Laura's letdown (by Laura) (for Betty)

Readers, I feel I have failed you today. Did I yardsale? No. Did I even attempt to yardsale? No. Did I slow down slightly while driving today to see what was being sold on the road, only to continue along my merry old way when I discovered mere tomatoes were the sole offering? Yes, I did do this.
But wait! I have a good excuse! See, remember way back when I announced I would be stepping back from hard-core saling every weekend because of nursing school? Well, the 3:30am wake ups have been taking their toll. I am ashamed to admit that for the past three nights, the latest I have gone to bed is 7:28pm. Yes. I usually try to hit the sack by 6:50pm. It is now 8:05 and I am exhausted. Pathetic, I know.
So I have this part-time job of teaching aerobics classes at a gym. I used to teach regularly, then when I went back to school I went on the sub list, so today I subbed for the step and sculpt classes, which, if you look at the picture of me in Nancy's post of this past Thursday, can get an idea of what I look like when I teach. And since I needed to be at the gym by 8am, I promised myself I would sleep in, which, for me is at least 6:30am. But teaching the Saturday classes doesn't mix with yardsaling, plus it was 95 degrees today, with a heat index of something silly like 103. Since Nancy and Samantha are both gone, I decided it would be a yardsaling-free weekend for me. Plus I have this pathophysiology test on Monday. Considering I can barely spell "pathophysiology", I better put some time in with the actual material.
And oh yeah, today my 6 year old muttered something along the lines of, "Daddy thinks you have a lot of junk". So I probably at this point don't need to add too much more to my collection of wooden farmy treasures.
I do need to go to Junque soon, so I hope to bring my camera for my version of Reegan and his treasures.

One more thing...

... before I leave for vacation.

I need your help while I am gone! I still need the letters T, I, and Y for my costume jewelry alphabet. Also I'd like a better L, E, and S because mine are rather small. Remember, all pieces must come from a yardsale, thrift shop, or from your own collection, thereby circumventing the yardsale process. I swear, if you buy a letter at retail I will reject your gift of love and we will both feel very sad about it!

Whoever finds these letters and gives them to me wins an entire paragraph of praise on the YSA blog!

Good luck!

South Roxana - Nancy [My mom requested we attribute each post in the title so she doesn't have to scroll down to see who wrote it.]

Bad news, Readers.

I am going on two vacations back-to-back. A quick look at the calendar caused my heart to sink; I will miss three complete pairs of Friday/Saturday yardsales while I am gone. Can any of us go that long without hearing of my wacky shopping adventures? Laura is going to have to step it up, carry the torch, and put her nose to the grindstone to keep all 26 of you followers intellectually satisfied.

As a last hurrah, I scoured Craig's list and found a Thursday sale worth the drive. Three kids and I drove north to South Roxana, IL.

If you have never been to South Roxana, which I am sure you have not, you would be surprised at the ratio of factories to humans - approximately 43:1.

Now, Readers, I gave my YSA card to the daughter of the proprietess of the sale I went to, so we are bound to get at least one South Roxanan reader today. Therefore, I will try to phrase my descriptions in the kindest ways possible. I should have warned her that half the fun of the YSA blog is joking about yardsales and making fun of myself and my weird yardsale habit. We don't need another Crock-Lady's-Daughter, ifyouknowwhatImean.

Having said that, I will report that South Roxana was quiet and gentle. I only saw one car up on blocks. Most of the ramshackle garages had complete tin roofs without any apparent gaping holes. The factories were probably not spewing nuclear waste. The yardsale on Ohio St. was, by far, the best thing happening in town today.

The quality and quantity of this sale blew me away. It was in a giant three car garage/barn tucked behind a normal, unassuming house. Was the garage was bigger then the house? Quite possibly.

This sale was better than most thrift shops. It was dense and well-displayed. The merchandise spanned history: from 1800s farm tools to blackberries picked just last night. Some stuff was silly, some collectible, some practical, some junk. Could this have been the "perfect sale"? You decide.

This was one of 3 displays of colored glass tableware. She had more green than anything else but a healthy portion of red glass as well.

This collection of pool memorabilia drew me in. Clocks, cues, balls, art, even multiple Magic Eight Balls. (It was "not in the cards" that I buy one.) We have a decent pool table in our basement which gets a fair amount of play time. Not surprisingly, given the quantity of preteen boys in my life, we break pool cues frequently. I bought two new cues and a floor rack to keep them vertical. Perhaps I will paint "Pool Cues are not Swords" on the side?

Not wanting to let the golfing YSA followers feel left out, here are some golf balls:

I think they are walnuts, painted white.

The display of antique tools was beautiful. And any tool collector worth a darn would have started to salivate at the sight.

The tool wall was twenty feet high and included sections for both vintage sleds and roller skates.

