I found this pint sized dish drain in my daughters flower garden, full of dirt and weeds, half under the shrubs. For me, it was the equivalent of happening upon a stray kitten in the yard. You all know this kitten-young enough to pierce your heart with it’s adagio of meowing, crafty enough to position itself in just the perfect amount of peril to flash tomorrows terrifying headline:  Kitten in distress meets neighbors Jack Russell terrier.

I grabbed the dish drain.

Once I had it tucked neatly into the back seat of Eddie, I had myself a bout of shopping nostalgia, remembering when and where I bought the adorable, but useless dish drain, three or four houses ago. No matter how many catalogues you get, or how many malls you live near, or how much stuff you already have, it’s a great thing to have a place to shop close by, where you’re always sure to find something to lift your spirits immediately.

Many years spent painting and glazing my way across the great mansions of Long Islands north shore were made tolerable for me, simply because there was an Anthropologie on my way home. On a really hot summer day, when the walls wouldn’t dry or the glaze would “go-off”, a days worth of sweat running down my arms before lunch, I’d comfort myself with the promise of a pit stop at Anthropologie. Sometimes, it was simply a fancy candle. On a more grueling day, maybe I’d buy a flowery dishtowel. What I bought never really mattered. What mattered was I could have it, right there, that day, right on my way home.

I remember a job lasting a few weeks glazing miles and miles of entry hall walls. The owners hairy and shedding Golden Retriever insisted on getting under our ladders, and leaning against the wet meticulously oil glazed walls. We found ourselves a tennis ball, and each took turns rolling it under a table, just beyond the dogs reach. Being a very smart Golden, the dog perfected his technique, and kept returning to the drop cloths with the ball.  By the second week, we were all practicing our best Liza Minnelli impersonation, making up the lyrics as we practiced: “Why can’t they let the dog out, please put the dog out, has anyone seen the dog glazed in red?”

I’ll never need to buy another kitchen apron again.

I’ve had a go-to shop everywhere I’ve ever lived, except for now. I did have one for a while though, which is where the tiny dish drain came from. I miss my friend Amanda, who has the finest taste, and runs a wonderful shop a’la ABC Carpet and Home, chock full of goodies. Schuyler Pond was like my Cheers-everybody knew my name, and what I preferred to buy. No matter the weather or reason, I was always certain to find a little something there to make me smile, and perk up the house.

Schuyler Pond…my north county Anthropologie, right around the corner.

So while I’ve been making do with Home Goods, the hardware store, and the Salvation Army, I’m determined to mend a fence over in Schuylerville, because it’s unlikely I’ll discover I’ve left behind any dishtowels or kitchen aprons in my daughter’s garden. I have a vague recollection of a ladder to no-where though…it’s been calling to me-it’s probably still leaning against a tree, right where I left it, high on a hill in a yard in Saratoga…yes, just past the pond…I’m coming little ladder.

For those in search of a real live Kitten, here’s a pair that really need a home.

Contact Cheryl Lawyer by clicking on one of the kittens