DOES THIS FISH MATCH?

Didn’t know it when I started out, but it was Cryptic Saturday. First there was the sale of stuff from a bunch of different family members, with the patriarch who told me they were “raising money to help two nineteen year old kids whose father just died and their mother is angry.” Oooookay. I know there’s more to mom’s story, but when he told me the exact same thing a second time I figured that was as much as I was going to find out.

The next was an older lady with quite a random assortment of goods for sale. “My 38 year old son moved back home two years ago,” she told me, “and I finally decided I could get mad or sell some stuff.”

Oooookay, that’s probably all I need of that story too.

Most cryptic of all, though, is the note on my pad that just says ‘vacation.’ I have no idea what that refers to. Probably ‘vacation, I need one.’

Way less mysterious was the response when I asked the price of a stuffed toy. “Oh goodness, hide that. My mother in law gave it to me and she’s here. Wait, I’ll get you a bag to put it in.”

Best pet of the day was a black and white long haired cat named Velma. Velma had not yet had her breakfast and she was trying her best to get someone to feed her. She was not the type of cat who asks for food politely, rubbing demurely against your ankle and emitting faint mews. No. Velma was on a tear. She loped into view from across the yard and into the open garage. A moment later she had scaled several pieces of stacked furniture and was glaring down at us from a height of about seven feet. Her owner and I chuckled at her antics. Velma didn’t care to be chuckled at. She jumped onto the raised garage door. As I left she was bouncing around up there, out of sight but making the door jig up and down, like a little kid jumping on a bed. I hope she got fed before the door fell down.

Weirdest moment of the day came as I perused some overpriced clothing. Nearby another woman was doing the same. We gave each other an eye-rolling look at the prices that were being asked, then she said to me, “Are you Possum Rose?” Now that question probably perplexes you because you don’t know that possumrose is my eBay handle. But to have a stranger identify me this way out of the blue made my brain stop--one of those moments when you see or hear something that simply does not compute.

I admitted to being Possum Rose (the real Possum Rose was my dog, but she let me use her name) and the woman said we’d talked at her sale a few weeks ago about eBay and she’d asked my handle then. I remembered the conversation, so was able to unfreeze my brain. Got to see what she’d bought (believe me, if I'd found those two mini Coach bags for a buck apiece before she did they’d have been in my car, not hers!) and show off my loot. Can’t show you her stuff, but here’s mine. I spent $5.00 (back down in my comfort range, after last week’s blowout!) and brought home:

A new Anne Taylor skirt to sell. Don’t you love border prints?

A sweet embroidered apron for a reading prize (several of the ladies at work are apron aficionados).

Pair of silver earrings (I haven’t found any earring for ages, and now I'm finding them every week) and a fun enamel and rhinestone pin. It looks to me like an 80s interpretation of a 60s pin.

Another gorgeous embroidered tablecloth.


A knitted kitty. One of those things you don’t need but can't resist. And if you have a few minutes to kill, a search over at Flickr for ‘knit kitty’ produces some fun results!

Some clothes to make into aprons…

…including this skirt that looks like it has palm trees and gigantic radishes in the border print. I love it.

Hey, speaking of making aprons, the sunflower dress turned into a really cute one!

This ten cent silk jacket is for ties and trim. I can cut up anything that cost a dime.

And for another dime I purchased the Chicken Socks action figure. Well, semi action figure. When you push his legs together his head goes up and down and the wings flap. If you really have time to kill, you can see him in semi-action in this (mercifully) short film I made: Chicken Socks Sings Strauss.

Best overheard conversation this week: “So I told him, your one job while we’re gone is to keep the goldfish alive. If it dies, your one job is to take its little fishy carcass to the pet store and find a matching fish.”

SATURDAY SMILES

“I have a present for you!” I chanted in a singsong voice to my husband when I got home from garaging Saturday. He looked interested. “Oh yeah? What?”

“It's in my car.” We headed out to the garage. He looked in the back seat and smiled. When you come home with an item your husband was about purchase at a store, and you paid one-fourth of what the store would have charged, smiling is definitely in order.