There were even TWO of these contraptions: mechanical bottle openers. I bought two of the vintage bottle caps, previously removed, for my collection.

I thought of Laura when I saw this thing. Is it a scooter/stool combo? I don't know for sure.

All she would need to know is that it is old and wooden and she would do one of these fancy tricks:

Truth be told, I feel the same way about old, metal storage, like this basket I bought today for $3:

Or these metal lockers which were not technically "for sale", but, as I often say, everything has a price.

By now you are planning your weekend around this sale in South Roxana. You have cancelled your Saturday plans (there will be other family reunions) and rescheduled your pedicure (trust me, the South Roxanans will not mind if your feet look less than perfect.) But I have to be truthful here, there was a large amount of knick-knackery at this sale. Statues, tiny houses, porcelain bells, and I don't know what-all. If these things float your boat then you should get up off your duff right now and speed up I-255 to exit #5 because this sale is the one you have been yearning for.

They had furniture too. Some of it was the usual honey-oak side table variety. I saw a few antique sewing machine cabinets. There was a black-lacquered, mirrored, lighted headboard unit from 1982. But below is the furniture that gave me pause. It came with 8 chairs and a leaf to make the extra wide table even longer.

You know generations of South Roxanans have played poker around this gem. Seriously, if I go back and buy this set I could put it in the basement as the official game table. We could have a party for all of our YSA followers! We would have to dress in 1960s costume! Uh-oh! Here goes Laura again!

(heh heh heh.)

Finally, with a wink to today's proprietress, a moxie granny who somehow has kept her husband's whites gleaming brightly after all these years, I offer our readership this photo:

Thank you Ohio Street in South Roxana! I desperately needed a sale today and yours was worth the drive. Readers, add this one to your itinerary this weekend. You won't be disappointed.

If you do go to South Roxana, buy me that table and chairs and I'll pay you back!

Nancy

Dead end turnaround

It was my turn to drive. Samantha was child-free, and both Nancy and I brought along one darling each. Here they are being frugal (10 animals for $1!) and selfless (they were picking items for their brothers). Aren't they adorable? Notice how Jo is wearing yellow for Hudson? It is his favorite color. What a sweetheart.

Hudson snapped this fabulous picture of a large collection of Zumba VHS tapes, which caused Samantha (ever observant) to wonder, "Has Zumba been out long enough to be on VHS?" To which, Samantha, I would have said no had I not had the evidence staring at me in the face.

Here is a lovely couple selling their wedding centerpieces, which led to a conversation in the sweet Odyessy later of what Nancy's, Samantha's, and my centerpieces were. Mine were not as nice as these proprieters', I can tell you.

I mean, really. Could Jo be any more of a ray of sunshine or Hudson any cuter?

Here is my food dehydrator that I bought for a buck a few weeks ago. I successfully made the below blueberry/raspberry fruit leather/roll-up, but due to the fact I neglected to remove the seeds, I am the only one eating it. It is now in Samantha's house.

The title of the post needs some explaining. See, I am a terrible map reader/orienteer. I sucked at being a Girl Scout, too. My dear husband is most excellent at this complex skill and can get a teensy bit upset with me when my navigational skills leave something to be desired. Readers, I have been afflicted with this challenging compass deficit my entire life, and I have devised coping skills. For example, I have learned to completely disregard the compass and directional statuses, along with silly non-helpful commands like, "Go north for 3 blocks and turn west." Rubbish. Everyone knows directions are totally arbirtary based on various criteria like a. how straight your street is, 2. if it feels like north, it probably is, 3. it seems vaguely familiar, and 4. if there is a detour. Then all bets are off. Anyway, I use street names and heaps of advice of friends who have lived here longer than me to get around. Also, (and here I am getting to the point of this too-long paragraph, I promise), I don't go into dead ends. If I see one, I turn around! Works every time. Allow me to explain: there is this curvy road near my house that is a kinda sorta short cut to a main road. When I asked my friend Sara about this road, she said I would have to have someone show me, because it is (really) curvy and confusing. I mean, entirely too confusing and circuitous. It is as if the road engineer spun himself around and around and around till he was really dizzy, closed his eyes, and drew a road. That would be this road. Also, there are lots of dead ends. But here is how I, self-described idiot of the navigational world, find my way every time through that miserable morass and queasy quagmire: every time I see a dead end, I go the other way! Perfection!

I hope I don't have to drive next. Actually, I am solo next weekend because both Samantha and Nancy have decided summertime is THE time to take family vacations, so they are gone. Nancy has promised us though, that she will check out the yard sales in her vacation hot spot, and let's hope Samantha will, too!

I love that Zac Ephron!

Oh.

It was a good day.

There were sales aplenty. The proprietors were enthusiastic. And so were we.

Laura was out of the driveway before Jo and I made it down the block this morning. We rushed over to Country Club where Samantha was ready and waiting.

