A Spooky Halloween Post - not for the Faint of Heart

I made but one stop this morning, Readers. The St. Clair County fair grounds hosted "The World's Largest Garage Sale" today.

While this sale was indeed a large congregation of junque sellers, I have to doubt it was the World's Largest. And I am certain many of these vendors have a store someplace, which makes it more like a flea market than a garage sale. One thing we love about a pure yard/garage sale is the inexperience of the proprietors. They are not haggle-savvy and will joyfully let us waltz off with armloads of merchandise for mere pennies.

Not today, my friends.

Many of these sellers were obviously hardened by years and years of storefront overhead and demanded top dollar for their dusty treasures. But like any dedicated yardsaler worth her salt, I was able to find a few things to buy.

But today you will not get a list of what I bought. This being the Hallo-weekend, I will treat you to the scariest of the WLGS's offerings. Welcome to the spooky side of yardsaling! Bwahahaha!

Dolls are generally creepy. This one, a late model from a country where the children obviously have white pupils, black irises, and no whites of the eyes, disturbed me enough to earn a place on the YSA Blog's Halloween post.

Another scary item was this Santa Claus mask. If I took my kids to a party where the Santa poser was sporting this mask, I'm sure they would run out screaming and beg to skip Christmas entirely.

Next up, a large, friendly ladybug that is altogether too large and too friendly.

The artist who designed this doll face seems to have avoided doll-face-freakiness, but someone has stolen her torso... a doll body snatcher, perhaps?

What you can't see is that this is actually a stack of doll face skins... not even a proper head. Just a pile of facial skins nested one atop another. You can see it is displayed next to an old postcard of Jesus and his disciples. What is God telling us in this vignette? I sense a message that is sailing right over my head.

That Santa mask above gave Christmas a spooky overtone. But Easter is not without its weird factor. A giant rabbit? Now that's scary. Here is a replica of the Easter Bunny that made me feel a little skin-crawly:

Don't miss this one... it is maybe more goofy than spooky... it's the Googly Eyed Chef! One can imagine the damage he would inflict while chopping veggies with those crazy eyes looking this way and that.

Prepare yourself for the next photo, please. It is a motorcycle helmet. Made out of a scary dead animal. I am not even sure what animal this used to be... is it a messed up fox? A weasel of some sort? An elephant/rabbit/bear combo? Would this actually protect the biker if he fell? Or was it designed for use after the deadly crash -- to scare away the devil when he comes to take the biker down to hell?

Finally, Fair Readers, if you are brave enough to have stuck with me after that last one, I offer you the scariest thing of all... actually American History. Sometimes the truth is scarier than fiction...

Here is a primitive sign which at first appeared attractive and interesting...but see the orange price tag?

Here is a close up of the price tag...

Seriously.

But as I hate to leave you with a downer like the USA's record of racism, I offer this final, happy visual: it is Donny's recently purchased unicorn puppet, its head out the sunroof, singing loudly along with John Denver on the radio.

Life is good, Readers. Life is good.

Happy Halloween, Faithful Followers.

Nancy

Roscoe, by Laura

Readers, this is one of the many beautiful trees in our neighborhood? Lovely, yes? Unfortunately this means the tree knows the dreaded winter is coming and will have no use whatsoever to be wasting its energy on the meager 15 minutes of feeble sunlight per day doing photosynthesis.


From one gorgeous display of nature to one not-so-gorgeous, used to be, a natural, living thing. Yes, this is the face of a furry woodland creature, now turned into someone's shawl. This might figure prominently in my nightmares tonight. Sweet dreams, readers!


Here is that same creaturific coat/wrap thing. As you can, the owner of this estate evidentally felt the best way to survive the harsh winters here was to envelop herself in the carcasses of weasels. Me, I don't get the allure.

On to more petrified bastions of once-living DNA. Here is a display of ready-to-dissect animals! Still in the cellophane. You don't see many of these in your average yard sales.

On to less morbid items. This is the largest fake walnut ever.

Here is the largest skillet ever. Nancy, ever the resource of creativity suggested putting it on one's wall and using it as a message center. Or, you can make enough scrambled eggs to feed all the carnival workers in the Polish carnival! (The owners of this house used to work in the Polish carnival).

