The recent Willamette grad and Art History major joined me at the Fairfax Flea Market, a hipster magnet and yuppie haven for fancy fair and friperie bargain hunting.

“I love this lamp… the angel moulding,” Emily points out a replicated Victorian tchotchke fit for an oompa-loompa Bubbee in Miami.  Every Sunday, the converted, high-school parking lot hosts a panoply of treasures: a pair of white plastered pheasants caught our eyes, price 75$; as well as a crate of golden charms plated from old bullet casings, $5 each; and a galore of kitchy snapshots from random family albums, three for a buck.

If you’re an expert at haggling with seasoned rat packs or if you’re a dumpster-diving, garage-sale-hopping fiend, then a visit to the Fairfax High Flea Market is a must.  Note, there is a 2$ entrance fee (funds go to the high school).

The matters of compartmentalizing and organizing hobbies from profession and passion with profession are reflected in my new found past time: blogging.  For the same reasons in separating political commentary from random jots and accounts of my day to day, I have decided to create sister/brother blogs.

Le Curmudge takes care of the more narcissistic traits and the art farts in a whimsical undulation.  At times, I’ll try to be more prosaic, other times, I may just lay it out in rhyme.

Meanwhile, The Eremite will be purely journalistic and at times academic in tone.  Maybe I’m being too much of a perfectionist, but I just couldn’t fathom a blog with an entry regarding the IAEA Report on Iran’s nuclear potentials juxtaposed with my angsty renditions of “Thanatopsis.”

I don’t know how the almighty Monocle does it.

puncto