I have so much to share, I don't know where to start. I've been reading Money and ShopSmart ;), watching CNBC and HGTV, clearing my house and cataloguing the astonishing amount of things I'm rediscovering ... all because I decided (and want so badly) to win, earn, steal, inherit, and find that I stuffed myself to the max with information and experiences!
Cue background music ... or maybe the sound of typewriters furiously clacking ...
Money magazine this month reported on a slew of "most hated fees." While there were worse ones (free checking accounts will be extinct soon), I liked "paying to use" your own accumulated frequent flier miles. Now, since my miles were actually accumulated almost exclusively through a decade-long promotion at my local grocery store (spend a dollar get a mile) I wasn't surprised that I had trouble using them - but the level of frustration was astronomical, even for me. I tried several years ago to use them on a ticket to see an old high school friend only to find I could only fly at 12 am with a layover overnight halfway, or on a Sunday evening on alternate months, when Aquarius was aligned with Pluto - back when it was a planet, or in and out in less than 24 hours. A year passed, and I finally got everything perfect, only to find they'd upped the number I'd need for a ticket. And then when I'd saved up that number finally (two months ago) they blacked me out because (the agent on the phone told me) I didn't have enough miles again, even though the web site said I did (they had two different numbers - he apologized, promised to check into it, and never called back). Finally, I decided to donate them to someone with far more patience, or let them expire (which would show them!). But, just in the nick of time, I found out from a different airline (on which I had some 2,000 miles) I could buy three magazine subscriptions (the eternal irony - where do you think I got Money?) and so revisted the other site. Bingo! I'd already paid for tickets and hotel (on Orbitz) for our Anchorage trip, but as I clicked on the "partners" tab in the redeem miles section - lo, and behold! - I found a car rental! After a little experimentation, I ended up with 8 days of a full-sized auto ... and saved $385.47 (more than the ticket I wanted costs)! What a way to steal, huh?
ShopSmart ;) magazine (yes, it has that icon in its title) is and has been one of my favorites for about a year - six issues ($18) with no advertising alone is worth its weight in gold, but add to that some tested and fantastic advice and tips, and it's just one of the best all-around for treasure hunters. The June issue started me on what I think will be a permanent habit - once or twice a year, I will eschew grocery shopping (except for milk) and live from my cupboards for a week. Now, before you think I'm crazy, remember I tend to stock up when something's on sale, so I'm doing it not just because I read it in this month's issue but because I have cleared my pantry of long-expired dry goods far too many times over the years. Plus, I ... um ... was going through the chest freezer we bought a year ago March and found meat from ... uh ... a year ago March. Luckily, it's a great chest freezer, though, (and I take great care in how I wrap). So tonight I'm using half the 5-pound chuck roast I bought on sale (a year ago March) to make a brand-new recipe, with beef and tomatoes and olives of all things - a Catalan stew I've wanted to try forever but hadn't had the guts. I do, however, have the ingredients, many of which are teetering on the edge of ptomaine (a little heat kills anything, right?). You don't have a recipe folder stuffed full of cheap eats? Pull out the old standard - my grandmother's Mulligan stew - meat, browned, a couple cans of tomatoes, a splash of wine, and whatever vegetables are verging on compost. It's fabulous! (Or, of course, go to the Epicurious web site or to Allrecipes.com, punch in a few key ingredients and find a recipe that will fit what you have on hand.)
I'm also gearing up to get back to my online garage sale. I am determined to clear my closets and earn more money for both treasure hunting and the renovations that my house is so desperate for. I'll sell what I can, donate (not relist) what I can't, then make my office into a lab/Dragon-Bunny Den and my house into a warm, welcoming place - by reusing, repurposing, and recycling on the building end, too! Because I realized this week, after talking to a friend of mine who downsized to a condo and is horrified at the thought of filling it up again that I don't think the scary-hoarder-organization shows are right. It's not that we have too much stuff but that we have too much crappy stuff.
Well, no more, not this Bunny! We can live well, and well within whatever budget we have! It doesn't matter if it it's a stock I want, an Arts and Crafts end table, or a lanyard of Chanel "pearls" ... patience, educating myself, knowing where to prowl, even when to take a chance - that's what treasure hunting is all about!
It's so good to be back!
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Here We Go Again!
