The best Sandwich day ever

Ahhh Sandwich, your clouds, your corn, your bountiful treasures. JC, her sister Laura, and I, set out for Sandwich at the crack of dawn one day (I was later, per usual) and it did not disappoint.

We stopped at our favorite corner for picture taking and a nice Sandwich policeman stopped to make sure we were okay. I pepper sprayed him. Just kidding. JC insisted I get up close and personal with the corn, which was barely to our ankles the last time we were there.

I am extremely uncomfortable.

My father thinks this picture is hilarious.

Started the day out with a bang--actually started the day out with Cracker Barrell, where we gorged on country ham...mmm. And bacon. And grits. And biscuits. Fuel is necessary for Sandwich days. As soon as we arrived, I spied the vintage coke sign I have wanted since last flea season. Only it was sitting with yet another vintage coke sign that was also delightful. Both are from 1945, both are lithographs, both were outdoor art. What to do? Buy them both of course!

The vendor and I had to take a hammer to the remaining glass on the bowling pic. This one currently lives in my hall but it might make it to my booth if I can ever bear to part with my treasures. Oh, and if I ever get a booth.

Except for an oddly high number of creepy lifelike dolls, this month's Sandwich was one of the best. Even though we had Laura's giant van, we ALMOST did not fit all of our goods into the ve-hic-le. It involved several attempts at loading, unloading and reloading the car. I almost had to sit on the roof.


I took my new camera. While JC was contemplating a cabinet bar:

I took a billion pictures of myself in this armoire.

By the way, I'm aware and apologize for the odd layout of this particular post. For reasons I cannot understand, this authoring tool seems to be of the WYSIWTheToolWantsToDo variety. I can't even seem to correct the HTML. Granted, my crack 1997 HTML skills are AWESOME.

Also I am publishing this roughly 5 months late.

Three girls, three OLCs, and one full mini-van

Sandwich oh Sandwich how we love thee. Both the place and the lunch item.

JC's sister Laura joined us for the July Sandwich antique market, which was somewhat more populated than it was in June.

Fueled by every kind of breakfast meat known to man, we set out early (& thirsty) for the country. The corn was high, the barns were white and the sky was blue.





A banner day at Sandwich this was. Last season I saw a 1940s Coca-Cola billboard but passed it up. Almost immediately I saw the sign again, along with another '40s Coke sign featuring a lady bowler. Which to choose? I couldn't of course, and much to my luck, the guy had broken the glass on the bowling sign that day so he gave me a discount. Also he made several creepy comments, but hey, I loved the signs.


The three of us bought so much stuff we almost did not fit it all into Laura's minivan. I believe a chair was purchased (uphosltered, in need of re-upholstering, liked by both the Js but not L), a metal cooler for a bday gift, and a vintage dress for me, among others.

Elkhorn, the best there is

A little late this post. A few weeks ago we headed north to Wisconsin for the mother of all fleas, Elkhorn.

Amount spent: $61
Amount found on ground: $5
Items obtained: 8 (a humidor, a citrus juicer, a glass ice bucket, 2 turn of the century mason jars, a glass cigar jar [it was a cigar motif], a small jadeite bowl and a vintage scale).
Sunburns: 2 Massive near 3rd degree burns were sustained on the back of JC's neck and the backs (only) of my legs. How one accomplishes this without walking backwards all day remains unclear.
No. of comments on JC's flamingoes: 17

Where Elkhorn kills the competition:
a) bathrooms -- clean, indoors, actual flushing toilets. charmin to go not required.
b) brats -- yummy and the line is never long. see sandwich july 2009 for comparison.
c) bpavement -- (the 'b' is not in fact silent. i really wanted the alliteration.) the grounds at elkhorn are paved which makes for most excellent OLC manuevering and hauling ass back to either a) or b) and/or the Potts ice cream sign vendor.

Sadly i seem to have misplaced my photos of the event so this post will need to be updated. Stay tuned.

A Sandwich Day

2008 Sandwich Market

Last year JC and I made a rather courageous trek out to the middle of nowhere for the Sandwich Antiques Market--guaranteed no socks! We were not disappointed. The day was sunny and sparkly with an azure sky and fluffy, children's book clouds, next to unbelievable stretches of green fields, picturesque barns and stalks of corn. We have since called any sort of clear, bright, clean day "A Sandwich Day."



Last week we went to the June 21, 2009 Sandwich Antiques Market, on Father's Day. We started the day off with a bang (or maybe a thud) at Cracker Barrel, where I tucked into some southern fried breakfast goodness (I can only eat this way in the presence of fellow southerners, lest I embarrass myself. Oh wait--I'm publishing this online.) You can see JC's eggs in a basket there across the table.




Sadly the weather wasn't quite as delightful. Instead it was sticky, muggy and hot, rendering both of us to doughy, sweaty, dirty messes within minutes. We took some comparison photos on the way in, not yet knowing the heat would get us in the end:





The market itself was a little depressing compared to last year and to the iunaugural Kane County affair. Few vendors, even fewer shoppers. The dealers were all talking about how slow and sparse the market was compared with those in the past. Afte JC made a $25 purchase at the end of the afternoon, one dealer told her it was his biggest dollar item of the day :-( Although not quite a Sandwich day, Sandwich day part deux yielded a number of treasures, particularly for JC, who cleaned up in the vintage sign department. Here she is contemplating the goods.