We’re starting to renovate our yard, and he told me the other day that he wanted to buy an electric mower (been using a push model, but it's all pushed out). And there it was, at the very last sale, the one I almost missed. Saw the sign as I turned the other direction, circled back around. New-looking electric mower, huge bundle of extension cord, hedge trimmer (which we also need—the $5 one we bought at a garage sale 15 years ago is getting tired). After admiring their gorgeous chocolate lab, I asked the couple having the sale how much they wanted for the mower. Fifty bucks. We plugged it in so I could see that it runs. I got its life history. I checked my billfold. I had $45 left, would that do? Close enough. So the husband showed me how to fold down the handle, and fitted my new mower into the back seat of my convertible. The ten-year-old son stowed the hedge trimmer and the 150 feet of extension cord among my other purchases, and I thanked them most sincerely.

A satisfied expression crossed the man’s face.

“There was a guy earlier, offered me thirty bucks for it, and said he’d be back later ‘cause I wouldn’t sell it. I sure hope he does come back.” He looked very happy at the thought.

It was a pretty happy morning all around. One woman had a huge stack of magazines she was giving away and was terribly pleased when I took about 20 of them. (There will be no lack of reading matter in my bathroom for some time to come!)

I talked to a quilter at another sale and was telling her about creating aprons from skirts and dresses. Her eyes lit up. “I made aprons last Christmas, and I hated doing the hems.” I foresee more aprons in her future.

I kept meeting people who love libraries—the woman who takes her grandchildren to storytime, the boy who had just finished “the most awesome book ever, they ought to make it into a movie of the week!” A teenage girl engrossed in a novel that I recognized as from one of our branches. Showed her the genre label on the spine that I designed; no doubt she was suitably impressed (not!).

Talked to a couple of women who make glass beads in a little studio in their garage. Oxygen tanks and blow torches and rods of glass were ready to go. One of them also makes little glass dragons; the purple one she showed me was quite fetching.

I chatted with a middle age lady and her mother at another sale as I picked up a couple of things to buy. I spotted a new-looking pasta server marked $1 and joked, “A dollar is kind of high for a back scratcher, don’t you think?” The older lady took it from me and tried it. A satisfied expression crossed her face.

"That’s wonderful, way better than those flimsy bamboo things.”

“That’s what I use mine for,” I told her. “Next to a husband it's the best back scratcher around.”

When I left she was peeling off the price tag.

I spent $49.35. You already know about the mower, trimmer, and endless extension cord. The rest went for:

Book on teddies. It was supposed to be a dime, but I was out of change at that point and the lady said just take it. I was happy to.

Sweet little vintage pitcher. Pancakes for Sunday breakfast, I think, so I can put warm maple syrup in this.

A yard of lovely lilac-print cotton fabric, plus pieces of this great cowboy theme material.

Fabbo vintage tablecloth. A nickel because it had stains. We’re playing the “will the oxy cleaner take out the stains this time” game even as we speak.

We Be Bop shirt with inlaid pearl buttons. After I washed it I noticed a bleach spot on the back of one of the sleeves. But I have an idea for fixing it—more later.

Another apron-to-be. This is actual patchwork, not just printed fabric. I asked the guy how much; he said, “Fifty cents. Oh, twenty five cents.” I love it when they talk themselves down. Hauled out my billfold. I had a nickel in the coin compartment. “That’s fine,” he said. So I got a ninety-percent discount on the original garage sale price.

A stapler for my desk at home, and at the next sale a box of staples. The stapler was really dirty, but I loved its color and curvy lines. It cleaned up nicely.
Before cleaning:

After:

Lovely wool and angora yarn to resell.

And two pairs of earrings, some dangly beady ones, and what must be among the most unusual pieces of jewelry ever made—silver and gold corn on the cob earrings. I will wear them with pride!

I was perusing a box of rolls of pink plastic mesh, trying to decide if they could be of any use to a children’s librarian and thus a worthy door prize (decided no, hope it's not the one thing they’ve all been wanting!). A man’s voice across the driveway rose in humorous confusion. “What the heck is this thing for? It looks like something a terrorist would use.”

I looked over. It was a suitcasey sort of thing. He went on. “You could break down your weapons and fit ‘em in here and put ‘em on the plane.”

“It’s for scrapbooking,” was the reply.

Creeping Charlie Goes for a Tricycle Ride

I spent $11.27 cents yesterday in my morning of garaging. Twenty seven cents? This time the odd amount was not caused by my occasional practice of offering whatever change I have in my billfold. No, the odd amount came from paying someone to keep something.