Here is Roscoe, from whence (fancy, no?) the title of this post came. Nancy discusses Roscoe below. Suffice it to say Roscoe is a man's dog, an all-business, 110 pound mighty, meaty specimen of doggy studliness, if you catch my drift. Roscoe was not at the carnival worker's home. Roscoe has his own home, with his doggy wife, who apparently has put up with too many years of Roscoe's manly advances, as she is now, "crabby", according to her owners. She wouldn't pose for pictures. She wouldn't come out to say hi. Was she hiding from Roscoe? We will never know.

Here is Nancy displaying one of the many fine wares to be had at yard sales. Lacking sequins in your closet? Head out to your friendly neighborhood proprieteresses, readers. You will be the hit of the party!

Nancy is showing off the sheer ecstasy she is vibing from this splendid, salmon, bra-included item. I mean, really. What else can I possibly say about such a fashion staple?

Readers, yard saling was tip-top today. Nice weather (read: to me, nice weather is above 70). Giant, testosterone-overflowing canines. Sales a-plenty. Close locales. Only thing missing was Samantha, who decided, at 34 weeks pregnant she would rather sleep in. Really, where are her priorities, I ask you?

So in my excitement I backed up into a sign. The sign was in an unfortunate spot, honestly. Who would put it behind the curb? (Hey, did you ever notice how curb and curve sound remarkably similar? hmmm) Anyway, my dear, sweet husband, who never reads this blog, was not as upset as I thought! I don't think he realized I meant his car was the one I was driving, when I told him! Oops!

So tomorrow we are headed back to the estate sale to snatch up the half off items, which Nancy discusses below. Then next weekend at the flea market is a ginormous yard sale! Happy day!

A Fine, Fine Day -- by Nancy

Ahhh.

We left early, before dawn. I packed my bag without forgetting anything. There was a momentary glitch when Oscar woke up and demanded a waffle, but I was able to toast and cut it before Laura arrived. He had to pour his own syrup and eat alone in the dark early morn, but I felt I had done my job.

First stop, a "redecorating sale" off Bunkum Rd. Lame. They weren't ready for us. I had to jump up and down to peek through the garage door windows. They had 3 pieces of Ethan Allen furniture and a bunch of crap. We left. The end.

Next, we moseyed down Main St. where we found a few gems. The numbered streets always get my attention. I know right where they are. 28th is between 27th and 29th. It is approximately a mile from 18th and 38th. No map required.

Proprietors of the numbered streets, you have an economic advantage!

We pulled into this sale and were rewarded with both quality merchandise AND celebrity sightings.

First we saw our school lunch lady. That was exciting enough for one stop, don't you think? If I could insert musical links I would lead you to Adam Sandler's Lunch Lady Land and you could listen to some comic/musical genius at work. But alas, I am not that savvy.

Here is Laura with the proprietor of this sale, "Uncle Mike".

Uncle Mike was wheeling and dealing today. He was in motion the whole time we were there, moving SOLD furniture with his furniture dolly out of the garage and into the yard. We desperately wanted this gorgeous wooden trunk. But it was SOLD. But it wasn't really sold... the story goes that as they were pricing their unwanted merchandise for this sale, Uncle Mike's family found this awesome wooden trunk.

It was made of pretty wood and mounted on smooth rolling castors. They priced it at $20. But when Uncle Mike saw it, he started to cry. His brother Jim (would that be Uncle Jim? I don't know.) had made that beautiful trunk. And now Brother/Uncle Jim is "gone". I think that means he died. So the fabulous trunk was not-for-sale because Uncle Jim's family is going to keep it to honor its maker.

Touching? Yes.

But I swear to you, Laura still tried to buy it after that whole story was revealed, telling the trunk's owners that she would use it to hold her kids' balls.

Yes, balls.

We had a lot of fun with the "balls" play-on-words today. You see, "balls" can mean footballs, basketballs, and tennis balls or it can mean the testicles encased in the scrotal sack. Therein lies the humor. And in my infinite irreverence, I thought that was the funniest thing I ever heard.

Ahh. This is why we yardsale. It is a source of horribly inappropriate hilarity.

For instance...

One of our stops today was an estate sale off 101st street. Here is the address:

That's just a lucky omen, don't you think?! Look at that. It looks like the amount you could win in a lottery.

