I suspect many are tired of auction entries by now. The wife suggested just stating we went to an auction on Saturday, and anyone interested could email for details. Instead, I'm just warning you that this is a long auction entry.

We were a few minutes late for the auction Saturday, and I was surprised by the large number of vehicles parked around the auction house. The wife and I had looked over the auction items on Valentine's Day, before heading out for our steak dinner, and there wasn't really that much there. In volume or in quantity. But it was a rainy, dreary day, so perhaps many folks didn't have much else to do.

As we circled around the back of the room, we were waylaid. The wife by a co-worker, there to collect inventory for her antiques business sideline, me by our former auto mechanic. There with his wife to augment her collections. As he and I discussed last fall's deer and elk hunts, and our lack of tooth collections, I could hear an item on the block going fairly rapidly.

With the mechanic's wife, seated on the shelves on the other side of my wife and her conversation, one of the bidders.

Your wife is bidding, I advised.

He was unconcerned. Apparently that is what they were there for. To have fun and bid.

He explained she wanted the piece of coral in the box, for her sister. "And she's stubborn. She's not going to quit."

And she didn't. Will remember that next time we bid against each other. They have a definite advantage to sitting on the shelves in the back of the room. True, you can't see the items as well, but you can certainly eye the competition.

But we sat near the front, as usual.

A large box of skillets and mixed kitchenwares came up. Grandpa described it as having "everything you'll need in this life and the life to come."

Apparently everything you need for two lifetimes costs only two dollars.

Several sets of tire chains came up. Size of the smaller set, loose without a bag or box, was described as fitting "anything you can get 'em on."

They had an old folding cot, with the pipe frame and springs like the old chaise lounges. Wife actually considered bidding on it, until I vetoed the idea. Grandpa also recognized the impracticality of the wire and pipe set-up by explaining the cot would be great for when you have company, because then "they won't stay long."

After the cot came an old tent. No bids were offered until Grandpa got down to $2.50, when three hands went up simultaneously. Rather than waste time asking them to break the impasse, he turned to the three bidders one at a time, from left to right, stating "That's $2.50 to you, $5.00 to you, and $7.50 to you. Sold."

And moved on. And nobody complained.

As another item went up at $2.50 increments, a bid was called up as Grandpa asked for $17.50. But the bidder only offered $16.00. Grandpa cried "Ouch," as he took the bid, and then reminded the buyer that "We've been real nice to you so far."

Two large metal Tonka toys, in good condition, were mentioned to be collectibles worth $120 each in the right market.

Well, this wasn't the right market. Bidding was actually brisk, but ended at only $20 each. And the two bright yellow toys were handed by the winning bidder over to his son, maybe a year and a half old, standing there in the aisle with his hands over his ears because of all the bidding noise.

Yeah, these collectibles were going to be used, just like our sons'.

Ten Disney videos came up. Three were sold choicefor $10 each, with the buyers trying to pick the most valuable ones. The auctioneer's daughter got the remaining seven for her sons for $25. To add to the huge collection they got several months ago.

One of the old, old pull-toys, of a wooden dog labeled "Snoopy" (although it didn't look like Snoopy at all) went for next to nothing. As the spotter delivered it to the buyer, he mentioned "This dog won't crap on your carpet."

Really.

Another spotter, after delivering an item nearby, leaned over to ask how the Grouses were doing today. Guess we've been coming here too often.

Two metates came up, but one was obviously a recent imitation, and the other looked to be just a round rock that someone put in a rock with a depression. They didn't sell well. Wife noticed the auctioneer kept calling them "mortar and pedestal."

Grandpa suggested the round rock could be sat upon and hatched, if you were patient enough.

An old horse collar came up, complete with "hanes." I have no idea what function those two curved pieces of wood served alongside the main collar, and my dictionary doesn't even list "hanes." But Grandpa knew that his son had them on the collar upside down.

A 20' tow chain was described as a "heck of a watch fob." Wife couldn't understand why you would ever need a chain so long.

Need to take her out in the country in the spring more often, then she would soon learn.

I have wondered if the auctioneers ever noticed me taking notes on the back of our bid card, and wondered why. But at this auction I spotted a man up front with clipboard and pen, making notes and scratching off items as the auction progressed. So maybe they wouldn't think twice about me jotting things down.

Seven cans of motor oil came up, and were described as "collectible."

Yes, they were old, being as how they were still the old tin cans, and almost everything these days is plastic. But "collectible"? Who collects old oil? If those are collectible, we've got a half dozen cans in the cabinet in the garage, and the eldest son has a whole crate of "collectible" oil cans around here somewhere that he won in a raffle. Anybody want 'em? At "collectible" prices?

('Course their value has apparently just gone up by 20 percent or so in the past few weeks... what a rip-off by the oil and gas companies.)

A ceramic pitcher and bowl set came up, modern replicas of the water basins of a century ago. With the pretty flower design on the side. Grandpa tersely instructed his son to turn the pitcher the other way, "so they can see the flowers."

