Charles Lindbergh was in Sterling, not St. Louis this evening. The auction had a photo of him in Paris but the top bid was too far away.
Indians and Civil War items were before our time and – after everything was said and done, not winning bids for us either.
The auction was a drag until we realized my Heywood Wakefield ashtray could be used for my candy cigarettes.
We flew out of there early, since our bids got smoked, and called it a night.
(1) a person that has their head so far up their new camera lens, they don’t see the following yellow ware being auctioned off for $5, (2) a group of people talking during the auction who don’t notice a vintage wooden tool box get a $5 bid with no counter offer, (3) a rookie woman spending so much time admiring her own jugs, she doesn’t see the giant smiling Santa go to the woman in front of her, (4) an auctionee heckler that gets payback when the runner doesn’t deliver her Shawnee pottery, or (5) an auction attendee that presses past the budget just to get a tray.
By definition of it, I would never do any of those things. I suppose I shouldn’t lie in front of my Holy Family winning bid though. People who buy wooden houses shouldn’t throw stones. That’s why I put my paddle down and just went home sweet home to my sledding hill.
Tonight I was at the auction for the sheer volume. There had to be a winning bid in there for me somewhere. The challenge was that there was also a room packed with dealers – a full house. Ironically, the card guy wasn’t there though.
There was also volumes, pun intended, of books. I was lucky early on and won the lot I wanted.
I didn’t get the crank phone or the antique angels.
I also got the toys I wanted. I think one of the toy guys was being nice and backed off bidding.
I didn’t get the rocking Santa or the wooden hand.
All my virtual sister wanted was a hat. I had to bid for her but I missed preview. I was also in the center of the room and didn’t have view to all the tables. So when I saw a straw hat go on the block, I was the dumb block that wasted $5 on the wrong one.
As I turned to take it from the runner, I saw the correct Top-Flite hat. It was the last table of items to go up for bid. I was able to snatch it for another $5. The second thing I didn’t realize was that it was one hat in a lot of ten.
Now I had $10 to collect for ten hats, nine of which would hit the thrift shop donation bin. One saving grace of the night was selling one of the dolls in my toy box on the way out. I made back the money I’d spent on books and toys.
I had volumes to take home but it was sheer luck that I broke even.
It was the last local country auction before the Christmas holiday but I wasn’t focused on resale value. I still needed a few gifts, so my objective was cutting out the middleman and getting some vintage second-hand presents. It worked out for me:
– 70’s beverage factory collectibles for my sister
– Harvard trash can for my daughter
– Boston Pickwick crate for last but not least – me!
Here in New England, we all have one of those frugal Yankee picker relatives…and I don’t mind that she buys me gifts.