Gigi Story

I never know what configuration of children I'm going to be encountering in a day. I drive by one homestead full of them on my way to and from work. Sometimes I see them playing on the porch swing, sometimes I stop to drop something off. When I get home I may have an encounter with a crazy boy in a diaper and he may or may not be wearing anything else. Before I go in for work I often don't have plans, by the time I'm headed home I have picked up a babysitting shift, or baby holding shift. Sometimes the first sight I see upon exiting my car is a blonde smiley kiddo standing at the door with my four-legged beagles waiting expectantly for me to enter the promised chaos. 

And I love being a grandma. A Gigi or Gaga or the ever popular gramma or G-Ma. 

Last night we pulled out markers and crayons and some plastic stencils. This was my gift drawing. 

All the pets are drawn and labeled as you can see. The hedgehogs, Daisy and Daffodil and the beagles, Gladys and Gertrude. The picture in the bottom corner was a snapshot of the evening. I put the baby on my head and chanted, "Baby hat! Baby hat!" multiple times because. Well...kids were laughing, including the hat. However, toward the end of this ridiculousness the baby grabbed two handfuls of my hair. So I had to play that up, too. I mean it just doesn't happen every day. In hindsight I am grateful that he didn't throw up in my hair. Because that is a strong possibility.... My mom asked me why I insist on doing things like "Baby Hat!" I told her it might be because I sang the alphabet song 125 times in a on hour period to entertain the 2-year-old and then at the begging of the 10-year-old duet partner switched to Bingo. I think I'm delirious a good chunk of time. 

Sigh. I sleep like a baby after spending a few hours in the sea of children. But I am so blessed and so grateful to be their Gigi! 

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ A Rolicking Blast from the Past

Not the nostalgic stairwell. I was a little concerned about stopping and snapping pictures in the sea of people. And  I also didn't want to be the only grandma taken to the principal's office for snapping pictures outside of the kid's music program. 

 Yesterday was a kindergarten Christmas (holiday) program. 

Can I just say that there may not be one thing cuter than a gaggle of kindergarteners. Nor more energetic. 

The kids had choreography and dance partners. There was a little swing dancing, a little Hanukkah number and a nod to Kwanza. Santa and Rudolph got shout outs and even Jesus got a mention. All musical numbers were performed with enthusiasm unleashed. Our little guy has some sweet skillz. And apparently his little dance partner was quite gaga over him. 

The school was actually the elementary school I attended. I've been in it recently picking up kiddos. It has changed quite a bit. But as I walked down the stairwell from the gym where the program was and the exit I got slapped with a bit of nostalgia. The stair well had not changed. Same pebbled floor tile. I remembered trudging up and down those staircases with the herds of other children. Now I was trudging around with a sea of grandparents and parents. 

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Ooops!

So. You probably know that blogging doesn't pay well. Occasionally, I'll get something free. Yay! And I get about 7 cents a month for clicks on ads. But yesterday it cost me. Wait. No, not really. But I'm going to use a costly lil incident and turn it into an amusing (I hope) anecdote. 

If you've read my blog for any length of time, or know me, you probably know I STINK at parallel parking. some people stink worse (I won't name any one in particular, Michelle Griep, because I've never actually wounded one of my children and a friend while attempting, however, I came close.) 

I went to downtown Omaha on a quick trip to meet & and tiny Bean (the 3 year old) for lunch. Omaha is a big city and has lots of parking meters and parallel parking. 

Sigh. 

I pulled in. The wrong way, front loading. I know this is improper parallel parking technique. I know that what one must do is line up your tire and crank backwards into this incredibly short slot.  When people I'm with are parallel parking in the proper manner I hold my breath and break out in a sweat. It's almost like they are magical, intelligent beings who know the secrets to the universe. 

Well, the secret to confidently wheeling a vehicle backwards into a twisty rectangular slot. 

When I returned to my vehicle a lovely woman, wearing a vest with official looking identity marks looked up and made eye contact. "Oh, Honey, I'm so sorry. I just ticketed your vehicle." 

"Dang it. I knew time was a tickin." I said and snapped my fingers. 

"Well, that's not why you got a ticket. Do you know why I ticketed you?" 

"Because I parked like an IDIOT?!?" I asked

She hooted. "Ha, I didn't say that... but..." She handed me the ticket. It said "violation - parking more than a foot from the curb."

aka parking like an idiot. Okay to be fair. My entire car was NOT a foot away from the curb, more like the butt of my car was a full three feet away from the curb. 

