Its not that I'm a pack-rat. You won't ever find my spare bedroom full of canned food--like my neighbor Denise. You might find it full of spare shoes--but that's called fashionable.
No, no. My love of stuff is different. Its purely non-functional. And it really only extends to the old and weathered. Needless to say, it's this same love of stuff that led me to a job marketing old, weathered stuff. Literally .
What is it about stuff I love so much? Well, I guess its a lot of things. I love the stories. I really love the stories. And if i don't know the story--I like imagining one. I also like the dirt and the chipping paint. Expensive stuff turns me off as much as new stuff, which is why I prefer the things that cost me less than five dollars.
I've collected a lot of neat things over the years (with the help of others, of course) and I like to think of my home as a cozy little gallery for all of the things I love most.
It occurred to me yesterday that this would be a perfect place to share them with you, so that's what I'm preparing to do. I'm beginning a feature called: Favorite Things. Or: Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. I haven't made up my mind yet (suggestions are welcome).
I'm slowly realizing that this blog has always been dedicated to the little things, and this seems to fit right in.
So, without further ado:: Favorite Things: #1
Is it a miniature rocket? A spaceship? Those are great guesses. But no, this is a blender--AND a lamp. It's the newest addition to my collection of lamps, which means I now own 12 (obsessive?). My friend and co-worker, Pete Heim, makes these every once in awhile, and when he told me about them I jokingly asked if I could commission one. But he was totally serious--and for those of you who have met him--you can probably guess how that conversation went.
He got this great old blender for free from this junk shop in Portland, stripped the paint and wired it up. It was delivered to my desk yesterday morning and I couldn't be happier with it. I can't believe I own a blender lamp. I'm smitten.
Incidentally, Pete used to be a junk shop owner in Chicago, which makes him something of an idol to me. Every wall in his house is covered in thrift shop artwork like I've never seen before. Even more amazing is his capacity to remember where everything came from and how it got there and who sold it to him and what they talked about, ad infinitum. His brain is a treasure. I'm going to unlock it one of these days over a cold beer and I'm hoping he'll make me a big, secret map of portland with all the best dives marked in big stars.
Pete also happens to be responsible for this magical creation: a table made of lawn-mowers he retrieved from of our metal scrap bin. What an inspiration.
