The Mother of All Estate Sales, part 1

On a Saturday morning back in January, I was happily snuggled up under
my cozy down comforters, half awake-half asleep, contemplating the idea
of getting up but laying there dreaming about how awesome it would be if
my coffee beans suddenly learned how to jump into the grinder and do
their thing. Deliver me a hot cup of coffee, beans! You know how I like
it! A little creme, a little brown sugar in the jumbo Orla Kiely mug with the grey pears!

And then I got a text from my Mom. It went a little something like this:

Big yard sale in your neighborhood – got an email from another listing agent, you should go! Lots of stuff…


It only took about two minutes of laying there before that information jumped into my
treasure hunting heart and THE ENERGY hit. You treasure hunters know
THE ENERGY. It can pull you out of the laziest slump imaginable. Word of
a good sale or an antique show and you’re on fire. It’s that kind of
energy that grabs hold of your insides and says HELLO LAZY HEAD?!?!?! GET UP. GO.
NOW.

And you know I did.

I jumped out of bed, threw on yesterday’s jeans, slipped on my sneakers
and called to Henry across the hall. Henry! Get out of bed, kid! Let’s
go check out this sale together. Henry’s been been going to sales with me since he was 2 weeks old, so he was game.

It was a 45 second drive around the curve of our block (and a good thing it was, you’ll see why soon… 4 car loads is all I’ll say)

People. THIS SALE. It was advertised as an ordinary old yard sale and it
was anything but. More like an estate sale that was completely catered
to MOI. Upon arrival at the house, there was a little card table set up
in the foyer, and there were a bunch of really friendly 80 year old folks
hanging around a giant box of donuts, chatting it up. As Henry and I
slipped into the living room, I heard the angels singing.

This place had it all. In one of the back bedrooms? CAMERAS AND SEWING
MACHINES. What?! Yes. Just cameras and sewing machines. I picked up a
beautiful brownie hawkeye, a couple polaroids and I debated over a
beautiful blue sewing machine but ultimately ruled it out because,
hello, I almost never make time to sew and I already have three machines
and ridiculous amounts of fabric. Let’s not talk about that… Moving on…

So after I had arms full of vintage aprons and linens, the cameras, and
gobs of dishes from the kitchen (franciscan autumn leaf pattern HELLO?!) and Henry was standing there holding a bunch of things for me, I turned to the friendly 80 year old folks and
I asked this innocent little question:

IS THERE ANYTHING IN THE BASEMENT?

The response? OH YES, HONEY! THE BASEMENT IS OPEN! THERE’S LOTS OF STUFF DOWN THERE!

Jeez, were they not kidding. Vintage iron patio set (for a SONG, we’re talking 15 bucks) and
danish modern style wood desks! Christmas decor! Garden stuff and gobs
of planters! More aprons! Tools! Gadgets! And on and on and on and ON.

And then I came across a big black trash bag. Just sitting there on the
floor, stuffed with stuff and hanging halfway open. A box caught my eye
so I went in to investigate. There were bundles of old bills tied
together with string and rubber bands. And then I pulled out…

My heart. Oh, my heart. I found this scrapbook, chock full of cards from the 1940s and early 1950s and a box of letters and photographs, all belonging to a beauty named ZANE.

Was this stuff really in a trash bag? Yes, it was. In fact, when I took it upstairs and sort of sheepishly said, “uh, I found this stuff… it was in the basement… in a trash bag?” the folks didn’t know what to make of it. “Oh.. yeah… honey? You want that stuff? We were going to get rid of it… how about you just name a price?”

Jeez. Pressure. Thankfully one of the old fellers said, “how about five bucks?”

FIVE. BUCKS.

Five bucks? For this? Sold

I’ll share the rest of this amazing haul with you tomorrow.