All of the joy, none of the hassle. My fox stands happily on the mantle, glass-eyed, bushy-tailed, asking for nothing but a good dust-bustering once a season.
Carol, Ron, Jeff, the Cousins, and I all made the trek to Sparks and White Cloud last weekend for the giant flea market/antique fair/people-watching extravaganza held there twice a year.
Jeff and Ron were actually on a quest.
The Cousins and Carol. on the other hand, had different goals. They were only interested in buying pieces that weighed 300 lbs. or more apiece. Two cement lions, an enameled dry sink, and a table that feels as if it were made from pieces left over after the Ancients assembled Stonehenge, and our intrepid ladies were good to go. Thank goodness they didn't notice the
Atticus, I might remind you, is a wire-haired Fox Terrier. A terrier specifically bred to hunt foxes. This brilliant paragon of his breeder's genetic achievements has yet to realize there is A GIANT FOX SITTING UNDER A PLEXI-GLASS BOX NEXT TO HIM IN THE LIVING ROOM!!! He does, however, seem to appreciate the new Bob White skeleton under glass, but that is an entirely different story
Soon-
Jon (and Ron and Atticus)
3 comments:
Oh I heard about that shopping trip. You need a flat bed when you go with Carol and the Cousins, I thought you'd learn that by now! Nice Fox, maybe it will come back to life and get the Finches AND that horrible doll.
Please, whatever you do, NEVER mention this flea market to my mother. After seeing that table of depression glass, she would insist on trekking up there twice a year to buy them out of the pink. I would have to resort to drastic measures to keep my sanity!
i wanna go next time!!!
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