My parents have long had an, ahem, healthy obsession with antiquing. As a child, they would herd me and my sisters into our family's Chrysler and speed off to the nearest antique shop; for my Mom and Dad, this was heaven, a sunny afternoon with the girls and the prospect of finding hidden treasures. For me, it was a veritable hell. We would spend hours combing shelf after dusty shelf, get lost in endless crooked hallways jammed full with merchandise, and stub our toes on old dressers shoved into damp, dark basements.
But one day, probably on our 1,978th trip to the Rollermills Antique Barn in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania, something clicked. I don't know if it was the vintage sheet music with quirky hand-drawn cover art, the rows of old books, their covers rich with color and soft around the edges from years of use, or the simple charm of rooms stuffed to the gills with well-loved items, but I started to view our antiquing trips differently. I slowly started making my own purchases, and before long I was hooked. Now, I can outlast both my Mom and Dad on any trip to the antique store.
My taste for antiques can unfortunately be divided into two very impractical groups: furniture and painted pottery. You'd think cramped city-living would hinder my inclination to collect these things, but I've seemed to make it work so far. I won't hinder you with details of all the rickety furniture I seem to be drawn to. Instead, take a peek at some of my favorite painted pottery pieces I've collected over the years.
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