Do they speak to you, too?

I do tend to anthropomorphize my belongings,
I believe I mentioned that in an earlier entry.

My divine Carol Hicks Bolton couch is named Babette.
And even though I most certainly do not
consider my cat Winnie a belonging
(she is my daughter, after all),
I do have the odd moment every now and again
when I feel certain she's a tiny little human inside a cat suit.

But it goes beyond that.....look closely at my small vase above.
Where the crackling is on the glaze, the slight darkening resembles
nothing so much as veins and arteries. "It's Alive" she exclaimed!
After all, I'm positive that she spoke to the very core of who I am
and what I love when she came home with me 12 years ago.
And she's been speaking to and inspiring me ever since.

They speak to you too though, don't they?

That whispery yet persistent voice which tells you
that home for them is whichever way and whereever place you're heading.
I mean, how else to explain the absolute "right-ness"
of that one very special piece we all own?
The one we were sure we couldn't afford
yet could not imagine leaving the market without?
It's their fault....they speak to us.

They can be pesky and strident little boogers when they find their mark....
even so far as haunting our thoughts and dreams
in the days and months to follow
should we not heed their supplications
and invite them back to our domicile.
Armed with regret and hopeful anticipation,
we invariably head back to the marketplace and find,
to our utter dismay, that they spoke a bit
more loudly to someone else....who listened.

Shhhhhh, I think I hear Babette.....

back for my next post after I learn
what's on her mind this fine Wednesday.

This post was edited to remove
any photos not taken by myself, Anne Lorys.

Coming soon, to an antique mall booth near you.....

Brushing up on the works of the Masters......

Thinking of adding a little Jeanne d' Arc Living to the library.

Pssssst, issue #5 will be in ENGLISH!

"New and Improved"?

Originally posted August, 2009

I recently scored an absolutely amazing vintage china cabinet

at a local flea market...to say I got it for a steal
would be a gross understatement.

It was such a steal that I even felt a momentary twinge of guilt

as I loaded up my treasure, knowing full well
that what I got for a mere $85(!)

was going for upwards of $600 just a few blocks away
at the chi-chi antique stores in town.

Upon getting it home and placing it in the kitchen corner,

I began to fill my newfound gem
with wedding china and household wares

procured two years ago, but heretofore unpacked.

Hooray, I thought!

At last, a fitting showcase for my shiny, new Calphalon,

my glistening Corningware, my sparkling ivory Mikasa.

The new juxtaposed against the old,

the timeless contrasting sharply with the transient.

Would my designer label china have looked any more elegant

displayed in a modern, new Ethan Allen piece?

Some might say yes.

But like so many of you, the inherent beauty in what others

might perceive as junk is this:

my chippy, peeling, flea-market find has lived a life.

Not to anthropomorphize, but it has tales to tell.

Each chip, each dent, each coffee-stain ring
speaks to an existence

foreign to my own, yet strangely similar.

Utilitarian practicality is now sharing the stage
with stylistic functionality,

but to us junkers, the beauty has always been evident,

even if Farmer Jones and the Missus might not have fully

recognized it before relegating it to the storage shed.

Yes, my pristine Mikasa serving pieces

have a resplendence all their own,

but they have yet to live a life.

They still have much to learn
from the wisened old veteran

which provides them harborage.

I'm hoping they will confer,
as we would all be wise to do

in our own small corners of the world,
be they kitchen or otherwise.

*** this is a re-post from August 2009***

Portal to the unknown....

Those of us old to remember Let's Make A Deal" (that would be me) 

recall that the height of suspense during each episode 

was the revelation of what was behind door #1, door #2 or door #3.

We are a nation of gamblers, of fearless risk-takers; 

from our forefathers right down to the 

preposterously costumed contestants on the aforementioned game show, 

all the way down to a medically trained gal who has 

nurtured a lifelong dream of opening her own antique shop.