The sale looked great. Tons of stuff—it was a fund raiser for a church group, attended by several ladies and teenage girls, mostly African American. When I pulled up in front I told the first lady I saw, “This is the most organized sale I've ever been to.” She beamed and explained the layout to me. They were set up in departments. “Here are ladies' clothes, and these are for toddlers. Over there is infant stuff, and more ladies' on the hanging rack, and then just all kinds of other things.” Lots of people just dump heaps of stuff on their driveway, but these folks had their merchandising down pat.

The woman at the infant area was still folding and laying out items. She had gorgeous cornrows, darker over the silver at the roots. I told her how much I loved her hair. She laughed and said someone had asked her how she got the lighter color at the base. I started laughing too as I fanned out my own graying hair. “I could tell them how that happens,” I said.

Another lady was still unpacking newspaper wrapped items from a bag. One was a music box that she wound up as I looked over the items on the table. “You could dance to it,” she said. “Tempo’s a bit slow,” I replied, but when she pulled out another and wound it, I obligingly did a couple of slow dance steps. She giggled and added a couple more steps. The teenage girl watching us refrained from rolling her eyes. Barely.

In her bag I noticed a vintage looking green china object.

“How much is this?” I asked. “Do you know what it is?” she wanted to know. “I think it’s for flower arranging, a vase,” I said. (When I got it home my husband said it must be a candle holder. Anyone else have a vote?) She looked pleased. “Okay, since you know what it is, you can have it for…two cents.”

I looked at her. Two cents? Even I am not that cheap. Or not always. I pulled out my wallet and looked in the coin purse. “Here,” I said grandly, handing her a nickel, “sometimes I just like to live large.” She laughed and held up another item. “For that you get a free bonus.”

The free bonus was a small misshapen bowl, probably the ugliest thing made of pink glass in America. It held one spent match. I pulled out two pennies. “Here, I'll pay you to keep it.”

She took the two cents, and she kept the pink bowl. And she laughed.

The rest of the $11.27 went for these:

A glass to replace the one in my husband’s bathroom, and this fabbo cobalt cut glass bowl from that same sale. They weren't quite two cents each, but pretty darned close!

Embroidered top and skirt by Ulla Popken and in my size. The tag says dry clean but I'm going to hand wash them and hope for the best—keep your fingers crossed that they’re still my size when I finish!

Fabulous black velvet (I think it's silk velvet, but it pre-dates content tags) vintage swing coat by Lilli Diamond of California.

Two brown transferware small bowls. I love the intricate designs, and these feel old. No maker’s marks on the back. Anyone know anything about these?



A whole stack o’ magazines.

Couple of vintage science fiction paperbacks. After I got them home I remembered I read this Andre Norton recently and it's not her best, but hey, it was a dime.

A huge box of craft sticks to give to my children’s librarians. There are stick puppets ahead in storytime!

A couple of coordinated frames from two different sales; these will be prizes in my reading program.

Some fun earrings.

A book of lovely boxes to punch out and fold. Hmmm, maybe I can put buttons in some of them.
Some clothing to remake, including a Liz Claiborne skirt, sunflower dress and beaded pink skirt for future aprons.



Speaking of aprons, I recently finished a couple. Last week’s cute little skirt made this cute little number (the lining became the bib and ties) and the dress I bought back in early May turned out quite well. Even my husband commented on it; he liked the fabric flower of black chiffon with a vintage button.



A Jones New York silk skirt that will fit once I shorten it from the waist. A little bit of hassle, yes, but comparing the dollar I paid to the $90 or so it would cost in a store, should be worth it. I love the fabric.


The last set of sales were in a tract-wide event. I was leaving one of the sales when an old lady on one of those adult tricycles with the big wire basket on back paused in her ride to ask, “Do you have any plants for sale?” No, no plants there. She rode on, stately in her trek down the middle of the lane. I had to carefully pull around her down the block, don’t think she heard my car at all. She turned up on the next street as well. “Did they have any plants there?” she asked me. Didn’t see any on this block, I told her, but you can always ask. A couple of streets on I noticed some plants for sale, seedlings that had been potted up by the look of them. When I saw the trike lady again, I pulled up beside her. “I saw some plants at the sale down that street,” I told her, then noticed she now had a large and flourishing plant—creeping Charlie, I think—in her basket.

“I already found this one and I'm completely satisfied,” she said. With a jaunty wave she rode off.

I knew just how she felt.