It was a TV that set me off this time. A couple of weeks ago, I bought a 42" LCD TV because I'm sick and tired of not having a logical layout in my living room - TV over the fireplace (focal point) instead of off to one side so it's now visible from all the furniture instead of just that on the left. The only way I could figure out how to do that was to mount it over the mantel, which meant flatscreen, which meant a lot of research and a piggyback effect - there was a sale, and I got 10% off if I used my department store card plus another 5% because they accepted my Discover in its place. Again, as I did a few short months ago (and many other times) I got my jolt, my gasp, my thrill from the transaction, one that was almost as strong as when I realized that 50-cent pair of earrings three weeks ago was 18-karat gold.
And I need to do something about it.
Since I began my original quest, I've paid off (off!) about seventy-five thousand dollars in consumer debt, opened and put about fifteen thousand into my IRA, and changed the entire way we not only did our household business but how we think about money. Since I changed the site, focused on finding, I've lost track of my path. Because I've narrowed its boundaries.
Welcome to the modern age! Things aren't the only valuables in this world, not any more. Here I am limiting myself to meat and cheese and not even seeing the buffet out there! (And most poor souls are starving - thank you Auntie Mame!)
Oh, yes, I want it all - bargains and rebates, Tiffany and Faberge, dubloons and Civil War buttons, Fendi and Posen, sweat equity and stock trades. I want to net something every minute, learn something every day, pass on something every week. I want to dive nose-first into life, all of it, the whole cacaphony of sharps and flats, flavors and textures, failures and gold stars. I want to find and win and earn and inherit and steal my way through time, not just for a better future but for a fantastic present.
It's time to move forward by going back, redefine my mission statement via my original thought map - the one that wasn't just a wicked fun ride but one that had danger, mistakes, and ignorance on a global scale, one that felt more like achievement than like luck, like reaching benchmarks instead of just taking stock. I want it so badly I can almost taste it now - salty, like sweat ... with a generous dose of asphalt.
Ah, road rash, I missed you!
And I need to do something about it.
Since I began my original quest, I've paid off (off!) about seventy-five thousand dollars in consumer debt, opened and put about fifteen thousand into my IRA, and changed the entire way we not only did our household business but how we think about money. Since I changed the site, focused on finding, I've lost track of my path. Because I've narrowed its boundaries.
Welcome to the modern age! Things aren't the only valuables in this world, not any more. Here I am limiting myself to meat and cheese and not even seeing the buffet out there! (And most poor souls are starving - thank you Auntie Mame!)
Oh, yes, I want it all - bargains and rebates, Tiffany and Faberge, dubloons and Civil War buttons, Fendi and Posen, sweat equity and stock trades. I want to net something every minute, learn something every day, pass on something every week. I want to dive nose-first into life, all of it, the whole cacaphony of sharps and flats, flavors and textures, failures and gold stars. I want to find and win and earn and inherit and steal my way through time, not just for a better future but for a fantastic present.
It's time to move forward by going back, redefine my mission statement via my original thought map - the one that wasn't just a wicked fun ride but one that had danger, mistakes, and ignorance on a global scale, one that felt more like achievement than like luck, like reaching benchmarks instead of just taking stock. I want it so badly I can almost taste it now - salty, like sweat ... with a generous dose of asphalt.
Ah, road rash, I missed you!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Ground Control to Major Tom
Working my buttocks off today making my yard pretty-pretty before the summer heat kills everything in the nursery (though not - please heaven - my garden). I wrote this last November, when I was feeling pretty much as I feel right now; and though it's a bit more soul-baring than I'm used to (hence not posted then), it's relevant to both the emotional upheavals lately and the changes that have come out of them ... but more on that next week.
Yesterday, I had a bit of a meltdown - tears, great wracking sobs, the whole thing. Not pretty, but understandable; the Big Lug's been sick (H1N1 turned to pneumonia) and I haven't had any ... touching ... in two weeks. Note to self: next time he goes out of town for more than ten days, at least schedule some time at the spa.
The cause was easy to figure out. The trigger, even easier. It was a pin.
I spent the morning making the thrift store rounds. Locally, in a five mile radius, we have four of those - two are purely donations, two consignment-based - and one private second-hand shop, plus a small antique mall. After a buying a pretty, glass-doored bookcase, Mama Angel sent me toward the antiques. It was odd, because I've not even thought of the place for years (their prices are not great) but I went. Search, search, search - fun, informative, but yielding nothing that wasn't overpriced, or, of course, fair - I wanted a bargain, dammit, and that was that.
