Tag Archives: antiques

He volunteers, I do all the work.

 

So we’ve established my husband is a collector of  vast piles of junk,  boatloads of crap,  too much rusty old stuff,  some eclectic treasure.

Lots of people know this, and think being an antique expert goes hand in hand.

 

 

They constantly give him items and want a full history,  description of use,  plus what it’s worth.

Problem is….. more often than not he has no frickin’ clue.

 

 

Which is when he hands it off to me.

I research, investigate, and compare so he can go back and look knowledgeable. Which leads to more people giving him more items to identify. It’s a vicious circle.

*Note to self – stop researching, investigating and comparing*

Last month he came home with two items that were beyond even my scope of reference.

Supposed Native American artifacts.

 

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A medicine man’s turtle shell rattle…

 

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And a warrior’s breastplate.

 

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I admit, even I was clueless here.

 

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His friend gave him some accompanying paperwork that was, to say the least….. a wee bit strange. It was a statement from a man named Silver Wolf who said he saw the items at an antique show 10 years ago and was then visited in his dreams by the original owner Red Hawk, who lived in the late 1700’s.

Okaaay.

A man named Ernie then purchased the rattle, and took it to a Pow Wow to “awaken it”. A red tail hawk flew overhead during the ceremony and apparently that was the spirit of the original owner.

Okaaay.

Later, a chief said the rattle had a person named Many Eyes bound inside of it and the spirit needed to be set free.

So, yeah.

How the hell do you research that?

I tried. And the closest I came was this:

 

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Pretty damn close. (Red tailed hawk and trapped spirit not withstanding.)

As for breastplates? They’re everywhere… in hundreds of designs, made with multiple materials, some old, some new and I have no utter clue how to differentiate.

So I went to the Maine State Museum….

Where no one had a clue either.

 

 

But they gave me the name and email address of a supposed expert…. so I contacted her and sent photos.

This was her response:

 

Boy. I’m not the expert, At All. The breast plate looks modern to me, but don’t take my word for it! And I have never seen a rattle like that so I really can’t judge. It could be Plains, but equally, could be new. It looks dirty, as opposed to worn, which sets off alarms for me. 

That said, I am NOT that versed. If you want to talk to someone who is, my ex-husband is very knowledgable.

Best of luck in your search!

And thank you for thinking of the Maine State Museum.

 

 

zf1ynw

 

So after wasting more time than I thought possible on this, I was done.

I passed along what I learned to the husband to give to his friend, with the expert’s ex husband’s phone number, and called it a day.

The next morning after having breakfast with his friend? The husband came back with the items and said his friend wanted me to sell them for him.

What???

No!!

Personally… if the items are real Native American artifacts? I’d give them back to the tribe of origin, or at the very least a museum. So much Native culture has been bought and sold over the years, I felt bad even having them at our house.

And if they’re reproductions? You wouldn’t get any serious money for them so why bother.

This is what happens when your husband can’t tell his friend no.

It’s a simple process…. and one I need him to learn.

 

 

See?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fun at the fair…. and balls.

 

We hadn’t been to the Topsham Fair in years, and after going the other day I remembered why.

Maine has some fabulous county fairs….. but this isn’t one of them.

With a $12 charge per person to get in? There should have been more… everything.

 

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We started with the livestock, because I do love me some critters.

 

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I got up close and personal with sheep….

 

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While the husband chatted up a cow.

 

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This cow was lying down.

 

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As was her owner…

 

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And it took all my willpower not to yell at him to drop his phone and learn how to spell her name properly.

 

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Sorry El….

 

 

This cow had a little speck of something on her nose…

 

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Which proved to be no problem.

 

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Yes, that’s her tongue. And she knew how to use it.

 

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Did you know…

 

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Cows can’t vomit?

I live to enlighten.

 

 

 

We saw ox, and horses.

 

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Some huge.

 

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Some small.

We saw pigs…

 

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With lots of baby pigs…

 

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And goats..

 

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With some pretty big…

 

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Sorry…. but holy crap!

 

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How do you walk with balls that big?

 

 

We strolled around looking for the chicken barn….

Only to discover there wasn’t one.

Very disappointing.

 

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And then we walked past the “Decorate a Bale of Hay” contest.

 

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Which… yeah.

 

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Was a bit odd.

 

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I temporarily lost the husband to some old rusty crap.

 

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And found him checking out some sweet old vehicles for sale.

 

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We meandered through the collection of carriages and sleighs which we always love…

 

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And found a cannon…

 

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With a strategically placed ball.

 

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In a sack.

Tell me someone doesn’t have a sense of humor….

 

 

We made the obligatory walk through the exhibition hall.

 

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But the Blue Ribbon rhubarb failed to thrill.

And aside from the carnival rides we didn’t ride and the roach coach junk food that we didn’t eat, that was it….

Until I spotted George.

 

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And fell in love.

 

 

I mean… look at him!

 

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George is an Emu.

 

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Homely…

 

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Humble..

 

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And despite the prehistoric raptor like gaze, quite friendly.

Here’s some riveting video of him drinking water.

 

 

And a little something closer up.

 

 

He’s over 6 foot tall, with coarse dense feathers.

Yes, we bonded…. and I petted him.

Totally worth the $12 admission price.

 

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Name That Crap #2

 

My first attempt at stumping WordPress readers with the husband’s crap failed miserably.

Name That Crap

Answer to Name That Crap

Clearly, you lot know your crap.

 

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No, it’s really not.

But let’s try again anyway.

 

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It stands approximately two feet tall and is made of wood and metal.

What it is?

 

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Yes, it is.

But I’ll need you to be more specific….

 

Answer to Name That Crap

 

I can see I’m going to have rummage around in the cellar and break out some more difficult pieces of crap for you to name.

Apparently this was too easy.

The crap…

 

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Is a White Cross Electric Vibrator.

 

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Model #25, circa 1917.

 

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Husband’s didn’t come in a complete set…

 

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Or with any of the fun original advertising…

 

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But you get the idea.

“In vibration there exists many of the secrets of life” ?

 

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Maybe I should fire that puppy up some day.

 

 

Congrats to Boo and Rusty.

Who win…

Absolutely nothing!

Except the right to say you know your crap.

Bravo!