Here's the really sad part. I had a blast bantering with the nice lady as she passed me the ticket. It helped considerably that she thought I was HILARIOUS. And that she thought Bean was adorable. Bean sat in the car seat cracking up watching the two crazy ladies laugh. 

Hey. I've blown $16.00 in far worse ways. 

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Lightning Predictions and Other Stuff

Easter dinner on my side of the family was held at 5:30 at my aunt and uncles. Wow. Am I the only one who is completely bored by that sentence? I feel the need to throw some pirates or riots in there to beef it up. 

Here we go: A wild-eyed family member shrieked through Easter dinner. The shrieks were intermittent, sneaking up on us like a stealth bomber, leaving behind casualties (something fell, not sure what it was) and frayed nerves that zinged into an occasional shudder or tic. 

Dinner started with a bathroom sit-in. I believe in a Hulk type frenzy the hero of the story made himself a safety fort (aka lair) by pulling a drawer out and blocking the path to the toilet. The bathroom door was open so we all could get the full effects and vibes exuded into the main area where some of us were seated waiting to enjoy our meal. I made the mistake of making eye contact. The father of said rebel stated, "you now have two angry eye shaped holes in your soul." 

This is what can happen when sugar is involved. Public Service Announcement: sugar highs have an opposite and I think we should just call those "sugar uglies." 

In between the sugar stand-offs the adults were able to have lovely conversation. (In case any family members are reading and feeling bad about their children's behavior, I'm exaggerating for my own amusement. A few holes in my soul are totally worth a good story...don't tell the others about the exaggeration thing, K?)

Before dinner we enjoyed a few minutes of lovely weather while the children gathered those evil plastic eggs filled with fuel for epic meltdowns. A table was ready for half the group on the patio since it was supposed to be nice. We had gotten forecasts for rain in the afternoon but they moved it to 7:00 p.m. Just as people got seated the sky started looking a little stormy. In the distance there was a little lightning action in the sky. The adult consensus was that the storm was a ways away. My cousin/nephew (father of above mentioned rebel) looked at me.  "So, Kelly, do you think it's safe to sit out here with the lightning?" 

"Me? You're asking me?" I said. After all, I'm the mid-generation in the group. Two grandmothers and an aunt who dabbled in decades of safe living and plenty of warning spouting were right there. Two grandpas, too. I don't have little kids or grandkids. And...this nephew/cousin is a man-child (my son's age) who at one point thought I kept heads in my freezer. But that's another story. 

"He said. Yes. I think you can make this call... and you have a blog." 

So I told him the lightning was very far in the distance. That I thought it'd be safe. Five minutes later the wind picked up and sent them all into the house. Then it rained. 

I reminded them all that he'd specifically asked about the lightning and that lightning had not hit the patio. And that I'd probably be blogging the story. I can't help but think that soul hole-puncher kid was a consequence to the whole weather forecasting debacle. Shudder.  

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Your Mom Called...

So. I found out something somewhat hilarious yesterday. 

But first, a little background. My dad is pretty techie. He's had a computer for a long time and does all sorts of things with it. His VCR clock. Ha. Ha. No one uses VCRs anymore...his DVD player doesn't blink 12:00 endlessly either. He's had a Blackberry for years. 

My mom, though no slouch with the computer (unless she gets frustrated with either IT or it, as in the computer....just sayin I've seen her threaten to throw either/or out the window) is a little more tech-wary.  She's become pretty computer savvy out of necessity, but.....  

The latest piece of technology that she is refusing to embrace is a cell phone. Yes. My mom has a cell phone and she could even text. Note, I say COULD. However, mastering of the DOING is going to require quite a bit of flinging phones toward glass or at least threats. For now the phone just takes up precious space in her purse. I love that my dad put in all the ICE contacts for her. And she says that if she enunciates and yells "Call ___________(fill in the blank!)" It will usually offer to call someone else. One step at a time, Mom. Ha. Ha.

But the craziest part of this whole thing is that my 94-year-old grandma now has a cell phone. 

Yes. It's true. She hates paying the rising cost of a landline just for the privilege of receiving pesky telemarketer sales calls. My dad is working on making a cell phone easy-peasy and into something workable for her. 

His work is cut out for him. I might mention that seeing and hearing are not her strengths. However, she excels at saving money and at being determined. I'm hoping this works out. I'm thinking it's pretty sweet to have a hip 94-year-old grandma packing a cellphone. I think I need to bedazzle her a sweet cell phone case. 

Scribbles and Scrambles Really? Really!

