The fez and Pez

This lovely Italian woman from the Hill spoke just like my great grandmother. She was delightful. If you have never been to the Hill, you simply must drop everything and go there. Especially if you are Italian. You will fit in like garlic on bread.

I love Soulard. Really, I do. The old homes, the green consciousness. But sometimes in quirky old neighborhoods, you have quirky personalities. Here, someone has cleverly nestled a strikingly non-lifelike owl in an old tree. To ward off nesting songbirds? Maybe. To draw more owls? Perhaps. To freak out yard salers innocently walking past? Definitely.

Here we are, crammed in the sweet Odyessy, which we decided today has not merely an adequate trunk, but a cavernous one.

Here is another intersting thing spotted in Soulard. The quality is poor, but there is a fake, howling cat with a vividly red mouth snarling in a window, along with a Brinks home security sticker and video camera.

Here, in the same building but another window, is a fake dog with a video camera. Why, Soulardian? Why do you do this to the sidewalkers?

I can not take credit for the rhyming title of this post. That credit belongs of course to Nancy and Donnie, seen here with their ryhyming treasures. This was taken in Soulard.

When you take a 3 year old and 6 year old yardsaling from 6:40am-2pm, you get a little desperate to keep them entertained. So you give them your camera. Here is Campbell taking a picture of Hudson in Soulard.

Here is someone taking a picture of a sideways house as we rapidly drove by. I am assuming it is one of my children.

Here is Campbell taking a picture of himself. I realize you may be thinking, "But, Laura, I do not read your blog to see pictures that your kids took." It was a long day, and as Nancy so astutley pointed out, I was wilting, and wilting fast. This is the best I've got, and really, he is adorable, isn't he?

Here is a delightful picture of Nancy that one of my cherubs took. See? Do you see how her mid-yardsale nap perked her right up? And how she was all yardsaley-Viagara?

I drove and brought along bookoos (sp.?) of food for the children and adults. It really is amazing how poorly you eat on yardsaling day. And how non-existant hygiene becomes. The soiled underpants, which you will read about below, really is the epitome of how desperate things can get on any given Saturday.

Sadly, good readers (and followers! Hi, all 9 of you!), may be my last post for awhile. I am starting school on Monday and will be spending Saturdays with my family, so you may not hear from me. But never fear, as Viagra Nancy is more than capable of helming this mother of a yardsaling blogship.