The $100 bill

The $100 bill

Who ever finds a $100 bill. . . .in a bank?

I did!

At first, I thought surely it was a gimmick promotion, but it really looked genuine, so I turned it in to the bank teller. After six weeks, no one had claimed it, so it was mine to spend however I wished.

Such a dilemma. This was back when bread was less than 30 cents a loaf (yes, I’m that old), so $100 went a long way. That purchase had to be special, and the first one was fabric to sew a beautiful wool coat with a hood. I’d sewn couture patterns in the past, and the coat turned out great.

There was money left over, for something totally outside my normal choices, so I bought a scroll saw, and, wow, was it noisy.

I’ll never know what possessed me to think of it, yet that saw inspired so much handcrafting. I made doll house furniture and sold it. I made bigger, doll sized tables, benches and cupboards and sold them.

Soon I graduated to making Early American Primitive dollhouse furniture miniatures, finished with red, blue, or green milk paint, and antiqued them as though hard used. Those sold also.

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