drifting on the magic carpet: memories of that pleasantly acrid, smoky cap gun paper smell after we used ’em up in a shootout and headed to grandma’s for windmill cookies

A case of the blahs at the Fremont Sunday Market: Lackluster-looking and not least of all because Sinister Guy cryptically warned Adam (who was being exceedingly careful and polite with the rusty piece of junk in his hands such that it bordered on comical) in the event a piece in the assemblage of old-time cap guns was broken when its hammer was pulled back could possibly turn out to be worth upwards of $200. Ugh. The boys blushed and nodded graciously.  The looking may have been so-so this particular morning but golly we fixed that browsing the basement of the Fremont Vintage Mall- that’s always fun! We like it there. The ratty settee I almost brought home a couple months ago was gone.  Wish I’d gotten it. Currently, we have a furniture-falling-apart problem starting with our twenty year old sofa. At any rate, the boys had fun goofing off with a Speak and Spell in the shop before we departed for a social engagement across town on Beacon Hill.

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