There is a fun  antique  junk  store  place near the Illinois/Wisconsin border.  I don't know the name of the business; it very possibly doesn't have a name.  Most of the time when I'm down in that area there isn't time to stop, or it's closed for the day.  But today I was passing through at a normal time.  The old wooden shop doors were wide open.  And I had time to putter.

This place's owner is an antique dealer/artist/junker that clearly loves being amongst the vintage and often obscure items in his jam-packed store and yard.  He loves to talk about it all.  Today he showed me a pendant made of fossilized dinosaur dung, albeit not for sale.  I did buy two of these "junk jars" filled with old pieces and parts perfect for mixed-media jewelry and collage.  And I spent the rest of my drive thinking about where in my house I could possibly set up that old portable confessional booth.

I have a confession.  The junk man and I, we're sort of kindred spirits.