Upon entering the garage we saw a stack of wooden skeeball tracks and a table-full of crappy carnival prizes.

After the delightful squealing died down, we asked the estate sale operator what the story was with this excellent garage full of carnival supplies. He told us that the owners had emmigrated from Poland in the mid-1900s and they were carnival people.

FREAKIN" JACKPOT, PEOPLE!

I have to digress just long enough to explain the new focus of my life:

I am the chairperson of the school auction this year. This is a dreaded responsibility. The auction is the primary fundraiser for the entire school year and needs to haul in at least $30,000. The responsibilities of the chairperson include recruiting volunteers, soliciting donations, planning the occasion, implementing the event, and thanking the donors after the fact. It is a big job, taken on as a committed-parent-taking-her-turn-as-chair. It's a real take-one-for-the-team moment. You tell people you are the auction chair and they roll their eyes or shake their heads. It's universally understood among grade school parents that The Auction is a real ball breaker.

But I am loving it!

The auction has given purpose to my life! Five kids, two dogs, a home, and a marriage were not quite enough purpose for me, apparently. The auction is exactly what I needed to get me excited about life! For example, when I am yardsaling, I ask myself if the object before me can be transformed from Unwanted Junk into Unimaginable Jewel! The auction is a giant yardsale of high quality merchandise! And the task of writing and sending solicitation letters is a challenge to my brain (which has been rapidly decomposing since I started having children.) Planning the actual event is like planning a party for everyone I know... easy, fun, and highly satisfying!

The auction this year is a circus: the Signal Hill Circus & Auction. So when I saw all these games and prizes I got seriously excited. I practically hyperventilated. And then, just when I was in maximun high-pitch-squealing-mode, I saw Heather. That made me squeal for another 5 minutes.

Do you remember Heather? Heather was on staff at the Tri-City Sale! Heather is a new AF mom in our neighborhood. But wait! Heather isn't just the MOM, like the rest of us, she is the Air Force member. Her HUSBAND is the stay-home parent! This is very exciting and unusual in my world. AND... get this... she used to own a consignment shop for which she went to garage sales and found treasure to resell for a profit! Is that not my fantasy job?! Here is Heather:

She was rushing out of the estate sale because she was late for a plane to Belgium. I don't know what's up with that. She must be going on some fancy trip or something that I would never have a chance to go on...

Anywho... the estate sale guy said, "You guys must have known each other forever!" And I said, "No. We have only known each other for a few months. We are just Air Force wives so we have to become friends quickly." That's the sad and awesome truth.

The estate sale was the highlight of my yardsaling day.

I found the most inappropriate, un-politically-correct thing I have ever seen:

These generous people, these Polish immigrants, must have donated their precious time to fundraising for the Knights of Columbus... back when you were allowed to call kids "Mentally Retarded" instead of "Learning Disabled" or "Cognitively Disadvantaged". I was so floored by this sign and the KC aprons that accompanied it that I started to laugh... and then I had to explain myself to everyone in the immediate vicinity... because I was not laughing at mentally challenged children, I was laughing at the fact that it used to be OK to call kids "mentally retarded". Seriously. It makes me want to call all of my 6th grade girlfriends and have a good giggle. That sign was seriously retro...

At this sale we enjoyed a celebrity sighting: here are Shirley and Shirley's Grand-daughter...

You will remember the post of June 4, 2010, in which we were introduced to Shirley, her excellent hat, and her grand-daughter. It turns out that the young man photographed in the June 4th post was Shirley's grand-daughter's husband. Just setting the record straight.

There were unimaginable treasures at this estate sale. But the prices were steep. Too steep for me and certainly too steep for our tightwad blogging friend Laura. We will return to the estate sale tomorrow at 11AM and wipe the basement clean of its vintage carnival accessories! We might even have to post the unprecedented Sunday blog! Tune in!

I would be remiss if I did not mention the rummage sale at the church on Main St. This is in our own 'hood and was the most anticipated of the week's sales.

Parking was at a premium this morning, but our friend, Mary Beth Kelly, was on site to offer her driveway as sanctuary for weary rummage salers...

