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.