So & and I were headed out to walk the girls last night. Casually, I mentioned that I had seen a wild bunny by our bunny cages the night before last and that I'd had a bizarre thought that it wasn't wild. It had such light coloring and seemed too fluffy and tame to be wild.

All of a sudden & stage~whispered that I needed to get close to her side of the yard, real fast. So I did. And there was the "wild" bunny, hopping along checking out some vegetation. "Look at his gait. He's not wild. No way." And I had to agree. Our neighborhood wild bunnies are speedy, skittish and all angles and sinew as well as being the traditional speckled gray, brown, black with just a hint of white under their tails and around their ears. 

If this guy was wild, he was a mix of wild and domestic. No way he was the pure thing. And his feet. Big old honking fat feet. Wild? Nah? And where the heck did he come from? Really? Another domestic bunny loose in our yard?

Crud! Now what? Seriously, we watched him sniff around getting closer to the cage where Charlotte was enjoying grass time. He hopped around without a care in the world. Of course, at this point, the dogs were all interested in the loose bunny on the other side of the fence. We couldn't leave this little guy out when there were predators about. I've heard racoons in our back yard the past few nights. Racoons don't have a bunny-friendly reputation.

& put the girls in the house and we both walked around to the other side of the yard to where this little guy roamed. She cut a wide arc and I brought up the back. Rob ended up joining us. & got to within feet of the bunny as he zeroed in on Charlotte. The guy was looking for a date, clearly. First he hopped over to &'s outstretched hand and actually sniffed it before heading back to charm Charlotte. Catching him was as simple as reaching out and grabbing him.

And he might be the tamest rabbit in the pack. No back foot defensive action, no wriggling to get away. He just let himself be captured and held and picked up and moved several times as we rearranged apartments and living quarters. 

Enter Willoughby. The newest member of the Klepfer Bunny Herd. Should we incorporate? LLC. That's got a nice ring. And should we build another cage. We no longer have any vacancies. Or maybe we should build a bunny ark. & is either a modern day bunny Noah wherein the critters now come to her. No more need to hunt and chase or visit Craig's List, those little suckers and bounding on up to the front door and ringing the bell. Facebook friends suggested that she might be the bunny whisperer or even Snow White. Ha. This little bunny summer saga definitely feels Walt Disneyish to me.

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ The Crew

Newbie Feral. Who knew?

Here's a story. It may contain facts that make you shudder or recoil or vow to never, never, never eat anywhere but your own safe home ever again. Whatever. 

This story is about a ritual that is important, foodwise, in our house. Clearly, it won't be involving animals, so you don't have to worry about that...or, wait, let me clarify, animal products. 

Lola, the protector of worker's rights, mostly her own.

Rob and I love PB&J sandwiches. It's the standard lunch. It's his always choice. I'll take leftovers, but it's hard to beat a PB&J.

So. Naturally I ran into a problem with peanut butter. It sticks like glue and hardens in the dishwasher. I don't know if you've ever experienced this or not. But, let's just say it was a real issue for us. 

Lily, uhhh did somebody say peanut butter?

Enter the household hint for the day. If you suffer from the same problem that kept me up at nights, here's the solution we found. 

 You just need to find yourself a worthy, and capable crew of peanut butter lickers. My trio began as a duo. And, really, they did a great job. Lily and Lola can de-peanut butter a table knife in mere seconds. And that was working well for us. I slept better at night, had more company than I knew what to do with at peanut butter sandwich making time, and they scored themselves a treat. And the knives came out of the dishwasher sparkling clean due to the pre-lick cycle.

Persistence pays off.

But then, we got a new applicant. Someone who didn't seem to fit the profile of a peanut butter licker. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't have given him the time of day except for his persistence. Feral was given a temporary job. He passed with flying colors and begins meowing for peanut butter time when I open the fridge every morning. Lola is a little slighted and they don't really work well together. But the work is accomplished in shifts. Win. Win. Win. 

My understanding is that they will take side jobs. And they work pretty cheap. 

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Slippery Bunnies

Not bunny biting, bunny panic.

We've discovered something new about bunnies this past week. Apparently, they have more magic going for them than merely being pulled out of magicians' hats. 

You see. Our bunnies are gifted magicians on their own. They don't need no stinking guy in a cape with a stupid wand. 

They do their own stunts. 

These tricks happen during yard time. 

& has built quite the system or moveable animal containment pieces that allow her to graze the bunnies daily. They love this time. And are able to be broken up into safe units (i.e. ones who don't make more babies). The have access to grass and weeds and can run and relax as they so desire. But, like I said, we've discovered a few snafus.

