Identity Crisis

I just spent an hour writing this blog and accidentally wiping it out.  Once my heart started beating again, I realized it was a blessing in disguise because I was using too many words (who, me?) for a very simple concept.  I'm trying to figure out who I am right now.  See, two years into the money journey, I switched tracks, became a dedicated treasure hunter.  At least, that's what I've been calling myself ...

Remember the lawn mower collection we cleared out a few weeks back?  I budgeted $250 to replace the broken ones I knew the Big Lug would continue to use (with much swearing) if we hadn't tossed them.  We both took the time to research said replacement, discussing it endlessly.  A consensus was reached - a pusher (no drive train, since that always breaks first), larger back wheels (for maneuverability), and 21" (rather then 19") cut diameter.  We were going to buy it sometime in April.

Saturday, on impulse (Mama Angel), I braved the cold and stopped at a lonely yard sale in our neighborhood and spotted the mower.  Sitting like a quiet, brooding gargoyle, the 22", folding-handle beauty was larger twin to the one we'd picked - and the tag said $25.  My heart thumped as I breathlessly asked the owner if he could start it up.  He said "no," but then hurried to show me what was broken (an O ring for the float cover) and where it needed to go to get fixed (with an address, even).  I sighed, unwilling to spend that much on another potential lawn ornament, but I asked the Lug about it anyway.  With his input (and inferred promise he'd take it to the dump if he failed) I went back, and, for $20 (my limit for unknowns) drove home with our newest addition in the truckbed.  Two hours later, the Lug called me at a meeting to tell me I was a freaking genius - he bought a $7.50 part, fixed it and started it right up.  Oh, and I should take half the "profit" and put it in the kitty for the trip (which I did - I'm no fool!).

Here's the problem:  A couple hours later I found a 14K Omega for $22.50 (marked only inside the case - no one ever looks inside) and 18K earrings that I'll get three times what I paid just for scrap value.  My heart thumped, I went breathless ... I had the exact same thrill I got with the mower.  The exact same.  In fact, I realized a few minutes later (with a pair of earrings that turned up to be fairly priced) that I don't get the same charge when I find out I've paid more than book value, or even what something is simply worth.

And so I wondered ... after all the work I've done here on this blog, that I continue to do ... after accumulating gold and jewelry and glass and lawn mowers ... after almost coining a new phrase ... after the shopping and searching (okay, listening) and learning ...

Am I just a bargain hunter after all?

And do I have to give my STH name back?

I'm so depressed.

Just Ask

I tell my students all the time that there's no such thing as a stupid question (to which one wag responded, tongue in cheek, "What's a stupid question?" and I conceded there are a few).  For the most part, however, I've always known that I'd never gain anything if I didn't ask, and so I do ... for everything.

For instance, I emailed Tallassee Community College about that TCC pin with the logo that was so similar to theirs.  Not only did someone respond, but, when the pin went unrecognized, she actually passed it around to those who'd been around longer.  The consensus seemed to be that it was not a student, alum, or faculty recognition pin - not theirs, anyway.  It took some work, and a lot of scrutiny, for them to come to that conclusion so I thank Alice, Raine, Evelyn, Rob, and Susie for all their input.  I am stunned by not only the number who looked at it but at the quick response of everyone involved.  What a great bunch of people!

Also, one day last week I went into one of my lesser-frequented thrifts - once more at the prompting of Mama Angel.  I found a couple pieces that weren't fabulous but practical, a cabinet I really, really liked but didn't want to pay quite that much, and, when I checked out, something taped to the wall behind the register.  It looked like an earring.  A big hoop.  I frowned, and queried the cashier.  I had to point, guide, and even explain what I wanted to see because not only was I (apparently) the first person to ever ask about it, the entire staff had forgotten it was even there!  Someone had lost it while shopping so they'd taped it up to make it visible but since no one had claimed it the poor thing had become background noise to everyone.  Of course I then asked, "At what point does it go from lost-and-found to out-for-sale?"  Since it had been months, the nice lady took it back to the manager and (after some discussion, apparently) brought it back out, tagged.  Almost apologetically, she told me they'd "have to charge $10."  I looked it over (mangled mark, not diamonds), thought awhile, but paid the price anyway (it was for charity, after all).  Once home, I tested it, weighed it, and found that I was the proud owner of nearly 4g of a 14K gold-and-CZ earring (worth at least $45 in scrap).  Gotta love Mama Angel, huh?

