Des Plaines Doo-Dads

This Des Plaines ranch was filled with little bits and pieces of Americana from the second half of the twentieth century. It was a treasure trove for the right person, a junk heap for anyone else.

The perfect gift for that new TGIF's waiter in your life.

For the woman with a perspiration problem and a love of vintage clothes.

For someone who just can't get enough of empty boxes.

For someone with bothersome roots. One question, though: If it kills the root, why do you have to use it once a year?

For anyone who missed the last twenty years of National Geographic.

Ideal for the wardrobe department of Mad Men.

Just the thing for weighing down that bag before you throw it into the Des Plaines River.

Something a lot of people could benefit from.

The Correct Pronunciation

This little guide to today's manners was found in Des Plaines.

I'm sure Luella had to tell everyone she met, "It's pronounced 'cyoo-ming'."

Des Plaines in Bloom

Spring is almost here! In honor of its imminent arrival we're offering up this tiny Des Plaines ranch with a garden's worth of blooms inside.

But first, there's something about old ovens that brings out the June Cleaver in me. This is a Chambers "Custom Gas" model, a brand I've never heard of. A little Internet research shows that it was reintroduced in 2007 to little fanfare, and apparently no longer exists.

It was found in this kitchen, where the wallpaper matched the drapes, which match my nightmares.

We'll move along in a moment. But first, I thought I'd rub your nose in this just a bit longer.

Okay, that's enough.

No it's not.

And... cut to the sun room.

I don't know what I like better. The upholstery on the rattan furniture.

Or these Dukes of Hazzard serving trays on the sofa. (Combined retail value on Ebay: $30-$60.)

Or these TV trays nearby.

You don't run across items like this every day on the estate sale circuit. Honestly, to me, this is beautiful and hideous at the same time. It's like meeting someone who's unattractive but really good in bed.

Okay, one more and done: This is not the first time I've found one of these.

Des Plaines General Store

This was another of those estate sales with a line to wait in, which is something I usually don't do. But the last one was so successful I figured that, maybe, this one would be something out of the ordinary, too.

This was a room full of women's shoes. The story goes that the man who used to live here had always wanted to open a store.

He embarked upon this dream -- which is in no way outrageous or mock-worthy -- by collecting lots of merchandise from here and there.

Some of it -- like the women's shoes -- was new. Some, not-so.

Apparently, he'd stocked the house with it.

And the garage. Those are sleeping bags up there on the top shelf. Dozens of them.

I'm not sure exactly what sort of store it was going to be.

There was a lot of hardware.

Including this bin of assorted hammers.

And handsaws.

There were a lot of antiques, too.

The kind of things I hadn't seen since the last time I watched Brazil.

The only problem was, he never actually opened the store.

But here's the irony: in a way, his dream kind of came true. Only he wasn't there to see it.

Des Plaines DIY Special

Here lived a handyman, a jack-of-many-trades and a master of some. A man who would rather do it himself than pay someone to do it for him. And someone who was not averse to living with the consequences.

We begin in the garage. What in the world is that on the walls?

Successful sponge painting calls for a certain technique. This is not it. Unless you're going for that random-growths-of-mold look. In that case, congratulations. Because you nailed it.

Paneled family room, circa nineteen something-something.

Well, hello gorgeous! That solid turquoise helmet you're wearing must weigh a ton!

I was tempted to buy this lamp and donate it to my local Indian restaurant.

There's a basement? Let's check it out.

A basement workshop? Even better.

Wow -- someone was into clocks.

Clocks of all shapes and sizes.

Making clocks. Repairing clocks.

Also, clock rugs.

When the beginning or end of daylight savings time rolls around, resetting this thing becomes an all-day affair.

Among the editors at the Horological Times, this is considered a sexy cover.

It was time to leave. I turned to climb the stairs and saw this. It gives a whole new meaning to the term "watch your step." After all, how could you not?