My mother is selling an old buffet, the cabinet where the family silver and china were kept for my entire life. This is the stolid, long, blonde wood buffet that begged for my embellishment at the age of six: my name, and my sister's, etched into the side of the buffet in cursive handwriting.

I'd had a hard day, hadn't slept last night much, so I started methodically, in the upper left drawer. There wasn't much there, it had become a junk drawer. Lint roller, knitting needle, empty salt shaker. Okay, I needed the salt shaker.

Middle drawer not much. On to the right drawer: Ah ha - the silver sets. One for me, flower pattern; one for my sister, art deco chevron pattern. My brother took home a really cool spoon commemorating the San Francisco Exposition. It had those words engraved in the handle, and the inside bowl of the spoon was the SF skyline. I'm sure it's worth something.

I packed up two boxes of 50-year-old Desert Rose Franciscan ware. Yum. Ever since I was a kid, I had been told that the Franciscan ware was mine. And today, there I was, packing it up and taking it home, and no one had even died.

While my brother wasn't looking (he was bringing the vacuum cleaner over from next door, from his place), my mother gave me two of those really chubby little old comic books: one was a detective story, and one was my favorite comic when I was little, Flash Gordon! I thought that book had been lost to the ages, but there it was. I wrapped it up quick before my brother came back.

There were some random pieces, like a weird old cleaver and some silver salad spoons that look more like obstetric forceps than anything you'd eat with. Still cool.

Two chairs also came home. They're the ones my dad tripped over and broke his ribs on. Superfluous at the Swanson home. Happy to be in mine.

Best part of tonight's haul? Two-drawer oak dresser. Missing two pulls, but who cares? Tasty. Now the oak sideboard can do its real job and hold the Franciscan ware, and let the dresser hold the clothes. The oak pieces breathe a sigh of relief as they settle into their intended roles.

I have to figure out what things I *don't* need so that these things can have a home here. But that's for another day.