His son dutifully, slowly, turned the pitcher so we could see the flower design, which happened to be identical on both sides. All the while staring at his dad with condescending eyes. Which drew the proper laughter from the small, intimate crowd.

Two 1/8-carat diamond rings went for $50 and $70. Yet 18 costume jewelry rings went for $52.50, and a jade ring for $30. Has there been a sudden, recent drop in the price of diamonds that I haven't noticed? Or is plastic that valuable now that oil prices are on the rise?

Some white size 6 1/2 ski boots were sold as ballet slippers (seriously, the word "ski" never came out of their mouths) because it would be "so easy to stand on the toes."

An old silk parachute came up. Apparently intact. They pointed out that, with our hills and wind, you don't need a plane to use this item. I'm sure all that silk has some great use, but I couldn't think of any at the time, so didn't bid. But it was hard not to. Think I remember how to fold those things.

A box of seven glass wine goblets came up, and sold for $1.

One of them had a ribbon on it and was labeled "Bride."

Imagine. For someone that was probably a priceless treasure, and now it's not even worth a buck alone. Truly, it is the stories that go with so many of our possessions that give them value, not anything intrinsic in the items themselves.

Lose the story, and it's just another piece of junk in a box.

A box filled with boxes of ammo came up. After announcing the caliber of each box, someone in the audience intelligently asked if it was the actual ammo, or just the empty brass.

Now, the auctioneer and his spotters are obviously quite savvy about firearms. But I was surprised to notice that of the four men who each quickly grabbed and opened a box, only one spotter was smart enough to identify his box as empty brass just by a quick glance (by the firing pin dents in the caps). Each of the other three had to pull the brass cylinders out to see if there was a bullet at the other end before announcing theirs was also just empty brass.

Three belt buckles came up together, one with an Eisenhower silver dollar in it, one with a Susan B. Anthony dollar, and the third with a Sacagawea golden coin. Which the auctioneer identified as a "Sacagawea quarter".

Well.

If the auctioneer's books haven't been balancing too well since the Sacagawea dollars came out, now his wife knows why.

An old, antique portable typewriter went fairly cheap. When an old electric typewriter came up soon after, with pieces falling off as the case was opened (literally), Grandpa's requests for opening bids went clear down to a dollar, with no takers. His son, trying to get the largest piece back in the case, pulled out a loose bill and said "I'll give a dollar to anyone to haul it away."

And he did. The guy up front with the clipboard quickly bid, and received both the typewriter and the dollar.

They instructed the recorder back on stage to write "minus one" as the sale price.

The auctioneers were clearly unsatisfied with the amounts they were receiving for the goods. But aware they didn't have the best stuff available. Usually boxes are sold individually, and if there are no takers at a dollar, they'll throw up another box.

One buyer got stuck with, or treated to, six boxes of goodies for a dollar.

When yet another box of artificial flowers came up, Grandpa announced it as another box of "artificial junk," which he quickly corrected to "flowers." (These actually had a taker, though. My ex-mechanic's wife snarfed up most of them.)

A spare toilet seat (At least, I assume it was a spare... Estate Executors don't remove the toilet seats from the homes of the recently deceased for auction, do they? Ewwww.) came up, and was again described as a "Mother-in-law picture frame."

It was about this time that the auctioneer's daughter came up and began whispering to her Dad up front. Holding a Disney video in her hand. A woman glaring from the sidelines by the door.

Couldn't hear their conversation, but the auctioneer's response was negative. Whatever the woman's complaint was with the "collectible" video, the wife heard part of his response.

"as is."

No refund.

There were boxes and boxes (they use the cardboard trays for alcoholic and carbonated beverages to hold most knick-knack and miscellaneous wares) lined up on the front table, and for some reason I was drawn to a small face staring back out of those trays.

A cat face. A ceramic cat face.

Not anything I would normally be attracted to, and certainly not anything I noticed as we looked the goods over the day before. But there was something about the eyes.

Turns out the wife was just as intrigued, later announcing there was a ceramic cat she wanted to try to win. So we waited.

Naturally, by the time it came up, they had read their crowd and were throwing several boxes up at a time. So the box with the cat went up with another box of junk, and an old, antique wooden card table.

Wife quit bidding at $10, letting a man across the room get it for $11. He glommed onto the old table, and immediately headed outside with it. I suggested the wife check with his wife to see if she would part with the cat.

She gave it to her. They had no interest in the knick-knacks, just the table.

It's not that cute, but the eyes do seem to stare at you. And it sits well with the wife's grandmother's ceramic cats.

It still has the original store sticker on the bottom. From a local store, for $5.19.

In 1977.

While quickly rifling through one box of miscellany, the auctioneer pulled out a really ugly grey toupee, for some of you boys who are "having trouble getting hair to grow."

Response from the gallery was "You resemble that remark," which actually silenced him for half a moment.

Two large boxes filled with bottles of the new Orange cleaners and old hats, purses and scarves were sold together. The auctioneer's daughter had come back into the room, from her station out front, to bid. Her Dad tended to ignore her nods, but his spotters kept dutifully calling them out. She was bidding against one of the two large ladies up front, the gals who bartered their Egyptian Christmas lights to me at my last auction.

