Welcome Back Garbage (Straight Into The Garage)

When I went walking last night I realised it was council garbage pick-up. For those in Victoria, it's known as hard rubbish. To me, it's known as treasure (amidst a whole lotta trash). This, we could say, was some kind of epiphany. I could walk and junk at the same time. Oh the joy! The utter joy!

I did the rounds, found a whole lotta skateboards (grip tape peeling off) and a Super Soaker that I thought I'd come back for later.

I continued went over to inspect some rubbish, then realised there was a ute creeping up behind me and the driver perused each garbage pile after me. I left a lot there. Saw a cute telephone table thingie and thought that could be interesting. But kept going.

Down another street I spied a small wooden dolly highchair, picked it up, then looked down to realise it's leg was broken. My mantra is if it needs fixing in a major way, don't take it. Because if you know us, it will probably not get fixed. HMPH! So I tossed it back to where it came from. Went walking, trying to think where the good loot was. Well there wasn't any more junk to be looted, so I went the long way home and put the smalls into bed.

Once that was done, I told Matt I was going out a-lootin' again. And I did. Some more junk tossed streetwards, the Super Soaker and whole cache of skateboards had been snaffled. I drove further and there was the lonely telephone table. I have great plans for her.

Something I Found In A Bin

It's been almost a year since my epic affair with someone else's bin, and so it seems only fit that I show you something else I found in a bin. A long time ago, but I've never mentioned it, until today that is folks.

Would you believe someone had tossed this little beauty out?

Along with this, I found a bag of fabric scraps, which was intermingled with a whole bunch of panty-hose (fancy crafty bank robbery anyone?) - which I declined to hold onto for fairly obvious reasons, a letter dated August 1971, and an awesome child's armchair which has gone to my brother-in-law in the hope that he might one day find some time to reupholster it for me, because damn fool, it's positively darling.

One Might Think That One Might Give It A Rest

But one doesn't, does one?

Not even in the teeming rain, when I was thinking - sheesh, this might turn into hail - even when my windscreen wipers were going into overtime did I think, nah - I won't pull over. No siree.

Sensei says junking requires pure dedication. Sensei says even if you get rained on, even if the neighbours are staring, you still go junking if you want to hit the goods. Sensei says sometimes gloves are required.

But not today.

Coming home from one of life's most mundane shopping trips (bras, why can I never find a pretty/nursing bra in my size?) I took a couple of detours. I always go the back streets, and this is where I yield most goodies.

So today's prize may not look like much to you. But it is. Those coathangers are gold. I am mad for a vintage coathanger. One day I'll show you my most prized one. That box is going to house some of my collections. And that hat. That hat was worn by a high court judge (not that you care, but it's part of my little community), onceuponatimethankyouverymuch. Everything that has a story is worth getting out of the car in the rain and getting soaked for. Even when you're in a white top and you could consider getting down to your local pub for the wet t-shirt competition afterwards. Even then.

Sold! To The Lady With The Voice.

This was my name last weekend. 'The lady with the voice.' I went to my first estate auction. 600 lots of pre-loved goodies. 600 lots. Count 'em. Do you know how long this took. All. Day. Talk about dedicated.

Along with being known as 'the lady with the voice' I was also known as 'the lady with the red and white hat', but I prefer having a voice. I was way up the back (in the cheap seats) bidding on whatever anyone else didn't want (read: looking for bargains of the vintage kind).

One of the lots I managed to snaffle was a vintage cot - but was really a whole lot of goodness to the sweet tune of - wait for it - wait for it - $5.

$5!

Included in the lot was this ridiculously cute dolly cradle that Tiny thinks might be her new bed. While she is sorely mistaken, it is a cute beddy bed for her dolly, though Tiny has beaten her to it and is lying in it in anticipation for her own bed time.

Apologies for the blurry photos but it's difficult to negotiate lying still with a 14 month old with arms and legs a-flapping.

PS - It's Mrs Bug and Pop's birthday today. Go on over and give her some birthday wishes. She's had a big week doing this.

The Doctor's Appointments

The Doctor starts pre-school next week. Oh man, he is soooo ready for it, but am I?

He's so ultra excited - whenever we talk pre-school his ears prick up and he raves about the friends he is going to make. The games he's going to play. The white buses he'll look at (he remembers them from orientation day). So sweet.

Me...? I'm feeling a little nervous. I think he's going to be fine. I think he's going to soar in fact. But me. Well I've been home with him for the whole of his life. What am I going to be without my trusty sidekick?

It would be like Laurel without Hardy.

The Two Ronnies minus One Ronnie (remember this scene from Extras?).

Itchy without Scratchy.

Posh without Becks.

Ginger without Fred.

Bangers without mash.

Tea without a biscuit.

Chocolate without a cavity. Ok - scratch that one.
A flower without a petal.

I know by now you're getting my story. I'm going to feel a little lost until we hit our stride again. For now we're enjoying our Summer days. Catch ups in the park with friends. Painting in the afternoons. Evening swims. Cuddles a-go-go. It's love.

