But really, I think hibernating from sales is a good plan around this time of year. So let’s just revisit a few holiday-riffic gems from older days! Starting with this gem from our most Christmassy post ever, guest star Leslie’s romp through the 1978 Swiss Colony Christmas catalog.

There was the time Meghan leaped into a gingerbread man yard sale sign to provide some comedy gold …

… and the early ’40s Boeing magazine with an interesting take on the Christmas spirit.

And naturally, we’ve seen (and occasionally purchased) mounds and mounds of Christmas crap at sales throughout the years.

So may the spirit of peace be with you this holiday season.

And here’s to some amazing yard sale scores (and stories) in 2012!

This sign is wonderful, I walked by it near my work.

This is pure craftsmanship when it comes to moving sale signs. Hand painted, two ponies magazine cut-out, and the added-on part of cardboard at the bottom. You know they got bored after about four of these. I could have made like one of these and that would have been it.

The second one is the extreme opposite. I walked by this one last weekend in San Francisco. They didn’t even make signs, but just hijacked someone else’s sign from the month before.

I love them both.

We were recently interviewed for an article which talks about this holiday, as well as other finer points of the yard sale experience. Here’s a snippet of the printed version (with our swanky bingo pic) — the full text can be found online here.

Enjoy the article … and hope National Garage Sale Day treats you right.

But last Friday there was an estate sale run by Flotsam & Jetsam that looked like it could be cool. Even if I didn’t buy anything, at least the house might be interesting.

I only planned on hitting this one sale. The house was a big rambler near the water and there were about 12 people in line when I arrived. Then a woman comes up behind me and starts complaining. “I am cold. Maybe they will let us in early. It’s raining” — SHE HAS NO COAT ON.

She keeps mumbling and I am trying to not pay her much attention, since it’s going to make the next 10 minutes that I am in line seem even longer. Since I haven’t been giving her any attention, she is now talking to the woman behind her in line. And the line is getting longer, I look back and there are 40+ people waiting to get into the sale.

Then the owner of Flotsam comes outside, takes down her signage, and goes back into the house. And the same woman starts talking …

LADY: “If she comes out here one more time and doesn’t let us in, I am going to slap her.”
ME: “Um, I know her and she is very nice. Saying you are going to slap her isn’t cool.”
LADY: “Well, I am cold and it’s almost 10:00. And her sales are always priced so high.”
ME: “No one made you come here. You don’t have to come to her sales if you think she has items priced too high. That isn’t really a reason to talk about slapping someone.”
LADY: “Well, I was just joking. And you are weird.”
ME: “I would rather have someone think I’m weird, than threaten to slap someone because you can’t get into a sale two minutes early.”

As if calling me weird could be considered an insult.

The house was wonderful, but the sale didn’t have a ton of stuff. People swarmed the books. They did have nine pairs of Frye boots, sadly all were two sizes too big for me. There was great kitchen stuff and I picked up a really cool french bowl and a Descoware Frying pan.

When I went to do one last pass before getting rung up, I spotted this guy that comes off as some pro book seller, crouched on the floor with his scanner. Ehg. Get me out of here!

Then as I was driving home, I pulled onto my street and saw a sign for an estate sale. Why wasn’t this listed on Craig’s? So, I doubled back and hit this sale that had the feel of a perma-sale, but also seemed like an estate sale full of stuff that should just be sent to the Goodwill. I went into a small room off the garage filled with sheets, shoes, toys and stuffed animals. Then I spotted a Captain and Tennille poster on one wall for $4. Did you love the song “Love Will Keep Us Together” so much that you kept this horrible poster?

As I started to take a photo of it, I saw something moving out of the corner of my eye — definitely not something you want to have happen at a sale. I turned to see if it was a rat, then saw a kitty getting comfortable on a stack of old blankets. Why would you have an estate sale and keep the animals in the house with you?

OMG. Why did I even leave the house?!?!

