Oodles and oodles

A helping hand

I'm going to an auction tonight, and so I thought this might be a good time for some helpful advice on what to wear. It's very simple: Wear whatever you want, but just make sure your backside is covered.

The last auction I attended turned into an ungodly display of middle-aged male flesh. Plumbers had nothing on this crowd. There are always one or two auction-goers who seem to have a difficult time keeping their britches hitched up, but at this auction, drooping drawers seemed to be the rule rather than the exception.

"But Barbara," you might be saying, "I'm not a middle-aged male wearing a T-shirt that rides up and pants that ride down. Surely you aren't talking to me."

Oh, but friends, perhaps I am. One time when I was waiting in line at an estate sale, chatting with some women I didn't know, the subject got around to the problem of seeing more than you really wanted to see when people were bending down to examine the box lots.

"Well," said one of the women knowingly, "it's not just at estate sales." And she proceeded to describe in delicious detail what a mother at her school was (and was not) wearing at a classroom picnic the week before. It was a funny story, and she finished it by mentioning the name of the woman.

Who turned out to be someone I know. Whose chief talents in life are a) marrying well and b) finding a way to slip in some kind of patronizing comment in every conversation I've ever had with her.

I don't remember what I bought at that estate sale, but I do remember leaving in a happy frame of mind. Now whenever I see the woman and she says something (in an overly excited, kind of breathy voice) along the lines of, "I thought I saw you the other day but then I thought surely you weren't still driving that blue Subaru," I just smile graciously. And hum to myself I see London, I see France, somebody's not wearing underpants.

So when you head out to sales (or school picnics) this week, just do a quick knee bend before you leave the house. Feel a cool breeze? Go put on a different shirt.

I bought this Lefton hand dish for a nickel at a church rummage sale Saturday, by the way. No flesh was exposed in the purchase of this object.  

 

A good day

It was a good day for finding vintage housewares.

It was a good day for sewing.

It was a good day for finding fun stuff in the free box, like a Gurley bunny candle.

It was a good day for finding quilt tops. (And this one will get another day in the sun, because it's so pretty and I want to take more photos of it.)

It was a good day for finding hats.

It also was a good day for finding more spun-cotton heads. It will be a good afternoon because there is a big box of Christmas stuff to sort. And a couple of bags of crochet patterns. And embroidery transfers.

It's a good day. 

 

When life gives you lemon-lime...

... just add some fizzy stuff and a bottle cap.

and presto! Lemon-lime soda.

These are bottle caps made for but not used by the Zesty Bottling Co., late of Auburn, N.Y. I have no idea why I bought them, other than the usual combination of kind of cute and really cheap.

People use them to make jewelry and charms and whatnot. I think mine will be refrigerator magnets. 
 

Discussion topic: surprises

How do you feel about surprises? Personally, I don't much like them. My parents gave me a surprise birthday party one year, and before the two hours were up, I slipped into my room to take a nap. Even as a young child, I liked to know what to expect. I enjoy little surprises, though. I found this pixie in the bottom of a jumbled box of Christmas stuff, and that was a good surprise.

Then I found he had brothers, and that was an even better surprise.

Then these guys showed up.

When the girls appeared, I realized there was a whole cache of spun-cotton pixies in the box I'd bought for other reasons. There was great happiness in the Oodles household, let me tell you!

Perhaps I have been wrong about the whole issue of surprises, because I wasn't expecting to see any snowmen, and I surely was happy to see these fellows.

And I'm always happy to see Santa.

When the sale season started, I arbitrarily decided that I wanted to find 100 spun-cotton heads this year. Sometimes I crave spun-cotton heads, in the way some people crave chocolate. (In fact, in the way I myself crave chocolate.) One day last winter I called up an artist friend who had turned away from vintage in favor of primitive style and asked if she had any spun-cotton heads in her studio. She did not, but she understood.

The carolers on the left and right seem nervous about getting poked in the eye with their companion's hat, and who can blame them? Anyway, about three spun-cotton heads into the season, I thought 100 seemed like a pretty ridiculous goal.

As it turned out, though, there were 32 spun-cotton heads hiding in that box, so maybe 100 isn't a completely outrageous goal.

Time for the group shot. Everyone, eyes on me, please. Elves, I do not want to see any of you making bunny ears. Yes, Miss Caroler, we can see your hat. Predictably, not everyone has their eyes open for the photo, but that's only to be expected.