This is me:
With the "Yay!" face. Due to a garage sale high.
In the front seat of the car, sits the reason for the yay face:
I wasn't driving my normal old-beat-up-gas-hog SUV, so I had Hubby's small car.
This leaves me with not many options on where to put the things I buy.
Hubby's golf stuff takes up the entire trunk.
And the back seat had these two lovable critters:
Who, by the way, learned their usual lesson of the value of two dollars.
Critter #1 blew his dough on typical 9-year old junk. And then did the usual, "Please mom can I borrow money?" routine.
Critter #2 had a small meltdown when he couldn't afford the gun and the truck.
Dudes, when the money's gone, it's gone. And stubborn German mama doesn't cave.
There is a plus side of driving a small vehicle with clubs in the trunk and critters in the back.
I can't lug home any furniture.
I'm pretty sure I need a life size version of this to run around in:
I can totally see me in a vintage, rusty pick-up.
In girly pink. Or red. Or robin's egg blue. Now that I think about it, any color would do.
Now rewind to when front seat was empty. Here's how it went down.
The first sale I went to was choc full of antiques. Life is good. Yay face!
And then I drove by this house and stopped because of the clues:
Tacky yard ornaments, especially large plastic deer, almost always mean I will find something.
It's usually a good indicator that the inhabitants have stuff from the 60's laying around the house.
Or still on the walls.
And I was correct, as usual. Yay face! You'll see stuff in the shop very soon.
I also love seeing what people try to give away. And I'm not knockin' the free box by any means. In fact, I got an awesome pair of mittens and some cute bud vases in some free boxes today. Always look in the free box. Always.
But I have a li'l hunch it's gonna be tough to give this avocado green, energy hogging, dusty, dirty dryer away:
Sign should say, KICK ME.
And then there was the drunk guy house.
You can't see, but the guy in the garage at the "checkout" was loaded off his a$$.
It was 10:30 a.m.
He tried to talk me into buying some granite slabs.
Or should I say slur.
But I was really eyeing up the old rusty motorcycle he had for sale.
Kidding. I'm not the motorcycle type.
More of an old pink pick-up kind of girl.