busy bees

Readers, it has come to my attention that I have been negligent in updating this blog. I have perfectly good excuses, honestly! As you can see from the above photo, my family was enjoying a much-needed get-away to our favorite place in the world, Charleston, SC.

Here is the Angel Oak Tree in John's Island, SC. This tree is estimated to be 1300 years old and its branches spread out for over an acre.

This is Pitt Street Bridge, where the H.L. Hunley was carried from Mt. Pleasant to Breach Inlet (in between Isle of Palms and Sullivan's Island) to be tested before it sank the Housatonic in the Civil War, making it the first submarine to successfully sink an enemy ship ever.

History lesson over.

Lest you think I spent all this time doing nothing yard-sale related, please observe the didn't-turn-out-right fruit holder I fashioned out of 10 cent pans. I got this idea from Ready Made, and theirs was much better. Further tinkering to be conducted soon.

Readers, remember waaaaaaay back when Nancy and I moved the dilapidated cabinet from the garage of a home on our street? It has been stripped, sanded, stained, and new hardware has been installed. Here is the top half. See, I have been busy.

I also graduated from nursing school, spent time at my sister's, and started a new job. So am I forgiven?

Webster Groves Park!

Readers, Webster Groves Park was the destination today. Hopes were high for a one-of-a-kind sale, and it did not disappoint. Hats off to this lovely neighborhood, with lovely offerings to be had, as seen below:

Yes, readers, this is a genuine Britney Spears plaque, suitable for your Britney Spears shrine in your home.

There were three pairs of waders for sale today. The people of Webster Groves Park must spend a lot of time in the muck, or there are hordes of deadly snakes. I can't possibly find another explanation.

Do you ever have that pesky problem at the beach or pool when you think to yourself, "A swimsuit AND a towel? Now that is simply too much gear." Here is the answer you probably never thought existed: a combination swim trunk and towel. No need to towel off, for you are already wearing it.

Readers, Webster Grove Park is lovely. Samantha and I were treated to stunning displays of blatant spring-ing at every turn. Here is an example.

The propieteress of this sale helpfully labeled these waders, in case we couldn't tell by the two pictures on the front of the box.

Tune in next week for unknown treasures!

belated blog

Readers, this is one of the many inexplicable treasures found at last weekend's rummage sales. Is it a holder for hard boiled eggs? A strange cosmetics container? Something that promoted giggles every time I thought about it?

I went saling with Samantha, who can sensibly arrive at the intended use of most any object, and she realized quickly this curious item was used to make confetti eggs. Having never made such objects myself, I still don't see the draw, but hey, whatever floats your boat.

Samantha's speedy eye caught this witty t-shirt. Who doesn't know a lawyer that could use a visual hug? You should definitely pick one of these babies up at your local rummage sale and wear it at your next black-tie event.
Readers, here in the tundra-like midwest, it is cold from September through April. As you can see, this hearty proprieteress knows what draws in the crowd with her clever sign:
This is the largest wooden duck collection I have personally ever seen. Questions immediately come to mind: who donated these ducks? What did they use them for? Why do some have hats and clothes and others remain vulnerable in their wooden nakedness? Why would a duck need a hat? Why did they get donated? Was it someone's husband who one day had had it up to here with the wooden ducks and said, "Bernice! That's it! Either the ducks go or I go!"

Sadly, Bernice's ducks did not sell. Here they are, at my favorite thrift store the next week. Let's hope Bernice doesn't frequent this particular store. I fear for her broken heart.

Do you like flowers? Do you like bowls? Do you like flowers a little too much?

This is an ideal gift for someone who likes the look of squished petroleum by-products staring up at them when their punch is finished.

Readers, do you like rocks? Do you like to display your rocks, so others can see just how much you like them? Do you like to dust un-dustable objects? Then here is your perfect item, artfully displayed by Samantha.

Are you living in 1982 and planning to host a wedding shower whose predominant color is pink and gosh darn it, you just can't find those popular paper bells? Then, Reader, you NEED to start frequenting dusty church gymnasiums, for what you are seeking is close!

That's it for this week! Fair shopping!

Sucky start to the yardsale season (by Laura)

Dear readers,

Welcome back! And welcome, to YOU, Yardsale Season 2011! We have eagerly been awaiting your appearance!

Readers, it has been a long, dreary winter, with hopeless, freezing Saturdays filled with ennui. 5 below and nowhere to go!

But, alas, March has come, and with it, the fumbling, bumbling, awkward attempts of novice proprieters and proprieteresses to hold yard sales. Here, once again, is the #1 rule of yard sales:

1. People, it is only an estate sale if your entire estate is on sale, hence, the name ESTATE SALE. Hauling a few items into your garage and calling it an estate sale is a lie that will cause disdainful looks to be cast upon you by experienced, classy yardsalers such as myself.

Readers, my boys and I were efficiently efficient today. We saled. We skivved. But we bought nothing. (Please refer to older posts that reference my well-known miserliness).

Check back in frequently, Readers! The tales that will be spun this season are sure to keep you in suspenseful stitches!

Until next week!

good-bye yard sale season (by Laura)

Readers, it is the saddest time of year when we have to say good-bye to our favorite activity. Yes, yard sale season has drawn to a close. No one wants their kibbles and bits getting frostbite.
Don't forget that March 26th is the school's rummage sale, which will surely be bloggable. Check back in the early spring as we gear up for a new yard saling season!

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!