a vintage day

In 1950, there were penny postcards.  Letters cost 3 cents if you sealed them; 2 cents if you tucked in the flap.

I found these postcards I had sent from camp when I was at my mother's apartment today and brought them home. "What are you going to do with them?" asked my husband.

The doorman at the luxury building where my mother no longer resides, called me today to ask whether I would rent the ap't to someone who was having renovations and needed a place for a couple of months.  So I went over there to see what was what. There had been a leak on the outside of the building and there is some damage near the window.  The garbage disposal doesn't work and there is a leak under the sink. The bathrooms have not been redone since the building was built 40 years ago, and the closets and drawers are overflowing with papers and STUFF.    I called the potential renter and gave her a heads-up on her voice mail but I don't think she'll want to rent it.

I cleaned out the refrigerator, threw away notes on little pieces of paper, NY Times magazines from 2005 piled up on the kitchen floor, and god-knows what else. And it made me sad to throw away stuff without even looking at it, knowing
 that my children will do the same thing.  I stuck the "household hints" folder back in the cabinet; loaded with newspaper articles like "how to keep your mahogany furniture shining."  Someday I'll go through them.

I had thought my mother might come back here some day, but even if she does -- with a live-in -- she doesn't need 5 year old frozen pizza or 10 year old shampoo.  I have my work cut out for me...but not yet.  First, a plumber.

I did come home with one treasure.

They're making repros now but this is the real thing: a Toastmaster that I grew up with.  It is older than I am and probably in better condition. I checked the serial # - it was manufactured between June1938 and May 1939.  My parents got married in May 1939 so there you are.  I doubt it was a wedding present; my grandfather had a hardware store and I am sure my father brought it home.

Marty will love using this toaster and I suspect I will, too. But we still need the toaster oven for bagels or thick slices of good bread.

And what, you may ask, have I been doing tonight?  I cannot tell a lie: therapy sewing.  I sorted all my strips into one box and have been thinking about what I can make with them.  No conclusions yet. I have other fish to fry.