Dobson Frog

I always think of Dave Dobson when I see frogs. He had a collection of them around his house. He liked the metaphor of Frogs into Princes. My brother challenged me to put my 3 & 1/2 year-old niece to sleep. Those who've heard my labyrinth CD can laugh right about now. Anyway, I've created stories for her about Dobson Frog. And she only hears these stories when it's time to sleeeeep. And I've anchored her feet to . . . begin to get sleepy. Thanks, Dave.

Another flea market find

Never-been-used photo album:

Inscription inside to Henry; a "great boyfriend & great friend."

Poor Marie-Yvonne. What happened?
Did Henry not have or want reminders of loved ones?
Was the photo album too girly for him?
Did he not want a friend-sister-girlfriend?
We'll never know.

Fleamarket Finds

When I was a little girl of 5-ish, we had a go-cart like this one:

I seem to recall Mum backing over it in the driveway.

What can you say about this next . . . er, item?

Eeeewwwww!

And this. This book:

I understand the Idiot's Guide to computers & plumbing & whatever, but really? The Kennedys warrant an Idiot's Guide? [Do you ever want to make it Kenendies when you're writing the plural? No? Just me? OK, then.]

XM Radio Guy Hutton pointed out that the above book is very . . . thin. Hahahaha He said it was funny, but not $3 funny.

Fleamarket Daze

I collect quotes. I've tried to keep them in notebooks, but invariable they get shelved or I don't have them when I need them. So I've taken to writing them on recipe cards. Those are easy to carry in my purse, have at my desk, etc. The quote below is the one I pulled for today's post:

What sort of decisions do you make when no one's looking? ~Seth Godin

I went to the flea market this weekend. I got a new rug for my art studio & a v. cool wicker dining set. Oh! And a bread knife that I was in desperate need of so that I didn't have to hack thru Mum's GF bread. Toward the end of my shopping, there was a knife set with those kind of knives they have at Outback. Nice, sturdy--will also hack thru bread. Well. I was going to get a set of 6, and the seller was going to throw in a set of forks, as well. Who doesn't need more forks? For $3. It just gets better and better!

Until it doesn't. He leans in and says in a hushed tone, "I'm a thief. I get them from a steakhouse. Drives my wife crazy."

What would you do? He was packing them up in a bag.

"Oooooohhhhh. I wish you hadn't told me that." And I didn't get them. No judgement on Thief Guy, but . . . well. No utilitarian-last-forever steak knives for me.