More Whine

Well, my summer is starting off with a whimper, and needless to say, the whimper is coming from me. Helaina has been gone all weekend with her boyfriend and I dropped Rachael off in the Berkshires yesterday. Thankfully Jake came with me to drop her off, but when we got home, he was gone for the rest of the day.

So... kind of quiet.

Jake had a good suggestion for today though, which was to go to the flea market. Going to the flea market has dwindled to visits once or twice a summer in the last few years. But when the girls were small, we would go a couple of times a month. It was kind of an event back then. We would pack up water and juice and a snack and bring along the wagon to tow the girls around in. Often the girls would find some small treasure that would make the trip worthwhile for all of us.

So off we went today and it felt just a little strange, what with the smaller crew and all (plus my iffy mood due to my borderline depression). Walking around, it felt a little like walking through some weird carnival midway- tables lined up everywhere, people with looks of quiet desperation sitting behind them, trying to get you to buy into something you would never consider in the real world. "Hmm, a box of rusty gears with a couple of broken tools mixed in? That looks interesting..." Never mind that I've been trying to get rid or an almost identical mass of mystery metal that's been sitting in my "garage" for years.

There was an older couple sitting at a lone card table looking to unload a pile of old, dirty stuffed animals. How sad is that? Does the kid that these belong to even know what they're up to? This couple is going to sit in the hot, baking sun all day and pull in what, maybe a couple of bucks? And that's if they're not hauled away in an ambulance with sunstroke first.

A lot of people were selling used video games and even more were selling old video tapes, all baking in the hot sun. Between the sun and the fact they were made in the 1980's it made them a questionable buy in my book.

There was a table with nothing but new, brightly colored fuzzy slippers on it, each pair neatly packaged in their own wrapper. From a distance, they looked like Easter eggs. I can only imagine what someone's feet would look like after a couple of hours wearing these, with the likely toxic dye tattooing their skin. Not to mention  their feet breaking out in an allergic rash.

One table was selling used kitchen appliances, rolls of duct tape and bras. These people were apparently trying to appeal to a diverse clientele. Used kitchen appliances I can understand. This is a standard flea market item, especially the ones that are broken and you don't find it out until you get them home. And I can almost understand the duct tape, even though the sun was melting the tape inside the wrappers, much like the video tapes. But bras? Brand new bras? And I'm not talking normal ones either. These were huge. Each of these looked like a pair of igloos. Where did these people get these? Who does this? Who brings bras, never mind abnormal bras, to a flea market? Who thinks this is their chance to really make some cash?

Even worse, who in their right mind thinks: "I need a new bra, guess I'll check out the flea market." It would never occur to me to shop for underwear at a flea market. I don't care how good of a deal it was.

Was it always like this? Was there ever a time I might have looked at those bras and thought, "Hmm, that looks interesting..."?

Well, maybe, but not today.