Happy as an Elk Sitting on Its Own Portrait

It’s the people, not their paraphernalia, that carry the real value in an episode of Antiques Roadshow (not that I’m an expert).  One lady, for instance, has a carefully honed eye for ornately carved desks, such as one by Dr. Niblack, who fashioned entire desk-and-chair sets, in the style of Western Americana.  The proud owner discovered it in a hotel where she stayed on her way back to Montana.  She made the hotel an offer, but the hotel mangers’ counter-offer was too high—for the moment.  She promised she would get the money, and she asked them to hold the item for her.  The managers, suddenly growing fond of the set, refused; they said they would have to sell it to the first person to cough up three thousand dollars, or not at all.  The woman, determined not to miss this rare opportunity to bring something of value into the state of Montana, ran upstairs to her and her husband’s hotel room to “ask him for a loan” (her words, not mine).  The husband, however, delicately informed her that he would not let her waste one Canadian cent on a piece of junk like that hideous desk or its obnoxiously bovine chair.  A sympathetic, loving conversation ensued.  Then the woman, not to be outdone, hustled across the street to a bank, where she immediately obtained a loan, offering her wedding ring as collateral.  Cash in hand, she ran back to the hotel, whose managers were (as a joke) contemplating carving their names into the desk they would never see again.  Fortunately for Dr. Niblack’s handiwork and its admirers, they refrained.  The woman bought the thing, wrapped it, hauled it onto her truck, and drove to her mountain cabin, happy as an elk sitting on its own portrait.  Although she never saw her husband again, she did later in life appear on the Antiques Roadshow, whose appraisers proudly informed her that Dr. Niblack’s desk was now, after thirty-five years of appreciation (and inflation), worth—wait for it—three thousand dollars.  You have to give the husband credit for calling that one.  The man accurately appraised an original Niblack with no information but that his wife wanted it.  I’d like to see a Roadshow worker try that—not that I’d pay to see it.

Hot Potato, Part V: Moving Morning

So for days now I've had this whole thing going in my head where I present the different "paths"--options for hiring movers, and how many, and for how long, and every other detail imaginable under the sun--as if each was a friend sitting around a poker table.  It was going to be great.  I was going to find innocuous ways to make jabs at Trevor, and say things like:

Hot Potato, Part IV

Here's one for you.

If a 24' Budget truck arrives in Malden, MA at 9 a.m. on Saturday and leaves for the ABF terminal in West Bridgewater, MA (35 miles south-southwest) at 1 p.m. on the same day with 19 linear feet of cargo, when will the boys be home for supper?

Probably never.  (Not a feasible option.)