Cases in point: Darcy playing the old slipperoo. The base of his wire playpen has bigger holes than the sides and top. I picked it up to move him one day. And he did not come with the cage. No biggie because I was able to pop it back over him before he discovered he was free. But unsettling none-the-less. & turned that cage upside down thinking that would solve the problem. 

Then just a few days later & was doing the usual bunny chores while the kids were enjoying play time. She glanced toward them and noticed little Emma (older baby) hoping around the yard, not the play pen, the yard. This picture was a self portrait after she caught her and before the adrenaline subsided. She's not sure where or how Emma waved the magic wand and let herself out. 

Just Friday the three of us got to do some bunnie herding when Charlotte (fabulous Craig's list cage debacle bunny) got out of the cage that Darcy had vacated. The door was latched tight, the sides and corners all buttoned up and the bars are all in place. Now, Charlotte is much bigger than Darcy, no way she'd get out of the bottom. And & had flipped the cage so the slipping out the bottom situation wasn't an option. Hmmm. 

The only option is for Charlotte to have stretched out, grabbed the top and pulled herself up Mission Impossible style, and out through the bigger opening. Or climbing the sides. Oy. Slippery bunnies we've got. 

This is what we've learned in the two months and one week since bunnies entered our lives. 

The stereotypes about bunny's fertility, speed of mating, and as magician's sidekicks do indeed contain slivers of truth. Are there any others I need to look into? I suppose I should do a study on the Easter Bunny before I start finding eggs all around the yard and house. .

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Deep Thoughts for a Monday

So, Saturday I played a bit at PicMonkey while I should've been putting my clothes away, folding laundry, weeding, sweeping the floors etc. 

Oh, the things you can do at PicMonkey, the things you can do. 

And the things you can avoid.

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Bunny Surprise ~ Part 2

Lizzie Bennett Bunny has indeed shocked us.

There are certain things we know about bunnies (and a few new ones, now).

Females can get pregnant when they are about six months old, and can have many, many pregnancies. Many, many. A female can get pregnant the same day she delivers babies, ensuring a never ending supply of cute little fuzzballs in varying stages of cuteness. This, of course, is not ideal for a lot of reasons. We knew that when she had her first batch. New information: From experience...male bunny "stuff" i.e. the baby bunny making component of his side of the equation is apparently strong. Very strong. And survives outside of the body for days.

Remember the mention of Mr. Darcy's inappropriate advances toward Lizzie almost 34 days ago? When we took the advice of a website suggesting that the buck and doe (Mr. Darcy and Lizzie) can have supervised play dates? Yes. That fateful day was indeed supervised. And Mr. Darcy was indeed relentless in his amorous pursuits. He was shut down after his third attempt. But somehow, someway, he was able to get the job done. 

This little guy looks like his brother and sisters. No question on paternity. And why only one little guy? Well, apparently, litter size can be controlled somewhat. A buck and doe together alone for a week can have nice double digit sized litters. But one or two encounters equals one to three sized batches. 

One quick encounter = bunny surprise.

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Bunny Surprise

The title may seem like a recipe. It is not. Unless, you could call it a recipe in the most general and casual way, like, recipe for disaster. Just to throw that thought out there.

I write this on August 4th. Exactly two months after we rescued Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett Bunny from the wild and dangerous life they'd found themselves thrust into. 

They are doing well, nary a care in the world. 

When we discovered Mr. Darcy was indeed a Mr....though not a gentleman, and Lizzie was indeed a female, we separated them. 

Clearly, they had been actively bonding in the wild because two weeks later she produced three small sweet potato-like babies. (You can see the whole saga under Bunnies Little Fuzzballs Take Over Our World. ) These darling babies have grown, have found numerous folks who want to adopt them, and are fully weaned and acting completely like adult bunnies. Two will be leaving tomorrow for their new home. Emma, holds a soft spot in &'s heart and will be co-owned by her and a little two-year-old friend who is not quite ready for full bunny ownership. 

Lizzie stands guard over new bun-bun

Then we found a sweet cage on Craig's List, which came with a bunny. The cage was promised elsewhere, but, alas, the bunny was homeless. Enter Charlotte, and then there were six. Two custom built cages later, pounds of seconds of farm Kale, timothy hay and bunny food later, our bunny farm had hit a comfortable rhythm. & has been learning all sorts of fascinating bunny facts, and has developed some sweet bunny handling skills. Once again, I just benefit from the fun part of bunny ownership. 

