With temperatures in the ’80s, this past weekend was the unofficial home opener for garage/estate sale season. There were at least a dozen likely prospects listed in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution and Craigslist, but since we were co-hosting an engagement party for posse member Shay on Saturday night, I only had an hour or so to spare in between making the tomato tartlets and polishing up the silver trays they were to be served on. Like any seasoned estate sale pro, I have my favorite territories. In Atlanta, I like established in-town neighborhoods–like Morningside, Ansley Park, Midtown, Virginia Highlands, Poncey-Highlands, Decatur, Winnona Park and Medlock Park. Oh sure, I’ll venture outside the Perimeter for a sale promising “Estate Sale Run by Clueless Amateurs of Lifetime Accumulation of Nonagenarian Packrat with No Living Relatives.” Or my favorite ever” “Midtown Sale by Gay Men with Fabulous Taste”–and I’m not making up that last one–and yes, it was fabulous. I’ll even go all the way over to Buckhead, which is Atlanta’s priciest (sometimes, not always, snootiest) address. As it turned out, most of the good sales happened to be in Buckhead Saturday. So I snuck over there and hit a sale that wasn’t even an estate sale. It just happened to be run by rich yuppies with great stuff and questionable (to me) priorities. They were unloading last season’s Prada stillettos and size 2 Escada silk skirts, along with some nice Pottery Barn furniture. I missed out on a sisal rug, but piled in a heap on a tarp were some antique linens. I managed to snag a gorgeous red Swedish damask fringed tablecloth and eight matching napkins, and an adorable handmade white cotton candlewick bedspread with hand-tatted edging. Another woman pounced on a white damask banquet cloth and napkins, and when she asked the seller why she was getting rid of such lovely old things the yuppie waved her hand and said “oh, this was all my grandmother’s stuff–I’ve got a dresser full of this kind of stuff.” As a side note–when Katie saw my purchases, she could only shake her head and proclaim me a “linen whore.” And her point was??? At another sale down the street, I scored an oak cupboard with shabby white paint. And with my car full, I tooled merrily on home. The Saturday night party was lovely. A group of long-time neighbors chipped in to get Jack, Shay’s intended, a fancy new grill–and then they serendaded the happy couple with a tune written by neighbor Dave. “My Grill” sung to the tune of “My Girl.” On Sunday, I was trolling around on Craigslist and I found an ad for a beach cruiser–for fifty bucks! It was in a town 45 miles south of here, but it was Sunday afternoon, and the old mister was playing golf, so I motored on down to Fayetteville. I’m thrilled with my score. Aqua–my favorite beachy color, and coaster brakes. Whee! It still has the store’s pricetag on it. I’m going to trick it out with a cup-holder (standard equipment on Tybee), a basket, and a bell, and then I’ll hit the beach on my sweet new ride.