Today was my second time to participate in one of these deal-finding adventures.
Before a year ago, garage sales and the people that frequented them were as much a mystery to me as unicorns. For all I knew, garages and their guests were nothing but fantasy…things that filled storybooks and Shelly Duval’s Fairy Tale Theater.
I had heard about these garages full of crutches and cookware covered with bright circular stickers, and the people who get up in the dark on Saturday mornings and buy those brightly stickered items.
Garage sales and garage sale goers were kind of like the tooth fairy. They did their “business” while I slept. I was blissfully oblivious to their comings and goings.
The first time I went and actually witnessed these caves full of mason jars and Thigh Masters and the fast walking, completely focused mythological creatures that surrounded them, I was too in shock to actually buy much.
My prize that day was a gigantic plastic grasshopper that became Hayden’s favorite toy for a month. Even in my early morning-I feel like I am on Diagon Alley-sort of stupor, I knew that huge grasshopper was a must-have for my Hayden.
I insisted that Ashley and Jenn take me to one of the garages whose ad said, “Handmade Walking Sticks.”
Handmade walking sticks!
Hot Dog! I had to see them. I just had to.
I know they wanted to make me get out by myself and then leave me...but they didn't.
I always wondered why anyone would want to go and ruin a perfectly good Saturday by waking up so early to go possibly find and then possibly buy stuff that may or may not even be there.
Sleep All Morning vs. POSSIBLE deals?
Come on…that’s not even a fair fight. We would have to host this brawl in a basement somewhere, with thug music blaring, and chicken wings flapping. Someone would have to be holding a handful of money…wear a wife beater shirt…oh…and we’d HAVE to have one of those creepy lights that hang from the ceiling and swings.
It would be a bloody death for “Possible Deals.” But I’d be sleeping while it happened, so who cares.
Now that I have children who wake up at 7 a.m. no matter if we put them in the bed at 6 a.m….the contestants have changed.
"Sleep One More Hour" vs. POSSIBLE Deals?
"Possible Deals" now has a fighting chance.
Now that I’ve walked through this enchanted forest twice, here’s what I think about this mystical event:
1. I think going to garage sales is a lot of work.
You have to buy a newspaper…I almost quit at that point in the process.
Then, since there are about 923 of these driveways full of dung on any given weekend, you have to have a strategy.
You have to have a plan! A plan!
You have to have a map.
It was so overwhelming; I just handed the paper to Kirby Friday night and ate some cake.
Come to find out, what we really needed was a Charlie. Since Kirby has one, he looked up the addresses on Map Quest and then being the genius he is, Photoshopped the map pieces together to give us a very handy piece of paper, with red stars, numbered and everything.
To go garage saling we had to outsource and employ the use of Photoshop.
Trash browsing just does not seem like a sport for amateurs.
You might need a degree for this.
Speaking of trashy…
Kirby emails me the night before our big morning outing and says, “I’m rolling out of bed at 6:30 in the morning…throwing on a t-shirt and shorts and heading your way…I said a t-shirt…pregnant woman wearing a t-shirt=trashy. You better not look cute tomorrow.”
On the count of three, let’s all roll our eyes together.
I knew that my Kirby could not look trashy if she hired someone to help her.
She drives up with her cute little pregnant belly, her curly hair wisped up, her freckles showing and her tiny King Louis tube purse hanging from her wrist.
I might as well have been deal digging with Demi Moore.
Oh…and you have to take cash to the Realm of All Things Worn Out.
I know. I really said cash.
I practically had to look that word up in ol’ Webster.
Cash? What is that? Who has cash? Cash is like SOOOOOO VHS.
2. Some streets are just too long.
When Robert Earl King sings, “The road goes on forever and the garage sales never end,” I SWEAR he is talking about Carter Creek.
Long roads make me sad.
Poor Barak and Carter Creek…they are like Old Maids…they go on forever and forever and never get to change their names.
I think we could have driven to Kansas and passed a Carter Creek and it actually be the same road that ends up by JJ’s snow cones in Bryan.
