On getting keyed up at an estate sale

Last weekend netted one of my dream scenario estate sales. All of my lax, random criteria were met or exceeded: family run, out in the country, piles to pick through, displayed nicely but not too nicely, very reasonably priced and there were OUTBUILDINGS (2 of them!).

So many campground signs.

Bonus! (and possible new criteria): The sale was being run by four handsome brothers.

There was just one little flaw at this otherwise perfect sale and I’ll simply refer to that as The Barnacle.*

While passing by the giant FREE pile on my way to the good stuff in Building #1, The Barnacle, who had stacked her purchases next to the free pile, greeted me by saying, “Don’t touch those! They’re mine!” even though the only touching was WITH MY EYES as I walked by.

So many enamel numbers.

 I filled a box with my purchases and left it with brother #3 in building #1 while I headed to building #2 which was manned by brother #4. 

Years of experience with sleeping in arriving at estate sales hours after they’ve opened has forced me to fine-tune my ability to detect things that were missed or skipped over by earlier buyers.

So many interesting old keys.

I reached for a massive ring of keys that had been overlooked because it was hanging between studs on a garage wall and *like magic* there at my elbow was The Barnacle. She hovered behind me to see if I was buying the keys while her husband yelled out from across the garage, “Hon! I can’t believe you missed those keys your first time through here.”

Sorry, Hon.

I now had an estate sale shadow following me and I didn't know why since The Barnacle appeared to have been finished with her shopping when I arrived. Maybe it caused her anxiety to see me swooping in and making piles of the things she rejected. Maybe she thought I knew something about the junk that she didn’t. Maybe missing out on that ring of keys caused her to question all of her life choices. 

We'll never know. 

So many Wheaties cereal prizes - Frank Buck explorer's sun watches. 

I do know at this point there were only two shoppers in this 3-car garage, myself and The Barnacle, and as I dug through a very small box, she suddenly appeared again, standingrightnexttome, and stuck her hands in the same small box where my hands were already busy rummaging.

What exactly was happening here?!

Much to my surprise, my outside voice, which would usually try for a more diplomatic approach at first, just blurted out “Are you stalking me?”  #personalspace

And I was completely ignored. 

At this point I had to make some decisions.

Should I get into a Barnacle-Stalker girl fight in a (handsome) stranger’s garage at an estate sale?

No. Because that is a completely ridiculous idea.

So many old Pacific Northwest license plates.

But if I did, would it affect my ability to buy the stuff I had left behind with (handsome) Brother #3 in garage #1?

Probably. And that would be NOT GOOD.

Could The Barnacle take me down pretty easily?

ABSOLUTELY. Small rambunctious pets have knocked me over. I was no match for her.

So I stepped away from the box and The Barnacle. 

Why? Because there is so much junk in the world, more than enough for everyone, that it’s just not worth being another Barnacle at an estate sale. And I’m more than okay with that.

I did buy the keys. All 446 of them. Sorry, Hon.

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*To describe a tenacious person or thing. 

If I pin it, it will come.

Original image can be found here

My current obsession with all things vintage camping rages on and it recently jumped off my Pinterest board and into the backseat of my car.

Just days after I pinned that little plaid camping stove I came across a very similar one, buried in the garage of an estate sale.

I stopped short of a giant squeal of delight when I discovered it but later I turned to the stranger next to me in line to let them know this Very Important News: that-I-just-pinned-this-stove-on-Pinterest-and-now-here-it-is-in-my-hands-and-isn’t-that-amazing? 

Luck was with me since I said it to someone who knows (or was nice enough to pretend to know) what Pinterest is and is tolerant of people who talk to strangers in line at estate sales about random things they find in the corners of garages.

Camping (and outdoorsiness in general) was the theme with some of my favorite finds on my recent road trip with Laurie/Ethel.

 These beauties (Mt. Hood and Crater Lake) were purchased in California & transported back to their home state of Oregon.

This mossy mushroom has already moved on to its new forever garden and may I add a word or two about those blue glass insulators? I don't know much about them other than they're pretty (and were once outdoors) but I always buy them when I can find them for a dollar or less because they're consistent sellers for me. 

I couldn't resist the aqua canteen.

And I bought the birdhouse just for the colors. 

Happy Camper!

Are we there yet?

After many conversations in the car regarding things neither Laurie/Ethel nor I could recall about our previous road trip to Alameda Point Antiques Faire (Did we stop here last time? Does Roseburg come before or after Ashland? Where was that place with the great cupcakes?), I decided to take some notes this time around.

FRIDAY

As planned, we left Laurie’s house in Portland, OR at 8 a.m. to head to Alameda Antiques Faire in the San Francisco Bay area. Woo-hoo! So excited!