I scored two vintage telephones, in great shape. After purchasing the second one, as we walked the fairgrounds, I kept hearing a faint bell, finally I realized it was one of my phones. Every bump in the old lady cart (and ther were many), ting ting. Walk, walk, walk ting ting, walk walk walk, ting ting. In the car on the way home, exhausted, hungry and dirty, we stopped at a light and sat in silence. From the back of the Jeep we hear ting ting. I think my new phone is anxious to make itself useful. Or at the very least to ring. I debut her here, newly spiffed up, but not yet rewired. Since my red vintage phone's bell is enough to wake the dead, and causes the cat to have an apoplectic fit, this one may remain "art" and not be rewired. I can only image how loud a phone that talks at stoplights would be hooked up to an actual phone line.

Arting it up, Old Skool

A couple weeks ago was the Old Town Art Fair in Chicago. And no, a judged art fair in tony Old Town is not the same as a Flea Market, but what I bought includes some flea market-type finds. I spent way more money than I should on this delightful bird statue, with wings made of 1920s tape measures, and little late 19th century cigar labels among other accoutrements.

Luckily I had the bird in hand (ha! punny!) before two drunk cougars approached and started slopping around the table, knocking over the pieces. The artist leaped from her director's chair perch in the back of the tent in a very "Vicki, can I help you with that Kool-Aid? Please?" * moment.

Isn't he cute? Or maybe she. It's unclear. And matters not. I am an equal opportunity art buyer. I would have paid the same were she male or female.

*Many thanks to Merly for googling the correct text of this quotation via IM. Merly, who is my co-worker, looks a little like this, in case you were wondering:

Blog Reborn

The blog has languished this spring and early summer, for reasons including, but not limited to:

1. Being staffed in Dublin, OH
2. Personal laziness
3. A short interlude in which the email address associated with said blog was forgotten, the help section was consulted, blogger customer (non-)support was sought, a doom loop of circular links was entered, vengeance was sworn, blog abandoned, email address remembered in a fit of cleverness, and, wait for it--blogging was resumed

I have finally unpacked the suitcase, cleaned the mountain of car rental agreementsand baggage claim tickets off my dining room table, and caught up on Tivo. I now have time both to spend money on useless junk and write about it!

R.I.P. Old lady cart 2004 - 2008

Allow me to take a moment and pay tribute to a grand old lady, who served me well both in city and suburb, sidewalk and gravel path. Here she is in my trash room, waiting to go to her final resting place in the trash heaps of Cook County.

She finally gave out in December aught-eight, when I ill-advisedly loaded her down with a couple cases of alcohol & other beverages and a few hundreds dollars worth of groceries for a Christmas party.

The old lady cart is a crucial member of Team Flea. And a source of much admiration, both at the flea markets and in the city, where she accompanies me for grocery trips. Overheard at Ohio and Fairbanks: "Now THAT'S the way to get groceries."

Yes. Yes it is.

Never fear, the cart has been handily replaced in time for flea market season 2009 and will appear in the blog. Jen C has obtained her own plus-size old lady cart, actually better than mine, but I for one will miss her size 0 old lady cart even though, as a dealer at Elkhorn commented, "that duzn't hold shit." But it did hold shit. Held it for at least 5 feet before spilling Jen's Herman Miller chairs to the ground. I'm not sure how the chairs made it back to the car, parked miles away, but I feel sure it had something to do with the fine piece of American engineering pictured here.

And we're off!

Saturday proved to be a bang-up start to the flea market season. We met in the morning for brunch at Blueberry Hill in La Grange, where I had pumpkin pancakes mmmmmm, Jen C had eggs (twice as many eggs as she ordered it turns out), and Steve had...french toast I think (but let's be honest, this isn't about Steve or his breakfast choices).

After much deliberation over whose vehicle to take, we opted for the smaller, both of us claiming we had no intention of buying furniture. uh-huh.

A line of card met us at Farquar Road (it's not called Farquar but I forget what it is every time) waiting to get into the fairgrounds. A couple of hipster guys in JT hats and an alterna-couple, no doubt jonesing for mid-century modern, parked across the street and jaywalked across the 6 lane highway instead of waiting in line. Fools. First rule of Flea Club: the closer your car is to the main gate the easier it is to haul your loot triumphuntly back to the vehicle. And you can shop to the last minutes if you need to bring the car to the vendor (as we did).

Sadly it turns out I have not uploaded my pictures as thought so the next post will contain a tale of our adventures.

In the meatime, please enjoy this picture of blueberry hill. from their site.

Welcome to the Blog

Hoping to break my current record of one (albeit spectacular) blog post, I am taking advantage of the downtime here at work where I am waiting to roll on a project and starting a new blog.

I live in Chicago and love nothing better than buying junk. I am often joined by my friend, Jen C, who lives just outside Chicago and loves nothing better than buying junk. Neither of us has financial discipline or restraint. Only one of us has an old lady cart of generous proportions, which is about all that limits us when spending the day at an area flea market.

This Saturday starts the Kane County Flea Market (well for us). We missed last month's this year for reasons I cannot recall. No matter. The Swine shed does not discriminate.

We Jen(n)s eschew minimalism. As you, dear Reader, may discover for yourself in the course of this summer. We both live in abodes that some, unenlightened individuals, might consider over-furnished. We both have a slight addiction to the purchase of seating. One of us, who has more than twice the number of rooms and a basement over the other, has the advantage of space in this regard. The other of us tries not to be jealous. And dreams of a row of old theater seats.

Next up: A Sandwich Day. Or Junk Defined. I haven't decided.