"Why, this isn't Tuesday, is it?"

Today began rainy and stormy. We decided to head to Soulard to escape the weather, but the Soulardians, who have no garages in their excellent old townhouses, were unable to display their treasures. We turned around and headed east to try Mascoutah, who was also having a city-wide sale (see pronunciation guide below). Now, Nancy will also blog about today. So some information may be repeated. Bite me.
Mascoutah is a mix of subdivisions, that after discussing in the car, should be named, instead of what used to be there (see my prior post about Estates of Plum Hill), for what is there now; for example, Clear-Cut Destruction Manor or Erosion Village. Nothing good was to be found at the subdivision sales and we asked the proprieters many times where the old houses were. They all claimed there were no sales in the historical section. Only one knowledgeable homeowner, at whose sale I bought the excellent sale in which the title was inspired and discussed below, was able to tell us where to go (and by us, I mean brilliant Samantha, who is so good at navigating it makes me look like a blubbering idiot).
Nancy is holding a clothespin holder festooned out of 2 scrap pieces of wood glued together at an earnest boy scouts' sale. The sale wasn't earnest, just the boys.


This delightful hold house has an outhouse and well. Excellent.

The title of this post comes from a book I picked up for 5 cents today at a yard sale in Mascoutah (pronounced muh-skoo-tuh by everyone but me who says muh-skoo-taaaah because it sounds so much funnier that way). The book is entitled Facts of Life and Love for Teen-Agers by Evelyn Millis Duvall published in 1956. This book is chock full of necessary, life skills for teen-agers (hyphen included in book's title), such as (in discussing "petting" (yes, it is actually called that) and wishing to stop any further sexual contact): "Hazel takes a different tack. When a date's hands begin to wander into the no-man's land which she considers untouchable, she firmly removes the hand and says with suprise, "Why, this isn't Tuesday, is it?" The humor, "corny" as it is, is usually enough to stop all but the most exploitative of boys." Yes indeed. Girls, all you need to do when a boy is getting into no-man's land is remind him you are only slutty on Tuesdays. It's Monday? Hell, no! Thursday? What are you thinking? Tuesdays, damn it! Tuesdays!

Another gem: "Alyce was telling her younger sister how to say good-night to an amorous boy friend who seemed all set for a more intimate expression than she felt wise. Alyce said, 'Just take the situation in both your hands, squeeze warmly, and skip in through the door.'" Yes. Just take "the situation" (ha!) in your hands and warmly squeeze. Apparently Ms. Duvall is using the word situation to mean a gentleman's hands and not "the male organ" (p. 32; emphsis not added). Girls, to slow down a hot and lusty date, all you need to do to slow things waaaaay down is give a gentle squeeze to your man's agile fingers. Unless of course it is Tuesday.

The advice doesn't stop just there. Oh no. Here is some well-heeded advice for that little monthly visitor: "No ten-mile hikes, or twenty-mile canters, or marathon rollerskating just then, thank you" No, Ms. Duvall. Thank you. How would I have ever known not to go on that 26.2 mile rollerskate I had planned?

And of course, no teen-ager book worth its salt in the 50s was complete without the birds and the bees discussion. Here is Ms. Duvall's vital contribution to educating the lustful youth of 1956: "Sperms are deposited in the vagina during coitus (sometimes called sexual intercourse, or marriage relations, or mating". Ok. 1. Yes, she wrote sperms. As in the plural. 2. Marriage relations? 3. Mating??????!!! Really, what else can I add here?

Onto the yard sale!

The picture below is a pair of Frye (Frye!) boots I was longing for, only to find out after I put my naked foot in this boot to try it on, that it was much too big. I then frantically wiped my foot on wet grass as they were really dirty.

Yay! Samantha is back!

Here is my mom Angie, who accompanied us today. Here is Nancy taking a picture of Mr. Moustache man.

Here is Mr. Moustache Man, kindly taking the giant chalkboard apart.

Here is Sam holding a giant $100 bill and trying not to get decapitated by the giant chalkboard.

Good reader, I am exhausted. Hours upon hours of junky treasure, lots of caffeine and little food, and naughty little books means I need a nap. But really, what better use of time could one have on a Saturday? We are hoping the Soulard sale is scheduled for next Saturday, as another adventure in yard saling awaits. Until then, good reader, keep saling.