Prep Monday—A Day Off


Everyone needs a day off now and again, and yesterday, I took mine.

We started off with breakfast at the local café, and since I’m a creature of habit, I went for the loaded hashbrowns and, of course, bacon. My husband had the biscuits and gravy; I usually have to flip a mental coin to decide between these two . . . we go there at least once a week, or sometimes pick up something for dinner.

Then we headed north to the town of Doolittle. “Town” is kind of a misnomer because all we saw was the antique mall and—wait for it—a Stuckey’s! Bet I haven’t seen one in 30 years, and yes, I got a pecan log roll. Tasted just like I remember . . .

So, this antique mall. Wow. I mean, the place is huge! The outside looks like an old West town, there’s tons of parking, and on a Sunday morning we practically had the place to ourselves—at least until about 11:00. It took us TWO HOURS to walk through the whole thing, and when we checked out, we noticed a few more things outside—furniture and such. There’s a flea market section too; no AC so we hurried through that but it was typical flea market stuff.

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We went there looking for a pie safe. I have always wanted one and they’re hard to find—and the ones I do find are either not quite right or super expensive. Even after today, I’m still looking.

We did find two more chairs for our kitchen table, and a dinner gong—the old triangle kind. I was holding out for a dinner bell, and we saw two, but they were HUGE, aka heavy. Really heavy. Cast iron heavy. Also around $300. So, no.

My husband picked up some kind of saw thingy, and of course we got some fudge. And peanut brittle. And chocolate covered cashews.

I can’t wait to go back—I saw a few other things I’d like to pick up one of these days. Particularly a very nice leather shoulder holster. Oh, and the Indian spear . . .

But the best thing I found was Tupperware. Not the used, icky kind, but clean, well-kept vintage stuff that you can’t get from the company anymore: cracker boxes, butter keepers, all kinds of things. Picture your house when you were a child; well, if you were a child in the 50s-70s.

This place is awesome, and unlike a lot of “antique” malls full of plastic junk—Tupperware aside; you know what I mean—this is the real deal.

You should go. Prices are reasonable, and it’s a prepper’s heaven: hand tools, old fashioned, non-electric kitchen gadgets, handmade quilts, and a lot more . . .

 

Work Wednesday—Not Really Taking a Break


Due to certain, er, issues, we’re stepping up our game a bit.

Let the move begin!

Ha—this is the second house I’ve lived in that I’ve stated, vehemently, that I’M NOT MOVING AGAIN. NOT.

Ah, well. Things change, right?

And for those wondering about all the actual work posts, well, school started and so our schedule changed. We can only work at the farm on the weekends now, which gives us approximately 50 days to finish the prep before we fully make the move. That’s not counting “snow” days when we can’t travel down there.

Remember last winter? We bought the place sight-unseen because we couldn’t get to it and were afraid someone else would snap it up. So, there’s that . . .

As we reviewed our leave-in-a-hurry plan the other day, I realized that sure, we’d get out of the metro area with our lives, our pets, and most necessary items, but what about other needed things and, too, some sentimental pieces?

So that’s where we sit: packing.

Yes, most of my friends and family think I’m nuts. It’s always a possibility. But what we’re packing are things that we don’t need between now and spring, but are nice to have around, and the things that I want to keep but, if the leave-in-a-hurry plan is implemented, probably won’t be able to.

Think about this for a moment. At best, leaving your possessions behind may cause sorrow and regret after the fact, days or weeks later; at worst, the idea of doing this is a distraction while you’re in the midst of LIAH.

Not everyone will have this problem, of course. Right now, though, I’m in my office looking at the manual typewriter my grandmother used in 1930, and the rocking chair that my great-grandmother used to put babies to sleep since 1915. What can I say? These things are important to me.

Just because we’re going to live in a cabin in the woods doesn’t mean it’s only going to be furnished with sticks and rocks.

And now, I’m off to make a fashionable tinfoil hat . . .