Then I went into the last shop, outside on the edge. The owner was in, unpacking boxes. He told me it was a new shipment - a store that had closed decades ago but never cleared - then about some things he'd just sold and made a killing on, at some length. I asked about service and organizational pins (my newest passion). He led me toward a case buried beneath older stuff, explaining he kept this one covered because people stole from him all the time. I expressed my sympathy (and my upbringing that made me honest), and he showed me pins that had gold in them (mostly gold filled). Two were notable - one a 10K with two small diamonds and a sapphire, but no story to it, no numbers, explanation, or personality; the other was a fraternity pin. Engraved. From the 40's. Heavy. Unmarked as content, but probably solid gold. He offered me a price less than half the tag, saying he didn't know if it was gold or not. I was pretty sure it was, but what karat? Even at half-price it would use up my allowance. If it were 14K, it was a bargain, but 9K or 10K would mean I had to love it ...
I started to hand it back, slowly, thinking. Impatient, he suddenly remembered he had a tester kit, grabbed it and did a scratch & drip before I could blink. 14K. Of course it was. Scrap value was was now three times his offered price. Now I couldn't afford it.
I got as far as the car before the ass-kicking began. By the time I got home, I was in full-on, Matrix-like-efficiency, self-flagellation. And then the sob-storm began.
After the emotional release (and what felt like a fractured rib) I realized he probably sold on eBay. I'd been thinking of trade just the other day - I'd found a comp for the Tiffany earrings I found last week, and was comfortable that they'd sell for more than his new asking price (and more than I could right now - if he had a good rep). I put the Cadillac pendant into my swap box, too, just in case - it was about a third of the weight of the pin, and I'd paid just $1 for it. Was I crazy? Not a bit. New, the pin was expensive. In swap (what I'd paid for the two things) it was dirt cheap. I went back.
I had the strangest feeling as I drove up the second time (Mama Angel warning me or just, plain post-hormonal craziness) - I realized I had no proof of ownership for either of my trade items. The guy'd complained about thefts, and there was a look in his eye when he'd talked about the killer sale ... yes, I'm paranoid, and yes, I watch too much CSI, because I licked the back of one of the earrings - he didn't seem like the kind of guy to wash his stock before display (seriously), and now there was DNA evidence that I'd been all over it.
That's when it got even weirder. As it turns out, he was rather offended by my offer of trade for the earrings - he wanted a sale, not more stock. Later, of course, I realized how badly everyone is hurting in the business (you can't eat antiques, and many dealers bought when prices were high, expecting the feeding frenzy to continue) but he was so grouchy and rude about it I was taken aback. I decided to look at the pin again anyway (he offered it to me at the scrap price) and maybe use the pin as a lesson in jumping on a good deal instead of wussing out. His assistant (who groks Tiffany) looked at the earrings while I looked at the pin, even got a bit excited (hidden, but I know that look), but by then the dealer had glanced in, got a look from his assistant, and was obviously willing to dicker. But I'd not only seen a chip on the pin's enamel just then, I also realized in fourteen years of dealing with difficult students and parents, I'd never been that rude to one of my customers - I'd never even thought (much) about it. Did I even want to do business with him?
Oddly, I also realized that I didn't mind waiting for the perfect piece at the perfect price. After all, I'd been finding those for a month.
So I left, with a smile, no longer lusting after the pin, no longer kicking myself, no longer focused on hoarding my treasures until I'm too dead to wear them. And, even better, I knew that while I'd've loved to get it for the low price, I was incredibly better off with the lesson.
And the grounding.
Yesterday, I had a bit of a meltdown - tears, great wracking sobs, the whole thing. Not pretty, but understandable; the Big Lug's been sick (H1N1 turned to pneumonia) and I haven't had any ... touching ... in two weeks. Note to self: next time he goes out of town for more than ten days, at least schedule some time at the spa.
The cause was easy to figure out. The trigger, even easier. It was a pin.
I spent the morning making the thrift store rounds. Locally, in a five mile radius, we have four of those - two are purely donations, two consignment-based - and one private second-hand shop, plus a small antique mall. After a buying a pretty, glass-doored bookcase, Mama Angel sent me toward the antiques. It was odd, because I've not even thought of the place for years (their prices are not great) but I went. Search, search, search - fun, informative, but yielding nothing that wasn't overpriced, or, of course, fair - I wanted a bargain, dammit, and that was that.
