I'm told most women worry about turning into their mothers. This fear has never really been big for me, since my mother is a lovely, saintly woman who could cook our L.L. Bean boots into a delicious stew if the vegans ever destroyed our meat supply. Her sense of style is unparalleled, and far seeing. The worst thing you can say about her is that she is too nice. I think I have heard her yell-yell twice in my life. The only thing I didn't want to develop was crying during movies, but that is apparently not up to me.
In my family, my sister and I worried about turning into our grandmothers. While each of them could be wonderful*, they each had their personality quirks/little habits that we did NOT want to begin exhibiting. Such as my grandma's habit of tickling knees or putting ice cubes in milk. Or my granny's 2+ pack a day habit or insensitivity.
But I seem to have inherited my granny's love of antiques. Last week, on the quest for champagne coupes, I visited a little antiques store I found on a different crystal-related mission. There, I found 5 (which was the minimum number I need) lovely coupes.
I went home, and for kicks looked up the name on the label, "Fostoria". Low and behold, I had picked a pattern only produced during the 40s and early 50s by the premier American glassworks company for 100 years. They were bought out ad shut down in the 80s and their glass is now highly valued. Clear glasses like this are less valuable than colored glass, and this was relatively 'new', but they can still go for a pretty penny. I got my set for about half-price.
Something went off in my head. This would be *my* good crystal. I had inherited a collection of very nice, but varied glassware from various relatives, but nothing struck me as being *mine*, or inspired me to go find more. But now, I was on a hunt. I would track down and gather up a full set of glasses. It would be a very rewarding hobby for years to come. But to start things off, I found and got enough water goblets and wine glasses for Christmas dinner.
And so it begins. I'm an antiquer. Now, if I can just limit myself to fleshing out this collection of this one crystal pattern, and not start collecting spinning wheels and baskets and cradles, I think I will be ok to be only a little like my granny.
So it begin
*For example, my maternal grandmother let me experiment with pretty much anything that wasn't valuable. Culinary experiments, grafting things into her spider plants, dropping things from different heights to name a few.