SUPER SATURDAY
I had a really great
day yesterday with my beau (aka G); running errands, shopping, and
driving around.
First stop was the
bank, bleh, nothing to see here.
Next stop was
Rummagepalooza in
Belleville. I'd heard about it through my daughter, who was setting
up a booth there, and wanted to check it out. I thought about getting
a booth too, but the timing just wasn't right this year. (Maybe next
year.) Rummagepalooza was small but mighty! I loved it. It wasn't
your run-o-the-mill yard sale stuff, but a nice mix of local
businesses, a food truck, individual artisans. It was great. I will
definitely go back next year.
The first order of
business was to find the daughter and grandson and check in with
them. Ok, from the very beginning of this girl's life, she's had a
flare. I'm talking, from the time she could dress herself. It
started with the socks. They couldn't match. What fun is that?!
And it only got...shall we say...more creative. And I know this. I
KNOW she has a thing for clothes, and hats and stuff, but this kid
had three racks of clothes in her booth! I was like, “Why are you
getting rid of this gorgeous velvet blazer???” Her calm response
to her mother's outcry, “Mom, I have so many clothes.”
Shaina doing her thang.
After we checked in
with the family, it was time to explore. I like to try, keyword here is
TRY, to do these types of things in an organized manner, so we headed
for one end, with the plan to work out way down and back up the other
side. But, well, I have a little bit of an attention-span problem.
Yes, the “Look, a squirrel!” kind of problem. So, what ends up
happening most of the time is a kind of
Winnie-the-Pooh-and-Tigger-Too bouncing back and forth between
booths, speed walking from one brightly-colored attraction to
another. And, well, this makes a woman thirsty. Oh look! Coffee!
My most favorite drink in the world (next to wine)!
And here I am
getting ahead of myself. Back to that first booth. I laid eyes on
THE most gorgeous antique wood frame. Wait a minute, that picture
looks so familiar - that's a mirror, Angelic. Still! So much
potential, beautiful curves, handsome corbels on either side, but I
play it cool. I look at the glasses that are real glass, but look
like the clear plastic tumblers from diners gone by. Pick up the old
plastic Alf lunch box. Put it back down. Meander to the front where
the young man is manning the table. How much for that mirror? Five
bucks? I struggle desperately to simultaneously control my facial
expression while not peeing myself with excitement. I act like I'm
considering the purchase as I talk to G about whether or not it would
fit in the car and oh-so-slowly extract a fiver from my front pocket,
trying to control the sudden urge to just throw the money at the kid,
grab the mirror, and run. G either has far more self-control than I
or does not understand the brevity of the situation as he suggests to
the table-manning-kid that we pay now, but come back for it later. I look up at G
in horror, but I have sunglasses on and before he can interpret my
reaction, I gather my wits in time to snap my jaw shut,
smile sweetly and agree. G takes my hand and gently leads me away as
I steal, what I'm certain is a last glance, at my beloved mirror.
But it doesn't take long before the mirror has taken a back seat as we come across a leather-maker's booth,
red
20 workshop. And I see, once again, the leather coffee cup
coozie I'd pinned on pinterest a gazillion years ago and have since
coveted each time I've seen them at craft fairs and vintage markets
ever since. I never buy them though, because, well, they aren't
cheap. Not to say they aren't worth every penny, especially this
one, hand-made with obvious care. And I can't walk away this time
empty-handed. So, I spend the next several minutes deliberating on
which one to get; “Hello Darkness My Old Friend” or “Coffee:
Life's Blood” or "but first Coffee."
Sara Cooper, maker of awesome leather coffee coozies and such.
After the purchase, G demonstrates that the
coozie doubles as an accessory and proceeds to snap it onto my wrist
and commend me, not only on my exquisite taste, but savvy thriftiness
as well. I beam and agree and model the cuff as if I'm the Wonder
Woman of caffeinated beverages, deflecting dangerous coffee beans.
And IS that coffee I smell? Indeed it is, several booths away, but it
doesn't matter, it's as if the aroma is a magic carpet and we are
floating to it effortlessly, nose first.
G has not worked up
the mighty thirst I have, so he's off to shop for old rusty tools at
an uncovered u-shaped set of tables across the lot and leaves me
standing in front of the coffee booth breathing in the rejuvenating
perfume. That is, until the dude behind the table ever-so-politely
interrupts my reverie with, “Can I help you?” I nod
affirmatively on instinct and hear occasional words as I struggle to
come out of the coffee-induced fog; cold brew, local, roaster, train
depot. Wait? Train depot? What does that have to do with coffee?
I start to pay attention to what the dear man is saying. The roaster
is
Balance Coffee & Tea
and is housed in a renovated early 20
th century train
depot in Belleville. Needless to say, not only do I buy a cup of
their cold brew joe, but a bag of coffee beans as well. I snap my
new coffee coozie onto the cup and head over to show it off to G.
Marsh and friends of Balance Coffee & Tea in Belleville
G readily takes a
sip of the coffee, proclaims it to be satisfactory and proceeds to
pick up another rusty tool. I try to be interested in what it is
he's asked me and I fail to guess correctly what the tool is and he's
proceeded to explain it to me, but my eyes are wandering off past
him, over his shoulder, at the antique tins this rusty tool guy has.
“That's neat honey. Did you see those?” and I head for the tins.
He doesn't follow, but that's ok, he's a seasoned
shopper-with-Angelic and knows that by the time I get to the tins, I
will have seen something else and moved on before he reluctantly sets
down whatever it is he's examining for potential usefulness and
catches up with me. And it's true, because, look! Over there! That
old metal tool box is my favorite color!
Don't get me wrong,
G and I love to antique together and actually spend the most part of
our time shopping TOGETHER, but we also both like to wander off
alone, so that we can find something fabulous to bring the other one
back to see.
I still have several
dollars burning a hole in my pocket, so I circle back to check on my
daughter, who is working on her chalk art in the space in front of
her booth. It's coming along beautifully – very colorful – much
like my her!
Behind her booth and
down a little ways is an artist, that I'm sure is very talented, but
I was not inclined to venture into his booth or spend much time there
– you see, he takes creepy old dolls and recreates even creepier dolls. I
apologized to the guy as I swung wide to avoid making eye contact
with the small village of dolls that were all staring at me, watching
my every step, their eyes stabbing me in the back as I quick-stepped
away.
We meandered around
some more, but didn't see anything else we had to have, so while G
and the grandson bantered, I bought a cup of home-brewed kombucha
from Harmony Tribe Organics, sampled some more local roasted cold brewed
coffee (
blueprint coffee)
and bought a snack of raw, vegan coconut macaroons from
Earthen
Foods, another
Ripple of
Existence artisan. We ate the macaroons in the car later and they
were delicious!
The rest of the day
was spent driving around the area exploring, shopping for a turbo
plunger for the bathroom, checking my own
flea
market booth in Lebanon, and hitting the local IGA for groceries
before heading home. After we got home, G started dinner on the
grill while I cleaned the kitchen and made roasted asparagus. Our
post-dinner activities were much less exciting - G cleaned out the
tub drain with our newly acquired turbo plunger and cleaned the tub,
while I put laundry away.