Originally posted at Engrish Funny. (Thanks to reader Clay Blackburn for bringing this gem to our attention!)

First, Karl says: I do not think it is too unusual for other people to connect with other folks for a one-on-one meeting but this was out of the ordinary as you will read, it took forever to reconnect and I am going to say this was certainly worth it but I am ready to see what others think after reading…

Karl: weird story when yer ready…?!
Jenny: lay it on me
Karl: gave a gal my age my card after she got a “clockwork orange” poster right in front of me at a sale…for a dollar. she said she prolly did not want it…
Karl: that was over a year and three mos ago. she never called but i ran into her at another sale earlier this year and she says, i lost your card…gimme it again, i got records too…
Karl: so, she never calls
Jenny: is that the end of the story?
Karl: i then get a call from her this weekend (four months later) and she says come over last night…she is a pro picker and sells on ebay and has a house full of interesting things i can see – but this is out in the burbs
Jenny: and you got there and she was naked?
Karl: and she then says, lets go to the garage and she has art, she has clothes, she has all kinds of great stuff…and she does this for a living i think. I SAID, I THINK
Karl: hard to tell…but she give me the poster and proceeds to let me at a nice stack of records – about 75 or so. not naked bytheway
Jenny: that would have made the story really good.
Karl: and i get about 25. and she says, $25 including the poster
Jenny: wow good deal! I assume!
Karl: YES! after she tells me that she researched ‘em and that they were easily worth more than a dollar each – AND ENCOURAGED me to take more for .50 cents or whatever…
Karl: nothing funny going on here but i get 25 more and a killer adidas bag and she says, 50 bucks.
Karl: she turns out to be cool. super cool, totally knows her shit. furniture, clothes, you name it – records too.
Karl: i am about to leave and she asks, do you know anybody who can record sound? i say, no but one guy but he’s a recluse…
Karl: she says, “we have spirits here and i wanna know what they have to say”
Jenny: FUCK!!!!!
Karl: “the house and windows can shake, you know”
Karl: i say, NO I DO NOT KNOW!
Jenny: o.m.g
Karl: and she says “they are not ghosts, they are spirits”
Karl: it was kinda creepy
Jenny: weeeeeird
Karl: seriously
Jenny: and she has your number now!
Karl: continues to say, “i need someone to record what they are saying since – well, they said Haiti was going to happen…and Obama was going to win…”
Karl: I WAS LIKE WHAAAAAT?! the fuck?!?!?!
Jenny: dude
Karl: i was kinda tripping out…and left.
Karl: she was so nice jenny but this along with pictures of jesus at her doors…and she said she smokes a lot of weed (hello!)
Karl: i was freaking.
Jenny: good lord. FREAK SAUCE!
Karl: then i am driving home and looking at the records and thinking – am i going to bring these into my home?
Karl: yes, i get over it and now i can’t stop thinking about it.
Karl: straight tripping out.
Karl: KILLER RECORDS! i mean, jazz, psych stuff, indian – everything you can imagine
Jenny: dude, you better hope nothing starts shaking over there…..
Karl: stop that!
Jenny: btw, I am going to copy this whole conversation and send it to Meghan!

And all Meghan said was: “This needs to be on the blog.”

Karl adds: Lastly, I was not scared per se – more thinking, how does one come to tell another person, A STRANGER such things? I am pleased to say I am still around and none of the records have levitated or anything but I must admit, the entire thing still has me a bit freaked.

The moral of the story? Venturing into strange territory in search of the goods might bring scores, but you really never know what else you might find. It could’ve been worse, though … just ask the guy who dug through a bunch of disco records and found a mummified rat. Eek!

Other times, the added information makes you more interested in the item. Once I decided to buy a $3 shirt only after learning that the seller had bought it in Paris. Another time I’d already bought a small wood table, but I liked it even better when I learned of its previous history as the “kitchen table” in a school bus which housed the seller’s family when she was a child.

