If you're not knitting, the terrorists win

(My mostly on-topic ramblings about knitting. And life in general. My life in specific.)

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Location: Indiana, United States

I'm a middle aged mother of 2 grown children and wife to a man who doesn't seem to mind my almost heroin-like yarn addiction. I spend my time writing, knitting, and generally stressing out.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Shopping Trip - To The Auction

I decided to try something a little different this week and go to an auction. I wasn't really looking for anything in particular. Just wanted to see what a large auction house would hold. And, you know, see what the auction was like.

I've been to auctions before, you know. There was that time in early high school when Angie and I went to an estate auction and somehow tricked her dad into bidding on (and winning) a box full of rusty railroad spikes.

So, as you can well imagine, I was up for some fun at the auction house.

Wow. If you have never been to a large auction house, you should go. Just for the sheer, overwhelming eye rape that you will experience. And the torrent of creative juices that wondering what the story behind the items will initiate.

Like this terracotta statue of a Chinese horse. (Or Chinese statue of a horse, if you prefer.) This is a heavy, hand sculpted (you could see up close) statue, with plenty of patina. It looks like those terracotta horses that were discovered from the Qin Shi Huang dynasty along with thousands of terracotta soldiers. There were some words crafted into the base, which I couldn't read because, presumably, they were in Chinese.

But then I thought... What if the words were a curse? Wasn't the terracotta army buried as part of some sort of necropolis, similar to the Egyptian pyramid complexes? Didn't the pyramid tombs have curses on them? What if this horse came from the estate of some dead adventurer--someone who wasn't supposed to have this horse? What if reading these words sets off the curse? What if I don't even have to understand the words to set off the curse? What if the words are a warning, or a safeguard to defend against the curse?

Well then, I'm screwed.

The next table held its share of cursed items, as well. Cursed violin. (Obviously. Why else would you get rid of a violin?)


Cursed.. um... cudgel?




Cursed gun.

I was so distracted by all the sights--Star Trek memorabilia and Lost Collector's Set of DVDs and He-Man action figures, side by side with depression-era glass, silver tea sets, porcelain dolls, and surplus military helmet liners and socks. (And why are these surplus, I'd like to know? Don't we have troops who can use this stuff?)--that I didn't notice this giraffe until I was this close.

I'm not embarrassed by that, though. Giraffes are widely known in the animal kingdom for their stealth. It's why they're an apex predator.

Suddenly, I felt like I was being watched. Big time. But I saw nobody close by. Just this creepy statue of an angel. Then, I blinked.
And it was time to go.

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