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.