Yesterday, Veterans' Day, was my first outing since my surgery last week. Bud decided I needed an "airing out" and I agreed. I was feeling pretty grungy and pent up, so off we went for a little ride to scout out some antique stores that were new to us and some old favorites.
We made our way to Hebron IL, a farm village rediscovering its own charm with opening several antique stores on its Main Street. It was an early Tuesday morning, so we pretty much had the shops to ourselves. Lots of good stuff there to tickle our fancies, though we made no purchases. Then we took IL 173 over through Harvard IL (famous for their Milk Days) and on up to Walworth WI on Rte 14. In Walworth we stopped at an antique shop where I've found a few wonderful baskets in the past. However, I've pretty well run out of space for more baskets on top of the kitchen cabinets. Bud's threatening a basket addition to the house - but he should talk! Over a 1000 pieces of Occupied Japan porcelain and bisque fill four curio cabinets and spill out onto bedroom dressers! Of course, then there are my books... Maybe an addition might not be a bad idea...
Anyhow, we were meandering around the second floor of this shop when I suddenly felt like the air had been let out of me and I almost keeled over into a display of vintage hats. Bud was off hunting for OJ pieces someplace on the other side of the room behind the mountains of history's castoffs. I had a moment of hilarity as I thought of him discovering me passed out on the creaky oak floor with feathered and veiled pillboxes piled on top of me. He, however, would not have gotten the joke. (I hated wearing those blasted hats to church when I was a kid!) I bent myself over to get blood to my head and took some deep breaths. That helped some, but that's when I noticed a flat feeling. I still feel it and it's rather depressing.
Bud was all for hauling me straight home and tucking me in bed, and threatened that if I passed out on him he'd leave me there on the floor to fend for myself. Ever my chivalrous hero! No, by the look on his face, my face must have looked very less than blooming. He suggested a snack might revive me, so we headed over to a gas station for a quick infusion of sugar. That helped, but we headed on home anyway by way of a ride through Lake Geneva WI.
Thing is, I can't seem to get those blasted hats off my mind! Anybody remember those little things kind of shaped like butterfly wings that clutched your head, were likely made of wire and covered with velvet? They had short little veils attached that edged onto your forehead and itched? I abhored those things. I would rather have had a huge picture hat with a dramatic ostrich feather than those pesky things. I mean, if you have to wear a hat, wear a HAT, for pete's sake!
I have no idea where this hat obsession is coming from. Winter is approaching and I'll likely don my winter chappeau that looks like a black fuzzy bucket on my head. But that's about warmth and I am well over the age where I'd wear picture hats with ostrich feathers anyway.
So, I'm feeling flat and obsessing about hats. I dunno.