First stop: 81st street.

They were still setting up so we were the first salers to see this excellent black trunk, this sign, and these green pots. Big score for me:

Lickety-split, we were on to the next sale where we found this gorgeous stained glass window:

I paid the asking price of 50 dollars because I thought it was fair. I think I'll hang it on my porch -- or maybe sell it for double what I paid!

We found a yardsale with a collection of Playboy merchandise: shower curtain, lamp shades, and whatnot. It was a real treat.

The next sale offered the actual magazines. Take the whole box off her hands for $5! They belong to her 28 year old son. She checked the dates to make sure he had bought them legally. They were only from 2008. It was all legal porn-viewing and article-reading. I had the pleasure of explaining the "Playboy" concept to my 8 year old daughter.

Not wanting to make the ladies feel left out, here is a life-size model of Zac Ephron:

Ten bucks was too pricey for me, although I desperately wanted to take him home. Seriously. Don't we look sort of cute together? Suck it, Vanessa!

We found this curious and compelling collection of wooden totems. I bought only one but feel as if I missed some sort of cosmic opportunity -- surely all of these icons have magical properties!?

Then, as you can see, we found a tribute sale... a tribute to the Little People of this great country!

If we all had Midget Pride the world would be a better place!

We were an efficient shopping machine today. We ate when we needed to eat, peed when we needed to pee, bought what we needed to buy. We have yardsaling down to a science!

The lingering question:

How do we turn yardsaling and the yardsalingadventures blog into a money making endeavor?

Tune in next week!

A YSA in Four Parts

Part 1 - Prologue

I awoke with some goopy shit in my eyes.

It wasn't severe or debilitating, just a message from my body that there is a health storm a-brewin' in my head and I need to visit a licensed health care practitioner today so I can get some drops or something. This stuff always starts on Friday and goes crazy on the weekend. Eye funk is a real party animal.

Bottom line? I had to squeeze a doctor's visit into my yardsaling itinerary.

Yardsaling Day is the only day I willingly get out of bed in the morning at the same time as my husband. He has a Real Job, you see, to earn money for my yardsaling adventurism. Usually, he wakes at such an ungodly hour that I don't even consider stirring. He's lucky if I open my eyes and grunt when he kisses me goodbye at 6:45 AM. But on yardsale day I am Up and At 'Em! With pep in my step!

I tell myself that this is a flaw in my wifery. I should arise daily when my husband does and fry up some eggs and bacon! Surely he wishes I would keep him company in the early hours of each day. He must certainly long for sweet and gentle banter between 6 and 7 AM. This morning, as he shaved and did other weird man morning things, and as I got dressed for my adventure, I discerned the truth.

He asked, "Are those good yardsaling shoes, Nancy?"

To you, an outsider to our 20 year marriage, this seems like a benign question. He even comes off as considerate, right? "Look how that sweet man cares about his wife's footwear!" That is what you will say to your fellow blog readers.

But I can tell you he was smirking when he asked that question. I will provide you with the subtext of that simple question, the true intention of his gentle words:

"You are a serious dork, Nancy. You take yardsaling too seriously. I know you bought those shoes for a quarter and I am mocking you for it. Furthermore, I think I much prefer getting ready for work with peace and quiet, not constant, manic chatter about your yardsale schedule."

So I spanked him and clomped out of the room with my 25 cent wood-soled Earth Shoes in saddle brown and my computer-generated yardsale itinerary.

Humph.

The kids and I loaded up the car for our adventure. Louie was the last to leave the house because he had to gather all of his important papers, a pen, and Pokemon reference materials.

"Aw... look at him. He's the cutest nerd in the world." I said to myself, as he ran to the van, feeling affection for my young teenager's naiveté and thankfulness that he didn't hear me call him a nerd.

As we pulled away from the curb, Oscar asked, "Mom, what's a nerd?"

Louie answered immediately, "It is someone who is very smart about something that's not cool and then gloats about it."

Silence fell over the van.

Louie looked down at the stack of Pokemon books in his lap. His shoulders slumped. He looked at me with a sheepish grin.

The first step is recognizing the problem, right?

Part 2 - The sales

I found this chair.

I love unusual chairs for kids' rooms or kids' play spaces. This one called to me. Upon asking the price I was told to make an offer. I offered $5. She countered with 6. Sold. But here's the thing: It is really two chairs in one! It is not a zebra-and-orange chair, it is one chair frame with two different covering options, one zebra, one orange. At home I have a frame of similar size which came from my neighbor Julie's yardsale for free because it was left behind when the Klekners (of pirate party fame - see two weeks ago) moved!

Here are the two covers adorning the two chair frames. This equals two complete chairs for $6!

And here is Henry modeling a serious pimp hat. Why didn't I buy this?!

