Love, Polio, and a Corpse.

Here's what I looked like on today's adventure:

Sweater- Thrifted

Dress- Thrifted

Belt- Thrifted

Shoes- hand-me-down from my grandma

Bag- Forever 21

For some reason when I was getting lunch today all these people were staring at my outfit. I didn't think it was that weird. My mom said it was because I look like I walked out of 1973.

The high school girls who were all wearing the exact same outfit (uggs, jeans, and Holister hoodies), kept pointing and snickering. I assume this is because they weren't aware of the existence of originality

Here's what my mom looked like:

Shirt- Target

Jeans- Macy's

Shoe's- Vans (she stepped on a nail in these shoes and the foam from them went into her foot and had to be rinsed out in the ER. She tells me it was as fun as child birth)

Bag- (not the shopping bag) Macy's

My mom has always (aside from a very sad time that ranged from 1989-2004, but can you blame a woman who has 7 kids, home schooled them all, and thought that crazy shenanigans should be daily occurrences (can you see who I take after?) for dressing badly? Especially since it was, like, y'know, the 90's) been very stylish. She had some friend from college looking for her, and somehow this friend found me via my blog (I know random), and she was all, "omg Ashley, you're so old now (cuz I haven't seen the woman since I was like six. crazy how you grow up in like 15 years), and so much like your mom!" Then she went on about how my mom must have passed on her love of fashion to me. I never really thought about mom having a huge love of fashion, but then I realized that the one class from college that she talks about more than anything is the "history of Fashion" class she took as like some Home Ec thing. Of course my mom has a far more sophisticated (a less psychopathic) dressing pattern than me, but yeah, I like to think I inherited her sense of style. I also inherited her abilities to be easily amused, not take crap from people, and to be totally intolerant to stupid women. She also passed on (most) of her crazy ideas, like home/un-schooling, anti-medical procedures, and verging on hippie-ish beliefs in health and medicine. She did not pass on her obsessive love of animals, blood, science, and bugs. Thanks for that mom.

My mom and I went to an estate sale today. I really love estate sales. It's probably the morbid "I wish I could believe in spectral things and haunted houses" part of me. I really love old houses. This is the Victorian house we went to today.

We've both always wanted to see the inside of this house, so we went and got in line for the sale.

Well she stood in line. I took pictures.

It's three stories (3rd floor is servant's quarters complete with servant access stair) but we couldn't get up to the third floor. So on Saturday I'm going to break in up there. I love servant's quarters. probably because every time we've lived in an old house, or looked at old houses, my room was always going to be the servant's room.

I was hoping for some kind of magical secret passage way that I accidentally found. It would be filled with old things, long forgotten. Or a skeleton. It would be of a young woman, my age, who was seduced by the man who lived there (he would have had one of those skinny mustaches). She was a poor girl, who worked as a servant here to help provide for her family: three young brothers and a sister, a mother with cholera, and a drunkard father. And though she knew it was wrong to be secretly seeing this married man, she would fall in love with him. He of course plans to leave his wife, who is a bitter old hag who only married him for his money. But then the wife discovered the plans and confronts the girl (we'll call her Charlotte) and in a fit of rage stabs poor Charlotte in the heart with a hair comb. Theodora (the haggish wife) then hides the girls body in a secret passageway and tells her husband that Charlotte has left. The man (he'll be called Edward), is heart broken and searches for Charlotte endlessly. However, it soon becomes evident that Theodora's story is not true when the local police come asking if they have seen Charlotte lately. Theodora continues with her story that Charlotte has left, but Edward doubts this. Besides there is a strangely horrid stench coming from behind a wall in the kitchen. Theodora refuses to change her story, and Charlotte becomes and unsolved murder in the little town of Riverside. Eventually Theodora dies of Polio, and Edward helplessly continues his search for the only woman he ever loved. He would then die of a broken heart.

Then low an behold, an attractive, unsuspecting young woman, who looks curiously like poor Charlotte, would stumble upon her remains, solving the hundred year old mystery. She'd become a national hero and Rob Pattinson would then propose to her.

I can't believe I just typed all that up. But I totally have the plot for my next novel.

My goals were to find anything I could put up in the store (which I'm working on this weekend), anything I could use for me, and any maple furniture. Here's a funny story. When I move out of the house, I will already have enough furniture to fill my own. No joke. Let me explain. My great grandparents are basically my hero's. They were married for 60 some years before my grandpa died. If you haven't already figured this out, I don't really get along with my extended family, save my great grandparents. My Grandpa died in 2003. We all miss him very much. He was the jolliest man you'd have ever met, and I wish everyone had gotten the chance to meet him. My great grandma is a fighter. She has all kinds of health problems, and each year she gets worse and worse, and as horrible as it sounds we're all poised for her to pass away. Trust me NO ONE wants that, but she is almost 90, and it's a fact of life that we are prepared for. My grandma was a Rosie the Riveter during WWII (my grandpa was in the navy, stationed in Idaho (yes Idaho) and was getting ready to be deployed when the war ended). She used to tell me stories about her mother when she was growing up and about all kinds of crazy things she did. My mom and I are both alot like her, and both very close to her. We have a picture of her from when she was really young and holy crap she was beautiful! My mom looks so much like her and I look like my mom, so... But anyways. My grandparents lived in the Brady-rific house from the 60's until they had to move in with my mom's parents back in 2000. I loved that house. They lived there since my mom was five. Almost every holiday was spent there and I have so many wonderful memories from that house. The whole house had maple furniture. My mom loved the stuff and knew that once I was older (and less teenage angsty) I would too. So she kept a bedroom set from their house for me. It's just a headboard, dresser, full mirror, desk, and chair, but it's beautiful. I currently use all but the headboard in my room. So then when my grandparents moved to arizona, they were getting rid of a whole bunch of other furniture they'd kept, and I stole it. I told my grandmas that under no circumstances were they to get rid of the maple love seat and chair that I very distinctly remember being held in as a toddler (take that Freud). So now that is also sitting in our garage waiting for me to bring it on an adventure. I think there might be a few other pieces I confiscated, but I don't remember. Well we went looking for maple things today and found squat. We're pretty sure this house was a museum at one time and so most of the stuff was old museumy stuff. There was nothing of the vintage clothing they promised. I did manage to find a pretty chemise to sell but it was wayyyy over priced. My mom found a few things she liked, but not much. We're going back Saturday because everything is half off and we're just going to see what's left. Maybe my piano that I fell in love with?

I'll post the rest of the pics I took from the place later.