Since Central New York lacks a good flea market, I talked Mr. Oodles into getting up early Sunday and going on a little trip. Mr. Oodles is not a big fan of getting up early on Sundays or flea markets, but he is a big fan of a hearty breakfast, and that was part of the deal. (Going out for a hearty breakfast, that is. I was not preparing one for him. Perhaps you mistook this for a food blog.)
The market was a lot of fun. The people were friendly, the prices were fair, and there were a lot of fans. There were twice as many on this display just minutes before I took this photo. By the way, I want to mention that Mr. Oodles does not appear in any of these photos. I did not want you to think he's the guy with the beer belly in the background.
Nor is he the person in a less than flattering position, wearing less than flattering striped knee socks. I did not notice that individual while I was taking the photo, which otherwise kind of captured the upbeat nature of the market.
However, I have come to realize that while I may be a person who wishes she could pull off wearing this raincoat, I really am not the person who would be comfortable doing that. Flea markets are good for insights like that.
And this children's book ("The Animals of Farmer Jones"), which I have been looking for ever since Heidi discovered that it has illustrations of floral feedsacks. Italics are entirely deserved in this case.
We're backing up in time momentarily to Saturday to review that day's purchases. Which were fine, just not very plentiful. This sampler has many virtues, chief among them houses with pink roofs. The fabric in the background is a feedsack. I found it Saturday, and it was a little upsetting, because I found it at the sale I had been to Friday. (A return trip was not out of my way, so I went again.) Yes, I overlooked a feedsack. Very unsettling. Since it was the second day of the sale, it was half price, but still. It was enough to make me wonder whether my feedsack picker was broken.
Back to Sunday and the flea market. The very first booth I stopped at had feedsack. I bought nine of 'em. I even left behind some I didn't like all that much. So not only did it turn out to be an 11-feedsack weekend, I got proof that my feedsack picker wasn't broken after all. I was relieved. And also left to wonder: if I found 11 feedsacks every weekend, how many would that be?
(The answer is 572. Or, almost enough to satisfy me. Almost.)