I promised I'd post about another find from Sunday. So here it is. The Doctor's own little chair. Perhaps he might like to pop it in his waiting room. It needs a little love - maybe some new upholstery, a little tinkering, but for the most part, it's just dandy.

We also found a totem tennis thing (or as the Doctor likes to call it 'toe tap tennis') which I had wanted since pre-Christmas, so that was a total SCORE - even if I do always lose.

A Good Weekend Junking: Why My Husband Is Worth His Weight In Beer

This weekend I yielded more from other people's junk. I am like a pig in mud. I love junk. I'd roll in it too if I could.

Even my son now has the taste for junking around the neighbourhood. We picked up some things this afternoon (which I'll blog about tomorrow), so excited he was the Doctor said, "Come on Mummy, let's go find some more junk. We need to get other people's junk." He still looks for the bin house and wonders why they don't have any junk out the front. (And when I served cake to my MIL recently, he proudly declared - "Mummy found that plate in the bin." Ah yes, a proud moment indeed. I can assure you, my MIL's reaction was pretty darn funny too.)

While Matt is not totally sold on the idea, I do have to thank him for my favourite treasure from today.

We were innocently driving to do the big grocery shop for the week. The boys were heading to the skate park across the road. Tiny and I drew the short straw and were heading straight for slow trolley pushers who aisle-hog while they decide whether they'll get homebrand biscuits, or splash out on some brand name. Exciting stuff.

But before we had even driven one minute, I spotted a pile of garbage. I slowed down. And it really was garbage. Keep rolling restless travellers!

Not two houses on, more garbage, and this time - two old chairs, an old mirror that belonged to a dressing table - and this chest of drawers. We have a wild shortage of storage in this house. Matt was vehemently saying, no no no, it was almost a chant. But luckily I was in the driver's seat. I did a lap, emptied out our boot, and whilst doing so, struck a deal with Matt - if he helped, I owed him a six pack of import beer. Now kids - this is how bargaining is done - watch Mummy and Daddy and learn. Deal!

We drove back to the junk and I confirmed that this set of drawers was indeed destined for great things.

The bummer is it didn't fit in our car boot. I had already pre-imagined Matt weasling out of our deal and saying - too hard, let's go shopping. Thankfully given his next stop was the skate park, we loaded the car up with the drawers, and the actual chest onto his skateboard and he wheeled the darn thing home. I'm damn sure it was a funny sight.

Stamped on the back 1945, and a Mark Foys piece, someone's had this for an age and loved it - and we in turn will love it too. Cute, innit it?

I Have A Big Problem

We're supposed to be going away tomorrow to visit my parents. I say supposed to be because I have a large problem. I've already started feeling tense, I've got a sore jaw from grinding my teeth and I feel a wee bit stressed. It's a five hour drive with two little ones, but that's not the reason I am feeling tense, I'm down with the drive. The reason I am feeling a little tense about this trip... It's garbage night tomorrow night, and I am going to miss my date with my favourite bin.

I've been thinking of saying to my mum and dad that we can't come. Something's come up. We'll drive up on Friday instead.

But really, I should just book a lobotomy. What's wrong with me? Why am I so enamoured with this bin? It's because of the presents it ALWAYS brings me.

This is how wrong I have become. I've been trying to think of someone I could ask to go through it for me tomorrow night. The only person I know around here is my mother-in-law and I don't think she'd be up for scrummaging through the wheelie bin. So no go there. The only other people around here that know me work in shops. I can't imagine saying, 'Hi can I get a kilo of mince and can you please stake out this bin for me?'. Not going to work.

If I asked my friends that don't live close by, they'd have to drive at least 40 minutes - and even then - they would probably book me in for some electric shock treatment for even considering asking them.

What can I do? Stake out that bin before we drive off? Pack the car, go park outside 'the house' until they put out the garbage and then drive? (Don't worry - I have thought of this, and buying doughnuts and playing out my favourite cop shows).

Last night, just before Matt and I sat down for dinner I told him I had to go out for ten minutes. I didn't tell him where I was going. Later he asked me how my walk had been. I said 'what walk?' (I did my walk earlier in the day so was puzzled why he was asking me this), he said the one you went on when you went out for ten minutes..

Oops. Yes well at that time, I wasn't walking. I was doing a quick drive-by of 'the house' to check out if it was council pick up day (it wasn't) in their street.

Now this is where I get really twisted. My sister Choc was chatting to a woman who lives in my suburb. Choc was telling this woman about my pot of gold at the end of the rainbow (read - my garbage bin). Then Choc rang me and asked me what street 'the house' is in. I wouldn't tell her. Nope. Not telling. Still not telling. No. No. No. Not telling! I even made up a street name. I really am a junk junkie if I am going to lie about this.

What did I think was going to happen? This woman would find out where 'the house' is and next time I turned up for garbage day, there'd be somoene selling tickets to the garbage bin, first in first serve. That garbage bin is so good the line would be wrapped around the block, everyone vying for their chance to stick their head in it, get up close and personal with it, it might need bodyguards.

So I am missing my bin tomorrow. (Did I ever think I'd be missing a bin? No, never.) That's my big problem.

PS - Formatting isseeeews c/- blogger.