Then I went into the last shop, outside on the edge. The owner was in, unpacking boxes. He told me it was a new shipment - a store that had closed decades ago but never cleared - then about some things he'd just sold and made a killing on, at some length. I asked about service and organizational pins (my newest passion). He led me toward a case buried beneath older stuff, explaining he kept this one covered because people stole from him all the time. I expressed my sympathy (and my upbringing that made me honest), and he showed me pins that had gold in them (mostly gold filled). Two were notable - one a 10K with two small diamonds and a sapphire, but no story to it, no numbers, explanation, or personality; the other was a fraternity pin. Engraved. From the 40's. Heavy. Unmarked as content, but probably solid gold. He offered me a price less than half the tag, saying he didn't know if it was gold or not. I was pretty sure it was, but what karat? Even at half-price it would use up my allowance. If it were 14K, it was a bargain, but 9K or 10K would mean I had to love it ...
I started to hand it back, slowly, thinking. Impatient, he suddenly remembered he had a tester kit, grabbed it and did a scratch & drip before I could blink. 14K. Of course it was. Scrap value was was now three times his offered price. Now I couldn't afford it.
I got as far as the car before the ass-kicking began. By the time I got home, I was in full-on, Matrix-like-efficiency, self-flagellation. And then the sob-storm began.
After the emotional release (and what felt like a fractured rib) I realized he probably sold on eBay. I'd been thinking of trade just the other day - I'd found a comp for the Tiffany earrings I found last week, and was comfortable that they'd sell for more than his new asking price (and more than I could right now - if he had a good rep). I put the Cadillac pendant into my swap box, too, just in case - it was about a third of the weight of the pin, and I'd paid just $1 for it. Was I crazy? Not a bit. New, the pin was expensive. In swap (what I'd paid for the two things) it was dirt cheap. I went back.
I had the strangest feeling as I drove up the second time (Mama Angel warning me or just, plain post-hormonal craziness) - I realized I had no proof of ownership for either of my trade items. The guy'd complained about thefts, and there was a look in his eye when he'd talked about the killer sale ... yes, I'm paranoid, and yes, I watch too much CSI, because I licked the back of one of the earrings - he didn't seem like the kind of guy to wash his stock before display (seriously), and now there was DNA evidence that I'd been all over it.
That's when it got even weirder. As it turns out, he was rather offended by my offer of trade for the earrings - he wanted a sale, not more stock. Later, of course, I realized how badly everyone is hurting in the business (you can't eat antiques, and many dealers bought when prices were high, expecting the feeding frenzy to continue) but he was so grouchy and rude about it I was taken aback. I decided to look at the pin again anyway (he offered it to me at the scrap price) and maybe use the pin as a lesson in jumping on a good deal instead of wussing out. His assistant (who groks Tiffany) looked at the earrings while I looked at the pin, even got a bit excited (hidden, but I know that look), but by then the dealer had glanced in, got a look from his assistant, and was obviously willing to dicker. But I'd not only seen a chip on the pin's enamel just then, I also realized in fourteen years of dealing with difficult students and parents, I'd never been that rude to one of my customers - I'd never even thought (much) about it. Did I even want to do business with him?
Oddly, I also realized that I didn't mind waiting for the perfect piece at the perfect price. After all, I'd been finding those for a month.
So I left, with a smile, no longer lusting after the pin, no longer kicking myself, no longer focused on hoarding my treasures until I'm too dead to wear them. And, even better, I knew that while I'd've loved to get it for the low price, I was incredibly better off with the lesson.
And the grounding.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Pop Quiz, Hotshot
I've been playing with my camera again - mostly because I'm beginning to get the hang of my internet yard sale on eBay and want to do it better, especially with the jewelry. The Big Lug was onto me about macro photography. My little Olympus is not the greatest in the world (and I am definitely not the photographer to compensate) but it gets the job done.
Personally, the past couple of weeks have sucked. Bo went to kitty Heaven, my schedule suddenly had no holes (and I do mean suddenly), and I caught some kind of bug that seems to hit me when I least expect it.
The week before it all hit the fan, however, I found a signed pair of silver earrings in one thrift shop, a heavy pair of 14K in another, and both an 18K gold Omega deVille and a very old piece of milk glass in yet another. Last Saturday, I found gold and silver, earrings and neckchains, along with Irish pottery at one church sale, some fabulous costume stuff at another, and went completely mad with finds at the "first Saturday" flea market in my area - followed up by a trip to my second-favorite thrift on Monday where I found more silver and costume and gold (oh, my).
Yeah, my allowance took a hit. But I scrapped out some gold on Thursday (mostly my "oops" stuff) so I was pretty flush. However, almost everything I bought was such a stunningly ridiculous bargain I didn't actually blow more than I had even without the scrap! Plus (and this is actually a huge plus) Acid Trip and Electric Kid went with me on Saturday - I went where I thought they'd find the most stuff then I ended up with more treasures than I can handle and had fun, fun, FUN besides (and I wonder if that wasn't Mama Angel's diabolical plan all along ...)
