Saturday, June 26, 2010
A wintry weekend
Yesterday I was finally forced to use funds generally put aside for upcycling to buy a new mobile phone, lest a bargain go uncommunicated by text or otherwise. Spurning the shiny upmarket devices I settled on something so simple that I can work it without a child to advise (most of the time, anyway). I have, of course managed to lose most of my phone numbers along the way, which is a whole 'nother story, but I am as one with the world of youth speak again. If you haven't heard from me, thats why.
Fortified by the thought that we would be in constant communication in case of emergency communique from our offspring, we struck out for the Salvation Army's half price sale.
It's said that genes will out and at last my teenage daughter has succumbed to the lure of the op shop. We had a great day yesterday and she found lots of things to drag back to her cave and it's horizontal wardrobe. She even managed not to faint when I tentatively suggested a return to the overalls which were the staple of my wardrobe in my happy hippie youth.
I did manage lovely Mela Purdie and metallicus tops as well as a fantastic Maggie T jacket - BNWOT in old ebay speak.
The mornings here(and the evenings and the bits in between, for that matter) have been somewhat brisk - thats thermals and gloves and mountain design socks brisk. But our garage saling morning dawned bright and clear with the slightest pink tinge (on the icicles)over the harbour at dawn.
Today was that celebrated garage saling day, the St Vincent de Paul depot garage sale. O, happy day.
Its a good day when you fill the car twice, and even though this wasn't the larger land cruiser which was once filled and refilled, we did our best. Despite my absolute determination NOT to leave with any furniture, a jarrah bookcase was calling to me early.
I decided to be strong and started with the bric-a-brac table, always a happy place. To add to the bags of treasures discovered I grabbed two hand fishing lines (on back order for the teenage daughter), a chrome magazine rack and - shiver of excitement - the cash drawer from a pre 1950's cash register. We piled up the treasures by the cashier's table for him to watch over and we filled a bag with books for the princely sum of 50c. My trusty compatriot was thrilled with her funky wooden table on a metal base and her multicoloured 50's clothers airer.
There's something about a shed sale - especially one where the contents have been spread over a paddock in no particular order. The thrill of the chase outweighed the cool breeze. A nice walk in the country, clawing through piles of crap.
Treasures uncovered by my partner in grime included a tripod billy stand for a campfire and two solid round barbecue plates. She was keen on the little dinghy but we ran out of money. I found an old solid wood office paper organiser, and a round rusty metal bit, exercising restraint on the humungous amounts of rusty metal bits and pieces on offer. Hey, there's always tomorrow - they were still pulling stuff out of the shed when we left.
And the bill for this week's haul? $23, including the $5 donation for the delivery of the jarrah bookcase.