And here is Donny with a hat one could wear on a VERY sunny day:

Later in the day, we met Kevin. From this photo, you may assume, like I did, that Kevin was having a yardsale to raise money to finish siding his house:

I really liked Kevin. He was generous with information. Here is what I learned about him: he has been a union iron worker for over 20 years, he is a designer of things, and he often refers to himself in the third person. "Kevin paid $150 for that when it was new! But you can have it for $50!" Also, I learned that when a "job" is finished, OSHA requires that the company leave behind some of its equipment and buy fresh items for the next job. That is how he came to own these many straps:

These straps are SUPER STRONG! They have labels on them that tell you how many pounds they can support and how you should use them. They are strongest if you "saddle" them in a "U" shape and weakest if you "choke" them in a criss-cross manner. My pretty green straps, for which I paid $8, can support 5 tons and 2 tons, respectively. Other straps in this photo could haul twice that weight. I now own the proper tools to pull a car or lift a steel I-beam. Kevin designed this swing seat on the spot:

If I cut a piece of wood in the shape he drew on that piece of paper, I can hook the straps in the indented parts and make a swing. A swing that will support a 5 ton elephant.

Tune in next week to see what I decide to do with the Super Straps of Sturdiness!

Somewhere in downtown Belleville, we started to see signs advertising a sale on Beykirch. All the signs were on similarly sized poster board in florescent hues. They all said the same thing in the same script.

There was no mistaking that they all were advertising the same sale.

And we soon noticed that they were posted on every corner in town.

We had no choice but to follow them. We were thoroughly intrigued. What treasure awaited us at the end of this map of signs? With such brilliant marketing, their merchandising and display must be spectacular! We followed the signs for miles. I swear. When we finally wound our way through Belleville and arrived at the mysterious destination, we discovered that it was a gold mine! A gold mine for people who love to decorate for the holidays! Here is a sample of their wares:

Now, I am very enthusiastic about many things, but extreme holiday decorating is not one of them. So I didn't buy anything at this super-hyped sale. But the opportunity to interview the proprietor was irresistible. Specifically, I wanted to know how many signs had he posted?!

"First we got six packs of six. Then that wasn't enough so we went back for a fifty pack. Then we used three more pieces from another pack."

That's 89 signs, Readers.

I have never, in all my yardsaling adventures, nay, in all my life, seen a yardsale so well-advertised. My hat is off to you, Mr. Beykirch. You are legend.

Part 3 - The Doctor

I squeezed in a doctor's appointment at 9:45. I had to be there 15 minutes early. I think I was even earlier than that because it was between the Belleville sales and the Fairview sales and I was close to the clinic already.

The nurse checked my weight and BP and shuttled me between a few rooms.

I was in the 5x5 exam room with 4 of the 5 kids. We were trying to play some games like "The Quiet Game" and "Who Can Stare at the Wall Silently the Longest". Stuff like that. It wasn't going that well.

In walked the doc. She looked familiar, but the truth is that I have the best socialized medicine the USAF offers so I almost never see the same doc twice and when I do I can't even remember their names so it was possible I had been to this physician before and didn't recall our conversation. She looked at my eyeball and gave me some story about allergies and viruses and the unlikelihood of a bacterial infection. The bottom line, I got a scrip for some antihistamine drops but not any antibiotics. She marveled at the quantity of children I had in the office with me. I explained about the yardsaling and presented her with my card so she too could enjoy the YSA blog.

That's when we made the connection!

"You live in Signal Hill?" she asked.

I gasped. "You're the Canadian's wife!" I shouted.

We laughed hysterically. The kids were a little disarmed.

You see, there's this guy in our neighborhood. He is from Canada. He has a cool dog. He comes to all the local yardsales. He is very friendly so I usually notice him before his very sweet and quiet wife. He has introduced me to his wife at least 5 times but I am a name-retard so I forget her name as soon as we part company. In fact, until my doctor reminded me that her husband's name is Nathan, I seriously just called him "The Canadian". And she is Aubrey, The Canadian's wife! And now she is my doctor! Well, at least today she was my doctor. I am certain I will never see her again in a professional capacity. But if I ever get the funky eyeball again during a weekend or a holiday I will just waltz right over to her house and request a scrip for antihistamine drops! It's good to have connections.

Part 4 - Epilogue

I enjoyed my children today. They were playful and cooperative. I was able to teach them about architecture. Specifically, what qualifies as a "trailer" and why it is also called a "mobile home".

We saw some interesting yard art, like this dead bush adorned with empty wine bottles.

Also this patchwork fence.

And this very rocky front step situation.

I learned a few things today as well. For instance, advertising excellence does not always indicate a robust sale. Also, waking your children up very early during summer vacation buys you a morning of adventure and an afternoon of quarreling. And finally, the word "asshead" is an accepted, offensive term used by some preteens in the heat of battle.

Until tomorrow...

Nancy