This ‘n That

We had a brief, glorious hint of spring in Atlanta last weekend, sunny with temperatures inching close to 70. Naturally, I spent a good amount of time Friday afternoon trolling the AJC classifieds and Craigslist to put together my proposed line-up. On Saturday morning, when I was downstairs pouring my Diet Coke, Mr. Mary Kay looked astonished to see me up that early. Have I mentioned that I am NOT a morning person? “What are you doing?” he asked, as though I’d come downstairs in a skydiving or spelunking outfit. “It’s the home opener,” I replied.
“Huh?” And to that, I replied, “Junking season starts today!” Then I was out the door–driving his ginormous Yukon, because you can fit a buttload of junk in that puppy. My regular junk posse members were out of pocket or out of town Saturday, so Katie stepped in as a junior posse member. Katie is of that generation that thinks Pottery Barn and Restoration Hardware stuff is absolute nirvana, but these days she is suddenly hot to trot for junk, because she and her husband (and Molly) will be moving into their recently-purchased new home in May. And that Pottery Barn particle-board crap is NOT cheap. Have I mentioned that they (and by they, I mean Molly) will be living within walking distance in the ‘dale? We actually did a scouting trip on Friday afternoon, to a couple of sales in Midtown Atlanta. At the first sale, Katie stayed in the car with Molly, while I climbed the incredibly steep front steps to check out the action. Seeing a couple of things I thought might be workable, I signalled her to come up. But after hiking all those steps with 8-month-old Molly in her frontpack, Katie turned up her delicate nose at the porch offerings. In all honesty, I must say I wasn’t really sold on anything. There seemed to be a LOT of cat feeding dishes around. At one point, the woman running the sale mentioned to a ponytail-sporting man that she had, like six cats. So they started cat-talking, and he volunteered that he MAKES his own cat food. At which point, being decidely dog people, we fled the scene. We cruised past a porch sale that was to start Saturday morning, but Katie, who is very finicky about these things, opined that she didn’t like the look of the place. Have I mentioned that I somehow managed to raise a child who is NOT down with pawing through mildewy basments and roach-ridden attics in search of priceless antiques? Sigh. Where did I go wrong? Anyway, we hit seven or eight sales Saturday morning. And the only place I scored was at an estate sale I hit accidentally. I picked up a chenille bedspread, an old pickle jug with a wire bale and wooden handle, a repro Coke button sign (for The Breeze Inn) and some other goodies. At one point, Katie requested to be dropped off at home, so I struck out on my own. Back to the porch sale in Midtown, where I spotted four great Chinese Chippendale faux bamboo chairs. Wood, heavy as all get-out, and a matching octagonal table–complete with a leaf! The tabletop is some kind of wood-grained formica stuff, but the rest is very heavy wood, probably early 60s vintage, very DOMINO magazine-esque. Katie had been talking about wanting a real dining room set for her new house, so quick like a bunny I emailed her cellphone pix, and she called in her approval. I managed to talk the anemic-looking guy running the sale down to $125, and then I ran to the ATM for the required cash, and home to get the pick-up truck, along with Katie’s husband and father to help move the furniture. When we got back with the men and the truck, imagine my surprise when anemic guy suddenly peps up and volunteers to do the heavy lifting! Anyway, Katie and Mark love their new furniture, which was Katie’s early birthday present. Watch for pix as they move into their house and furnish it with all our junk finds. On Sunday, I got up and drove down to Tybee and The Breeze Inn, to try to get in some writing. The work was going well today, but after four or five hours, my shoulders and neck were so knotted up with tension, I could hardly move. I booked a massage appointment, and on the way home, I was cruising around the island, when I spotted an antique chest of drawers on the curb. Since tomorrow is trash pick-up day, I declared a junk emergency and called my friend Diane. “Are you up for a mission?” I asked. I told her what I’d spotted, and where it was. “Oh my gosh,” she exclaimed. “I bet that’s my dresser. I used to manage that house for my sister, and we sold it furnished.” Five minutes later, she pulled up to the house. Sure enough, the dresser was an antique solid pine piece Diane bought years ago at the old Lakewood Antique Market. The new owners of her sister’s former cottage apparently had no regard for good old stuff and put it out for the trash collectors. But now, the chest has been happily reunited with Diane. Junk karma for sure. And don’t you just love happy endings?