Lampy Love, Swizzle Sticks And Flea Markets With Fleas

The lamps were sitting in a pile at one of the few remaining real flea markets around here, and I don't know how long this one is going to stay "real" since the owner has discovered how to Google and now she's spouting off everything she finds out on the internet about her junk.  As a newbie, she considers eBay to be the end-all and be-all of information.  ACK!   I will be in  mourning on the day that she actually cleans up  her place (she keeps getting cited by the county) and will fondly remember the cobwebs covering everything, the smell of mold wafting from the back room, the gigantic piles of big plastic storage tubs that she keeps meaning to get into (she buys unseen lots at auctions)--and oh, yes, the actual fleas that call her place home in the summer.

In the meantime, I can enjoy my beautiful white ceramic lamps (no shades) that I got for $5.00 apiece.  They're filthy and the guts will have to be replaced, but they're gorgeous nevertheless and totally free of nicks and/or chips!

This one is sinuous!

I found the swizzle sticks at another local flea market--sometimes a new vendor will be there and they're fun to deal with.  I had to stop coming to this one for awhile since the costume jewelry dealers would FOLLOW ME AROUND trying to get me to come to their booth.  This tends to put off the dealer I'm with at the time when someone is lurking close by (remember the old lady slot machine lurkers from "Friends"?) and going "Pssst."   One of the new venders had her husband along and he was only there to force her to sell stuff, so they were fighting alot.  He'd put something out and she'd yell, "HEY! That was MOM'S, put it back in the truck a**hole!" And he'd yell back, "It's a piece of crap we've had laying around for 20 years!  Sell the damn thing!"

The swizzle sticks were something they'd found at an estate sale so they had no emotional attachment to them, thank god.  From what I can find out, Ched's was a neighborhood bar in the 50's and 60's but I don't know exactly where it was in New Orleans (although I'm thinking Mid-City or one of the upper wards).  I found a New Orleans memories website and one geezer was reminiscing about his parents taking him to the bar when he was a kid, plunking him down in front of the pinball machine and then drinking themselves into a stupor.  Hey, they walked to the bar from their house!  I call that being a responsible parent.  And then again, that kind of attitude is probably one of the reasons God decided to render me childless. 

I only went to one flea market this past weekend.  No estate sales, no garage sales, no antique malls (except the one I'm in to dump off some stuff).  I was thinking, "Lord, I need me a fix BIG TIME", and just like in the movies, lo and behold! when I opened yesterday's mail there was an envelope from one of my favorite estate sale companies announcing a big sale next weekend in Baton Rouge.  The entire contents of a home!  Woo-hoo!