Doug and I are always looking for new treasure-hunting sites. A web search on Friday turned up a flea market just over the state line from us in Pennsylvania, about 15 miles away. We went to bed that night with visions of picnic tins dancing in my head, antique cameras and ice cream scoops in Doug's.
The place looked promising online. Located in a big white barn with an American flag draped across the front, it boasted 20,000 square feet of tools, collectibles, and furniture. But maybe we should have paid more attention to the part in the description about mattresses....
When we got there on Saturday morning, the building still looked promising, but the parking lot didn't. There was only one car there, and the market had already been open for 2 hours.
Still excited about what we might find, we walked in. It was freezing--the barn had no heat. We realized we wouldn't be doing too much idle browsing. A quick tour through the aisles told me there was nothing there I wanted. I saw one Pyrex casserole in 1970s avocado like this one:
Doug found a toolbox that he thought would be perfect for his staple guns, but it was marked $10, so he put it back.
Then we found out that political commentary was free with the haggling. "I don't mind bargaining with you," the little guy said. "You're not one of them $2 people."
I walked away, but he proceeded to tell Doug that the $2 people are "those Mexicans who are trying to take over our country."
As we left, he reminded us that his market has the best prices around on quality mattresses.
We smiled politely and told him we didn't need any bedding right now.
Doug will probably go back sometime. He left behind dozens of unexplored boxes and racks of old tools--screwdrivers, pliers, measuring tapes, planes, and hardware. He's pretty sure there is a treasure or two buried in their midst.
If he's lucky, he might even get another dose of mushroom-country philosophy.
Leaving food on the plate
50 minutes ago