registered anywhere. I couldn't reconcile the idea that I had invited people from at least three continents to our wedding, and it would have seemed odd to me to have people bring breakable china on a plane to our small ceremony. In any case, I had nowhere to put plates or any material gift in whatever kitchen I was utilizing at the time.

When we finally got our own little space years later, I realized that in addition to furniture -- we needed not only dishes but an entire kitchen complement. I caved and bought my knives, my stainless steel pots and my cast iron pans new, but nearly everything else came from thrift stores. 

Suddenly I was drawn to older kitchen stuff. I remembered my mother-in-law had an old glass rolling pin -- the kind you could put ice into to keep dough cold as you rolled it out. Nobody here had ever heard of such a thing, so I took to scouting out antique shops in search of one. I still haven't found a glass one, but I have amassed a small collection of vintage Butterfly Gold Pyrex dishes along the way. 

At first it was just a small mixing bowl -- I thought it would go well with all of the sunflowers in my kitchen. Then I began to realize that this old Pyrex stuff was tough -- I figured if it had already survived 40 plus years, surely it could survive my kitchen? 

I began finding pieces bit by bit. 

My favorite ones by far were the refrigerator dishes. I liked the modern Pyrex glass dishes with the rubber lids (as opposed to their inferior plastic cousins) but there was something about these older ones that really caught my eye. 

I decided to hunt for the full set of the Butterfly Gold refrigerator dishes. I managed to nab the medium sized 'butter' dish and another smaller white one while weekend antiquing. 

This week, I found the large refrigerator dish. Sometimes, I just have a hunch that I should wander into a thrift store. That day, I went into one on my way to another antique store, in search of some vintage jadeite for a friend. Right as I was leaving, this little beauty stared at me through the glass: 

Can you hear the moment of triumph? The clerk most certainly heard me squeal.

While I don't usually get pieces that are damaged, I made an exception for this one which is only slightly scratched... but totally chip free. For the price, a few scratches were totally worth it. 

So there you have it. The whole fridge family. Happily, I paid less than half of what I've seen lately on eBay and Etsy for all of them. And before you wonder why I didn't just order them online from the start -- for me, it is more thrilling to hunt for them in person. 

In retrospect, if I had to do it all over again, I'm glad I shared so many kitchens and so much cooking equipment with other people. It helped me realize that I can cook anywhere -- in any space and with anything. And I still wouldn't have registered for dishes even if we had our own place back when we got married. (I doubt anyone has a registry for vintage Pyrex in any case.) Far more fun to build the collection this way, I think. The Sailor doesn't seem to mind. In fact, I think he's less overwhelmed when I build my kitchen collection piece by piece instead of all at once.  

And, thankfully, he no longer has to hear me spout off about tea towels. 

Weekend Antiques

Ever since I was a child, I have loved the hunt of going to thrift stores. By necessity, it's where we shopped, even through my teenage years. Although I sometimes yearned for a brand new pair of jeans, most of the time I was thrilled with the idea that I could get an entire garbage bag of used clothing for the same price. 

I loved flea markets too. We would travel to an old drive-in movie theater that converted to an outdoor flea market nearly every weekend. 

Auctions were even better -- but as a child I was often a little fearful of even scratching my nose, in case the caller thought I was bidding on something. Sometimes they had flea market finds for sale too. I liked those. No bidding involved -- no potential for nose-scratching-accidental-purchases. 

Once, I bought an old cigar box that had tiny seashells glued to the cover. The old man selling it looked at me quite seriously after my purchase and said, 'Now you take care of that box, honey...' 

I felt responsible for that box. This man had entrusted me with something that had been special to him -- now I was the keeper of the box. 

I had that box for years. It held trinkets, pens, anything small enough and special enough. I got a little nostalgic when I finally realized I no longer needed it and should just give it away. I thought about what little girl might buy it for a dollar at Goodwill and what she would decide to store in it and then I happily added it to the 'giveaway' pile. 

We never really went antique shopping though. Antiques to me symbolized people who had money... and we didn't. It would be years before I realized that while many antiques are worth a small fortune, there are plenty to be had within budget -- many of them can be found at those same flea markets and thrift stores, disguised under the label: 'junk'. 

Nowadays, I love to poke around antique malls and stores. This past weekend, a friend and I spent the entire day wandering through endless shelves of old stuff. 

There were old toys...

Dishes.... 

 

 Cutlery...

 

Cookie cutters...

And much more.

 

I walked away with a few vintage hankies, a sock darner, some refrigerator pyrex I had been on the hunt for (more on that later...) in addition to a few blisters. The Sailor had warned me that the boots I put on that morning probably weren't made for walking. He knew his prophecy to be true when I came home and crumpled into a heap on the sofa.

Sore feet aside, I also scored these fabulous 1940s dish-towels: 

Perfect for my often mismatched and rather kitsch kitchen.