Channeling my inner Macklemore...
I said yesterday that when I go to thrift and antique stores I look for Pyrex. This is the type of dishes I'd love to find:
Or maybe, one day, I could open my cabinet and see this:
I love that stuff. Sadly, it's very difficult to find - most often, I find the clear, brown pyrex - I don't want that. So I spend lots and lots of time trolling through antique stores and thrift stores, stopping at random yard sales and browsing the local Craigslist.
Which is how I found Shomier's.
I tried to go there last week, but I didn't realize that they were only open Friday, Saturday and Sunday. So I went back on Saturday. As I opened the door, I was hit with a double whammy whiff of old stuff and nostalgia.
It smelled like my grandpa's shed. A bit of dirt, a bit of grease, a bit of dog, and that undefineable "old stuff lives here" scent. It takes your lungs approximately three good, deep breaths before you've acclimated.
I puttered around, noticing an old doll like my grandmother used to have, vintage signs and rugs, furniture and dishes. No Pyrex, although I did find a bell.
When I was checking out, I was asked if I'd found everything I was looking for. I shared the story of the bell, and after we'd completed the check out, I mentioned to the owner my desire for Pyrex. She told me that she looked at every single flea market she went to, but it was getting to be pretty rare. She asked if I was looking for anything else, and I mentioned that I have always wanted an old typewriter, but I'd looked around and they were super difficult to find - and if I did find one, they were really spendy.
She looked over her shoulder at her husband and said, "Hey, didn't we have a typewriter over there in the next building?"
Which is how I got my Valentine's present from my husband. Forget the flowers, I'm not a candy gal, and cards leave me pretty cold -
just give me an old, beat up Remington 12.