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.”