My parents went to Guthrie and all they brought back was this antique desk chair

Cast of characters
SO: spouse, significant other
Bill Nye, LegoGuy: oldest child
Wolfgang Amadeus Sport: youngest child

Okay, so I've waffled for another 48 hours before attempting a second post. I can't figure out why I'm so hesitant about writing, although some of it stems from the hysteria-ridden news reports of people being hunted down by internet predators. Looks like the best blogs are those that are cloaked in anonymity. Therefore, friends and family members will be given nicknames. I apologize in advance to those who feel my nicknames are too specific, not specific enough, are unfair, are stereotypical, or whatever. Get over it; it's for your own protection. Do you really want to wake up one morning, bound in duct tape and stuffed in the closet of some maniac's country sex-shack?

SO and I took a much-needed "parenting break" early this week. We dropped BN LegoGuy and WA Sport off at Nana's, and after a short drive north we ended up in Guthrie. It's been gussied up fairly well in the last 10 years, each red brick lovingly restored and polished. There's more antique stores than you can shake a stick at, and I've never seen so many knick-knacks cleaned up and displayed as "collectibles." I could write quite a few mocking paragraphs on the nature of these tchotchkes (mismatched, overpriced, downright goofy), but I'd probably alienate one of the handful of readers who might come across my blog, so I won't.

The retreat was great, and SO found a Victorian novel he was hankering for... then, inexplicably, he put it back. I think the hunt was more fun than the actual aquisition. I made him go get it the next morning. And while he was trying to relocate it once again, I fell in love.

It was a swivel desk chair (circa 1920-1940?), made of oak, burnished by the shifting of countless buttocks to the color of butternut squash, with tiny rubber wheels worn down to a nub. A note on the price tag said it had come from the Tulsa World newspaper office. And it was on sale! It was beautiful: such charm, such character, so much history.

Since we were having a really good time, it wasn't hard to convince SO that it would be a perfect chair for his computer area. And in the waning afternoon light, back at home, it looked perfect.

The boys were a bit baffled as we displayed our new find. Luckily, they are getting a little too old to demand presents every time we are out of sight for more than 8 hours. And no, we didn't get them anything to compensate for the purchase of the chair...except a day-old, stale M&M cookie.

They were happy to eat it.