Saturday day’s all right…


I was on my own.  It was going to be a soloing yard sale day.  My thoughts as I left my driveway were fleeting.  I had this adorable little dog next to me.  I wasn’t alone.  He was one of the best companions I knew.   I’d have fun looking for bargains.  I wasn’t convinced he’d have fun at the groomers.  After that realization, I drove the rest of the way with one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing his silky pug ears.

I dropped him off at the pet store in the local strip mall.  When I got back into my car, I realized I had been focused on him.  So much so that I hadn’t eaten breakfast and I didn’t have any cash to chase down those Yankee neon signs.  I ducked into the grocery store in the same strip mall.  As a country girl, I hate them.  As a person that needs some quick convenience, I love them.  I suppose that’s why they succeeded in taking the chains into the suburbs.  Anyway, I did run into the store for an oj and a fritter.  When I got to the register, I asked for cash back.  In one dollar bills of course.

I called my mother as I left the grocer, to see where she was in her day.  I was headed West to take care of the pup and see the city.  She was headed East for the posted sales in that area.  She told me about a few other sales she’d heard about that were in my terrain.  I added them to my list.  Even though we were split up today, it was fun to know we were expanding our radius for picking.

My first stop was one my mother had mentioned.  A small church that her friend attended.  They had a thrift shop but a few times a year they moved it outside.  I’d found a vintage Sarah Coventry cross there with my mother the year prior.  Today I only left with a bucket of miniature skeletons.  I guess I need my mother with me to really put some meat on the bones.

There was a yard sale at the diagonal but I don’t know why they bothered.  If they wanted to get rid of all that stuff and toys, they should have been asking half as much.  Just sayin’.  I continued down the street and my skeletons remained alone in my trunk of a coffin.

I was headed back toward my own house at this point but I knew I’d make a successful circle back to the pet store over the next two hours.  I was going to the address on Massachusetts Avenue that my mother had provided.  I knew it was in town but couldn’t recall where exactly.   Until I saw the estate sale sign.  It was a local restaurant – a nice colonial bed and breakfast type of restaurant – that was shutting its doors.  There were a lot of people.  I knew all the local dealers had already beaten me there.  The back lawn was full of cars and fellow salers were leaving with their arms full.  There was still plenty left but I wasn’t there for a vintage side buffet or racks of dishes.  I already had a rocker similar to the one in the back room.  I didn’t need a lobster trap.  I wasn’t in the market for another old trunk or more yellow ware.  I kept moving into each tiny room.

I saw people I knew but they seemed as engaged as I wanted to be.  This was business; they were right.  If I couldn’t find anything here, daylight was burning.  I made my way toward the back porch to leave.  I hate parting from any sale empty-handed.  I suppose that’s why I bought some smalls just inside the door.  I left with two small cobbler molds, a painted patriotic box and a miniature Christmas tree.  It cost me $8 to see a landmark be destroyed.

I continued my way through town to the local antique shop.  It too was iconic in town and I was now a part of it.  I was feeling badly that the restaurant would cease to be our version of the Sudbury Wayside Inn but going to the shop always made me feel better.  It always gave me time to think and it renewed my energy.  The owner was a love and the fellow dealers were beginning to feel like family.   I dropped a few things off and I cleaned up my rented hutch.  I only stayed a few minutes figuring I’d spend more time there at the end of the day.

I was wrong. I didn’t go back to the shop because the rest of the morning was a flop! I had nothing to show for it.  At least that’s what I’d thought until I picked up my clean pug. Priceless.