Last week, Hubby and I took a detour to Virginia City, Nevada. You know, that town the Cartwrights were always riding into...
We didn't have the kids with us, so I was hoping to get a glimpse of The Suicide Table. We've driven past the billboards for it so many times over the years and my husband wouldn't let me take the kids into a saloon -- which is pretty much a gift shop in the middle of the afternoon, so I'm still convinced it would've been okay.
It turned out that the Delta Saloon, home of the suicide table, blew up in March. The table has been moved across the street, but without the fancy signs detailing its history.
There are a few antique shops in town and if I ever wanted a rotary phone, it's this one! Isn't that so much better than the one the boys brought home last month?
The envelope in the middle of the top shelf has dirt from Lizzie Borden's basement...for a hundred and fifty dollars.
What I didn't know that I desperately need is a Victorian pickle castor. What do you think the odds of finding one at an estate sale are? Because I'm definitely not going to pay the prices the antique shop wanted.
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