Morning traffic was orderly, as I headed
south on Sonoma Mountain Parkway. My husband lounged in the passenger seat
either asleep or sulking. I’d bribed him with a promise of a visit to
Copperfields if kept me company shopping and dropping old clothes at COTS, an
outing he generally avoids, and it wasn’t turning out to be such a bargain. In
silence, we crossed onto Ely and I admired the clouds billowing above Sonoma
Mountain like cream mounded on a yerba mate latte.
“Pull
over.” David, suddenly animated, waved his arms toward the curb. Had I blown a
tire? Was the car on fire? I threw on the blinker, aimed the Prius into the
right lane and skidded into a parking place. David jumped out. I stabbed the
power-off button with my index finger and scrambled out before the Prius blew
up, running to the sidewalk. Where the heck did my husband go?
“They’ve
got a good price on an entertainment center.” David’s voice filtered through a
tall hedge separating two homes. “It’s just what you want. Bring your purse!”
A
yard sale—I should have known. Sonoma County is great for secondhand, but
Petaluma reigns queen of bargain hunting. On any Saturday, April through
October, there are dozens of sales—moving sales, estate sales, even auctions; everybody
opens for business, and the goods are all “collectible.”
Later,
I checked Petaluma360.com
and found eighteen garage sale listings for the long weekend. But it’s early
yet; more ads will show up on Friday. Along with the ads for the usual clothing,
furniture, jewelry, toys, tools, I discovered scrubs, gumball machines, vintage
clothing, 50 different models of vacuum cleaners, and parking meters offered at
basement prices. Maybe I could buy a couple of the meters to encourage those
guests who don’t know when to leave. (Is it even legal to sell these?)
David
can sniff out the sales like a bear after honey, and he loves to browse the bargains. During yard
sale season, he disappears for hours at a stretch.
“I
thought you were picking up a valve at OSH,” I might mention casually, glancing
at the tools strewn about a still-leaking sprinkler in the lawn.
“Come
see the egg incubator I found over on Western. It was free!” He grins. “I’m
going to make a coffee table for the living room.”
I’ll
believe it when I see it, but suppose there’s certain symmetry to his idea
since the directions to our house include “across from the yellow chicken
coop.” And I agree, “free” is unbeatable.
David’s
attitude is, “If I buy it, I need it.” And often it’s true. The strange bits of
architectural odds and ends wind up in the theatrical sets he builds. His
office has the feel of a traveling minstrel show, decorated with old steamer
trunks, collections of masks and theater posters—all terrific secondhand buys.
I’m
putting my foot down—my feng shui practitioner accuses us of stagnating ch’i
from too much stuff. So keep on the lookout for our ad in the paper now that
it’s yard sale season—we’ll make you a great deal on an entertainment center.
PS: I never made it to Recycle Town but my complete set of
Encyclopedia Britannica
circa 1955
makes a great altar to
Knowledge and a Successful Writing Career
