A Piece of History

Inspirational song: Flash of Fire (Hoyt Axton)

I thought I was going to come home after a whole day of playing hooky, talking about how I worked too hard, too many days in a row, and my body told me to slow down. I did do all that, but my beautiful relaxed mood was shattered when I came home just after midnight to find Elsa working tirelessly against me, trying to sabotage my sale. Apparently I didn't block the stairs off sufficiently, and I stayed out too late. While I blotted and sprayed cleaner, I vowed that I would just as happily leave that damned dog behind, and live a much more relaxed life in the hills without her. As it is, I'm too angry to bring the dogs back inside, even though they are barking down the neighborhood at 1 am. For the record, cat ladies don't necessarily want to live with all animals, just because they like the one species a little too much. At least, that's how this one feels.

I started my day so well (horrible stomach upset that had been building for days along with my stress aside). I went downtown with the mah jongg ladies in search of architectural salvage so that I could find a tangible piece of history to take with me from this place. I knew our cargo space will be exceptionally limited this trip, but I knew that Mr S-P could find a narrow gap to slide in a reclaimed window, piece of tin ceiling, or small iron work. Knowing that we planned on building a greenhouse so we can keep some flowers and vegetables going in the shorter growing season, I decided that a window was what I wanted. I ached for the fancy diamond paned windows or the ones from the 1760s, but they were two and three times my comfortable budget. I found a transom that I liked, that had red white and blue paint on it, as the house changed styles over the years, and I thought it would be cool. Then I found a six-over-six piece from the same house, and it called my name. I even like the broken pane in the bottom, and I plan on preserving it somehow. It was suggested that I sandwich it between two thin panes of glass, and that sounds like a plan. I want to make a Betsy Ross style flag, rough painted on a couple boards, to hang behind it. It seems logical, considering the pivotal roles this town played in the Revolutionary War.

I could have spent days on end wandering around the salvage shop (but for the intense heat and no a/c), and been incredibly happy. Just me and Brad, the shop cat, looking at porcelain tiles and rusted iron and the most amazing art deco coal burner. If I had known this place existed years ago, my home decor would have looked very different.

I was no good to anyone this afternoon, so I jumped at the chance to go soak in water at Bonfire Gardens all night. (Perhaps had I left earlier, I would not have growled and scolded until my throat was raw, and my 24 hour old carpet would have escaped un-baptized.) I needed to just talk and unload for a while, and I got that chance. I also got one last cuddle from Mr Kitty, my handsome boyfriend, and a promise that he would convince his mommy to Skype with me, so I can see him sometimes. Yes, I said that. I want to Skype with someone else's cat. I've done it before, I'll do it again. He's my buddy, and he needs reminders that he is adored.

I have a few photos that need explaining. We went to a restaurant after the salvage shop, with a beautiful and creative art installation. This building used to house an old diner, and local art students were given the chance to make a mosaic from all the fixtures of the old restaurant. They made something that looks topographical, with layers of earth(en ware), and a flowing stream of silverware. There were cups and plates and salt shakers and lobster crackers and chair backs and just about anything you could imagine. What a great way to honor the history of the site.