broken

Some things around here were broken when I got them. Like a couple of statues that were my grandma's.

And this cognac bottle. We don't drink the cognac (too sweet). We just like the bottle and the color of cognac.

This necklace Lesley made for me broke all by itself. I swear. I love it, and I need to get it restrung.





This lamp stands by my dressing table, I don't know whose finger poked through this old silk lampshade. My dad had a collection of lamps. You wouldn't believe what a lamp fetish he had. I think we have four floor lamps out in the shed that are waiting for shades or new wiring that were his. Anyway, this one was my dad's, and probably my grandma's before that. I know, it should probably be in the shed.

This bowl got broken at Thanksgiving after the mashed potatoes were eaten, before it had a chance to get washed. I bought this Old English Johnson Brothers set at an old farm auction when Don and I were first married, and I got the whole 12-place-setting and multiple serving dish set for $55. I didn't know until later that I was bidding against my sister-in-law, who was standing behind me. This bowl only cost me a few cents, but I was sorry to see it break after all those years the old farmer woman had it and didn't break it.

I hope our kids will like some of these things when we're gone. Living with old worn and repaired treasures reminds me of the people who lived before me and used these things, admired them, dusted them, washed them, and shone light through them.