Here are a few facts:
- My husband loves farm sales and goes with his best friend fairly often.
- My grandpa was an auctioneer.
- Until recently, I had never been to a farm sale.
This is a story about my first time.
On most occasions, I have kissed my hubby goodbye, reluctantly handed him the check-book, warned him to be careful and then, for insurance that he wouldn’t stay too long, sent our four-year old son along. I wondered, in passing, what was the drawing power of these sales. I mean, we don’t even have a farm! Nothing pleased me more than to scrapbook with his best friend’s wife while our husbands and two little boys were off having ‘guy-time’. But -- you knew there would be a but, didn’t you?
Well, a month or so ago, our dear friends decided that they wanted to go to a farm sale as a family and invited us along. Between the two families we have seven children 7 and under. It seemed adventurous and exciting… like running into a dark cavernous cave full of vampire bats in a bikini.
No, really, I was raring to go! Tractors and farm implements get my blood pumping, farm-girl that I am and all. [cough-cough]
The sarcasm’s getting too thick in here.
Despite my smallish heap of misgivings, I couldn’t stay skeptical very long.
Just seeing the kids getting so wound up about being ‘out with daddy’ made me more accepting. Besides, at least my curiosity would be satisfied about these things.
We took the dog, diapers, water, juice, crackers, pacifiers, strollers, changes of clothes, hats, sunscreen, bug-spray, nursing-covers, leash and harness, baby toys, books, a baby doll, purses and my camera. We were prepared for ANYTHING. I think the people at the sale probably thought we were there to open a ‘parenting-supply’ outlet or else we were roving gypsies moving in for the long haul.
On second thought, I don’t think gypsies bothered with nursing covers.
Disclaimer: Due to certain remarks lately I am here to tell you that this is not a posterior post. I am not here to advertise my husband’s back-side.
I couldn’t help it. I follow where he leads, taking pictures all the way and always, always enjoying the view.
Well folks, there was this itty-bitty, teeny-tiny thing that my husband somehow inadvertently, accidentally forgot to mention about farm sales…
Yes, there is lots of tools, tractors, farming equipment, etcetera.
But there is also antiques. Beautiful, primitive, delightful, just my style antiques.
Boy, is he in trouble now.
He was lucky to get out of there with his shirt.
We’ll see who drags whom to the next farm sale.
Old Enough To Be Vintage in NE