Flea market

Mary and I went to the flea market at Pasadena City College this morning. I hadn't been in a few months and it was like visiting an old friend -- everything was familiar, but there were new things to catch up on, too. I vowed not to buy anything, which was a difficult promise to keep, but I stuck to my guns.

My family had one of these Ziggy mugs when we were kids. Mary said that whenever she wanted a mug, she'd reach for this one, and I did the same thing. We have no idea what happened to it.

The flea market is always a good place to look for art. Norman has no artwork hanging on his walls; if I'd been in a buying mood I would have purchased this lovely painting for his apartment.

This just made me happy. I used to love her talk show.

This was my favorite booth at the flea market. I love the whole retro kitchen thing, and this booth was like an explosion of culinary yesteryear. "Yeah, but would you ever really wear an apron?" Mary asked. I told her I bought a pattern for a reproduction 1940s apron and I intend to try to make one for myself.

I collect vintage Pyrex and will always stop to check out any pieces I see. The sunflower covered casserole is one of the sweetest I've come across yet, but at $24.99 it was a bit dear. (Not that I was shopping, mind you.) The Big Boy Barbecue Book next to it had a great cover but not much going on inside.

We came across these booklets at another booth that specializes in vintage kitchenware. Mary had also sworn she wouldn't buy a thing but she couldn't resist these nutty booklets. She bought Classroom Posters and Decorations and Decorations for the Schoolroom, both of which were published in the mid-1940s.

Utterly bizarre, and probably not too PC: there were lots of pictures of stuff like Indian squaws and the insinuation that to speak a language other than English was unpatriotic. I loved it! I'll try to borrow them back and get some scans of the most egregiously offensive pages.

This hideous doll reminded me of one I had as a child. Her name was Wispy Walker, and she would (in theory) walk alongside you if you held her hand. She was three feet tall, so she was very large for a doll, which made finding clothes for her difficult. But a sympathetic neighbor gave me some baby clothes her little girl had outgrown and suddenly Wispy was the best-dressed doll on the block. I don't know what happened to her either, but I don't really care.

Next month: the Rose Bowl swap meet!