Adventures of a Silly Lady...."The Pickle Bucket"

ok so I'll admit it....I've been a little bit afraid to write about the real me.  Not that what I've been writing about in the past hasn't been the real me, but it might be a slightly less colorful version of the real me.  Because the real me is kind of a silly lady.  A lady who sometimes  often does really odd things just because that's who she is. 

I guess when you are a business owner (or whatever you do in your "grown up" life) you think you have to put forth a certain "professional" image to the world.  Can't show the public how goofy or silly you really are.  But then I ask myself...what is the point of this blog really.  Is it to just be all proper and formal or is it to let those that have an interest in reading this get a little glimpse into the real person (warts and all) behind the "professional business." 

I have been battling this question in my mind for a few months now and after talking it over with a few friends who know the real me, I've decided to slowly reveal a bit more about myself and my little adventures.  Over the years friends and family have often told me that they love to hear about the weird little situations I've found myself in while out and about on my searches for vintage treasures.  I have spent a great deal of the last twenty years travelling around the Midwest looking for cool stuff that inspires me and others.  With all that time on the road, at estate sales, trolling flea markets, basements, and attics...you know there have been some intersting, funny, sad, exhilarating, weird, unbelievable, and completely random things that have happened.

So....I am going to try my hand at writing about some of these little anecdotes under the category of ----Adventures of a Silly Lady.  I'll post them whenever the mood strikes me.  They might be about something that happened twenty years ago or yesterday.  I will provide details where I think it helps to clarify the story. 

Just because I can.....I will begin each story with the words "one time" and I will end each story with the words "the end"

Here we go......

One time two springs ago I was at an estate sale in Iowa when I overheard the man who owned the estate sale company telling another shopper that the sale he was conducting next week was the best one that he ever had the honor of having. He said that the family had kept everything they ever owned for the last hundred years. He waxed poetic about beaded sweaters, majolica pottery, oil paintings, vintage textiles and on and on.  I was positively giddy with the thought of all these fabulous vintage items that might need a new home with me or one of my vintage loving customers. 

I couldn't stop thinking about this sale....of course I was going to go.  Heck Dekalb was only a three hour drive away.  The sale would start at 8 am.  I could leave at 2 am to get in line early because the way he was talking up this sale I knew there would be big crowds waiting to get in.  If you aren't in the first group to go in it is so frustrating to stand outside while others march by you with the "good stuff"  I had to get there early that's for sure.  As the week went on I came to the "obvious" conclusion that I needed to get there the night before the sale and sleep in my van.

So I casually mentioned this to my husband thinking it would slide through easily.  "You've got to be kidding me he said"  "There is no way you are sleeping in Iowa in an unfamiliar neighborhood."  "No way, No how"

So I left about 7pm from Dekalb and arrived at the sale at 10 pm.  Cool I'm the first one in line(duh!) Now it's time to get settled in for a good nights sleep.  Well this was prior to the removal of my two grapefruit sized fibroid tumors that were crushing my bladder at all times causing me to have to visit the ladies room every 20 minutes (and yes I lived like this for almost 3 years not knowing what exactly was wrong with me)

No problem....I was prepared.  Prepared and determined to make it through the night without losing my spot in line.  I had my bucket.  A giant 5 gallon pickle bucket complements of my husband's work.  Well between visits to my bucket, my bad back, the 40 degree temperature and thinking that every twig crackle was the boogie man, I didn't get a wink of sleep. 

Finally 4 am arrives and the others begin to arrive.  We all spent the next 4 hours doing what all antiquers do during this time.  Telling stories about treasures found and treasures lost and treasures dreamed of. 

Sale begins....yes I am number one.  I enter the house...my heart is beating fast...so fast I can't even think straight.  Am I spinning in circles? I go left then dodge right and finally commit to a small bedroom....the vultures are fast on my heels.  Did I go into the right room first....oooh the agony.  Shoot wrong room.  Go to the garage, go to the garage, go to the garage....decide to listen to my inner annoying voice and almost run out of the house to the garage.

The garage is crammed full of fun stuff.  Why don't I have 4 arms and 10 hands?  I frantically start flipping thru racks of clothes and then out of the corner of my eye I see some cool paintings propped up against the wall.  I keep one hand on the clothes rack while at the same time stretching myself over four feet to grab the paintings.  I'm experiencing vintage nirvana and that always makes me dizzy.  I see a young boy who is helping out at the sale and beg him to watch my pile of stuff.  He agrees. 

Back into the house to finish up. Flash forward two hours and I am now done. And when I say done I mean tired, hot, dirty, hungry, dizzy and happy.   I was able to rid myself of 800 dollars and I had a great time. 

Headline of this story.....Girl and Pickle Bucket Hit the Road!  The end.

Comments

[Courtney]

Wow. A pickle bucket. What a glamorous life you have...

[lindsey]

so is that pickle bucket still rolling around in the back of your van??? if so...i think i'll drive to the train station next time.

[megan m.]

here is some general advice....don't take fast sharp turns when you have a pickle bucket in the back of your van!

Just kidding...the pickle bucket made it home safely and is now in storage where it belongs waiting for the next time I decide to camp "in my van down by the river"

I miss Chris Farley.

[sandra]

oh. my. goodness. you are more than silly!! and um, i think that as traumatizing as they may have been... the childhood camping trips may have been good training. and i may never see any bucket in the same light again!

[megan m.]

After 15 years in a row of camping out for two months every summer with my parents in the most remote parts of Wyoming...I swore I'd never do it again.

But I will say that in comparison to those adventures camping out in my van with my pickle bucket was a walk in the park. oh and sorry for any pickle bucket imagery that might pop into your head from now on.

[Allison]

Count me among those who will enjoy hearing your stories of juicy finds.
There's something delightful about the thrill of the hunt. So much of the "process" can get lost - we take it for granted that good stuff just "shows up" in your shops. Hearing the backstory is fabulous - pickle buckets and all!

[lisa]

i laughed out loud reading that story. i remember when you did that. lindsey told me what you were doing,sleeping in the back of your van in some unknown iowa neighborhood. i believe i asked, 'are you kidding me?' i think she just closed her eyes and nodded yes like, 'yep, that's megan'. allison has a great point. we all (even me who works at moxie and has been out with you before)don't always think about or realize the work (and delirium)that goes into finding all the great things you manage to find. they just show up behind the counter in a big box with a list(to my great delight). it's a ton work. i couldn't do it, but i'm so glad you do. pickle jar and all.

[megan m.]

aahh shucks. thanks everyone. I appreciate the fact that you all enjoyed my story even though I grossed you all out with the pickle bucket...but hey I said it would be warts and all!

[~*Brooke*~]

ok when my dad and i went camping in shawnee, we hadto use an outhouse and it was gross!!! I think ill bring a pickel bucket next time and use that instead!!☺

[megan m.]

Brooke...I've got to say that you are so much more witty than your mom. You actually have a sense of humor. Courtney's never laughed at one of my jokes in eight years. You must have got the funny gene that bypassed your mom....sssshh don't tell her I said so.