Tillie / Monday, August 1

This is what the reading chair in my office looked like. 

There used to be a stool next to the chair acting as a side table. 

That is, of course, until I realized that Amos was using the bookshelves near the window as a perch. 

Have I mentioned I'm missing two Ukrainian matryoshka dolls. 


The stool now sits under the window.


I'm sure you've surmised: I am lacking in a side table. 


Look how lonely that space seems. 


Tragic, isn't it?


I've spent the last two months looking for just the right table.


Nothing measured up. I felt like Goldilocks, "That one's too tall. That one's too short. That one looks like the hump on Marty Feldman's back."


I realized I didn't want a table, after all, but rather something repurposed in as many senses of the word as possible. 


I put the FargoBFF, Crystal, on alert. 


Boy, did I pick the right chick. 


Crystal, you see, is an estate sale-attending, rummage sale-stalking, garage sale-bustin' mama. She'll find what you want and then she'll get a deal to boot. She's a genius. 


So I'm sitting around one morning and the doorbell rings. 


Those two faces I adore are pressed against the glass, framed by their Mama, little brother and cousin from Beulah. (HI, HANNAH!) 


And what's that in Crystal's hand but the perfect piece for my space! 


It's not supposed to be what we want to use it for. 


And it's obviously well-used. 


And yellow. 


With a name neatly stated on the top and side. 


Say hello to Tillie. 


A flour can in a previous life, sturdy, unexpected, cheery, Tillie is now my constant reading companion. She holds my water glasses without complaint and withstands Amos' advances. 

I love her.

Thank you, Crystal. You're a goodie!