Extravaganza!

The big day dawned cool, but humid. I know. I was up at dawn, trying to write in my morning pages. All I could think about was the amount of work yet to be done, so I just dove right in.

It didn't exactly go as planned. For example, I figured if I'm out in the yard unloading tables at 6 a.m., when everything from ads to posters say I start at 8 a.m., I could at least get eight tables out of the trailer before the first person arrived.

Nope. She didn't get out of her car, but she watched me like a sea eagle watches a mackerel. That's okay. I knew Acid Trip and Hippie chick would be there soon.

The call came at 6:30 a.m. They were running late. No problem. I am strong and lithe after losing my weight, and the promise of found money is a powerful spur. I began pulling boxes and cartons out of the house. Sea Eagle watched.

By the time the babysitter arrived (right at 7 a.m.) I was already on my way to the mess you see here, but all in boxes, understand. (I thought I got a more detailed shot from the side, but me and cameras mix like zebras and monkeys ... it's a long driveway!) Sea Eagle feinted toward the door, but sensed no threat from the babysitter's mother, and settled back.

Babysitter went in to grab some boxes, and Mom turned toward the tables (to help, as I thought), just as another car pulled up and a gentleman - clearly a picker or dealer - got out. Sea Eagle spotted him, Mom turned a gimlet eye to both, and the race was on.

Mom should have had the advantage, but she had manners and an armful of box, so she had to set it down before she could start the search ... it was Sea Eagle, Mom, the Gentleman, Sea Eagle, the Gentleman, Mom ... Sea Eagle won by a nose, but only because the Gentleman spotted the collector books and a piece of McCoy pottery, and swerved to his left, directly in front of Mom - foul! - cutting her off from her target (a 60's chip and dip double bowl set).

Just then Acid Trip and Hippie Chick drove up, turned Electric Kid loose (always a gamble), and grabbed anything that wasn't nailed down while I negotiated and found for the three customers (an hour before I even opened). Head Trip arrived moments later, with Princess in tow, and Babysitter threw me a grateful smile as I took her box and handed her the children's leashes.

8:15 rolled around and the rush was over. I took pictures of what was left, which had begun as something organized and well-thought-out but had turned into a tangled mess of fabric and pottery and knick-knacks. But my first $100. was under my belt, and I thought we had it made.

Two hours later, my friends turned up with some more stuff. I was sunburned (though I didn't know it) and frustrated, because though I'd had Acid Trip put up a bigger sign before he had to leave to teach a class (at a customer's suggestion), I had fewer people arrive, and they bought little. I was glad of the diversion. Even more glad for the two more hours they stayed, especially since they sold almost nothing in that time.

By now, we had about $300. in the kitty, it was 90 degrees in the shade, and I was ready to give up. When the scheduled time was finished, I was, too.

There were a couple of great moments, however, and some ... very frustrating ones. First was the plant stand - something I had curbside shopped about four years ago, multi-branched, once was cream-colored, now rusted. A project I had intended to finish. A last-minute addition that Acid Trip dogged me into. ("It's disgusting, Mom! And rusted!") Defiantly, I tossed a $2. sticker on it and watched as he rolled his eyes and shook his head. It was the first thing Sea Eagle grabbed, one of the first things we sold. He gave me an open-mouthed look. I just smiled.

Next was the neighborhood girls - my best customers. They made at least nine forays into the growing quicksand mess, and bought $1. to $5. worth of stuff every time. Where they kept getting the money, I don't know, but I took it (and talked them out of some of the more ... tasteless items).

Then there was the couple - or were they sisters? - one who loved the kitch (she bought several of the American and English Hobnail pieces) and one who loved the vintage figurines (she bought the girl scout figurines and a book of Valentines). The kitchy one and I discussed her plans for a den, and my plans for my bedroom, and both the vintage woman and both Head and Hippie rolled eyes and said "don't encourage her" almost at the same moment. Kitch was dragged away while my girls laughed uproriously.