By the way, when I went back the next day (because I couldn't get that cabinet out of my mind) the shop was having a surprise sale on everything in the store.  Oh yeah, I bought it (looks great under the front window).

And last weekend, since the weather was almost nice, I headed to my faraway flea (80 miles, by the way, not 40 as previously reported - I mixed up one-way with round-trip).  Anyway, my gold guy wasn't there so I didn't sell off any of my shopping errors, cool but broken finds, or (like the earring) orphaned pieces, but I did meet many new people and, in particular, more relic hunters.  I had some great discussions about rules and regs governing the hobby (see new, brief explanation in "Find It").  Despite the heavy restrictions in my area, I'm getting psyched for summer weather so I can get out and get digging.

I also went to my coin and jewelry place, asking about a stickpin base for a beautiful piece a friend gave me.  This lovely little guy is 14K with seed pearl, a bit smaller than a dime, probably 1900-1920, and obviously broken off from his pin.  I thought about putting a bail on it for a pendant, but the best place for it would obscure the mark ... and he wasn't intended as a necklace.  I want to match his fabulous color, which is a pretty but light gold, but though there were darker, even pink, no luck.  I can get it matched by having the pin made from scratch (they said), yet I feel as if I need to find an older base.  And I'm learning to really trust those feelings.  So I'll find it instead.  In time.

Lastly, I'm getting ready for my trip to Round Top in Texas.  I don't expect to spend too much money - I'm getting serious about getting back to my roots - but I do expect to touch, to look, to study, to question, and to listen ... in other words, I plan to learn.

Speaking of which ... I have plans to put up a "Mystery Piece" gadget - for identifying logos (TCC) and marks (there are some weird ones out there) and anything else I find that I can't figure out.  Because - you guessed it - I'm not afraid to ask.

Even if the question is ... Acid Trip will you show me how?

Full (ish) Disclosure

I've been showing this blog to more people than I ever did before (smart phones rock!).  Once they read it they ask nearly the same two questions (with various levels of bluntness) - "Why are you so paranoid about mentioning where you live (your name)?" and "Why (or how) do you spend so much on this?"

When I first began this blog, I had two main issues to deal with: 1) keeping it a secret from the Big Lug (whom I wanted to surprise with a fat retirement fund) and 2) working my ass off to shift, pay off, pay down just over $75K in non-mortgage debt. The first, obviously, influenced me more in the undercover department.  Now that I'm "out," I've simply been calling it "habit," or (with an arch look) "mystery," which effectively ends the conversation.  But it's more than just my Rut Girl or Mata Hari tendencies. I honestly believe that anyone - with any budget or temperament or taste, in any town or hamlet or parking lot - anyone can find beautiful, wonder-inducing, spectacular, profitable things wherever they are able and willing to hunt. Truth is, the more Anywhere I am, the fewer (I hope) excuses about bad "luck" or "horrible" locations will be made, especially since some of my better finds haven't even been in my stomping grounds, but in thrift shops and resale stores and (seriously!) antique malls in places so small they give "flea" market a whole new meaning.

As for the cash thing ... That has more to do with the other journey, the original one.  From the start, I vowed I would create and stick to an allowance - not only for treasures but for reading books, unneccessary eating out, even cool finds I give to everyone but me - and I made the Lug swear to do the same. At first that fund was small, $20 and gas, two weekends a month, mostly for yard sales.  But as we paid things off and my business increased I upped it for both of us, more than once. We're empty-nesters - my Trips are now 26, 27, and 28 - so when I paid off the last of the college loans for the kids, when they finally didn't need monthly help for rent and food, when the dust settled a bit, we each had $75 a week ... because we were actually $1400 a month ahead by then, because it was still cheaper than what we were spending when I didn't have any structure at all, because I was still sending hundreds extra to the credit cards ... okay, because we could. And it was great.

