Finders Keepers
Does it ever feel like Home is Where Your Stuff is? It's a conflicting thought for me, because I'm a strong proponent of home being made up of the people you love. But there is something to be said for the odd relationship you develop with the "stuff" that surrounds you every morning when you wake and every night before you sleep. It's like your stuff knows you and makes up the story of your life.
It's a particularly interesting concept to me because in both my current home and my childhood home there are clashing views regarding the moment when your "stuff" just becomes your "junk." I can admit - I take after my father in that I flirt with that line quite a bit. I mean, we aren't talking "Hoarders" material, but nonetheless, the line is blurrier for us than it is for some others (you know who you are).
This weekend, I stumbled upon an estate sale. I was talking to my mother at the time and had to immediately hang up, lest I be overcome with excitement for the impending treasure hunt.
I'm not sure why I don't seek them out more often—it's like a fascinating anthropological study, a walk through the person's life.
Actually scratch that, I know exactly why I don't go more often: both the early rise it requires, and the scary regulars that plot their routes the evening before and stalk the best deals with the persistance of an IRS agent (note: there are also lovely hunters, like my Meemaw, the MacDaddy of garage-salers)
They say you should go to garage sales or estate sales with a list, a budget and a time frame in mind to avoid simply adopting someone else's junk. But to me, stepping into an estate sale is like an invitation to start spinning my version of the respective person's life story. The tattered books they read to their grandchildren; the favorite chair they got for father's day; the roasting pan they cooked Thanksgiving dinner in every year. I can get lost for hours in the stuff that speaks to a person's legacy.
On this particular day, one of the scary regulars ran me off after an hour or so, but not before I landed some smokin' deals: my four new terrecotta pots ($3, see them in my "plant lady" post), a lovely piece of kitchenware ($6, below), and some brand new tupperware ($1). What a steal.
Besides the intriguing finds, you can often get a deal on everyday stuff that is typically overpriced.
My favorite estate sale find was in Indiana at my Granny's when I was a kid. It, of course, had the added emotion of being my Granny, and the extra frenetic element of being an auction, but nonetheless, this is what I found:
Katie... I am loving your blog!! Love you and love getting a peek into your life!
ReplyDeleteAunt Lorie
Oh... and I was gonna tell you... I LOVE that you have Granny's button container. I have her little jar that she kept her thimbles in. LOVE IT!
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