Over the last few weeks the value of the Canadian dollar has, in the parlance of financial experts, "gone down the crapper." Our government's new slogan is, "The Canadian buck--as colourful as (and just about as valuable as) Monopoly money!"

This has put a significant crimp in the e-Bay side of my Quest For A Teapot Which Does Not Dribble since everything on e-Bay happens in American dollars. At the moment $1 U.S. buys about $552.98 Canadian. Well, maybe not EXACTLY, but the exchange rate is really, really bad.

I can't believe I didn't think of The Big Pink House before this. I drive past this three floors of Victorian wonderfulness that's crammed floor to ceiling with junque every time I go to Vermont to get my mail. I almost ignored it again today but then I finally got one of those cosmic smacks upside the head and went in.

Margot, the lady who owns the place, has seen it all, I'm sure, including teapot obsessed women like me. She did not blink an eyelash when I told her I was looking for a teapot that didn't dribble. She did not twitch when I said that I would want to fill any potential purchases with water and test them for the Dribble Factor. She told me I was welcome to poke through everything in the place and any teapots I might find I could take to the bathroom, fill with water, and give them The Patented Dribble Test.

I've decided I *heart* Margot. If I had had more time I would have gone through her amazing room o' junque jewelry, but I was a woman on a mission and today's mission was The Teapot Quest.

There will be other missions on other days.

It's hard to convey just how packed with stuff this place is--most rooms just had tiny aisles barely wide enough to navigate in. And um, there's no polite way to put this except to say that there is a lot of uhhh crap here along with a few very wonderful things. It's never dusted, so if you are an allergy prone person I'm thinking this place would pretty much qualify as one of the inner rings o' hell.

I felt right at home, which speaks volumes about my housekeeping abilities, eh.

So, anyhow, I saw a lot of teapots that were chipped, cracked, missing lids and um so ugly it almost hurt to look at them. I toyed with bringing this little hunk of bad taste home but knew that my spousal unit would roll his eyes so much that he'd risk serious opticological damage, so I ceased and desisted.

But I wanted to.

I think at the beginning Margot thought I was uhhh how to put this gently ... perhaps a tad "touched" and that my preoccupation with teapot dribble was a little excessive. There was something about the way that she made sure she was always facing me, with an escape door at easy reach, eh ...

But at the end of nearly an hour's worth of teapot testing, she, too, is now aware of the shocking state of teapot design. (Or, conversely, Margot may have just been nodding sympathetically to keep me calm, and incredibly relieved that that crazy Canadian woman who was obsessing about teapots is now out of her shop.) No matter, my quest has been fulfilled.

Behold the only two teapots that managed to make the cut. Unfortunately, as you can see, they are on the plain and boring side, but this is a start. I plan on another mission or two in the future. Surely I can find both beauty and practicality in a teapot I can also afford.

In the meantime, tea, anyone?