Best In MIniature

Last Monday, I was getting ready for work. The last step is usually to put on all my rings before I head out the door. I love rings—I wear them on five different fingers and both thumbs (great for drumming along to songs on my steering wheel) and I’d like to wear them on all my fingers but I think we all agree that would be overkill. Most of them are sterling silver bands of different types, and over the years, Ken has treated me to a couple of Tiffany’s sterling bands, which are my pride and joy. So I was putting on my rings, and I fumbled the last one. It fell, hit the edge of the cupboard, landed on the floor and rolled towards the kitchen island. “Ah damn!” I muttered as I dropped to my knees, just as the ring disappeared under the edge of the island. But the island has skirting board surrounding it, so I wasn’t too concerned—just scoop it back up and put it on, right? But when I peered under the edge of the island, it was nowhere to be seen. I was perplexed—had it careened off the skirting board and ended up somewhere else? Time was getting tight—I never leave for work a second before I have to, and any delay will make me very late. So I did what any normal person would do—I yelled for Ken:

Me: I need help!
Ken (loping down from upstairs): What’s wrong?
Me: My ring—the one that looks like a laurel wreath—rolled under the island and now it’s gone. Can you help me look?

He looked under the island and couldn’t see it either. Then he scoured the kitchen with me, shaking out rugs, moving aside furniture—no ring. He pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight to look under the island again.

Ken: There’s a hole under here from when we moved the sink to the other end.
Me: THAT hole? No way it’s big enough for a ring to fall down. I mean what are the chances that a ring could roll across the floor in a perfect line towards that hole and then manage to fall down it without getting stuck? (Puts finger in hole) See, my finger barely fits and I’m doing it on purpose. A ghost took it. That’s the only explanation. I have to go to work—can you stand in the middle of the kitchen and yell “Give it back!” for me?
Ken: The hole goes down into the basement. I’ll take a look and call you if I see it.

On the drive to work, I was pretty distraught. It was one of my favourite rings and fairly expensive, and after about ten minutes, I pre-emptively called Ken.

Me: Did you find it?
Ken: Maybe…
Me: Where are you?
Ken: The basement. You know the old cistern down there? I think I see something glinting in the far corner of it.
Me: Oh no! How can we get it out?
Ken: The only thing I can do is climb up over the wall and crawl into the cistern.
Me: What?! Wait until I get home.
Ken: No, it’s okay. Give me a minute—I need a broom to sweep away all the cobwebs and then I’ll get the ladder. I’ll call you back.
Me: I’m not hanging up until you’re out of the cistern!

And then he put the phone in his pocket. I could hear the muffled sounds of him moving around, the ladder being brought into the house, and then a lot of clanging and grunting. Then “I got it!”

Me: It WAS my ring?! OMG. Wait, are you out of the cistern yet?
Ken: No, I put my phone on the ledge. I must have been in here before because there’s a milk crate by the wall that I can stand on to get out. Give me a sec…sh*t, I’m stuck!
Me: What?!! Hang on honey, I’m turning around and coming home!
Ken (laughing): Just kidding. I’m out. And I have your ring. I can’t believe it fell through that tiny hole and ended up in the cistern. Good job it was dry.

Good job, indeed. And now, I can never get mad at him again. I mean, he CRAWLED INTO A COBWEBBY BASEMENT CISTERN for me.

In other news, since Ken and I both got so invested in the miniatures show I told you about last week, for Valentine’s Day, Ken got me one of those Book Nook kits and let me tell you—it’s the best thing ever. This one is a little bookstore, and we just finished building it. It’s quite addictive–in fact, I’ve already ordered another one, and if things go well, I might be auditioning for Best In Miniature Season 4.

I had the coolest experience last week. A woman came into the antique market with a guy, and as they went around the corner past the showcases, I had an epiphany. “I know her!” I said to my co-worker. “I’m almost positive that she was on Season 2 of this TV show that Ken and I love to watch!”

And what show would that be? It’s called ‘Best In Miniature’. It’s a competition show where miniaturists (that’s people who make miniature things, not tiny people) compete for $15 000 Canadian, which is a lot of Bordens (that’s the Canuck equivalent of Benjamins) even once you factor in the exchange rate. Also, in Canada, you don’t have to pay income tax on prize winnings, so you get to keep it ALL. And the show is awesome—they start with the contestants each building a tiny house in whatever style they want, and then each week, they have to create the stuff for each of the different rooms in their house. In Season 1, there was a guy who created an entire tiny Edwardian mansion complete with a miniature floor-to-ceiling library, and you can imagine how I reacted to THAT. Anyway, I was sure this woman was from Season 2 of the show, but I didn’t want to just come out and ASK her—I mean, what if she wasn’t, and then she would think I was some nutbar with a dollhouse obsession? So I broached it like this:

Me: Hi there, how are you today?
Woman: Great, how are you?
Me: Good, good. So are you looking for anything specific today? Perhaps…miniatures?
Woman (smiles): Miniatures…interesting that you should say THAT.
Me: Are you…?
Woman (smile gets bigger): Possibly…
Me: YOU ARE! YOU’RE FROM THAT SHOW!!

And she was LOVELY. She let me ramble on about how much I loved the show, and told me all kinds of interesting details about where and how it was shot (4 days for each episode), how they had to have any supplies approved by the producers, how they all had to go out after the first episode and buy their own utility knives because the ones provided by the show weren’t sharp enough—I was in 7^th heaven.

And having her in the store was SO much better than Gangrene Man, who made not one, not two, but three appearances last week, still on the hunt for rings for his ‘lady’. He was no longer wearing any kind of protective wrap over his stump, and it—and he—was looking even more unhealthy than before. At a certain point, we all decided that there was no ‘lady’—that he was buying all those rings and reselling them or something. Then on Thursday, I wasn’t working, but I got a text from my co-worker:

CW: G-man is back. And he brought ‘his lady’ with him!
Me: OMG, she’s real! What’s she like?
CW: She’s just walking around and pointing at stuff, and he’s buying it all for her!
Me: At least one of them can point omg I’m going to hell for that.

There ought to be a show about this too—hit me up with some good names.

In other news, the first book from Baxter House Editions has just been released: The Places We Haunt by Cecilia Kennedy. Here’s the synopsis of this very cool book:

“When a pastry-obsessed ghost follows Audrey M. K. Summons back to her apartment, Audrey feels compelled to write the story—along with a few others she has collected. The resulting manuscript becomes The Places We Haunt, which a literary scholar discovers when Audrey dies. To the scholar’s surprise, the pages magically fill with more stories from beyond the grave, so she publishes the book in order to put Audrey’s spirit to rest. This collection of 13 eclectic dark tales takes place in museums, swimming pools, houses, restaurants, the cemetery, and outdoors in nature. The stories told are sometimes humorous, absurd, pensive, or cautionary. Those who tell them, don’t even realize they’re dead.“

And you can by it here!