Inside the rummage sale we found a bevy of treasure. Clothes, toys, home decor, furniture, you name it. Highlights included this amorous pair of monkeys:

And this wonderful wooden trunk:

And, of course, this giant piece of wall art which will soon be painted over and resold at the school auction for enormous profit:

There was so much more today, Readers, that I could never capture with words:

• Laura had excellent hair and low blood sugar.
• I was spectacularly irreverent regarding all politically incorrect subjects.
• We ate some delicious QT delicacies.
• We smashed Laura's Honda into a pole.
• We flirted with a sexually repressed 110 pound American Bulldog named Roscoe.

Blogging, as literarily satisfying as it may be, can never capture the essence of a true Yardsale Adventure.

Until next time.

Nancy

busy social life nixes yard saling

Readers, I know it has been a while since we blogged about yard saling. That is because it has been a while since we yard saled. Soccer, scouts, errands (recall my " rigurous nursing program", such that I can manage to do grocery shopping on weekends), etc all conspire to monopolize my time. Plus, for some reason, these lovely midwesterners (Hi, friendly midwestern readers of this blog!) seem to think that many and varied celebrations must occur during this month and no other time. Fall harvest time apparently is still a worthy celebration to be celebrated, in a celebratory kind of way. For my southern friends, think hay, corn, racing pigs (I still can't figure out the connections greased piglets (ok, ok, I don't know if they are technically greased, but it makes for a more vivid image) have to autumn, but whatever), massive amounts of apples and pumpkins, and scarecrows aplenty. So that leaves scarce time for yard saling during October.
But my November is fairly dismal, especially since Nancy cancelled our Ikea trip. But it is for a great cause: Nancy's mom is moving to our town! Yay, Nancy's mom! However, I have very little event-ing going on in November, and, sadly, yard saling season is drawing to a close, because if you are not from 'round these here parts, you can't understand how frigid your own parts will get here in November. No one can find the joy of shopping in someone's ice-covered front yard, even Nancy and I. No, we hunker down by the heat registers (me) or fire (Nancy) to play oodles of games with the kids.
I am trying to rally the troops for this weekend to yard sale. Stay tuned.

The Tri-City Sale... in which Nancy enjoys a chemical comeback

Sorry for the delay, Readers. I have had internet connectivity issues. Also, thyroid issues.

You know how I had cancer in 2009? Well, I did. It was thyroid cancer. They got rid of it. I take excellent medicine to replace the thyroid hormones my -ectomied thyroid is not producing.

But it was time for a scan.

Truly, I wanted to blow off the scan. I am pretty invincible by now, I figure, so a scan is unnecessary. But my husband said I had to do it. So I had to stop taking the medicine for over three weeks, to empty my body of energy-giving thyroid hormones, so the scan would be an accurate picture of my un-thyroidal-ness.

That explains my lack of yardsale enthusiasm, my depressing poverty-centered posts, and my general absence from the YSA Blog over the past few weeks. I've been mostly asleep or crying.

But now I am back in the game, People! My scan was all clear and I have been doubling up on the meds to get back to pre-scan energy levels ASAP! I even let out a quiet little "woohoo" yesterday! Today I am positively energized and ready to report on Saturday's adventure!

There was a wee bit of conflict during the week as we prepared for the sale. The conflict? Laura kept inviting women and I kept inviting kids. By Friday I realized we had 6 women and 4 preteen boys signed up for our tri-city extravaganza. Thankfully, the Van-O-Dreams seats 11, but the payload area is also the foyer and major thoroughfare, so I anticipated a troubling shopping experience. For better or for worse, we lost one adult and one child to outside forces and were able to condense the crew into the V.O.D. without incident. (Unless you count Devin's farts as an incident. In that case, we had one majorly smelly incident.)

Here is the VOD before anything was purchased:

And here it is AFTER:

I hesitated including this AFTER photo because it doesn't look as dense as it actually was. Tammy had already unloaded, so we are missing a mirror, some clothes, books and whatall. Also, the extensive stereo equipment accumulated by the boys is expertly hidden under the cocktail table Bobby purchased for his play room (read: video game room.) And both of the George Foreman grills, both lava lamps, the retro candy dispenser, pocket knives, tooth whitening products, and keyboards are tucked into empty seating in the second row. Those were all the bizarre things the boys found irresistible.

My purchases, of course, were treasure.

