Saturday morning is normally Yard Sale Day for Mother Dearest and me, there is usually no shortage of sales unless it is actively raining or it has gotten too cold. This Saturday we were going to take the Things back home, but they wanted to go to yard sales with us.

Much of their clothing, toys and assorted knick-knackery associated with children come to them second-hand and no effort is made to hide the fact. The same goes for GhostBoy, when he was a little’un he loved going to thrift stores and the like because he would usually be given a dollar or two to buy his own toy. The Things are no different, each climbed into the car with a “paper dollar” and four quarters, absolutely itching to find toys.

The first sale we stopped at was predictably unpromising; the little church down the road has one every few weeks and it’s usually the same stuff every time. After looking over the offerings, Thing 1 announced that this was “a grown-up yard sale” and there wasn’t anything good. We piled back into the car and when hunting for more. Mother Dearest had looked a few up on CraigsList and we were confident that there would be more that were no advertised.

Boy, were we wrong.

We drove to where several were supposed to be – nothing. We drove through town, hoping to spot the tell-tale signs at each intersection – nothing. This was very unusual; there’s usually dozens of sales in the area. It had rained fairly hard the night before, but there wasn’t  drop falling that morning. We saw one sign, very hard to read, but were never able to find the sale that went with it.

After driving around and around with the increasingly antsy Things, we spotted one. Thank you, patron saint of the thrifty.

Surprisingly, there doesn't seem to be a patron saint of yard sales. Here's a picture of Saint Dymphna, the patron saint of mental disorders, instead.


On any other Saturday, it would have been a disappointing sale, a few baby things, assorted clothes, and a smattering of bric-a-brac, but the Things were determined to spend their money. Thing 1 bought a dinosaur egg for twenty-five cents; it’s a plaster egg with a plastic dinosaur inside. Stick it in water and the plastic dinosaur expands, breaking the egg and “hatching” out of it. She also found a puzzle book, also twenty-five cents, with some really pretty pictures of sea life in it that she seemed pleased with. Little Thing 2 found a packet of pencils with puppies on them and a small book of mazes, both for a single quarter, and was happy. I found a couple of magazines, three at a quarter each, and a shopping bag, ten cents, making me the big spender of the day at eighty-five cents. Mother Dearest, in an unusual turn of events, didn’t buy anything.

I felt bad that the girls didn’t have a lot of fun, hopefully the next time they come over they have better luck.