The United Way dinner auction was conducted by our local auctioneer, naturally. With a couple of his spotters.

They had you fill in your auction card as you entered the Bayou, and Bill, one of the spotters, and his wife were behind us in line. The registration gal, a volunteer, insisted he fill in the address portion of the card. Even when he pointed out he was working for the auctioneer, she still insisted they needed the address.

The wife brought a quilt to donate to the auction, in the name of our youth organization. But in truth, it was one she had won somewhere else a couple years earlier. Which had stayed sealed all that time because it was pink. A nice queen-size quilt, it fetched $90, the highest bid at that time.

As usual, the auctioneer mentioned they would accept all the major credit cards, including "Mastercharge." His wife interrupted him twice, later in the auction, because their card reader wasn't connecting through the community center's phone line.

So they opted to just let card buyers take their merchandize and stop by Monday to get the paperwork done.

I won one of the earlier auctions, for Girl Scout Cookies. No, they didn't offer any Thin Mints. I'm sure these were just surplus boxes left after their door-to-door sales, and there are never any mints left after that. (I know, because we buy them. Did you know those cookies are infinitely better frozen?) But the wife never buys any of the shortbread boxes, so I have one now.

Six small boxes of homemade fudge were auctioned 'choice', and fetched $17.50 per box for four boxes. The last two went for $25.

Really. These boxes were only about four or five inches on a side. Locally made fudge, and apparently the woman has a reputation. The auctioneer guaranteed the fudge to be "calorie free." And then later, mid-bid, reminded everyone that "all guarantees end when you go out that door."

We bid on two prime rib dinners at The Wolf Hotel, but quit after it got above $40.

Yes, I know they're worth more than that, but the wife wants a new bed for Christmas. We're trying to be thrifty.

Is it only in our country where folks can rhapsodize for several minutes about the fine quality of a certain brand of thermal underwear? Supposedly "high performance" underwear? And sell them for $70?

For comparison, two hours of free consulting by a local website consultant went for $5.

A set of three kids' nap rugs came up, and one man ended up bidding against himself. "That's okay, we'll take it," the auctioneer said.

And they did. Apparently you get no breaks when it's for charity.

A certificate for all the labor for painting a house went for $190. We really, really need that for our trim and the garage. But the wife would rather have a bed, and wouldn't let me bid.

As the auctioneer described the virtues and monetary value of the weekend gift certificate at the newly remodeled Elk Mountain Hotel, one of the men up front remarked they must rent the rooms "by the hour."

His wife won the auction.

One of the officers of the organization was helping with the auction, bringing items to the block and identifying who had contributed what.

While he was busy, his wife was bidding like crazy on a baby quilt.

The auctioneer's comment? "Hey, Don, maybe she's trying to tell you something."

Had a few coins donated by the banks. Didn't win any of 'em. Jay, one of the spotters, dropped the uncirculated silver Liberty dollar late in the bidding. The plastic case popped open, sending the coin noisily onto the floor. Don't know if you can call it "uncirculated" anymore, if it's got Jay's fingerprints on it.

"You didn't devalue that, did you?" the auctioneer asked. But they didn't start the bids over, either.

Charity, you know.

One woman waved almost frantically from across the room for one item, the spotter staring directly at her.

"Bill, if you don't start taking your wife's bids, I'm gonna slap you!" was the auctioneer's instructions to his spotter.

When she was again ignored on that item, the auctioneer called out her bid himself, remarking "I'll take your bids, even if he won't."

She won.

"What's your number, sir," was the auctioneer's smug comment to his employee.

The singer from Arizona, like her mother, apparently uses her hands a lot while she talks. From across the huge ballroom they nailed her for a bid on a hair blower. Which she knew nothing about.

But they made her buy it anyway.

It's for charity, you know.