One scheduled stop on the way out of Portland at a church rummage sale was quickly followed by two unscheduled stops at estate sales.

 Which resulted in another unscheduled stop back at Laurie’s house to unload her car which was now completely full. Four hours and 16 miles later we are still in Portland.  

Yay us!

New plan!  Leave for Alameda at noon.  The goal is to reach Redding, CA, about 420 miles away, where we’ll stop for the night.

That afternoon we went to three antique malls, a thrift store and a vintage shop before eating dinner and eventually keeling over.

It is weird that it took us 9-1/2 hours to travel 420 miles? The junkin’ just can’t be rushed.

SATURDAY

Laurie/Ethel admires a combo stove/refrigerator. 

We hit the road at 8:45 a.m., eventually ending up in Emeryville, CA, about 200 miles away (an *easy* 3 hour drive) and just a short distance from Alameda Point Antiques Faire, our Sunday early morning destination / reason for living.

We managed to turn a 3 hour drive into 10 hours and here’s why: 3 vintage shops, 1 flea market, 3 yard sales, 2 rummage sales, 1 thrift store, 2 huge antique malls, 2 random shops and 1 estate sale. In 4 cities.

SUNDAY (aka The Really Big Day)

 Got up painfully early at 5 a.m. and the reward was attending heaven-on-Earth, Alameda Antiques Faire, for 7 hours of some mighty fine vintage shopping from (not a typo!) 1,000 vendors.

Eventually I had to rent a shopping cart (as in the type used at a grocery store) to collect the items I’d purchased and left behind with the vendors. I kept it all straight with my Patented System for Remembering© by writing the vendors’ booth numbers on my arm.

In sharpie.

Tired, happy, sunburned and loaded down with vintage junk, we left Alameda at 1:30 p.m. to begin our drive back to Oregon, stopping in Yreka, CA for the night.

MONDAY

Random antique mall vendor in Medford, OR? It's all a blur to me now.

We left Yreka around 8:45 a.m., thinking we’d be back in Portland by 4 p.m., only 325 miles/5 hours away.

After stopping at 8 more antique malls (and one ice cream shop) in 2 cities, we rolled into Portland at 8:15 p.m., taking almost 12 hours to travel 300-ish miles.

 To recap: 4 days / 1400 miles / 3 estate sales, 3 rummage sales, 13 antique malls, 2 thrift stores, 4 vintage shops, 1 flea market, 3 yard sales, 2 random shops and 1 Alameda Antiques Faire (because there’s only one Alameda!).

Thanks for traveling along!

Click the photo above to read Laurie’s version of events.

Remember when?

Do you recall how open and innocent and empty my antique mall space was the day I moved in?

Egads! (that’s me channeling my mother, by the way)

And yet, I must be doing something wrong.

Because as my mall space fills up, my house doesn’t seem to be any less full.

What’s up with that?

Don’t answer that. 

(I just returned from an estate sale. I’m starting to sense a pattern here.)

And if you’re wondering about those three dressers that were on the brink of becoming a permanent part of the scenery here, they are going, going, gone!

Have a wonderful weekend!

Lots of lots

This summer of yard sale hoarding has produced some interesting results.

Dozens of them.

Setting things aside here and there for months adds up eventually.

My Santa cups runneth over.

In an effort to address this accumulation, I've signed up to sell at one more vintage event this year.

It was that or get a storage unit.

Or move away.

Now I’m already having a little separation anxiety about the milk glass.

And in a fit of purging after attending an especially scary & jam-packed estate sale, I’ve decided to sort through my personal vintage Christmas stash to see what I can live without.

I mean if I can live without.



The right place at the wrong time

Note to self: Today is Saturday. 

 

 Despite the fact I drove 30 miles in order to accidentally show up at an estate sale on the wrong day, the Nicest Woman Ever who was organizing the sale (which, for buyers who pay attention to the world around them, not to mention the fine print in the classified ads, was to start the following day)

invited me in to shop.

I know!  

Proof that the early bird does indeed get the vintage bird books.

 She was selling her parents' belongings and we got to chatting about how difficult that process can be and before I knew it, I had accumulated a small mountain of things to buy.

 The mountain of things all had 25 cent price tags with two exceptions: The 6’ vintage aluminum Christmas tree and the cardboard box filled with an entire farmer’s market of vintage chalkware fruit & vegetables.

The Christmas tree and box of fruit were $3 each.

There’s more I haven’t brought in from the car yet – some vintage suitcases, canning jars, polka dot Pyrex … I'd like to interpret this turn of events as a sign from the universe about the thrifting potential in 2011.

Thank you, Nicest Woman Ever.  Hope your estate sale went really well!