Someone There is Who Does Not Love the Mall

Today was the day. My sister and I reserve the first Saturday in May each year for our rummage sale extravaganza at a local elementary school. We dream about it all winter long, through the cold nights and the dreary, garage-sale-less days of February. April is the cruelest month, because it postpones May, and the rummage sale.

But today was the day. We get up early, skip the shower (speaking strictly for myself here), and brave the drizzly dawn to line up for our beloved rummage sale. We know enough now not to rely on the garbage bags the good folks at the school hand out (these are strictly for amateurs) and bring our Mary Poppins bags to stuff all of our stuff in.

It's important to go with someone else to these sales, because often in the heady rapture over the piles and piles of clothes (shirts for a dollar! skirts for 75 cents! I'll take them all!) we sometimes make less wise fashion decisions. Like the year my sister wanted to buy a shirt that looked like she had slung a rag around her torso. Or the many unfortunate skirts that have made their way to my home, a mere waystation on their way directly to the thrift store. 

Then there was the turquoise snowsuit that is absolutely hideous but that, I must say, has kept my girls warm for about four years and that they love and that cost no more than $.50.

So said sister and I shop, and then retire to a quiet corner to critique each others' finds ("you may not buy anything else that shade of blue" she always tells me, or, "did you not notice the gaping hole in that coat?") and then head off to shop some more. I got a pat on the arm and a condescending "good fashion choice" for picking out a bright blue, rather than a light blue, shirt.

This year was a bit crowded, and not as well stocked as years past, but I still managed to spend more than I have in any other year. Tell me, ladies and gentlemen, how much would you spend for this:

3 men's shirts

2 pairs of men's khakis

2 ladies' skirts

1 pair of pants for same

1 pair of sweat pants (shiny, which my sister says I may not wear outside of the house)

6 polo shirts

2 sweaters

3 blouses

3 casual knit shirts

1 pair of shorts

 

But wait! We'll also throw in some children's clothes:

2 dresses

1 skirt

1 pr. sweats

1 pr. shorts

1 pr. pajamas

5 shirts

2 pr. pants

1 top

3 pr. snow pants

Now how much would you pay?

BUT WAIT! That's not all. If you rummage now, I'll throw in . . . 

1 loaf pan

1 muffin tin

1 ice cream scoop (which Tooie thinks is his--"We can make muffins together, Mommy!")

1 instant-read thermometer

1 can opener

1 plate

1 bowl

1 pumpkin thingy for Halloween

And finally, the coup de grace,

10 cafeteria trays in a pleasing lime green.

Any takers? I spent $45, and that's after being charged extra for the cafeteria trays (my sneaky sister got hers for $.10 each) and for a couple of other things, but since it's a fundraiser I usually don't fuss about miscalculations. 

We ate off our cafeteria trays for dinner tonight, and I made a dinner fit for a cafeteria tray (or a TV dinner): chicken nuggets (granted, homemade with whole-wheat breadcrumbs for coating), green beans (pan-roasted, not boiled), mandarin oranges (straight from the can), and chocolate pudding yum yum.

(Here's what the pudding looked like after Tooie dropped some on the floor and, not wanting to waste a drop, got down and licked it up.)

Here are the trays post-pudding:

I'm not sure why I love them so much, except perhaps that they are just like the trays from my elementary school (those were pink, though, or a beige-ish pink). Plus the kids think they're fun.

Now, people tell me they don't go to rummage sales because they don't like spending all that time rummaging through things. But I for one would much rather spend two hours going through piles of clothes than spend two hours at the mall feeling a vague sense of unease that deepens into a full-blown funk. Or, worse yet, go to Wal-Mart and brave the horrible lighting and bad chi. I also get to experience the thrill of the chase and the bragging rights of dressing my family for less than $100 a year.

And where else would I have found those trays? Say it with me, baby. Rummage Sale.