But what happens when the information about an object is completely made up? The Significant Objects project is an attempt to find out. Curators Joshua Glenn and Rob Walker buy things at thrift stores and yard sales, then get writers to create completely fictitious stories where the object plays a prominent role. The item is then put on eBay — with the story as its sole description. And sure enough, the objects sell … for much more than their original purchase price. (Winning bidders also receive a printed copy of the item’s story.)

The stories in the auction listings are clearly marked as “invented.” In some cases this is a good thing: who would really want to risk the curse of Mark Frauenfelder’s miniature bottle or Jason Grote’s creepy dome doll?

In other stories, you almost wish they were true. Shelley Jackson’s charming tale of a crumb sweeper, previously the property of a fastidious werewolf, manages to transform an object that’s frankly somewhat icky into a lovely souvenir. And how much cooler is this coconut cup when you imagine that it really did come from Space Beach?

As someone who spends too much time looking at unwanted yard sale objects, it’s fascinating to see such items injected with invented meaning. The stories do add significance to the object in question, and maybe even others of their kind. I wouldn’t have thought twice about passing up this Missouri shotglass at a yard sale, but if I see it around now, you can bet I’ll buy it … purely because I dug the story Jonathan Lethem created for the one that was part of this project.

With the completion of Phase 1′s 100 stories, the project’s curators are examining the data collected through the auctions. They’ve created charts and discussed various factors — timing, story themes, type of object, visual appeal, etc. — in search of trends that might help explain why some objects sold for more than others. Author fame seems to be a factor in some cases (the person who bought Colson Whitehead’s Wooden Mallet is presumably a fan, later getting him to sign it). But some of the highest-priced items had stories written by less famous writers. And while most buyers probably found the auctions from the stories, I’d love to know how many people stumbled upon these auctions by accident. What if some dalmation lover was browsing for a “spotted dogs figurine” and ended up finding the listing with Curtis Sittenfeld’s poignant description?

Maybe there are discrete factors that will be shown to affect the price of an object, but it seems to me that the actual significance of an item is based on something less quantifiable. Something about its story gave the object more resonance. What is it? Only the person who spent that much knows for sure. (Or maybe not. How many times have we bought something just based on a vague feeling that the object is somehow calling to us?) A more “qualitative” research phase is coming up soon, so maybe we’ll hear more from some buyers to find out just what they were thinking when they placed their bids.

And meanwhile, Phase 2 has begun: a 50-story charity fundraiser, with all proceeds going to the very worthy nonprofit group 826 National. So far, the stories are equally fascinating (with similarly yard-sale-reject-worthy items) — a few of my favorites are the “Women & Infants” Glass, Hippie Bear Ornament, and even a forlorn-looking Pincushion Owl (which, according to Margaret Wertheim’s story, is holding together the very fabric of the universe. Who knew?)

And this is where I come in! I have contributed a story about this object.

I’m thrilled to be participating in such a cool project. And I want to know … is this Dolphins Box now significant to you? Think about it … it could be yours!

I also missed an encounter with a woman he’s declared as his yard sale nemesis. She pulled up to a sale and insisted she had to park in the driveway because she couldn’t see well enough to park alongside the curb. (Um, then should you really be driving?) She then gave the seller some line about how she was looking for recent textbooks “for her college-age daughter who just loves to read everything.” Yeah, right. Finally, she announced she was buying all the CDs — which the seller had brought out on Karl’s request — before he even had a chance to look at them.

Anyway, since I have no real weekend recap for you, please enjoy this fascinating LP cover that I picked up at a Friday sale on my way to work a couple weeks back.

I would have filed this post in the “Um … No Thanks” category, except that (for some strange reason) I actually purchased it.

Well, if you are a member of my family, you would put aside any concerns that it might be full of mangled body parts, and go pick it up. My sister did just that, bringing it over to my parents’ house. If you saw the post I wrote about their house a while back, you will understand how logical this was. My mom sent the photo above knowing I would appreciate it, and when I was visiting them last weekend I was able to see a few of the actual hands in their new home: the garden.

