David and I went to a garage sale two weeks ago where I fell in love with a dollhouse, of all things. It was the floor in the kitchen that first caught my eye. Soon, in spite of the fact that it’s missing a roof and windows (and where would we put it?) I was pretty sure I couldn’t live without it.

Having recently seen an episode of “Hoarders,” I struggled with my resolution not to buy anything that might eventually become part of a nightmarish split level with jungle pathways through mounds of refuse piled to the ceiling. Plus, it was marked $30, which is more (of David’s money) than I feel comfortable spending at a garage sale.

Magnus Jewel Mini Chord Organ and Theremin

In case you thought I was kidding about the organ

So we did what any sensible non-hoarding couple would do, we hemmed and hawed for a long, long time, and then asked if the proprietor would throw in their partially functional Magnus Jewel chord organ for free. The sale man went into the house to ask his wife, and came back to report that no, she wouldn’t deal on the dollhouse but we could have the chord organ for $2. We left toting our prizes, with me envisioning aloud how I was going to act out scenes in the dollhouse with my figurine collection, and accompany it somehow with eerie chord organ and Theremin compositions that I was going to set out recording right away, that day.

Well, I did try, but my eerie musical imaginings didn’t pan out… yet.

Various members of the figurine family have taken up residence in the doll house, which is now semi-permanently displayed on my drawing desk in the living room. (I have to put sheets of paper behind the windows when I take photos so the colored pencils don’t show in the background.)

I did a little research, and concluded that my awesome dollhouse is indeed pretty awesome. It’s a Keystone small “put away” model, from the late 40s, apparently. I found at least one person who collects Keystone dollhouses on the web, and in the process uncovered a cool dollhouse blog by an artist who seems to share my sensibilities to some extent (There seems to be a subtle Bob Dobbs informed undercurrent in his play style…).

Meanwhile, David and I have been watching with some interest the antics that unfold in our own house. I promised him that if I got tired of playing with it, I’d get rid of it (still reeling from the Hoarders episode) but I have a feeling that won’t be any time soon.

You know how everybody is always saying, “Find what you love, and do it — and eventually everything will fall into place” (and you kind of want to sock them)? How far can you go with that, I wonder?

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