I know. The very prospect of "yard sales" leaves me cold -- but The Weasel loves them. (Now there's a surprise!!) They have something here called "flea markets." There's a huge one every other Saturday in Albuquerque, so big they hold it at the fair grounds ... and some people live for them. Believe me, I never saw the appeal. However ... some seem to think they get pretty good bargains there -- and the vendors get to know each other to the extent they can give advice to the customers as to who's apt to have what ... and where to look for things, etc. It's as much a social occasion as anything else. But still ... I just can't get into them.
I have a friend who hates to pay retail for anything -- and is constantly urging me to go. But the answer is always, "Thanks, but no thanks." That's one of the blessings of being so busy. I always have a good excuse.
However. A rather odd thing happened a few months back. I mentioned to The Weasel I wanted some ramekins to replace the ones I lost over the years. I thought they'd be a great place to put little individual servings of cheesecake ... and maybe discourage @catweasel from eating a whole cheesecake in one sitting. He's done that before. Believe it.
Naturally the request that he include them on an upcoming Amazon order went in one ear and out the other. (No surprise there either.) But on his way back from the grocery store the next day. (The very next day.) He passed a yard sale going on -- and while he's usually a fan, his first impulse was to keep on driving. He had frozen food in the car that needed to get home, etc., but for some reason the memory of my ramekins resurrected itself in his mind at just that moment. (I tell you, it's strange living with him. Considering.)
So ... he decided to stop. And lo and behold, he found a literally brand new boxed set of ramekins on one of the tables. They had all the packing materials inside and everything. Truly beautiful. They look like they might have been a wedding gift that never got used. (Probably lasted longer than the marriage did if the wife was an unimaginative cook. I have all kinds of reasons to use ramekins.)
Anyway, for two bucks his Valentine's Day shopping was solved. ("Here you go, honey. Happy Valentine's Day.") It's hard to complain under the circumstances. And I'm sure you know how hard it is to hear "I told you so." I like that one a whole lot better when it goes the other direction.
One more thing:
full of Patsy Cline, Jim Reeves and other material my father would like.
Me, too. Tread softly before you diss the old-time C&W greats. I grew up on them. (Maybe I'll start a music post series of my own and feature them. That would serve you right.)
This is a post in itself, nobody but nobody has comments as verbose as you!
Of junk markets, I rarely go but apart from the freezing temperatures this one was a change from the old routine. She hasn't played even one of those vinyls yet.. but is studying for her SAT's so I cant hassle her.
Me, too. Tread softly before you diss the old-time C&W greats.
No diss, my father was as big a music lover as me, but our tastes rarely overlapped.
They call them yard sales there, but surely that's not as good.. as its just one persons gear?
I know. The very prospect of "yard sales" leaves me cold -- but The Weasel loves them. (Now there's a surprise!!) They have something here called "flea markets." There's a huge one every other Saturday in Albuquerque, so big they hold it at the fair grounds ... and some people live for them. Believe me, I never saw the appeal. However ... some seem to think they get pretty good bargains there -- and the vendors get to know each other to the extent they can give advice to the customers as to who's apt to have what ... and where to look for things, etc. It's as much a social occasion as anything else. But still ... I just can't get into them.
I have a friend who hates to pay retail for anything -- and is constantly urging me to go. But the answer is always, "Thanks, but no thanks." That's one of the blessings of being so busy. I always have a good excuse.
However. A rather odd thing happened a few months back. I mentioned to The Weasel I wanted some ramekins to replace the ones I lost over the years. I thought they'd be a great place to put little individual servings of cheesecake ... and maybe discourage @catweasel from eating a whole cheesecake in one sitting. He's done that before. Believe it.
Naturally the request that he include them on an upcoming Amazon order went in one ear and out the other. (No surprise there either.) But on his way back from the grocery store the next day. (The very next day.) He passed a yard sale going on -- and while he's usually a fan, his first impulse was to keep on driving. He had frozen food in the car that needed to get home, etc., but for some reason the memory of my ramekins resurrected itself in his mind at just that moment. (I tell you, it's strange living with him. Considering.)
So ... he decided to stop. And lo and behold, he found a literally brand new boxed set of ramekins on one of the tables. They had all the packing materials inside and everything. Truly beautiful. They look like they might have been a wedding gift that never got used. (Probably lasted longer than the marriage did if the wife was an unimaginative cook. I have all kinds of reasons to use ramekins.)
Anyway, for two bucks his Valentine's Day shopping was solved. ("Here you go, honey. Happy Valentine's Day.") It's hard to complain under the circumstances. And I'm sure you know how hard it is to hear "I told you so." I like that one a whole lot better when it goes the other direction.
One more thing:
Me, too. Tread softly before you diss the old-time C&W greats. I grew up on them. (Maybe I'll start a music post series of my own and feature them. That would serve you right.)
This is a post in itself, nobody but nobody has comments as verbose as you!
Of junk markets, I rarely go but apart from the freezing temperatures this one was a change from the old routine. She hasn't played even one of those vinyls yet.. but is studying for her SAT's so I cant hassle her.
No diss, my father was as big a music lover as me, but our tastes rarely overlapped.