flea market junk

In lieu of a writing post (since I haven’t been doing much of it lately), I bring you another form of entertainment.

My friend and I had a particularly epic yard sale this Mother’s Day weekend. It was a lot of work moving boxes and furniture and setting up tables, especially since the husbands wanted nothing to do with the sale. They did build us a closet system for the clothing, but that failed about two hours in. It crashed to the ground in defiance of the sale. So what did the husbands do? They put it back together and reinforced it with… duct tape. Fast forward a few hours later, and the clothing rack falls on a woman. At that point, I furiously dismantled the thing and kicked the parts off the driveway.

With the yard sale money we made, my friend and I went to the biannual craft fair they have here. I learned an important lesson. Don’t go to craft fairs hungry. Twenty of my forty dollars was spent on apple butter and peach chutney. I did find a particularly awesome toolbox that someone had painted for only thirteen dollars. A great find considering the normal prices at craft fairs. My friend and I mostly went to see what other crafty people were selling, and how much they were charging for these things. It was a good day of research.

People will pay ridiculous prices for crafty things. Nearly everything I might have wanted, I could make for a fraction of the price. Mirror and glass bead mosaic? Done. Distressed furniture? Done. Chalkboard? Done. Pillows, headbands, purses, blankets…? Done, done, done, and done. We decided that we would work hard this summer and have our own booth at the fall craft fair. We can make money doing crafty stuff too. To prove it, we also bought an old, beaten up vanity for five dollars at a flea market. We’re going to fix it up with a new top, reinforce the base, and paint it. Hopefully, over the next few months of yard sales and flea markets, we’ll find the materials at a really good price. We’ll also hit up curb alerts through Craigslist for materials.

We found a lot of stuff at the flea market. I bought a particularly awesome ceramic music box in the shape of an old telephone. I have no idea how old it is, but the musical movement is made of metal (no plastic at all), and it sits on a wooden base. It looks as if someone covered the movement with a plastic shell much later, probably to protect it. Anyway, it has the most beautiful sound, though I don’t know the song. It is oddly familiar.

I also bought several yards of fabric at really cheap prices, two old jugs, some little metal bins, and a vase. I found a set of old tins for only sixty cents. I thought they were a pretty good find. All in all, it was a good weekend, spending time with my mother and friend. It wasn’t relaxing in the least bit, so I’m definitely looking forward to vacation next week. I hope everyone else finishes the week spectacularly. Maybe I can get some writing done before it’s over.

But, before I go today, here's a silly story I wrote a few years ago about flea market finds.

Flea Market Junk

I found a paisley-print unicorn the other day, right out my front door. It had been a rather uneventful morning before that. I showered, dressed, and ate just like I do every morning, but never – never have I ever – walked out the front door to find a paisley-print unicorn staring back at me. If it had been just a white unicorn, I might not have minded so much, but it was a paisley-print unicorn – a pink and purple paisley-print unicorn.

I skipped school that day because of the stupid horn-headed horse. I didn’t want anyone to see it munching on our dying lawn, so I let it into the living room. Turns out Mom bought it last week at a flea market in Bisbee on her way back home from seeing Bob, her boyfriend. She tried getting it into the backseat of the Jetta after she bought it, but it wouldn’t fit, so she had it delivered to our house. When I asked why she bought it, she just laughed and said, “I thought it would be funny.” I don’t find the unicorn funny, but Mom has always been weird in that way – the collection of thirty-seven garden gnomes in the corner of her bedroom comes to mind.

So now, we have a paisley-print unicorn sitting in the living room floor watching soap operas and eating all the Twinkies. I wish it would watch something other than soap operas, but every time I try to watch something else, that ugly pink and purple mess changes the channel back with its stupid horn.

Mom tells me I shouldn’t be so selfish. It’s okay for her. She likes soap operas.