The other day when my family was here for a Mother's Day lunch, I discovered this deviled egg plate next to my kitchen sink. It was a gift from my stepfather, Scott. I could tell by looking at it that it wasn't something new so I asked him where he got it. He said "you don't want to know" but after gentle prodding, he told me. The guy at the dump gave it to him the day before. Here in Central Vermont, most people bring their own trash to the transfer station. Most people still say "the dump". In fact there's a local radio station, WDEV, that has a program on Saturday mornings called "Music to go to the Dump By". You have to love rural life! My husband listens every Saturday to songs like "I Just Don't Look the Same Anymore", "The Mom Song", and a personal favorite, "The Proctologist Song".
Going to the dump is almost a social occasion on the weekend. Almost. Sometimes you get the local gossip. Sometimes, you receive a gift. I'm going to treasure mine.
What a treasure in the trash! You guys know how to do everything right up there. I listen to Mr. Snodgrass discuss horticulture on my way to the dump. And the dump dude would have to give you something because if you so much as dare to look at anything to take, they're all over you like, well, I won't say it.
ReplyDeleteDid Scott soak it in bleach? Are you going to?
About the sanitary nature of the plate--oh yes, it has already gone through the dishwasher and will be cleaned again prior to any use. Bleach wouldn't be a bad idea given it's origin!
ReplyDeleteWhat a treasure. When we use to live in a small rural town in Northern Ont. we could go to the dump too. Besides local gossip and at times a few finds, we also had the bears to contend with. Our kids loved it. Thanks for the wonderful memories.
ReplyDeleteHeck, after a good cleaning who cares where he got it. It's lovely.
ReplyDeleteSo, when are you making deviled eggs?
Lenn