Here is the Happy Buddha I bought for my Sweet Henry:

You just had to smile when you saw that, didn't you? (Buddha is seen here with pink fuzzy dice bought as a gift for me by Devin for 25 cents. Thanks, Devin!)

I also bought a pair of boxing gloves (punching bag will be found at a future sale come hell or high water!) I spent a few bucks on some clothes. I found a pair of signed and numbered prints of Ted Drew's and the old stadium for 5 bucks each. I bought a cool wooden box, some high-fallutin' yoga clothes for my very small sister-in-law, and a scarf.

But my greatest purchase by far, the FIND of the day, was Bob's Army Man Collection.

Bob Disson (born 1934) died recently, and his widow sold me his entire collection of Little Green Army Men. But they are no longer green... because he hand-painted each one of them. Represented in this Moist-n-Meaty box are multiple wars: Revolutionary, Civil, World I and II, Indian, etc. Bob himself never served in the military - he was between wars - but he was a historian and a war-history enthusiast who visited public school classrooms to share his knowledge with the children of the Greater St. Louis Area.

Dudes, I am sending this entire collection to my dad for his birthday. My dad, born 10/27/43, is also a historian, educator, and Little Green Army Man enthusiast. I will very shortly be the favorite child and primary inheritress of the Chase Family Estate. All $1000 of it! Bwahahahaha!

Tune in next week for a summary of Laura's yardsale adventures and my Chicago Marathon Adventures. My husband is running, not I. But I plan to shop!!

Until then, remember... "better living through pharmaceuticals!"

Nancy

the most wonderful sale of the year (by Laura)

Today was the famed tri-city sale. We stopped at a shopping center parking lot to get maps, coffee, and food, and of course, to fulfill our cuteness quotient of the day. This is 7 week old Griswold. Come on. Is he not adorable?



This is how dedicated we are. See how dark it is? Here are yard saling purists Heather, Samantha, and you can see a little bit of Tammy's sweatshirt and hair. Sorry, ladies, I am not a photog.


Here is a lovely couple, Don and Pam. Don is holding a tray that their kids bought Pam because "they thought it looked like me when I was younger. I think it looks scary." Readers, this scary tray that has evidentally been giving Pam nightmares could have been yours for a mere quarter had you attended the most excellent tri city sale today. But you didn't, did you? Suckers!

Here is Nancy practicing her most adorable librarian pose. She was almost sad that she has such excellent eyesight and thus has no need to buy this coquettish eyewear.

Here is Tammy modeling a most curious cup. Again, my photo taking skills leave much to be desired, but trust me when I say this cup had some serious bamboozas. Yes. A boobie cup.

Readers, I am sorry to say my energy level and thus my enthusiasm was in short supply today. I was cold and extremely tired, which I figured was due to my starting my coffee (and day) at 4am and therefore I was crashing my 6:28am. I attempted to counter this shortcoming by eating constantly throughout the morning, which was not necessarily the best strategy. I only perked up at around 4:30pm, which as any regular readers of this blog knows, is surely when the good stuff is gone. Not to mention we were already home.

I am happy to report Heather and Tammy scored big, with antiques, sheets, books, and many other treasures. Nancy got boxing gloves. I am not sure why. I must have been passed out for that story. I got a Cephalacon pot rack that I have no use for in my current house, but, hey, I got it for $8.

Nancy's son Donnie came with us, and we were accompanied by his friends Bobby and Devin, who are mad for yard saling. Enthusiasm was not a problem with this group of pre-teens. Their treasures were a delight to behold: 2 George Forman grills, a huge boom box, an extra set of speakers (maybe to hedge against the feared situation that the first set that came with the boom box would break? get stolen? not work?), a keyboard, a large wooden side table or small coffee table, which we promptly placed in the foyer of Nancy's van o'dreams and propped our tired, yard saling feet upon, a ginormous gumball machine, and a snack vending device, which was certainly the highlight of the boys' finds, as evidenced by the following conversation between Devin and Donnie: "Dude, I will trade you all my stuff for that." "No way, man".

The only problem that arose during the morning aside from my severe lack of sleep was the farting. Yes. Boys can emit farts. Shocking, I know. And these farts can get amplified in a van full of musty junk. So, there were times when the van o'dreams became a death trap o' fumes. But other than the stinkiness, it was a grand time.

Be sure to join us next year.