I am presented with only two doors before me now....

the door on the right, door #2, represents the life I now live, 

the comfortable, safe, predictable choice. 

I enjoy what I do, and I feel that I'm good at it. 

My patients seem to agree, and I make a comfortable living. So far, so good.

But what if.....

What if I dared to peek behind the door on the left, door #1?

Gosh, it looks like there's some sort of obstacle
just on the other side, through the glass.

Do you see it? Do you think it's jamming the door shut?
Do you think someone's already in there? Do you think they might deign to help me?
Do you think there's room enough for me, too?

If I go ahead and chance it, if I proceed through the door on the left,
will I be able to regain entry into door #2 if I am unwelcome, if I fail?

So many questions, more than a few doubts,
the odd fear every so often.

And so it begins.

I stand on the threshhold and prepare to enter door #1, the portal to the unknown.
Building a business of my own is a dream I've kept tucked away for far too long.
I've received much support and encouragement from my fellow bloggers here,
and for that I thank you all.

I mentioned to someone earlier today that my blog, hopefully,
is going to be a chronology of the birth of a business....
as I said in one of my posts, y'all are getting in on the ground floor.
I hope to be able to share the excitement of someone just starting out,
but I also plan to be brutally honest and not sugarcoat things
when and if discouragement sets in and I ask myself
"What the heck did I get myself into?!"

Many blogs here are filled with wonderful, inspiring examples
of those who have made this dream come true....
this one is very much a work in progress.

So what say you? Will you accompany me as I make this journey?
Hopefully, once I am comfortably ensconced behind door #1,
I will be able to welcome the next trepidacious traveler
who dares to follow their dream.....

This post was edited to remove
any photos not taken by myself, Anne Lorys.

You oughta' be in pictures, kid....

Uh, yeah.....

That's the idea here, but I am severely stymied, hampered,

vexed (oooooh, that's a fab Jane Austen word!) by the lack

of a decent camera these days. Now, one might ask, how can

a newly minted blogger hope to sustain a readership,
cultivate a business, make friends, build a fanbase (as if, LOL!)
without pretty pictures of shabby treasures?

And shabby treasures I do have, some so lovely
that only a picture will do them justice.

Just imagine if no one had been around to snap images such as this....

Or this......

What fanciful stories these photographs share with us!
And what stories I wish to share with all of you,
the way you have shared your lives and loves and treasures with me, 
inspiring me to leap head first into the wonderful world of being a shop owner.

But first, a camera. Tips? Recommendations?

After all, a picture speaks volumes, and I have a lot to say......

photos c/o creative commons

mon petit chat

This is my diva-esque cat, Winnie.
She's soaking up a bit of sun in a chair
by the dining room window, looking every bit the still life subject.

My fledgling shop, fiona and twig, is named after two other cats,
both female, both calicos, both long since gone.
My friends have asked me "Why the name fiona and twig?
Will you be selling items FOR cats?
Cat knick knacks for grannies with fanny packs?"

No to both, she answered ruefully.

I have just always found myself fascinated by the fierce,
independent spirit so nobly embodied by felines.
My husband, a dog person to the core,
is perplexed by the feline nature,
never having lived with a cat prior to marrying me two years ago.

And he thought he was only getting ONE
opinionated female when he swore filial loyalty to me.
Guess we fooled him.

From the quaint little town that gave you Carol Hicks Bolton and Homestead...

I'm aware that many of you bloggers and shop owners are well acquainted with the enchanting work of designer Carol Hicks Bolton and Homestead. I'm abundantly blessed to live just a short 20 miles down the road from this iconic store in Fredericksburg, Texas, and have been inspired by the creativity of Carol and her husband Tim for nigh on 20 years now.

Please allow me to introduce you to yet another inspiring shop nestled in the Texas Hill Country, Red.

Link to store:

http://redinfred.com/

Link to blog:

http://redinfred.blogspot.com/

So what are you waiting for? Click on their links and go get inspired!

Pax,

Anne