Yes, "was."  Last week, I finally admitted that the lack of business is not a fluke.  That, along with some major expenses (his eye surgery wasn't completely covered by insurance, my oven "blowed up" last Monday, and I've flown or will fly to Texas twice) made me realize we're going to have to go back to rolling with the punches. I dropped us to $50 a week (for all that isn't household, remember) with a promise of occasional bonuses when we have fiscal infusions. If it has to drop again neither of us will shed a tear, either.  The Lug reminded me we're light years ahead of where we once were financially, mostly because I worked hard to get us positioned to be okay if something like this happened.  And, though memories of the weekly scrounges in junk drawers and sofa cushions for milk money don't thrill him, we were all (whole family) so much closer in the days when things were necessarily tight.  We - both of us - want to find that again (without the thrice-weekly Meatless Mondays, of course).

Yes, I've fallen away from my roots. I've especially strayed from my stealing it, winning it, and (yes, even this) finding it basics (see Bags O' Posts). Oh, I still shop with coupons, get rebates on anything that doesn't move, use and pay off (twice a month) credit cards that send money to my mortgage or discount my gas or give me other freebies regularly.  I still buy the occasional lotto ticket or enter a really big or special contest.  And, of course, I hunt whichever store calls to me (find it).  But I actually miss some of the other things, things I used to do when I didn't have the ready cash.  I want to curbside shop again - I look but I never stop any more.  I want to do more sweepstaking (I'd given up but I live in renewed hope - thank you Twinscapes). And I really want to get out there, get dirty, and pick up/scrape up/dig up coins and rings, and earrings, in gold and silver and (gasp) platinum, with caches and troves and extravaganzas galore.

Because the whole purpose of this blog is not just to tell you there's stuff all over the place but to show you it's true.  And that no matter how or where we live, how big/small or young/old we are, how fat/skinny our budgets get/need to be, or how neurotic/screwed up/recovered/sane we are, we can all snag our chunk of it.

With raspberry syrup and  free Godiva on top, baby!

Odds and ... Okay, Mostly Odds

I've been in the weirdest mood lately. We've been inundated for days on end. I'm getting really tired of hearing my pump go off every 2 minutes ... seriously wondering if there are Ark plans online anywhere ... using the blow-dryer to get rid of my pruney fingers ... wiping the brown yuck-socks off my terrier every time she comes in, or worse, not having to deal because she won't get off the porch to do her business and ... you get the idea.

So, needless to say, I not only had time to take a couple of pictures, I pretty much had to do something other than obsess about mud and downpours.  No, not great pictures (the USPS pin is upside down, for one thing) but not flawed (or odd) enough to be ashamed of.

Sterling pins first.  One is New Jersey government, one Post Office, one Dept. of Army, and another (I think) is either State Department or Staff for one of the branches of Federal government (it's the one with the Great Seal on it).

The two at the bottom are still research in progress.  The vendor told me GAA stood for "Girl's Athletic Association," but since it's dated 1934 I can find no reference to anything like it.  I'm inclined to believe she's right, though.  The other (YPF) means something totally different from what I think is its original meaning, especially since it's on a cross.  (Google it yourself, you'll see why I don't put it here ... blush.)

These are my gold-filled.  One is American Cancer Society, the other, I believe, is a law firm.  I mostly bought the former because ... well, one of the odd things lately was a call I received from my Dad.  He just found out he has prostate cancer.  I'm planning to give the pin to him in 5 years (because he will survive it).

And, of course, the gold.  The pin with the dove is the 14K (no words, so no idea whose), and the NY Telephone is the 10K (with ruby).  PBC is unmarked 10K, and the NEA pin tested low-carat green gold.  I have no idea what PBC stands for.  And, oddly, I'm rethinking the NEA's gold content - though it tested that way multiple times, even with a needle scratch, I can't get away from the fact that it looks, on the edges, as if it were pieced together.  I couldn't get a good shot of that, but you'd agree that it might be really, really thick plate.  Time will tell.

