Did I tell you of the time I was totally right and Stephen was wrong and so I WIN

This story dates back to the summer, when my mother-in-law and niece were visiting us from Newfoundland.

It was a beautiful day: scalding hot and high in humidity; I felt like a fish in the water! Everyone else, not so much. I guess Newfoundland weather is a bit different than Mexico’s. Go figure.

We headed out to the highway to look around at the little shops, grab a bite to eat, and look around some more. As we were driving by a tiny shack “Oh my gosh, stop!” I shouted. I was so sudden that Stephen’s mom actually got frightened thinking there was something wrong, some kind of emergency.

Well, there obviously was an emergency. My treasure hunting sixth sense was tingling; my shopping bone was hurting. Totally qualifies as one.

There it was, in all its majesty:

‘Antiques’ is usually code for ‘overpriced old useless shit’.

If you looked at the picture and immediately thought WTF, you’ve obviously never been shopping with me.

This is what dreams and stories are made of. Behind those doors lays Wonderland full of unicorns and fairy dust, except instead of fairy dust it’s just plain dust and mildew, and instead of unicorns it’s broken chairs. It’s fucking Narnia, but more cluttered.

Patina on lumber and metal that glistens
Cute little teacups and plates shaped like chickens…

I looked at eeeeeverything. Old radios and scratched plates, dirty lamps and rusty kettles, vintage tools and broken mirrors. Or as anyone worthy of starring in their own episode of Hoarders would call them, treasures.

Brown linen napkins held up with rings
These are a few of my favorite things

We’re lucky I’m not one of those who thinks everything must be bought, loved, re-homed and saved ‘for later’. Most of the stuff there is just trash.

However, there was something that caught my eye.

I was about to leave the (store? junkyard?) when I found a box full of cutlery. Upon closer examination I decided that a few of the items there, all part of a same set, were actually quite pretty.

They were monogrammed: an ‘L’ engraved on their handle. The design on them intricate, delicate.

Also, I noticed the maker’s mark on each piece. My heart went pitter patter and I didn’t even know why, because I’m no expert when it comes to cutlery. But, not one to question my intuition and inner voices, I asked the owner how much for all the pieces.

This all happened many months ago and so I can’t exactly remember what he initially wanted for them, but what I do remember is I haggled. And I haggled good because if not what kind of a junk shopper would I be? I mean, I’m short of a professional thrift shopper and a Mexican. Haggling is like breathing, really.

We agreed on a price (something like .75 per piece, I believe) and a total of 17 of these babies came with me.

By now everyone was in the car with the AC cranked all the way up (because there’s something wrong with Canadians and their ability to enjoy heat), waiting for me.  I was excited about my purchase and I showed them.

“Junk” said Stephen, followed by “What do you want them for?” and “They’re old and dirty.” You say dirty, I say personality. Also, may I note my junk occupies exactly one glass jar on top of our fridge, as opposed to other people’s junk, which occupies, oh I don’t know, a basement. Moving on!

We got home and I used my super advanced technological prowess (google) to find out more about my latest acquisition.

According to one page: William Hazen Rogers (1801 to 1873) was a well-known American silversmith whose work and name have survived to the present day. Rogers–together with his two brothers and, later, his son–was responsible for more than 100 patterns of silver and silver-plated cutlery and serving dishes.

‘W.M. Rogers’ surrounded by a star and an eagle identifies a Roger piece made between 1825 and 1841.

Like mine! That’s almost two hundred years, if Math ain’t your strong. Two hundred!

Though apparently, the same star and eagle marking was used by another company in agreement with Rogers’ son, after Rogers Sr. passed. This can locate my pieces anywhere between the late 1800′s up to 1939. Which isn’t as impressive, but makes my forks and spoons true antiques regardless.

Silver-plated, monogrammed, maker-marked, name-brand antiques. Not bad at all.

I have no idea what these pieces sell for nowadays, but I recon it’s likely for more than the .75 a pop that I paid. Which means I made money! Well, not literally, but you know what I mean.

Antique Roadshow, hit me up; I’m ready to hear I’m a zillionaire. Or even just to tell husbando he was wrong, I was right, and he is hereby declared incompetent in bitchin’ when I’m junkin’. The end.