3. You can’t call a couple tables out on your side walk a garage sale. You just can’t!
Look…I’m perfectly ok with getting up early and excavating through u-haul boxes of sports bras…I don’t mind the piles or the digging…or there not even being anything I want after I’m finished climbing out from under a mountain of mom jeans.
All I’m saying is there should be PILES of poo.
There should be stacks of Steven King books and old records. There should be Rubbermaids brimming over with hot wheels and easy readers. All the garage sales I imagined had piles and piles of piles.
Today, there were no mountains, or piles or stacks or lumps of ANYTHING.
Not one heap.
My favorite part of the day was the man sitting out in a lawn chair who had pants hanging from trees in his yard.
Yes…jeans were hanging from trees...IN COPPERFIELD. Staci! What are you going to do?
His neighbors down the street were having a garage sale.
We could just see how his morning must have played out…he was walking out to get his paper unaware of the tooth fairy convention right down the street…but that’s when he noticed the garage…the stuff…Rupunzel…then he probably said, “Honey…hurry…get me some pants…get all my pants…let’s hang them in our trees so people will stop and buy them.”
We drove by him S L O W L Y so we could soak in the magic.
4. Lingerie should NOT be sold out of a garage.
Never has a sentence made me want to gag more than the one I just typed.
I mean what? What? What is someone thinking? Who wants that? Who?
All the ranting aside, here were the perks of the morning:
I drank two bowls of coffee in thirty minutes before leaving my house…a personal record…and did NOT stop talking to Kirby until we ate something two hours later.
The “something” that we ate was from McDonalds!
Is there anything better than McDonald’s breakfast?
McDonald’s breakfast has always ranked right up there with unicorns, centaurs and bats…I’ve eaten McDonald’s breakfast so few times, I’ve often wondered, between occurrences if McMuffins were something I dreamed up.
McDonald’s breakfast is a thing only people who get up and get dressed and do things before 10 a.m. get to enjoy. I’ve probably only had McDonald’s breakfast 12 times in my whole life.
And EVERY SINGLE TIME I’ve been out, dressed and driving around before 10, I stop and get it…are you making the connection…yep…I’m a loser.
I used to never be out during McDonald’s tiny time frame of breakfast making because I was SLEEPING…but after kids, I’m certainly not sleeping at that time…but I still can’t seem to get us all dressed, drink all the coffee I need, and all my kids get their morning poop over and done with before 10. It’s just impossible.
So, I savored every cheesy bite of my baconed biscuit.
Did you know, inside a McDonald's in the morning, the big menu above the cash registers has a HUGE breakfast menu on it...it's all breakfast...and then they CRANK a crank and ta-dah...the lunch menu is there. Wow. Who knew there was a whole new breakfast decor in McDonalds during the time that I'm still sleeping, or walking around slowly, wiping hinney's at my house! Wow!
Kirby bought a bike for cheap…and RODE it…she pumped Asher inutero before she bought the bike! It was fantastic. She should have WON the bike.
I got some work out pants and a bright red Joe’s Crab Shack T-Shirt that I love.
Anson got a puzzle for free and sat in the back seat, completely trying to make sense of free enterprise in the US. I think he’s almost got it all figured out. He was appalled that someone would pay $20 for a newspaper ad and then have nothing to sell. He said, “I think these people should be fired.” He’s so right.
I found Hayden some brand-new black converse that have FIRE on the sides. He looks so cool and wants us to call him Fire Hayden when he wears them…we’ve obliged. He told me later today that he really wants to be called Hayden Asher Hendrick Fire Shoes Rock. Of course, we can call him that. We’re flexible around here.
And the big find of the morning…
I got a poodle skirt! A red poodle skirt with a poofed-up poodle on it!
In case we have a sock hop, I’ll be set.
In case we rent Back to the Future, and I want to wear my skirt while we watch it…I can.
And, poodle is one of my favorite words.
Poodle, poodle, poodle.
I spent more at McDonalds than at all the garage sales combined.
Poodles, pants hanging from trees, fire shoes, and watching Kirby pump her unbirthed son on a bike…oh yes…
There will DEFINITELY be a third magical visit to the Realm of I’m Not Sure It’s Worth It.