Anyway, so why the title today? Well, I thought some mysteries might be better (for a change) than the usual reveal. Truly, the week was amazing not because of all the gold and silver and rare milk glass (well, not only that) but amazing because of the great company, the lack of "gotta hunt, gotta find" urgency, and the part I actually like the best - the research on what I found.
Let's see how good you are!
Okay, a bit of a loot-shot, here, but with good intent. I was practicing with the camera, silly! This is a 14K butterfly with a nice chunk of (I believe) natural turquoise (you wouldn't believe how much is actually man-made), sitting beside a sorority/fraternity pin from 1927 and another from 1928, both 10K. I've no idea what the logos are, here. I can't see that they're Greek letters (the usual thing) so maybe they're organizational - though I don't usually see date pins with anything but college stuff. (Oh, and all of this was $14. See? I haven't completely abandoned my usual Bunny grin!)Now it gets fun, though. I'm still researching some of it, and I haven't tested all the gold yet, but I swear to glory it was international week! I ran into more unusual marks and weird patterns in the past two weeks than I've done in the past 50 years! At least, I think so. Let's face it, it's only been lately that I've opened my eyes (then, as Terry Pratchett would say, "opened my eyes again") so who knows how long I've walked pats this stuff ...
But that's for another day. Today is about the identification, if you can ... because these are just so cool!!!
Milk glass first. Both are not common. I really hope you can get a closer look at the pattern on the candlestick. I've seen the bon-bon once or twice, but I've never seen the other before (though I have two sugar bowls in the same pattern in white). Anyone want to hazard a guess? On either one?
Then there's jewelry. On the left, there's some interesting karat and maker marks on the tag, though as of yet I have no idea where the necklace is from. On the right is an obvious origin, but I hope you can read the other wire because I can't figure out the hallmark.
Silver, now. Both are signed, but though I've identified the one on the left (and can you say "OMG"?), I can't even read some of the stuff on the right - the signature on the drop is easy but the one on the inside of the screwback is different, and, I think, more important to ID.
This one's my favorite. I've only seen these marks online or in books, and I'm so excited that I found these earrings! They really are what they say they are (I tested) but I'm over the moon because I now have something with these hallmarks. (Me? A dweeb? Why would you say that?)
So, my experiment in macro is over for now. It was pretty hard, but I'm getting the hang of it. Enjoy the pics, embrace your inner geek and do some research, or just make wild guesses but give it a shot. I'll be sure to publish the answers next week - when I get them all!
So, my experiment in macro is over for now. It was pretty hard, but I'm getting the hang of it. Enjoy the pics, embrace your inner geek and do some research, or just make wild guesses but give it a shot. I'll be sure to publish the answers next week - when I get them all!
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Kitty Steps
We moved into our house in 1993 - our first-ever, actually owned house. Within a month, we adopted two furry girls into our family, dogs whom my husband christened "Rocky" and "Bullwinkle" (seriously, Rocks looked like a terrier-squirrel, and BJ had the brains of a ... well, a certain moose). We thought it would be enough, but one day, at Little League, someone found a litter of kittens under a bush, and, of course, we claimed one as our own.
We called it Natasha (of course) but a few days later we noticed a slight ... discrepancy, and so we renamed him "Boris."
The day we brought him home, he went under our bed and we didn't see him again for two weeks (though we know he left it because the food was eaten and the litter box in the bathroom was used). One day, out of nowhere, this little black (with exactly three white hairs) furball leapt up on the bed and stared at us. We tried to pet him, but he would have none of that, and just curled up at my feet - which became his place of choice to sleep ever since, sucking his tail like a baby sucks his thumb for three years, a process which left him with a red tip to his black tail for several months after he finally outgrew it.
Bo weighed 18 pounds at his biggest, but after he was diagnosed with thyroid and kidney issues, he went down to a sleek 11 pounds, then, after we knew he had cancer, to 6. He was loud, demanding, boistrous, the bane of the dogs' existences, the cause of most of Head Trip's allergy attacks, and surprisingly camera-shy (probably because we "trained" him with a squirt gun). But he was also trusting, hilarious, affectionate, and, unlike any other cat I've ever known, worshipped us as often as he demanded it for himself.
In the end, our Boris was also brave and uncomplaining as he simply ... slipped away Saturday morning. We will miss him.
