There weren't any estate sales or auctions that looked very interesting last weekend, so that meant I either went to garage sales or stayed home. My love of garage sales has faded over the years: They're just too hit-or-miss. There was one garage sale that sounded interesting enough, though, so I decided to hit several in that general neighborhood.
The neighborhood (which was not in my town) looked a little familiar, and the house with the interesting-sounding sale looked familiar, and as I approached the garage, I knew I had been there before. For an interesting-sounding sale. That was not good at all. And I could hardly imagine that it would be any better the second time around.
And it wasn't. I should have stayed home and gardened.
![Apron%20with%20slash[1]](https://oodlesandoodles.typepad.com/.a/6a00e5501c3f7d8833014e889907f2970d-500wi "Apron%20with%20slash[1]")
Negative apron for going back to a sale that was bad the first time around. It was a painful reminder that I meant a long time ago to keep a list of addresses to avoid. Kind of like my own personal no-fly list. (There's a whole street in another town that I avoid, because I know I went to a terrible sale on that street, but obviously I don't remember the house number. That sale involved heavy cigarette smoke and a woman on oxygen. I don't think more needs to be said.)
Not only had I returned to a bad sale, but there were really annoying people shopping at it. There was The Loud Guy Who Thought He Was Funny, The Talkative Woman Who Wants to Have a Conversation, and Jordan And His Grandma.
Negative apron for annoying people.
Jordan, who looked to be about two, wasn't the problem. Well, he was the problem, because he was bored and whining, but one can only think that it wasn't Jordan's idea to go to the sale. Jordan's Grandma was relentless, however. "Jordan, do you want to look at the hats?" "Jordan, do you want to look at the silverware?" "Jordan, you don't like garage sales, do you?" "Don't touch that, Jordan." "Jordan, do you want Grandma to put you in the car?"
Negative apron for thinking Very Bad Thoughts About Jordan's Grandma.
But I'm giving myself an apron back for Not Acting on Any of My Very Bad Thoughts.
Still, the day was beginning with a two-apron deficit.
I went to another sale that was better, but not by much. I got a couple of smallish things, like the scale and a sugar bowl. The people there were a little crabby. Actually, the woman in charge of the sale seemed very crabby, and everyone else was doing their best to put up with her.
There are no aprons one way or the other for this sale.
I went to another sale and instantly discovered that nothing was priced. That's never a good sign. That's an instant negative apron.
Yes, a three-apron deficit.
I found a piece of Jadite in a box. I was happy to find it but already dreading the moment when I would have to put it back because the guy would quote some ridiculous price. I was anticipating yet another negative apron.
How much for this? I asked.
Five bucks, he said.
Five bucks for the McKee Sunkist reamer in perfect condition? Valued, depending on condition, your degree of optimism and the current market, at anywhere between $35 and $75?
I'm giving back the apron I took away for not having anything priced. Even though that's kind of a sin in my book, I forgive it when the prices quoted are reasonable.
Another apron for finding a really good piece of Jadite.
(We're still in negative apron territory, for those of you keeping score.)
Since he'd quoted me one good price, I decided to take a chance on something I'd seen on my way in but figured would be more than I'd want to spend.
How much for the cereal shelf out front? I asked.
Five bucks, he said.
I'm awarding an apron before you even see it. (We're now at zero aprons.)
It's very cute. And useful. At first I thought it was a store display, but Mr. Oodles raised the possibility, and I tend to agree, that it probably held little individual-sized boxes of cereal at a restaurant. In fact, my hometown diner has just such a thing, minus the cute sign. And since I had little boxes of cereal at home, I tested his theory, and they fit perfectly.
Here it is in all of its glory. I would love to keep it, but I can't figure out where I would put it. I'm going to hang onto it for a little while and see what I come up with.
At the same sale I bought a silly toy that I considered buying at a sale last year, but it was kind of expensive for a silly toy.
When you squeeze the handle, the chickens take turns pecking at the bowl. I'd give myself an apron for finding something much cheaper by waiting, but it still is kind of a silly toy.
Since my day had improved, I decided to keep going. Found a big bunch of cookie cutters.
My favorites of which are the tiny ones, shown on my tiny toy cookie sheet, next to a regular cookie cutter for scale.
A good day for boxes and chests, with a vintage mail box, recipe box and, in back, a nice old medicine chest with a mirror.
Finds in black-and-white: a graduation photo and an Androck nut chopper.
Colorful wall pocket, made in Japan.
This dye envelope presented a moral dilemma. As soon as I saw it, I thought I would get it for Laurie, who collects dye envelopes. But then I remembered that my one-and-only dye envelope was a Chick-Chick with a different design, and this would look really cute framed with it in a pair.
But look! There were two of them! And the lady having the sale gave both of them to me.
An apron for good karma.
And another apron for, when all was said and done, a pretty decent array of stuff. So the garage sale adventure ends with two aprons, which I think is the trouble with garage sales: Unless you find that one-in-a-million sale, they're all pretty so-so.
But lest we end on a so-so note: a barn sale Saturday yielded enough of one of my favorite things to merit a post all on its own.
