Impossible Souvenirs

Steven and I took a vacation on the Maine coast and in NB last week. It was really amazing, in all ways. Natural bounty, and all the junk I could desire. I should have known I was doomed when halfway through the first day we found this:



It was on the way to Mount Desert Island, and literally one tenth of what a good, antique soapstone or slate sink goes for. Massive, just like I've always wanted ... notice how it's actually wider than the shipping pallet it's on? I nearly ripped my hair out. Then came the cast iron urn:



Even worse! Fulfillment of my dreams for an overgrown, Edward Gorey Victorian garden one step closer, in hulking iron form. It weighed about as much as a refrigerator, and I immediately had dreams of a dwarf fig growing in it, surrounded by a mound of moss. And once again, on sale and cheap. Then things took a ludicrous turn:



I can't justify this, but the crown moldings of this house museum in St. Andrew, NB, were begging to be stolen, or flagrantly copied. I've never seen examples so crisp. Look at the egg-and-dart, like a row of tongues! The curator said this was because they had only been painted twice in nearly 200 years. Such high relief. Ugh.



Do you think the Historical Society in Grand Manan would miss this? It's not being used or anything. It just didn't occur to me to rent a truck for this vacation.