Then, last Monday, I went outside to check on the bunnies when I got home from work, not unusual behavior, I might add. It's beastly hot out. Over 100 most days, with little breeze and weeks since we've had a reprieve or rain. & bought a fan that circulates and blows on the cages and we put frozen ice bottles in the cages during the hottest part of the day. Rob happened to have been home that day. He came out and asked a weird question. "Are they okay?" Clearly, he could see they were. They were all visible, hopping around, eating, drinking or chilling. I answered as much. "Even this one?" He said and moved a food bowl to the side. 

Behind it was a newborn bunny. One. Just curled up, pink and clean and sound asleep. 

I said, "What the heck? Where did you find that?" 

"In the cage." 

"No way! Did someone do a bunny drop off while we were gone? Did someone find a nest and no mama so they dropped it off?" 

"No one did anything, someone HAD something." 

"WHAT?" 

"Look at it's markings. It's a perfect repeat of the three big babies. The question is how did Mr. Darcy get to Lizzie and make that?"  Then there were seven.

So confused. & may have been more shocked yet. 

So we scratched our heads, was it Charlotte's, and she came to us pregnant, had a baby and it fell from above into the lower cage? While we moved accommodations so mama and baby could be alone together, we had to rule that out. Lizzie was clearly the mama. 

To Be Continued.

 

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Cake Walk errr Duck Walk eerrr Goose Walk...

 An unusual sighting, even in the Midwest. 


At dusk, in Omaha, across a major 4 lane intersection...wait, there may be six lanes... This flock of Canada Geese (Actually, I want to call them Canadian Geese, but someone told me that they are Canada Geese, unless, of course, they are actually from Canada, then they could be Canadian Geese.) anyhoo, I digress, these little cute feathery guys crossed said busy street. 


They crossed, a wee bit jaywalky across one side, then stayed smack in the middle of the crosswalk on the busier section of the road. They started crossing on the green, and finished more in the orangey-red tones, and for the most part, traffic was respectful.

One tooter sped the process up a bit. And another impatient traveler squealed out once his path was clear. 

 So, yay, Omaha drivers, you get an A- in patience. 

It was so dang cute. I mean, you can see flocks on the water, in fields, flying overhead. But I have never seen an entire flock hoofing it over the pavement.


This would be a major reason I like living in the Midwest.

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Furry Fun-Fun...

This weekend contained plenty of wildlife and fur. 

We visited our friend who housed the raccoon babies in her bathroom.  (Note for anyone tempted to do such a thing... some raccoons consider shower curtains to be the equivalent to mammal rope swings.)

Now that they are no longer bottle fed, they've been released and are doing great. When she goes outside and hollers "Babies!" They come running. A fountain keeps them entertained and they love dog food and applesauce. Oh, and shiny objects. And biting. Fortunately, I wasn't in the nipping zone, but & got a few little chomps. Ha. Ha. No broken skin, and she's up-to-date on her rabies. :  )

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ An Eye For Fashion ~ Final

So, since I went to all the trouble to match my wardrobe and jewelry to my black eye, I'm going to just go ahead and post the fruit of my labor.


If you should ever want to decorate your home in the colors of a black eye, these are the ones you'll need to look consider: 

BLACK

BROWN

YELLOW

PURPLE

MAGENTA

FUSCHIA

GREEN

GRAY

TAUPE

PUMPKIN ORANGE
and a HINT OF INDIGO

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Pop, Whiz, Bang!

Happy Fourth of July, people. 

This means you. 

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ I Warned You...Bunny Videos

I'm out of touch for a few days. 

Here are a few things to keep you occupied. 

And now they are older.. filmed yesterday.

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Should Be Law About Cuteness This Cute?.

Did you notice I didn't mention bunnies once yesterday? 

Ha. Ha. Guess what I'm posting today? 

Does this need any words? Nope.

HEAP of cuteness. 5 days old.

I think he was snoring.

Mr. Darcy gets curious.

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ No, Mom, You Can't Take Any Pictures of Them Today...

I want to write about bunnies. I want to GUSH about bunnies. But & (which is my daughter's code name, should you wonder why my sentences contain weird &s) wouldn't let me take pictures of them. Their mama was being cuddled by & and their papa was munching grass and dandelions under watchful eyes. So the babies were allowed on my lap (in their box) so they could be near mama. 

