I love antique shops.  I could spend hours and hours in a good one, and lose myself to time.

Today found a few treasures... an art deco (I love art deco) thermostat (yeah, I just wanted it for the cool clock face, but I'll probably end up using it as a bookend, unless I can wire it for batteries), a pretty sweet 1907 windup alarm clock that still works, and the piece de resistance (I wish I knew the shortcuts for accents), a 1931 Victrola portable phonograph player that still works.  I got a few phonographs, as well, lest I have nothing to play on my new toy.  It was $44, and money well spent, if only for the wide-eyed, gape-mouthed expression I must've made when it produced its first crooning tones for us.  SO COOL!  I couldn't have left without it.

And then, just moments later, some random young guy wandered into the store, saw what we were oohing and ahhing over, and began to tell us all kinds of things about the machine.  A remarkable twist of serendipitous fabric, he turned out to know pretty much everything about phonographs... Edison vs. Victrola, steel needles vs. Tungs-tone, 45s vs. 78s, etc, etc.  He went on and on... from the felt being made out of mohair, to the springs inside being about 30 feet long, and covered in graphite.  Anyway,  I now have a personal expert to help me out whenever I have a question about my new, old turntable.

I love the sound of this thing.  Got me some Heifitz, some Bizet, a one-step, a two-step, a couple fox trots, a blues, and a handful of other fun little gems.  Can't wait to give it a good crank, and sit back in my chair with a chilled martini in hand.  I don't really drink martinis, but I'll do it once or twice for effect... pretend that F. Scott Fitzgerald is over for cocktails or something.

And I now have a frame of reference for that sound they put in movies of a record dying, and then being wound back up.  You know that sound I'm talking about?

Here we go, Day 134: