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!