Pretty sure this will be me schlepping through the field-turned-parking-lot back to my car today. Maybe three or four times. Depending on how many armloads I score. Don't you just love it? You don't bring a list. You don't know what you'll see. You don't know what you'll come home with. You don't just delight in the kill, it's the thrill of the hunt.
You stand in the same spot for 5 minutes wondering if you should buy that old piece of junk and what you will tell your husband when he asks the dreaded question, "What are you doing to do with that?" Your answer is usually, "I don't know, but I love it."
You have no need for that giant moose head, but it sure is fun to stumble upon it.
You leave with a layer of gravel dust on all exposed surfaces of your body. You can taste it when you lick your lips. That's the taste of victory my friends. Of good ol',down and dirty, treasure hunting, flea market victory.
I'll meet you at the cheese curd stand.
