Trespassers, doorbells and clowns. Oh, my!

I'm in the midst of refinishing the frame of an old mirror I found recently.  I started on it yesterday but I'm taking a break from it tonight because I feel the need to write something.  The problem is, I really don't have a particular storyline I feel like following.  I've tossed a few ideas around, but nothing seemed like it would carry an entire blog entry on its own.  So, because I'm all out of coherent themes, I'm serving up a selection of interesting things I've found and some of the things I've done with them.

Last summer, Joey (my brother-in-law and junking partner) and I were making our weekly Saturday morning yard sale rounds when we happened upon one at the home of Benny and Verna.  Now, we know Benny and Verna from church, but we didn't realize that this was their yard sale until we saw them working the cash table.  When we discovered that we had an "in", we figured we would score some deals, so we started perusing the wares.  After a couple of minutes of looking at Igloo coolers, duck plates and other standard yard sale fare, we found a stack of some of the most amazing woodworking "pictures".  We asked Benny if he made them and he confirmed that he did.  He said that he made them with a scroll saw.  I wasn't familiar with scroll saw art, but apparently there are other people who do this, too.  Now, he doesn't do these free-handed.  That would REALLY be impressive, but even though they are done from a pattern, they are amazingly and beautifully detailed.  Here are some of the pieces I got from Benny.

These things are carved from wood with black felt for the background and they are just stunning!  I got several pieces including fish, dogs and even a clock.  I had no idea that Benny was so talented, so I'm glad I ran across his yard sale and I got the opportunity to take home some of his work.

Here's a sign i bought at an estate sale.  I thought it was funny and I had to have it.  I'm still trying to convince Tanya to let me post it in the front yard.

Another day, we headed across town to a moving sale that started at 8am.  Of course, in the world of hardcore yard sale-ing, 8am means if you show up at 7:30 you'll have already missed the good stuff.  So, we got there early and were overwhelmed at the awesome items.  The house was old which is always a good sign.  I later learned that it was built in 1910.  I love yard sales in this particular neighborhood because the houses are older and a lot of the families have been in these old houses for a bunch of years.  Some of them tend to pile up a lot of stuff over the years and I love being there when they decide to let it go.  But, back to the story.

We scoured the house and started forming a pile of loot by the cash table.  Over the course of the next hour and a half (an incredibly long time to stay at one sale), we found some great things.  I was thrilled to be able to buy some of the things and give new life to them, but, as a bonus, I got to meet Pam.  The house belonged to Pam and had been in her family since well before she was born.  She was moving and getting rid of many of her treasures.  She's a sweetheart of a lady and we seemed to hit it off nicely.  She made us some great deals, but one of my favorite things I got from Pam was the original thumb-twist doorbell from her house.  I removed it from the door facing myself.  As I did so, I thought about all the people since 1910 who twisted that doorbell.  I thought about the door-to-door salesmen, suitcase full of products in hand, ringing it with high hopes.  I thought about the hired help who sprang into action when the doorbell sounded.  I thought about the generations of children and adults, the joy and the sadness, the war and the peace that the doorbell saw.  I was honored to be able to take it with me.

I was by myself, making the rounds, when I found a somewhat unusual item.  When I saw it, I knew I had to have it.  I immediately had plans for it, so leaving it behind wasn't an option.  I mean, how often do you run across one of these?

My oldest daughter, Ashli, has a fear of clowns.  Coulrophobia, as it's known to psychiatrists and sadistic fathers.  So why wouldn't I bring this little gem home with me?  My mind immediately began to race with ideas for "Ronnie", as he has come to be known.  At approximately 5' tall, he can be quite startling if you aren't expecting to round the corner and suddenly see a clown.  

Ronnie has made surprise appearances outside Ashli's bedroom door, in the kitchen and, once, he was even hiding in her closet.  She screamed particularly loudly that time.  :)

A couple of weeks ago, I propped him up just inside the door to the bonus room upstairs.  We don't go in there very often, so I knew it might be a while before he was found.  He stood in the dark, waiting patiently, until Katie opened the door and came face to face with the pure evil of greasepaint, red hair and striped arms.  She screamed like a baby.  Then, she made a few suggestions for what I could do with Ronnie.  They all sounded like they would cause me severe pain or, at the very least, extreme discomfort.  I decided not to follow any of her suggestions.  Instead, I'll hang on to Ronnie and find another opportunity for him spawn nightmares.

My kids love me.

Next time, I hope to have pictures of the finished mirror and maybe another project I have in mind.  In the meantime, share the blog with your friends and enjoy!

John