Why can’t we have a normal outing like everybody else? That’s almost a direct quote from my son-in-law when my daughter told him the first part of this story. At least he used the words why can’t and normal and like everybody else. Maybe he said day or something instead of outing.
There’s an estate sale company near where my daughter Erin lives that has “invitation only” sales on Sunday afternoons then have the same sale open to the public the following weekend. It’s such a privilege to be on the invitation only list — with all 9000 of her other closest friends. It’s so funny how there’s always at least 100 people there on Sunday afternoons then the Friday it’s open to the public there’s maybe 20.
This sale, a couple of weekends ago, sounded like a good one. They had told Erin at the previous sale that she needed to be at this one. That there were lots of vintage clothes. Well, you know that had us foaming at the mouth. A good many other people, too.
It’s an hour drive for me, so I’d called Erin and told her — I TOLD HER! — to get there early to line up for a number. She didn’t. We were numbers 79 and 80. But, no matter. We know when everybody gets in, it’s dog eat dog anyway.
About 10-15 minutes before they opened the doors, I got something in my eye. Under my contact. My hard contact. It was excruciating and wasn’t going anywhere. Tears pouring down that side of my face. The pain making me crazy. If you wear or have worn hard contacts you know exactly what I’m talking about. So I slipped off to the side, took it out and washed it off in my mouth. And don’t you go being all shocked at that. Don’t you be actin’ like you’ve never done that. Desperate times call for desperate measures. And I was desperate. But when I tried to put it back in, it dropped on the ground. Did you see that coming? I bet you did.
I’m on my hands and knees with my big ol’ but in the air hunting, hunting. Erin came over and helped. The occasional passer by helped. It seemed to have disappeared. Gone. Vamooshed. We hunted for 10 minutes before I sent Erin into the sale. Told her to go on without me. Get those bargains! I looked another 5 minutes before giving in to the I’ve-got-to-get-into-that-sale feeling. I blame what happened next on my wonky, one-eyed vision.
Erin had run up directly to the vintage clothes, but all the other vintage clothes ladies had beat her and cleaned everything out like a pack of wolves. I roamed around downstairs, picking up a few things here and there. Met up with her and we went back upstairs. Then back down where I spotted this::
Something told me I needed to get it. That gut feeling. But it was more than I wanted to pay and besides, I couldn’t see it very well. Erin looked at the bottom and saw that it was Taxco, so I looked it up on my phone. Didn’t see an example like it on eBay and the Taxco candlesticks I did see were dead in the water. I passed.
We paid for our stuff and left, but made one last search for the naughty contact. And would you believe she found it? Stepped on. Crushed. I had to drive home with one eye sharp, one a fuzzy wuzzy. Not fun. And the candlestick was on my mind the whole way. By the time I got home, it was a pair of candlesticks and perfect. LOL I did some better research on the computer and found that they are made by Hector Aguilar. It means nothing to me, but it does to a lot of other people. These things are valuable! Why didn’t I trust my instinct? Friday couldn’t come quick enough.
I was there when they opened the doors and headed straight for the candlestick. Dang it. It wasn’t a pair and it wasn’t perfect, but it was still there. I grabbed it and a couple of other little things, paid and spent the rest of the day at thrift stores. Now I’ve got to figure out what price to put on the candlestick. Looks like I could price it anywhere between $50 and $450. But what would someone actually pay……
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