Not much happenin’ here

This is the obligatory post of the weekend finds. Sorry I’m not more interesting these days.

Friday was pretty much a dud. I don’t usually shop the local yard sales. It seems the last few years it’s the same people, same yards and same crap, rinse and repeat, year after year. No, I prefer the unknown of the Big City. But I don’t generally do regular yard sales there, either. Friday, there was nothing going locally, but there was a church rummage sale advertised in Birmingham. I felt like I owed it to myself to at least try that one.

It was about a 55 mile drive to get to the church. GPS lady lead me right to it, no problem. There was a “yard sale” sign at the entrance of the parking lot. Oh, boy! But, where was everyone?? There was one vehicle parked and one slowly leaving. I circled the parking lot wondering what the heck was going on? I’d double checked the day and time, it being the only reason I was venturing that far. Was it on the other side of the church? But where? Maybe it was a church across the street or something and they inexplicably put the sign at that parking entrance? As I circled and headed toward the exit, a truck slowly pulled in, circled and slowly got behind me. Then I got a better look at the sign. NEXT WEEK???!!! It did NOT say that in the paper. It didn’t give a date. I looked!

What was left to do to salvage the day? Not much.Thought I’d head to a thrift store across town, but I sure needed to tinkle. Real bad. Stopped at a gas station, wandered around the inside and finally asked if they had a restroom. “Outside, around on the left. The key’s on the wall over there.” Here’s where I just want to run away and hide. You see, I have to be pretty desperate to use the outside potties at gas stations. I wasn’t quite that desperate. Yet. But instead of just leaving, I made a face, did a stupid, girly bird flap of my hands and said, “I don’t do outside toilets.” Wha’??? I don’t embarrass myself often. I’m so used to doing and saying stupid things, but after that came out of my mouth, I just wanted to… I don’t know. I wished I could have turned back time and never even walked into that place. No one laughed – while I was still in there. Don’t know if they did after I left or if they talked about me. Probably. But I can’t think of a thing I could have said differently. It would have looked a little odd if I’d just left too, but not as bad as what I said and did. Sigh. I found another restroom down the road and headed on to the thrift.

Bor-ring.

What else could I do? I know! Go to my favorite home dec fabric store that is closing. Closing to retire. Business was still very good. I’d thought I’d go ahead and get the fabric I’d picked out to cover some chair bottoms, but on closer inspection, the pattern might be too large. What else? Couldn’t think of a thing, so I came home.

Saturday.

Saturday was better, but not by a lot. There were plenty of estate sales. Seven, I think, and two other kinds that sounded good. I don’t go to the sales that say they have baby or kids stuff. I’m at that age that I have no reason to go to them, so they’re not on my list.

Couldn’t find one of the sales and a moving sale turned out to be a business. But of the others, here’re the few things I came home with.

Some pretty tiles, a Bakelite leopard pin, Florenza lipstick holder, pin cushion puppy dog, blown glass fishing float (I guess), globe perpetual calendar, two funky flower tiles, Brady Bunch era pencil holder, mirror and a tray that happened to be under the tiles. I also got an old Girl Scout uniform, a silk scarf and an old, basket chair cover. Not very interesting.

At the last sale, I overheard an interesting conversation. When I’m alone, I overhear lots of conversations. This one went like this:

The estate sale pricer/money taker: mumble..mumble..mumble.. I (The word I said smugly and with importance) have a booth at ___ Antique Mall. I didn’t price this stuff at wholesale for dealers. If I did I’d have bought it.

Well, OK. That’s really all of the conversation I remember. It’s the important part, anyway. Who does she think buys all that junk?? When we buy for ourselves, we usually only buy a couple of things – and besides, we’re hoping for a real bargain or we wouldn’t be digging in boxes, scouring crowded tables and fighting the crowds. But dealers are the ones who can clean the place out. And believe me. This particular sale needed lots of dealers there buying all that crap. Flea market and yard sale dealers. There wasn’t much there even I would buy and we all know I like the odd junk.

Now, I understand the frustration of going somewhere hoping to buy something for yourself only to see a dealer got there first and wiped them out of every last desirable thing. I don’t like the dealers who buy everything just to be buying everything.  I mean, I’m a dealer, but I don’t do that! I agonize over just about everything I spend my money on. You see what I buy. There’s plenty left after I leave – if there was anything there before I got there. Anyway, the point I wanted to make is there has to be some middle ground here. Doesn’t there? I say, “Let them (all) have cake!” I just want us all to be happy and have fun and have our hearts’ desires.

Lotsa love,

Wanda