Odd, too, is that I couldn't get this picture to come up as a small box ... only medium ... as if gremlins have ridden in on the flood.  I'm trying not to think about it, any of it, much, just cleaning the oven (that "blowed up" last night while I was baking a turkey breast), sorting the tax receipts (because I'll be in Texas for estate things before I have to file), and getting ready to call my dad again (he's actually in good spirits).

Once things dry out, I'm taking my dimestore metal detector - damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead with what I've got - and going to the nearest playground.  One of the guys I met at the flea market said that's where he's found some great things.  It's worth a shot, right?

Of course, he also said he gets "treasury boxes," cases of unsorted half-dollars, and goes through them for pure silver Kennedy halves, then takes them back to his bank to let them dump it into the sorter (so he doesn't have to roll them).  I thought about it.  But I don't have his buff physique (to lift ... what? ... 100 pounds?) nor do I have $500 to scrape together and put into coins.

No, for now while I might think of something a little outside the box, I need my little rut.  But, as soon as the back yard stops trying to suck my boots off my feet, as soon as I get some practice in the playground, I will dig up some of the "pings" I've heard by the big maple (with my dimestore detector) and, whether I find coins or gold or just a cache of nails, I can at least turn the effort into something useful.

Holes.

I told you I'm feeling weird today.

Resale Therapy

The snow pack is starting to disappear, we have robins in the yard and birdsong at dawn, and the bugs are beginning their yearly home invasion.  Spring is rushing toward us with the speed of thought.  What else could I do but spend my Saturday shopping?

I went to an outdoor flea market about forty miles from here, one of my favorites in the summer.  I knew from  friendly vendors that someone's usually there on weekends even in the dead of winter, but my hot flashes weren't strong enough this year to test it.  Saturday wasn't a warm day here but it was nice.  Unfortunately, it was colder there (much colder) so only the hard-core guys had set up.  Who cares?  It was sunny, beautiful, and drive time with the Big Lug - he went to his pipe store, I trolled the tables, spent $1.50 on three corporate pins and was more than ready when he came back to get me.

Then I went to an antique show.

Let's pause for a moment to explore the levels of bargains out here.  First and best is yard sales - lots of driving, lots of sifting, but most of the I-can't-believe-it! finds are here for me.  This flea market, since it's out in the boonies (comparatively), frequently has that kind of thrill.  Despite the distance (and the gas), this plus the two acres of people in one place makes it a very close second (and sometimes winner) to yard sales.  Third is rummage sales (churches) and thrift stores - at least one of the latter has the wow factor I love, too (interesting things like that Tiffany pin).  I'm more inclined to pay more in both places, since it's charity, which pretty much cancels out the stunning cheapies (like the 18K star pin).  And, of course, fourth is estate sales and antique malls and shows.

You can get some stellar deals in these places but they are few and far between - most are filled to the brim with pros who have much better testing equipment than I have.  I go anyway, in part because I love to see what's out there and what it's selling for (not just priced as), in part because I have found stunner deals, and in part because ... well, it's the only place I can actually get my hands on a pair of (Czar and Czarina) milk glass bottles ($1100 after he'd discounted them) and a platinum-and-diamond Art Deco necklace (close to $20,000) and a red (or blue?) Carnival glass Big Fish bowl (can't remember price ... brain numb by that point).  This show was no exception to the bargain rule, but, luckily, service pins tend to be the black sheep of the jewelry world.

They weren't cheap (not country-flea-market cheap, anyway) so I focused on the strange and the rare, the sterling and the plated, and the gold or the possible gold.  Eight more pins and $60 later (including entry fee) I left the show with a smile on my face.  No pics - still researching - and so far no screamers, but not a bad haul.  Best deals?  Under $14 for a 10K New York Telephone pin with a natural ruby (worth more in scrap right now) and two - count 'em two - inexpensive unmarked pins that tested 8K and 10K.  I'm totally psyched!

By the way, I know there's also Craigslist, eBay, auctions, and storage-jumper buys, but they're the wildcards for my future.  For now, I'll stick to the safe bets.

Because ... squeal! ... the season is just beginning.  And I've just begun to find.