The Loneliest Number

Shortly after we decided that, oh my gosh, oh my goodness, oh my golly, relics of American domesticity were uh-mazingly interestingly and ever so useful to have around the house, we had to face the fact that thrifting alone wasn't going to cut it. Sure, every so often you hit the jackpot and come back with a casserole, maybe even a roasting pan if you're lucky (oh that reminds me - note to self: take a photo of your roasting pan), but those days can be far and few between, separated by numerous trips that end in disappointment. Better to go to the source: The Estate Sale.

To this day, I still find estate sales somewhat intimidating and/or uncomfortable events. They are a completely new scene to me and more often than not the folks hosting the sale are close relatives of the former owner. Nothing seems more awkward and insincere than, "My condolences on your loss. Um, okay I'm going to tromp back to your kitchen now. Would you take $2 for this?"

So imagine my surprise when we arrive bright and early at our first "we planned to be here" estate sale (yes, technically this came from an estate sale too, but it looked like a yard-sale at the time and the purveyor didn't even know the deceased) and run upon a mob of elbows-out, doorway shoving patrons clamoring over each other to get the goods. We had serious doubts about entering the fray.

But as soon as the door opened, I saw this sitting on the counter-top:

A perfect condition casserole with lid. Okay. Now here is where all of you get to go, "Are you kidding me?!?!" Because the other one was there too. It was $4 for the pair. And, get this, I didn't buy the second one because the lid had a chip in it. Yep. That's right. It actually had a lid. I must have been under some deluded notion that one never, ever, ever found lids all on their lonesome and without a glass topper it would be somehow "incomplete." And who needed a duplicate anyway? Pffph. So I walked right out with my one perfectly pretty piece and didn't think twice. Until I learned that it was the 1959 Buffet Twins promotional casserole set - oh that's right. Set. A pair. As in two. As in - the other one that I left behind.

Talk about kicking yourself. But I was (kinda still am) a novice. It was a rookie error. Now I have an entire box of miscellaneous lids that I will one day match to a base. I didn't know any better. Oh yeah, I passed up a Spring Blossom butter dish too. Won't be making those mistakes again.

I did find a few other things that have been happily re-homed across the country - a set of Harvest Gold Tupperware measuring spoons and a yellow Foley jar-opener - and a gift for my grandmother (an occupied Japan teacup/saucer) but nothing else as awe inspiring as that which I had walked away from.

Fortunately, the story doesn't end there. See, months later my fiance wanted to make amends for something that is completely irrelevant and, being the good man that he is, knew the best way to make an apology isn't with flowers (although I love those too) but with Pyrex. He had found the long-lost mate and brought it back so the two could be reunited. How romantic!

So there they are, back together. Stacked so nicely atop one another in the pantry.

I actually suspect that this is the original pair that I had seen together - that whomever found it at the sale after I so callously left it there simply replaced the lid, brought it to his or her booth and marked it up. And that's okay. Because in this case it was the thought not that counted - not the bargain.

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