SHOP Till Gabriel Drops

30 October 2010

Story #321

R. Linda:

Today, the two older ladies are hobbling around from their balancing act of yesterday's outing on the rocky, branchy, acorn-strewn trails of Mystery Hill. They are both popping pills of their respective choice BUT . . . they don't want to stay in and take it easy, no, no, we must go SHOPPING!

You know shopping is not my favourite thing, especially with a Dragon on board. So once again, I got the sitter because Gabriel isn't shopping with two small boyos (who are both sporting strange red circles on their foreheads, and I think they are from those suction cup arrows, but I be not sure they aren't big measles), a Dragon, a wife who takes her time to read labels and two old people who talk among themselves like elves made all the things in the stores. They've never seen anything of the like before, EVER.

Where do you shop in New Hampshire? That is an excellent question because you have to travel many miles to find a mall, they are far and few between, but lucky for us, THAT isn't the kind of shopping we want to do. No, we are tourist shopping, and as I live in a tourist state, that's all there are up here, quaint little shops filled with a. antiques, b. all things New England, c. souvenirs, d. your occasional barn sale and e. gun shops!

I could throw in the ski shops, Arctic Cat snowmobile dealerships, and the fishing and hunting supply shops, but I won't BECAUSE we don't go to those. We went first to a New England shop. What is a New England shop, you ask. Well, I'd be happy to tell you these pretties are usually found in old capes that are dressed up in country curtains, braided rugs, outfitted in colonial and early American style furnishings, have lamps and candles that are Indigenous to New England, and as you go through the New England shop each room features a typical New England setting, and it can be yours! All you have to do is pull out your wallet. Living room furnished with old-fashioned, colonial paintings of the master and mistress of the house, and they can be yours for $450 a piece; then there is the couch; you can have THAT upholstered in any early American fabric design available for only $1400. The wingback chairs are $690 a piece, and the berry garland over the fireplace can be purchased for $36.00. Okay, let's go on to the kitchen, where we find a high-backed bench for the low sale price of $1000 and that table; you can afford THAT for $1200 because it is all hand-hewn and polished. Do you like the country cabinet, that big old reddish thing that looks like it's been in someone's barn for 200 years? Well, that can be yours for a mere $2500. The little dolls by the keeping room fireplace? Oh, those are handmade and cost $60 apiece. All these shops have the word Country at the beginning, so avoid them. Should I go on? I think you get the picture.

I avoid these like the plague. Me mother-in-law loves this stuff but never buys it because she lives in a Victorian house. What would she do with all that quaint New England expensive stuff? On the other hand, me wife loves it too and lives in a New England Cape, SO it would be perfect, but her husband's wallet is glued shut. The elderly Irish couple have notta clue, so they're safe.

Onto the antique shop. I found out early on that I was in the wrong business. The antiques in New England, especially New Hampshire, are exceptional. The prices are fair and, in some cases, more than fair. I should quit my job, buy a trailer load of New England antiques, set up a shop in New Jersey where I can sell everything for ten times what it is worth, and unload the lot. I'd make a fortune. How do I know this? Every year up here, there are huge antique shows. These feature the finest antiques you can buy, and notices are sent to every shop in the Mid-Atlantic states. And up come the Nicky and Nina Newarks and Newton Nancys, New York City Hoity-toitys with their chequebooks ready and Fanny's your aunt, the antiques fly off the shelves. They are sold for twenty times their worth to the 'hot to have anything New England' New Yorkers, Jerseyites, and Pennsy inhabitants. Instant millionaire I could be, and I don't have to wait for the yearly shows. Antiques up here are everywhere, and I have furnished me house with most of them. That is what I don't understand about the New England shops. Everything is new but made to look like old. Why not just get the real deal? Then, when you are done with them, ship 'em to Jersey. These shops cost me, but not as much if I bought the reproductions, me wife knows by now what is the good stuff and what is the junk, and better than the New England shops. But then I forgot I live here, the New England shops are for the tourist trade, and those folks don't know the difference.

The souvenir shops - now you're talking Mam and Da shop. They buy the hard rubber lobster key chains for their friends back home. They buy the tea cups with scenic pictures of Cape Cod on the side, the postcards of the moose and the mountains to send home, and the t-shirts that say I visited Peterborough, New Hampshire! They get excited over the maple leaf-shaped bottles filled to the brim with real Vermont or New Hampshire maple syrup. They buy all manner of stuff that says New Hampshire on it, and there is a lot of stuff that says New Hampshire on it. There are even souvenir books on New Hampshire and pictures of New Hampshire. If you want New Hampshire, we'll give ya New Hampshire!

And when we are almost shopped out and on our way home, Dragon will use that x-ray vision of hers and point out the sign -- BARN SALE. There are no yard or garage sales here because everyone has a barn, and barns are big and full of STUFF! So we pile out of the car and go off to the barn and barnyard. We can pick up chickens if you want some, we can buy goat milk fudge, we can buy an old broken up plough for a lawn ornament, we can buy old horse saddles and harnesses, we can buy embroidered this and that, we can find the occasional wood stove for sale and full-length horse sleigh, we can buy stuffed deer or moose heads (the later are huge and heavy so bring your truck), ice skates and old toys for the kiddies, a muzzleloader for yourself, various old license plates and road signs, just everything imaginable.

Then, on the way home, we come to the gun store and drive ON. We don't want any of THOSE. As I slowly pass, I think of shooting turkeys, geese, and ducks and using my hunting dog for what she lives for. But NO, we are filled from inside the car to the boot, and there is no room. SIGH. I have yet to buy meself something. Everyone else bought something for themselves and all their friends; the only thing I have is that Tonya bought me maple sugar candy. She at least thought of me, and I got one piece before the boyos were on it, and now it's all gone. SIGH.

Gabe
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