One Man's Trash Is Another Man's Treasure.

Over the last few years, this has become my personal motto. And sort of our family motto as well, I guess. I have learned to embrace the hand-me-down and to happily rummage - to scavenge, if you will - through other people's junk. And to really enjoy the thrill of it. And I have been more than pleased with the results.

This is my favorite find from this past Saturday. I found this little beauty hiding behind a box of junk - real junk, not salvageable junk - at a house in Sylvan Park, our old neighborhood. I noticed it initially because of the color, so I grabbed it up. The price tag said $3.00, so I decided to purchase it even before I knew exactly what its function was.

Ah, a planter - just the kind of project I needed on such a beautiful Saturday. A trip to Home Depot secured two terra cotta pots for 50 cents each. I picked out a batch of ivy and some other plant that I liked because of its pink leaves, came home, split the plants between the two pots and hung it up outside. (OK, so Phillip actually hung it up...)

It has added such a lovely splash of color our front porch. And I am so proud of myself. (It doesn't take much, can you tell?)

My friend Miriam suggested that I should write a book along the lines of Yard Sales for Dummies. Well, I'd love to do that, but I'm afraid it would be an awfully short book! We really don't have any tricks, except that we look for things that "speak" to us. I know that sounds cheesy, but really that's the big thing. We don't buy just to buy - something really has to jump out at us. Also, we always go together - I rummage and then Phillip, my wonderful Salesman husband, starts bargaining. (It doesn't hurt that he's charming and handsome, you know.) Also, you can't be afraid to get dirty. That's about it! See - short book!

I normally don't like writing about Stuff. Because that's all it is - Stuff. Whether you buy it from Macy's or Pier 1 or The Gap or an overgrown front yard on Dakota Avenue, it's all Junk and you can't take it with you when your time is up here. I get really frustrated by how much our society (and I am guilty of this at times) is caught up in stuff - and how much we measure ourselves by our ability to accumulate - so I don't like to waste time thinking about or space writing about how much or how little I may have. But I think I am beginning to discover things about myself in regards to why I enjoy our Saturday morning outings so much. So I am journaling about it. Journaling is good, right?!

It's not really the stuff that I enjoy aquiring - because I truly do not care about what I (or anyone else) have or do not have. It is the memory attached to the object that I am drawn to. When I walk through my house, I look at the antique Bible stand we purchased at a Yard Sale several years ago. I am reminded of how we spent at least an hour at this particular sale, Phillip helping other shoppers load up their purchases into their cars because there wasn't anyone else there strong enough to lift and he just felt compelled to help. The ladies running the sale thought he was such a "sweet boy" that they gave us a beautiful Bible to go on that stand. Our 1920's Singer Sewing Machine reminds me of one of the first sales we went to years ago in someone's basement. It was filthy and it smelled bad but once we got the piece home and cleaned off decades of dust and dirt, we discovered all kinds of threads, patterns, medicine bottles and military buttons in the drawers. We wondered aloud about each object before returning it to the drawer where each remains today. The old mahogany chair with the leopard seat cushion and our "Will & Grace" mirror (it's a twin to the one that hung over Will's mantle) remind me of our sweet neighbors Tim and Heidi who lived across the street from us in our first house. The old grain-drying chest that now holds our entire CD collection reminds me of another sale in Sylvan Park - this time at the house of a successful Nashville songwriter. Her sale was inside, so we were able to see her Gold records (she wrote "Burn" for JoDee Messsina among others). Once we got the chest home, we discovered some of her handwritten notes inside. And my Milk Glass...wow, we found a sale in our old neighborhood where they must have had over 2,000 pieces of milk glass - each selling for only a quarter. I only had $4.00 in my wallet to spend, so I bought 16 pieces. Each time I see those pieces displayed on top of my hutch, I remember Phillip and I walking upstairs in that house and finding that they also had thousands of vintage pornagraphic magazines for sale. Needless to say, we took the milk glass and ran, laughing all the way home - and we still chuckle about that today. So, you get the picture.

I think that's one reason why I like being at home so much. Even when I am home alone, I am surrounded by warm memories of people and places, of stories I remember and histories I can only imagine. And aren't the memories made and lives lived with loved ones the real Treasures?