Blogging on Thursday about sales on Saturday is my worst (lazy) pet-peeve. I forget half of the amusing things that happened. It makes me irritated with myself.
In good news, it was nice out and there were more than four sales listed. I don’t sleep in as a rule, but I would rather stay in PJ’s and drink coffee than head out in the rain for four sales.
Our first stop turned out to be a shabby-chic-I-owned-an-antique-space-that-failed sale.
I know that this style is sort of out, but it really wasn’t my thing even at the height of its popularity.
We did spot this cool portrait, but basically this sale was a giant bust.
Going in the completely opposite direction was our next sale. This was a combination of “guy sale” mixed with “hoarder sale.” There was a sign out front, but you couldn’t tell where the sale was. Is it in the house, or out back, or did you decide this morning to not have it…? We weren’t sure, but down the driveway we finally found it.
It was piles of stuff all over the place.
Then I spotted this awful stack of crap on his back porch.
That was enough for us to high-tail it out of there and then burst into laughter at how awkward the dude having the sale was. Jenny was making fun of me for saying that sale was “Bad News Bears” — my new go-to curse at work.
OK, palate cleansing — STAT!
Jenny told me the next sale was on Aurora. I am not sure if we have really talked much about this area, but it was the old highway and many motels popped up for the 1962 World’s Fair. Some parts are pretty run down and there are a few houses, but mostly older businesses and the motels are a bit more derelict. Here is a little spoof on the prostitution on Aurora Ave. a bit closer to downtown.
This guy had lived here for a long time.
Maybe alone, based on this sign leading into the basement.
When I started to head to the basement the woman running the sale called down, “We have a huge crowd coming down!” I replied back “Three doesn’t really make a crowd.” Once I was downstairs, it made a bit more sense. It was very crowded with tools.
The guy working the sale wanted to know if I wanted a white kitchen garbage bag for my purchases. “Um, no thanks.” This is when he showed me a pencil and said “If you see any of these pencils they are made with real lead.”
I saw a few choice items in the basement to make fun of.
I pulled down this amazing picture of a monkey wearing ice skates and flipping the bird. She gave that to me for free.
During this time Jenny was having some odd conversation about if a CD was for sale or not. I wanted to say “don’t listen to that guy, he is mentally challenged” but didn’t get an opportunity.
Jenny thought we should hit a sale claiming to have over 1,000 vintage sun glasses.
And he did, but it all seemed like hipster junk.
He did have this gem: the K-Tel Record Selector!
When I made some comment about it the 25-year old guy was like “Hey, bet you haven’t seen one of those before!” Um, yes I have, on TV when I was a kid. How old do you think I am?!?! They also made one for 8-tracks!
So, what did I buy? Fireworks! My husband was stoked when I arrived home that afternoon. Seattle doesn’t allow the sale of any real fireworks. You can purchase snakes or sparklers and that ends the items you can purchase.
A friend of my husband’s was there and told us to hit up a sale close by with tons of great vintage clothing. It didn’t have much of interest and what she did have was way overpriced. I am not sure what he thinks vintage is, but this isn’t it. Total bust!
The next sale had this really great flyer.
But when we went into the back yard it was like a demolishment sale. I am here for your yard sale, not to purchase your crappy old kitchen cabinets. For god’s sake go to the dump!
At this point we needed to pick a new area of town. Shake off this bad sale BS. But no such luck at our next sale. The house was extremely crusty. We were glad the sale was in the front yard and not inside. And all he really had was train collectables.
The guy kept saying “Ladies, you are going to come back. I don’t have anything out that you are going to want to buy yet.”
He did have this odd collection of religious items. The one that baffled me the most was the holy bible eraser. What sort of sick person gives that as a party favor? I mean when you use it you are erasing the bible!
Jenny also spotted this carefully preserved copy of the Globe.
In the car I had been asking Jenny how she picked out the blender she has. I want a new one, but not a crappy one and not one of the insane $300 blenders. I don’t need to blend that much.
At our next sale the woman had tons of stuff from Anthropologie, but she wanted the same price you could get when it hit the sale rack. She kept saying that she hadn’t worn this or that item. She said it so many times that I finally said “If it doesn’t have a tag on it, I am assuming you wore it.” All of a sudden Jenny says “Look, it’s my blender!” There it was, for a whopping $5 — SOLD. She told me she had never used that either, but it was kind of sticky.
Our next sale was a church rummage sale listed as Books, Items from Kenya, and Quilting. This sign led us to the sale.
I mean how complicated is it create a sale sign?? What this turned out to be was a sale that just had quilting items. The books? All about quilting. There was this dude scanning all the quilting books. So, we just did what Karl usually does and really loudly went “BOOP” and “BEEP” at him.
(Now, a side note to book scanners who occasionally like to stop by: I am sure there are a few highly valuable quilting books out there, but that isn’t an invitation for you to post about how great you are, because you use a scanner, K? Start your own blog. Thanks!)
We hit a few more sales. One of them had these raccoons.
Another had this awful-looking book.
The very last one we hit ended up being my allergist’s sale. This was just sort of odd, since I didn’t know who he was until he spoke to me. I only see him once a year and it was so out of context. I bored him about my allergies for about five minutes (which I am sure he loved) and he introduced me to his wife.
And at that point it was time to go home. We each purchased a couple of things, but not enough to even bother with a trunk shot.