Showing posts with label at least I have good taste. Show all posts

I clean my house for three reasons and three reasons only: Christmas, company and covetousness. As you can imagine, since we know covetousness is just WRONG, it is my most frequent prompt.

I read home and garden magazines for two reasons and two reasons only: to get ideas/learn new things and to stoke the fires of covetousness because even if my home isn’t as full of those perfectly lovely things pictured, I can have it be as clean. (Well. Almost. And only sometimes. I give myself leeway in that regard. I don't torture myself with perfection. Because I’m generous like that.)

I especially love it when antiques and collectibles are featured along with their provenance and other info but especially, how much they are worth. Ka-ching! Or, at least, potential ka-ching, should I have ever been so lucky as to have purchased one of the goodies pictured in the glossy pages of a magazine. However, hope springs eternal.

The other day, in an attempt to get some magazine reading done (we won’t say where) I was leafing through one such for a last glimpse before tossing it into the recycling bin when my eye was caught by this photo.



I had looked at this picture several times already but had never thought anything about it. Now I was thinking that the pretty boy and girl looked so familiar. When I got a chance, I went to my room and compared this lovely object with something I had bought on eBay for $10 about four years ago. (It was listed as a lamp base.) It sits on the dresser and I look at it (or blindly "see" it) a dozen times a day.




What do you think? The same boy and girl? One and the very frickin' same? That I see dozens of times a day? And did not notice was one and the same as the one in the magazine in the section where they tell how much things are worth which I read in hopes I will own one (or more) such object until it was almost too late?

Did I mention how much this base would be worth if it still had the bowl?



It’s times like these that make me wish with a fervent, melting, heat that brain surgery was available for people “like me”. (Anyone have a bowl that looks like it might have once had a base decorated by a frolicking boy and girl? Anyone? No? Anyone?)