Apparently there were also some feet. We’re not sure why someone had these, or why they parted with them (my favorite theory: ex-boyfriend’s abandoned art project), but I don’t think they really could have found a better home.

Also, remember how I “amended” that yard sale sign a couple weeks back? Turns out I might have been subconsciously channeling the Family Circus. Look what I found on my parents’ fridge!

I guess they did a whole yard sale series that week … culminating in a big spread of the family’s sale itself. I recommend the “improved” version by Yard Sale Addict.

Sometimes, we go to a yard sale and get the strange sensation that we have been there before. It’s not some metaphysical time travel or past life regression thing. Just the simple fact that when you have been going to yard sales in the same area for more than a few years or so, you are bound to find yourself retracing your steps. Combine that with the fact that people who have a yard sale once will usually have another one down the line, and you have the makings of a phenomenon: sale ja vu.

Last weekend we had a whole rash of these experiences while making the Memorial Day weekend rounds. Sometimes it was a sale that was good before, but sucked this time around. Like when we hit a block sale which Meghan instantly recognized as the site of her major Aveda score two years back. Unfortunately there was no Aveda or anything else good to be found this time around.

Another stop was a fundraising sale for a meditation center. Once we were there I instantly recognized it from a previous visit. I remembered that there had been something annoying at the sale last time, like high prices or crazy sellers, but couldn’t quite place my finger on what had been so irritating. In any case, it was bad before and bad again, which is sadly often the case. (If we recognize a known bad sale from the car, we usually just keep driving.)

The best is when you pull up to a sale and are so stoked because you remember how good it was last time. This was the case when we found ourself at the sock guy’s sale. We rifled through his huge tubs of brand-new socks ($2 a pair!) and both got a few items from his racks of vintage men’s clothing. Meghan even scored a great old leather jacket for $30 (much to the dismay of the long-time vintage dealer who showed up right as we were leaving).

We also made yet another stop at the latest installment of what we’ve been referring to as “the avant garde lady sale.” (I don’t think it actually counts as sale ja vu when you’re deliberately hitting the same sale week after week.) This time she’d unearthed her jewelry stash. I managed to resist buying anything, but Meghan grabbed a few small items.

We did hit some sales that were brand new to us. One was advertised as “Grandma’s Estate Sale.” Let me tell you, Grandma had some bad stuff.

Then there was the sale where I was compelled to buy a giant light-up Santa for $1. I did not, however, take them up on this item, even though it had the exact right price.

At one sale we found some of the wackiest homemade pillows we’d ever seen. Meghan asked if she could take a picture and (more or less predictably) the sellers tried to convince her to just buy them. Um … no.

Walking back to the car, she said “Smell my hand!” This is not a command that one should generally comply with, but it is a testimony to how much I trust her that I did. It had an oddly strong sort of lavender-sagey odor. We figured the pillows had been stuffed with something smelly. It wasn’t bad, just weird how intensely the scent clung to her hand after only a few seconds of contact.

There was a sale which had basically nothing except for these Cabbage Patch dolls, just kicking back in the front yard.

And last but not least, there was a sale filled with piles of baby stuff, with a few mundane household items thrown in. We left pretty quickly and as I reviewed my list to plot out our next stop, Meghan mentioned seeing a sign nearby promising an “Awesome Sale!” We found it, and realized it was the sale that we had just been at. An irresistible compulsion to jump out of the car and make the sign a little more accurate got the better of me.

We laughed for a while, wondering what the people would think when they came back to take down their signs (assuming they weren’t the kind of people to just leave them up for weeks or months after the fact). Personally, if I found someone had done that to my sign I would probably think it was pretty funny. And really, “just OK” is not half as mean as I could have been.

All in all, it wasn’t a bad day … especially for an always-questionable holiday weekend!