Back in the Saddle Again

I haven't actually been off the horse that long. I did write a post last week, but like so many other people's posts, when I went to save the draft--it disappeared! In a nutshell, this is what I said last week:

--"Old age is a shipwreck." (John F. Kennedy)
--My parents are old--88 and 89.
--I am a wreck.

I spent almost all of May carting the folks to doc appts. I managed to take a few days off last week to go with my husband and my son D to the Wisconsin Dells. It was nice to get away. I even managed to hit a few garage sales one day and found one handbag. Somehow I thought a small town far removed from the hustle and bustle of mega malls would have a lot more older things. Wrong! Their garage sales were as neat and orderly as any retail store and a lot of their merchandise as up-to-date. I got home last night, and did what anyone would do--got out the local Thursday paper to see if I could catch any good sales Saturday!

A couple of churches had rummage sales and I noticed an estate sale about half an hour away. The church sales were a bust so I decided to try the estate sale, even though it was the second day. The ad said the house was full.

I didn't even need a map to get to the sale--I had worked in the town years ago--so I drove right to the house. The garage was open and held a few odds and ends, but the real surprise was inside. When the ad said the house was full, it was an understatement. The woman who had lived there had shopped her life entire life, it appeared, and at good stores. This suspicion was confirmed by her former sister-in-law who went from room to room complaining about the late owner. "That woman spent all of my brother's money. She didn't have a dime until she married him. She was the most greediest (sic) person I ever knew."

The poor estate salesperson looked uneasy, as if she feared the woman expected HER to make amends for her evil sister-in-law. "I was just hired to do a job," she said. "Oh, I know," the woman said and continued to complain about her dastardly ex-s-i-l. Then there was another set of relatives-in-law (were they related to the second husband?) who were trying to buy the things no one let them have. What a mess.

In between trying to dodge the unhappy relatives, I found a fascinating collection of purses. This woman had purses for every occasion, or perhaps outfit, and many still had the tags on them and were unused. Maybe she was a selfish, evil shopping so-and-so, but I certainly had fun. The purses weren't thrift store prices, but I was willing to pay a little more for items I really wanted for my personal collection: mesh Whiting & Davis; reversible L and M handbag; brand new Corde'; a Faye Mell handbag with a beautiful carved design on the front; a Triangle bag with a lovely pastoral scene on the front; and a straw bag from Italy. This last one is made by Gladys Golden, Queen of Straws, and is an open basket with vinyl and gold trim. It's really lovely, even though I've never heard of Gladys Golden.

Today's estate sale is in sharp contrast to the one I managed to squeeze in last week. The sale last week had been in a house I was sure either had been condemned, was going to be condemned, or was going to be gutted as I walked in it. The estate crew sat in the living room, happily talking, while the few shoppers who dared brave a look crept through the house expecting a mouse or worse to jump out at any moment. Items were not piled neatly on tables or beds as they are at most estate sales--they were in heaps on the dirty floors or in the bottoms of the closets. I managed to find one purse (25 cents), which I still have out in the garage, lest a pest followed me home. At least the estate people didn't have to worry about disgruntled relatives showing up--the house didn't appear to have been lived in for 20 years, and besides, who would want this crap? I just made a vow to never attend another sale by this outfit. It was the second time I had been to a sale of theirs that was dirty. Yuck.

So in between next week's doc appts (and there is at least one every day), I'll probably be weeding out my collection and listing things on eBay. I don't want someone coming in and seeing my mass of purses 20 years from now and saying, "She was the greediest person I ever knew!"