After a good coating of ice brought the city to a standstill for several days, people were apparently more than eager to get out and about over the weekend. While Sara was at the ice rink (that's right, all healed up in time to skate on her birthday, life's good). Tony and I bought a few pastry treats for her, and a shiny "Happy Birthday" balloon. It was the weekend for Buchanan's antiques market at the fairgrounds, where I haven't managed to have a good browse for several months, so we stopped down there, where the first thing I managed to snag was an antique L.C. Smith 'super speed' typewriter for Sara's friend, who had just mentioned a few days before that she was on the lookout for one. For a mere $12, I like to think she won't mind if the ribbon is in tatters.
Tony was relieved I wasn't tempted to bring it home for myself; a house really only needs so many antique typewriters, and I've the feeling if you asked him, he'd say we've reached our quota. (Kind of like with cats.)
There were more people milling about and getting in my way than I was used to seeing, which must have made the vendors happy. Lucky for me, the maddening crowd wasn't after the same stuff as me.
I got a few sweetly yellowed and crumbly magazines from the 20's, a 1938 alamanc which is mostly just advertisements for a suspicious assortment of cure-all medicines and herbal concoctions, and a super crumbly latin textbook with no date that I can find, but judging by the spine, I'd guess late 1800's. The young lady who sold it to me (for $1) seemed fond of it, and asked if I was a fan of latin. "No," I said, "I'm an artist, and since this book is already falling apart...." I believe if I hadn't already handed over my cash, and had the book in my hands, she may well have refused to sell it to me at that point!
My best bargain, though, was the assortment of dollies shown here. Aren't they the best? Oh, and that's the latin book they're resting on, that you can't see at all.
The only bad thing about that trip to the market was the wind had picked up while we were inside, and when Tony opened the back door of the car, in order to load the typewriter, our birthday balloon escaped and took off to the stratosphere. I watched it for several minutes as we headed home (since we and it were both conveniently traveling the same direction), but it soon became a teeny speck, then vanished altogether. By the time Sara got home from the rink a couple hours later, I'm certain her balloon was well past Tulsa, and headed for Joplin.
It was a box mostly of books from my grandmother's house, including a Somerset Maugham reader that I'm happy to have found. This tattered, epic volume of BYRON'S POETICAL WORKS, though, hadn't been hers. At least I think not. Though I barely remember having seen it before, my suspicion is it came from one of the Friends of the Library book sales, and found itself tucked into the attic for safekeeping. Despite the rag-taggy condition, isn't it handsome? Despite the foxing, aren't these engraved portraits wonderful?
And the gold embossing and marbling - simply delicious! I don't like to handle it too much, for fear of causing bits to fall off, but I'm glad to let it see the light of day again. At least for a little while.
