OK, maybe not America's Next Top Photojournalist, but I had it all planned out. I was going to take my camera to the Visiting Nurse's Rummage Sale on Friday, and take tons of wonderful photos to wow you with. There would be photos of furniture, dishes, pictures, frames, vintage linens -- all the things we all drool over.
The day started out well. My dear friend, Robin, and I arrived at the twice-yearly gigantic rummage sale an hour after it began. We were each wearing backpacks filed with our wallets, checkbooks, water bottles and empty shopping bags. Actually, I forgot the shopping bags, but Robin saved the day. In addition, I was armed with my camera. The morning was overcast, and the parking lot was full as you can see from the photo above. We were ready to shop. And I was ready to record every step.
And then we hit the housewears tent. I quickly picked up two milk glass dishes, and all thought of picture-taking flew out of my mind. My camera became nothing more than a minor annoyance that got in the way every time I bent over to look at a prospective treasure. So much for photojournalism. I don't think the guys over at The Associated Press have anything to worry about.
I can, of course, show you the things I came home with; and I will in a moment. But I just wanted to muse for a minute about the lure of the rummage sale. I always joke about being a shop-a-holic. But I am also really cheap. I'm not the sort of shop-a-holic who comes home with a bunch of bags from Pottery Barn, and Ralph Lauren, and (God forbid) Abercrombie. I'm more the sort who brings her own shopping bags, and comes home with other people's cast- offs.
I bring home the beat-up copper serving dish with the blue and white china handles ($3.),
the scratched and beat up silver-plated dish (50 cents),
and the pair of rustic framed bird prints ($3. each).
I already have, shall we say, an "overabundance" of milk glass. But somehow, the shapes always get me. And at $1.50 each, how could I leave them?
And I do have an ongoing love affair with all things small, so these two little pieces of glassware just captured my heart.
And don't forget this little cast iron urn with the hole in the bottom (why the hole?).
Why do I need all this stuff? My husband laughingly says that we have enough of our own crap, we don't need anybody else's. But I don't know. Sometimes, crazy as it may sound, I think that all this stuff needs me. To clean it up, to cherish it, to give it a home.
Nah, I'm just kidding. My problem is -- I just can't pass up a good bargain. Finito. End of story.