One man's ... huh?

I went treasure hunting yesterday.

I didn’t intend to. It started out like any other trip to this small town my husband and I frequent. He wanted to go to his favorite tobacco store, while I was planning to sit in the car, read the paper, and avoid the choking cloud he and his cronies generate – not the nicotine and tar kind, though that’s bad enough to an ex-smoker, but the politics and off-color jokes (which, for some reason, men always believe we don’t know) kind. I decided to multitask instead: go cash a check, take a much needed walk, and hit an antique store I remembered two blocks away. It was no longer there. It had been replaced by a consignment store.

Slowly, so as not to frighten off the bargain fairies, I sidled through the door and paused at the threshhold. A glissando and a shimmer from window proved to be a small chandelier (modern) hung with prisms that tinkled in the wake of the draft from the door. A cackle of laughter from the counter told me some regulars were in gossiping with the clerk as they sorted through faux-Vera-Wang scarves. And that old-book-and-brocade smell wafted from every corner. God, I love that smell. Smells like … money.

I strolled in and began my oh-so-casual, laser-guided glance at every item on every shelf within view … Okay, so I wasn’t that methodical. You’ve heard the phrase “bull in a china shop?” That's me, most days. Big Taurean, narrow aisles, pretty much equals me lumbering around, trying not to bump things off the displays with my big purse or my bigger butt. But, really, I did hope to find treasure. Not just because I love to find great things – that’s so last year. As of a revelation last New Year’s Day, I’m doing so much more with my little hunts. I’m even planning to expand them to rock hounding rubies and diamonds (must learn what they look like when they're not in Tiffany's), and writing the great American novel (could happen!), and playing the lotto (shut up – one ticket for big drawings every once in awhile is just putting myself in the way of luck), and … and … all kinds of other things I haven’t thought of yet.

Oh, I did find a real prize – a milk glass, Hobbs & Bruckner, Panelled Wheat cream pitcher (circa 1896) in pristine condition, for $5.00! Hey, stop laughing – it’s worth at least $25.00, maybe more if I put it with other pieces and sell it all as a set.

Yes, I’m a geek. But I’m a geek with a plan. Five million dollars. In the bank. By Christmas, 2021.

Oh, yeah – it’s a surprise.

So, $20.00 profit, added to what I have in assets now … only four million, five hundred thousand, nine hundred and eighty dollars to go.

Damn. That’s a lot of shops.