You know how everything babies do is cute and fascinating? Well, that is true of bunnies. They are really spastic like newborn foals, completely unaware of how to use appendages. But while watching them Monday night I realized that their spastic movements have to be to work out those powerful little back legs so they can use them for hopping soon. 

Last night, one of them scratched it's little head with it's back foot. So cute. And another one stretched it's little pink paws out in a full body stretch. I wanted to cry because it was just precious. Here's a little video I shot Monday night. They are only squirming so it's not much to write home about. But. Really, does extreme sweetness need action and glitz?

Tomorrow I'll give you a farm update. No bunnies. I promise. Unless they do something really cute.

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Lions and Tigers...No...Dog and Cats and Bunnies...Oh My.

I mentioned we had a productive weekend. 

Let's say that was an understatement. The terrific enamelware deal was mightily eclipsed by an event that took place on Saturday Evening.

& was out with a friend. She arrived home at 11:00 p.m. Rob was reading and I had already entered into the sleep of those who trod over hill and dale, through crowds and rain, and bag a sweet bargain. 

Suddenly, the door flew open and words flew out of our panicked daughter's mouth. My sleep fog and her panic didn't help me to understand what was said. The urgency of her tone did. I stood up and she repeated what she'd already blurted. The phrases were disjointed and confusing. "Lizzie! Sweet Potatoes! Babies!!!!!!! All over everywhere!" 

We all rushed downstairs and out into the yard. Me in my jammies, Rob in his man shorts. What she had been trying to help us understand was that Lizzie had delivered babies. And those babies appeared, at first, to be sweet potatoes. & was wondering why there were sweet potatoes in the cage when she realized that the potatoes were baby bunnies. And those bunnies had no nest.

Elizabeth Bennett Bunny and Mr. Darcy had apparently married at some point. Because, Mrs. Elizabeth Bennett Darcy had been in the family way when they joined our family. I certainly don't want to accuse Mr. Darcy of being just like that scoundrel Mr. Wickham, (again) so I will choose to believe the best about them. 

Night they were born. See the speckled back pattern like Mama and Papa?

Anyhoo. I digress, don't I?

Elizabeth Bennett Bunny and Mr. Darcy are the proud parents of three little bundles of squirming pink flesh with flecks of black. 

Top bunny, check out his back feet!!!!

Would you like to see them? 

Of course you would. 

Look very closely, there are teeny teeth!!!!!!!

Why you so cute?  (less than 48 hours after birth.)

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Saturday Score in Antique City

 So I had a pretty full and productive weekend. 

Saturday found & and me joining my folks in Antique City, Iowa. (Also known as Walnut).

Yay. How cute is this little bargain?

The city houses vendors from all over sprawled out on the main and secondary streets, over 300 booths I think. (One guy from Texas had quite the set up...I can't imagine taking glassware across the country, packing, unpacking and repacking - UGH). To sell antiques you have to love, love, love what you're doing, I can't imagine there's a whole lot of money in it. 

Speaking of money. I was restrained but successful. I think I got a sweet bargain. I love enamelware. And I've been eying one guy's booth every year waiting for his prices to drop. He's got big flour bins and bread boxes. They are beat up, as almost every enameled thing I've ever seen is, but they are so cool.

I was disappointed at his booth. Each of his items was $85 to $115. I just couldn't justify those price. So I went away telling myself that I might find something perfect someday.

Small town Iowa.

A table way down the road had a bunch of miscellaneous items. On the ground, under the table I saw an enamelware turkey roaster. It said savory in bumpy letters on the sides of the pot and had it's lid. Cream colored with green edging and handles. Perfect. Big enough to use as a bread box (or for a party sized bunch of garlic bread, chips, popcorn, endless possibilities). I saw the price tag. $20.00. No way. I guessed there had to be a big hole in the bottom of the roaster and lifted the lid.

Perfect. That's right. And she took $15.00 for it, too. Yes! 

My dad scored a great deal on a stained glass window. And we all got quirky cool little tidbits of fun, too. Rain hit hard a few hours in. (Another ugh for the poor vendors.) But was short-lived. None of us melted. 

"Look what Mommy got for you, Honey." "NO! Mommy, NO!"

I love the quaint little house with the yard full of hollyhocks. It doesn't get more small town Iowa than this. Ya know. 

And. This doll. Oh my. I just had to take a picture. I can't imagine anyone being on the lookout for an eyeless, soulless doll. But if they were, well, it was there for the picking. (pun intended, not funny, sick and twisted, but intended indeed.) Shudder. This is a nightmare maker. What a gift it would make. Or it would even beat the horse head in the bed, ya know?