Even during The Apocalypse, I will buy crap on Craigslist.
To tell this story, I first need to establish:
Paul is FRUGAL.
Not in a normal way.
In an insane way.
Exhibit A:
A photo of our toothpaste; it’s clean, INSIDE, because he used to slice it open, to be sure he got it all.
I say used to because I’ve since begun making* our toothpaste; and it’s the VERY MOST PLEASED with me that Paul has ever been— basically he is RAPTUROUS that we no longer pay the HIGHWAY ROBBERY OF TOOTHPASTE.
*explanation halfway down this post.
I am not saying Paul is cheap, he’s not… if it’s worth it, it’s fine, and he will dismantle a wall in FEBRUARY in an unheated building, or DRIVE TO CLEVELAND to acquire a MONSTROUS bookcase.
But at HIS CORE, his absolute MOST TRUE SELF, is a man scandalized by the purchase of gum… gum has no value or merit and is only purchased by idiots<— information I am able to share, because of the time I bought gum.
My point is that with RARE exception, Paul’s instinct for anything that costs money: NO.
And on top of his normal baseline, the year I want to tell you about has two more factors: we had just bought a house, AND Paul got laid off… his response to this combination-of-intense-stress was: we are never buying ANYTHING ever again.
That weekend, was the annual townwide yard sale.
I have written about it here, and here… one year I got a four-stack barrister bookcase for THIRTY DOLLARS— my peak find. Everything else has been enjoyable, but essentially, just crap.
I DO love crap.
Amen.
So, this year-of-stress, at one of the first yardsale stops, poking around… I lifted some yellowed newspaper in a ratty old box and— HERE IS MY GRANDMOTHER! Or, at least her dishes.
Until she died, my father’s mother lived in the house my grandfather built, in South Bend, Indiana, where they raised all of their children… When I was a kid, we would visit during summer and Christmas… my parents would pack the car and listen to me and Chris cage-match each other to near-death for the twelve-thousand-hours it takes to drive from Philadelphia to Indiana.
Sometime after midnight, we would wake up in the car, pulling into Grandma’s driveway, and Tina, Grandma’s poodle who hated everyone except Grandma, would come out and go berserk.
In the morning, we would wake up in the loft, and I can still SUMMON the smell— coffee and toast and the wood the loft was made out of… you’d wake up and go downstairs and the adults would be sitting at the table drinking coffee, breakfast dishes strewn around.
That’s what was in this yard sale box— the dishes.
Not many— just a few plates, a couple smaller things… only the dark blue color.
But still— GRANDMA’S DISHES!
After Grandma died, I asked my dad– what about the dishes? I described them to him, and he remembered… my father is also a hoarder, so he took it seriously. But nobody knew what happened to the dishes.
So this many-years-ago yardsale box of dishes… they wanted thirty dollars for it… which is maybe a lot for a couple of random dishes, unless they are the manifestation of the best part of your childhood, in which case maybe thirty dollars is fine.
Unless your husband is mentally tightening everyone’s belt and planning how we will rise at dawn to bathe in unheated water and eat nothing but gruel, for eternity, if not longer.
True story:
Paul’s response to my GLEE that I would pay thirty American dollars for a box of crap/my childhood… was… OUTRAGE.
To be very fair to Paul, his OUTRAGE would have been the same if the box was ONE dollar— it is the principle: WE ARE NOT BUYING ANYTHING / THAT BOX IS A THING.
Obviously I could have said— bug off, crazy person… BUT… Paul’s OUTRAGE can be persuasive. He brings an AGGRESSIVE CERTAINTY that steamrollers your own conviction.
I’ve actually written about his previous SUCESS in talking me out of things— specifically, the antique swinging chalkboards with the brass-frames and massive hinges; only an ACTUAL MORON would have passed them up, and Paul convinced me to WALK AWAY.
Is he that good at gaslighting?
Am I simply an idiot?
Both?
So we didn’t buy the dishes.
We left and went on to other yardsales… but an hour later, after listening to me reminisce about Indiana, basically non-stop… Paul was like— I was wrong, we should have bought those dishes.
For the record, his mood had been greatly improved because HE had flouted his own bylaws-of-no-spending to acquire an insane amount of clamps for like, five cents… He was so BEYOND pleased; strutting around, all— ALLOW ME TO SHOW YOU MY CLAMP ASSORTMENT… even though I can testify to you that he already has an entire garage full of nothing but clamps.
So we went back to get the dishes.
They were gone.
Paul felt HORRIBLE.
Like, so bad, that I had to comfort HIM.
I haven’t thought about those dishes in YEARS.
Until the other night, Paul said— I HAVE SOMETHING TO SHOW YOU.
It turns out that periodically, Paul has been LOOKING for these dishes.
They were literally not even an hour away.
I got SO EXCITED.
OMG!!! I cannot believe it!!
But then the next day, Paul asked, excitedly— when are we going to get the dishes?
And I was like— ehhh… errrr… I was actually thinking that maybe… I don’t need any more crap.
I could see in his face, that he was GENUINELY DISAPPOINTED; he said— I really need you to still want them because otherwise, I cannot fix that I was an ass.
I thought about this.
I was like, MAYBE I HAVE A SOLUTION— could I not get the dishes, but keep the CRAP-OPPORTUNITY… like, an I.O.U. for future crap? A crap-raincheck?
And Paul was like— if you WANT these dishes, they can come with an IOU for other crap, NO QUESTIONS ASKED.
I was like— so, just to be clear, you are bribing me, WITH CRAP, to GET CRAP?
He was like— improbably, it does seem that is what is happening.