Then there was what one friend labelled the Bottom Feeder. He offered Hippie Chick $5. for a monitor that wasn't flat screen but had a label of $50. on it, and me 25 cents each for my Lefton birds, grabbing things and flinging money at me as if I were a carnival barker (or he was). When he offered $1. for 9 VHS tapes (all Disneys), then grabbed a 10th, and started loading them into his car even though HC told him $2. (she was selling them for 25 cents each), I stood, went to his car, reminded him she'd said $2., and when he didn't want to pay I smiled and told him I'd be happy to help him unload. He began to do so, then agreed to $2. I agreed to $1. ea for the Lefton birds (yesh, I know, but they were Grandma, not me), and other than a few insulting offers for things I pulled to give to friends, we all went away a bit happier and a lot wiser.

We started to clean up. We had our second rush. Two hours later (two hours after the reported end) I'd sold much more stuff for much less than I'd tagged for, which was fine with me. Big Lug returned from his road trip to help me load the heavy furniture and boxes, all to go to a local thrift shop (which stopped accepting donations at 4:15). Trouble is, people kept coming.

Four of the dining room chairs sold to a woman who slammed on her brakes and shrieked on her cell phone that they matched "exactly!" ... then agreed to my first, higher price ... then grabbed other things - $49. altogether - and asked me if I'd take a check (see the sign that says "cash only"?) but my heat exhaustion said "yes," ... then she said "why don't I round it to an even $40?" which my lobster-red ears didn't process until about twenty minutes later ... and I laughed because she probably thought she hustled me but I was willing to go $10. lower on the chairs so I was $1. ahead.

The dining room table I swore I would only give away, since it was a gift, sold (with one matching chair and two unmatching) to a couple who spoke little English (but both Acid and Head had no trouble). At this point, we had things boxed (not wrapped) and it was past 3 p.m. They were going to come back once they got more money and dropped off the high chair and other baby stuff they bought (they left a "deposit" to show good faith). The table was $40. We'd loaded the hutch and sideboard (and the display tables and some boxes) by the time they returned. When the Big Lug saw the size of their car, he said he'd deliver (they were down the street). Hippie Chick and I stayed back to finish the boxes, bring them forward, easier to load (Head Trip was in charge of the kids at this point).

Forty-five minutes later, thunder was rumbling, and the boys still hadn't returned. When they did, Big Lug told me they'd unloaded, too, and saw there was no furniture in the house ... you guessed it - all of the dining room pieces. Is it a wonder that I love the man?

We got the things into the trailer just as the first rain drops fell, but too late to take them anywhere. A deluge ten minutes later prevented me from removing signage, too. We ate Chinese food (all of us), extended the trailer for another day, and - after Hippie Chick counted the money, and everyone left - I collapsed and slept like the dead.

Sunday, after church, I took a nice walk and removed the sodden signs. (Yeah, they were really small.) We found a thrift store that took donations on Sunday then unloaded the tables to my storage locker, the stuff at the shop, and returned the trailer, all in about an hour's time. Total net on the whole day? $365. No driveway, but it will buy me a new dining room table.

And it did give me the incentive to clear the decks, big time. Compare these shots to the same areas in my previous post! Can you believe it! I have a mantel and a floor! (The boxed stuff is mostly for friends, things they'd admired in the past, or, in one case, a new donation box already ... only the Queen of the Unfinished Projects pillow stays for me, and only because I technically haven't finished them yet!) It's been an adventure, my first real one. And I learned a few lessons:

1. Invest in plywood signs, mounted on inexpensive sawhorses. People respond to HUGE much faster than just YARD SALE. Paint in waterproof neon colors.

2. No matter how many people come, group things according to type. I could have put up four big table groupings instead of one long one, even on my crappy driveway.

3. Which leads to this one - weed the yard, if applicable. You've seen my driveway. So could they. It's not prettier in person, trust me.

Did I enjoy myself? Yes, it was great to be with family and friends (and Acid Trip does not deserve Hippie Chick - she worked her ass off for me!).

Would I do it again? Nah. It's more fun from the finder's end.

It's what I live for.