Tag Archives: treasure

They could be twins.


When it comes to collecting crap stuff, my husband is the epitome of the phrase ‘the thrill is in the hunt’.

He’ll tirelessly scour flea markets and antique stores for that just right piece of crap treasure….. but once he owns it? It will languish in the closet or be left in a deserted corner to gather cobwebs.

And now?

His cat is displaying the same traits.



Yes, that’s a half dead mouse.



And just like his father….



After he hunts it down, Lord Dudley Mountcatten could care less what becomes of it.


I love my town… Part who cares anymore.


Our town has come up with some marvelously creative ways to keep kids active and engaged during the Covid months. This is the latest.



Businesses and public areas are all displaying clues.

In other news, people are offering free treasures.



Dirty, smoke stained old cups from a discontinued set? Christ, don’t tell my husband.. he’d be on them like white on rice.



An icicle contest. Most excellent!



Our big one had grown to 5 feet so I proudly entered it to take the lead…..



Until Robert showed up.



Damn you Robert. You and your massive projectile.


Treasure is in the eye of the beholder.


If it’s rusty, weighs 600 lbs and doesn’t work? I guarantee you my husband will love it.



Like this old cash register he brought home from the dump years ago. No, not the fancy, scroll worked, shiny brass kind from the the turn of the century… the ugly ass, flat black, base metal one they used at gas stations and feed stores in the 40’s and 50’s.

What’s that?

Your husband takes things to the dump? How nice for you.



Mine brings home broken things other people don’t want.

Does he clean/fix/repurpose them for use… or even as decorative items? No.



But when they need to be moved, the man painting our barn has to be enlisted to help.






Just a bit.



But after much huffing and puffing it was plunked down on that other ton of fun in the big barn.

Though why the floor didn’t give out from underneath them I’m sure I don’t know.

Things my husband does that make me say WTH?


So I went out to the garage a while ago and saw he had moved the snow blower.

And while that in itself isn’t strange…

This was.


truck 1






Yes, that’s a bungee cord with one end hooked to the mirror…..




And the other end hooked to the blower chute.

It took me a minute to realize he did this due to the limited space on his side of the building.

How limited?

Here’s a shot of the back end.








I’d say he had backed up as far as he could.




The more logical solution of throwing out all that crap treasure not withstanding.




I hate to admit it.

I really, really hate to admit it.

But every once in a while, the husband’s giant barn of crap treasure will yield something useful.

Case in point?


That I found buried in a pile of scrap wood yesterday.

Two masks.

And not just any masks…. but the highly sought after virus blocking N 95 masks.

Treasure… in the barn!

Real treasure in these currently difficult times.

Who knew?

Oh, good grief.


Try as I might to avoid it, sometimes I have to go upstairs in our barn.

This usually forces me to emit a heavy sigh over the husband’s new acquisitions.

You know,  the ones he snuck in there without me noticing.




While I was pleasantly surprised to see he’d done a little organizing (read – shoved everything to the sides) and the floor was visible this time….




And also delighted to see a small section of crap had been put on a shelf.

A shelf!



(What? You don’t collect dusty old water stained cardboard boxes half full of rusty rivets and tacks…

Why ever not?)

A groan did escape me when I saw more bed frames….




And old rusty pesticide sprayers…




As well as whatever the hell this is in front of the vintage cabbage slicers.




I’m thinking I should make him use that in the baby barn to level out the dirt floor.

You know, as penance for bringing the damn thing home in the first place.



I  wish I knew.

And if you’re thinking to yourself, geesh River, that didn’t look so bad…. let me point your eye downstairs where it looks like this:




And this:




And this:




Enough said.



The baby nightmare continues…


Baby barns.

Totally not worth the trouble.




When last we left our intrepid deconstructor, he had finished the back side of the main building and was moving around to the side.




Please note that his loyal wife and help mate was not thrilled to see a large pile of dirt growing ever larger on her lawn.




Problem #1 this past weekend?  The husband had so much  junk, crap, useless rusted nonsense   treasure stored in that section, he had no room to work.

Of course, he assured me it was all wonderful stuff.




I assured him it was not.




What? Why? How much….



I didn’t even want to know.




Yes…. that’s a filthy old door with a mail slot that weighs roughly 5,000 pounds.

No… I have no idea why he has it.




But if you need 2 rusted iron frames for your wooden wagon wheels?  He’s your man.

Although on second thought, he never parts with anything… ever. So I guess you’re out of luck.

You might have noticed this jewel in the previous photo…




I think it’s an ancient torture device from the early 14th century.

I know it damn near broke my back dragging it across the lawn to the big barn where it will now gather more cobwebs.

It’s days like these that I have to keep telling myself…




I really do.

Because otherwise? I’d kill him…

And I don’t think they’d let me blog from prison.