So obviously my work here is done and the beings from my home planet can come and collect me… and also now Paul and I have a bunch of crap that neither of us actually wanted.
SEE ALL MY BEST CRAIGSLIST FINDS.
Epilogue:
After I put this together, I thought— oh, it would be good to include some information about this WS George guy… so I googled it… skipped over the first few results trying to sell me plates… and the very first page I chose to open, I was like— oh… blergh… yup… righty-o. HERE are Grandma’s dishes, NOT THE ONES WE BOUGHT.
IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME SO I FORGOT.
But also, I took Paul’s certainty at face value.
SOMETHING I CLEARLY NEED TO STOP DOING.
So.
I guess the cats are going to have some very fine dinnerware.
July 9, 2020 @ 12:25 pm
And now I want them.
July 9, 2020 @ 12:45 pm
Thank you for your post. You made me laugh, even though lately I haven’t laughed much. Keep crazy and busy!
July 9, 2020 @ 7:42 pm
VEB…I just want to thank you for blogging! I am a total stranger to you but I just had to say something today.
You’ve been a HUGE encouragement to me today (I didn’t realize it until about T-minus 2 minutes ago!) as I recently started my own blog about home design AND I NATURALLY WRITE IN ALL CAPS SOMETIMES and let myself ramble if the mood strikes.
But then, someone today read something of mine and said they only like blogs where they can quickly find the information they’re looking for, like “how to’s”…and that they “Don’t like to read a lot of fluff”…and for a few moments I felt sad, because I’ve always wished I was a more concise, “How To” kinda writer. I wanted to give this person that kind of writing. But it’s not me.
Then somehow I came here to your blog to remind myself that I LOVE reading your writing. And that not everyone feels like that person. (Like me, reading your blog.) I love it! And you had a new post and it was just DElightful.
So there’s my rambly, not-concise way of just wanting to tell you today, with a little catch in my throat, THANK YOU. Thank you for being an encouragement to be myself and to write how I naturally write. (And thank you for all the laughs.)
Please keep writing forever.
July 9, 2020 @ 8:07 pm
Hello from northern Indiana! 👋🏻 (Not South Bend but very close.) I love this story (and your blog in general). Can’t wait to see the kitchen!
July 10, 2020 @ 8:09 am
The hunt for things that remind us of a treasured past are precious. Hope the cats enjoy their new dishes. Virtual hugs to you, Paul, your family and friends – stay safe and keep hunt for treasures!
July 10, 2020 @ 5:52 pm
This was touching and hilarious and just plain fun. Thank you so much for your meaningful and lively story in the midst of so much…utter weirdness.
July 10, 2020 @ 10:50 pm
I love those dishes. Enjoy them.
July 11, 2020 @ 4:06 am
Imagine an 80 year old lady who walks with a walker due to knee failure,jumping up and down,strange squeegee face,yelling yippee and you know how much I missed your wit and humor. Note: Only in my imagination but definitely the thought was there. I love the dishes-so cheerful and pretty
July 11, 2020 @ 11:57 am
I used to be married to a guy just like that. I corrected that mistake 15 years ago and am much happier now, plus nobody crabs about any of my “crap” Life is good!
July 11, 2020 @ 11:58 am
I used to be married to a guy just like that. I corrected that mistake 15 years ago and am much happier now, plus nobody crabs about any of my “crap” Life is good!
July 11, 2020 @ 5:45 pm
Condolences for your loss. Love you are finding places of comfort. May you feel the hugs of your mother each day through the unexpected (just like Victorias words).
July 11, 2020 @ 6:05 pm
(For Pamela)
July 11, 2020 @ 8:18 pm
LOL! Great story – writing – laughs – thank you. Funny, not funny as my daughters would say.
But – in their defense – those are some super cute dishes! ♥
(Came over, visiting from Thistlewood.)
July 12, 2020 @ 5:57 pm
Love your posts. Put the plague in the recesses of your mind. Bring us more kitty posts and, more crap posts !
I agree about declawing kitties. It’s a horrible thing to do to a cat. Inhumane.
July 18, 2020 @ 5:35 pm
I could’ve just substituted the names and the crap dishes for myriads of other crap and that would be the story of my life. Seems our husbands were cloned by aliens. Or they’re related. Stranger things have happened. Enjoyed the story!
July 28, 2020 @ 7:11 am
The colors just make me happy! They are keepers if not the actual thing you thought you wanted!
August 1, 2020 @ 12:41 pm
I think I need to talk to Paul. While you may well be the goddess that speaks to my soul…. okay wait, I think Paul is the one that speaks to my soul…nevermind, “the toothpaste”. You speak like this is a “bad” thing or at least something no one else does. I find it amazing that more people have not figured this out. Have I lost you yet, Elizabeth? Please tell Paul….nuts, you make your own now. Well okay if for some reason you get back to using toothpaste in a tube tell him it works much better to cut the end off square and “dip” your tooth brush in. Then use a black binder clip to fold over and seal the tube. I could include a photo if you need one. Of course while my wife begin using the new tube, I continue on with the prior tube in this fashion until all the toothpaste is gone.
I’m going to back to the rest of your blog now……
August 11, 2020 @ 9:41 am
This whole post was hysterical but when I read the part about the poodle going beserk I actually spit out my coffee laughing. Thanks for that!
August 26, 2020 @ 3:56 am
I agree Toni! We need a weekly dose of Victoria!
August 30, 2020 @ 3:11 pm
Love the dishes! W.S. George pottery originated in my hometown of East Palestine, OH. They later built a few other locations in Pennsylvania. The company was in operation from 1904-1955. I have several of their dishes in other patterns 😊