The daughter won at $11. And promptly ran up front to collect her prize.

"What the hell are you gonna do with that?" was her father's response, in the standard unpleased Dad-tone.

Without answering, she pulled a small maroon hat out of the larger box, and flipped it onto her head. And walked away without saying another word.

But to the applause of the gallery.

A set of dinner dishes came up, and they carefully counted each item, to announce it was missing one dinner plate. And that they were "throwing in the measuring cup 'cause we're nice folks."

A tray of matching ceramic mugs came up, and bids were brisk, with the auctioneer nodding quickly between the two bidders like a "Bobbin' Head." When Joyce quit at $6, the auctioneer pouted that "we were just starting to have fun."

Standing up in front of a crowd, speaking all day, apparently starts to wear on one. The wife has noticed that as he gets tired, the auctioneer starts mixing his metaphors. Today, quite a few things were "clean as a pin."

Two matching butcher block TV dinner stands came up. Identical, except one had been painted white, and the top was covered with flowered contact paper. (Her husband must have been terribly tolerant to live with all the flowers this woman had stuck on everything.)

"They're the same, aren't they?" asked the grandfather of his auctioneer son. The response was, "Well, they're both wood."

"I really hate a smart ass," was his Dad's retort. Which drew this shouted response from the wife's co-worker back on her shelf:

"Then you shouldn't come to these auctions."

A matching five-drawer dresser and nightstand came up, decorated with, yes, flowers. The wife and I both started chuckling when the little girl behind us stood and and loudly went "Ooooo!" (And no, her mother didn't win.)

The "poor man's surf board" (known to most of the rest of the planet as an ironing board) went for $2.

Reading the instructions manual, the auctioneer announced that the VCR on the block was an RCA. Only problem was, it was a Sharp VCR. Instructions might still work, you never know. Besides, they're all impossible to understand.

A fairly new, small color TV came up. Wife began snickering almost immediately. It was missing the small plastic cover to the panel of fine tuning knobs. She commented to me that they must have bought the TV here.

You see, the auctioneer also runs a furniture and carpet store, presumably their main source of income. The auctioneering business is run out back, in their garage/warehouse. After we were married, we bought our first color television set from this man. A display model. Fine condition, except the hinges were broken on the plastic cover to the front panel for the fine tuning knobs. Had to be taped back on. And this auctioneer up there, back when he still had all his hair (and I had mine), promised us he would order a new cover.

And never did.

We pestered him for the cover to our television knobs for years. Eventually the frustration wore away, and it became an embarrassing (to him) joke between us. Even up to the time when I was helping him as a spotter at the charity Christmas Tree auctions.

Haven't mentioned it for several years now. Probably should have, when this TV came up for auction, but didn't.

The ladies who bought all the wicker patio furniture a couple auctions back (I missed one because of our trip to Chief Washakie's hot springs) are apparently still filling their new home. Bought lots and lots of household items.

I guess if you can get by in the meantime, you can outfit your household pretty cheap through auctions.

When the Egyptian lights lady won yet another auction (set of silverware, I think), she said her bidder number was "four". But it wasn't. Her housemate's number was "four". Hers was "five."

Grandpa patiently took the time off from calling bids to count out his fingers for her... "One, two, three, four... this is 'four'". Then again "one, two, three, four and this is five."

She made the mistake of muttering, in embarrassment and not quite far enough under her breath, "And I'm a school teacher!"

"Well, that explains it!" was the response.

Have you ever seen an ejection seat recliner?

I hadn't, until this auction. Guess one shouldn't be surprised that such exists, since there are certainly people out there who would enjoy a recliner, but would need an assist to get out of one. And this electronic marvel did just that. They went to the trouble of running out an extension cord and plugging it in, so we could all see it work. Took a while, but eventually it lifted up high enough on the electronic scissors jacks to tip the seat forward.

Sold well after that.

But you would never want one in a home that had cats or dogs (or even little kids, for that matter). Nice pair of dull guillotines under that seat.

Next item won by the wicker ladies was won by the housemate. And she immediately flashed her bidder card as she said "Four!"

"I know my number."

Two round pieces of plate glass came up, obviously glasstop covers for some small round tables. But the auctioneer was getting tired, and has been fighting some sort of winter bug, so he didn't recognize them.

"What are these?" he asked his Dad.

Who, with exagerated patience, explained they were "pieces of round glass." The identified teacher in the front row remarked "Ooooh, paybacks!" with a little glee.

Now, we were really there for only two things (besides the ceramic cat the wife got for free and the three huge jars filled with matchboxes and swizzle sticks that I got for $9): several boxes of firestarter kits (for our youth group), and some womp'em sticks. (No, they're not really called womp'em sticks, but they are the way our youth group used to use 'em. These are long, thin nerf poles, made for use in swimming pools. But cut 'em in half, and they're great for letting lads run around with and womp on each other with.)

Firestarters went for an insane $4 each (yes, a bargain over shelf price, but no way we're gonna splurge for 20 or 30 of those out of our pocket). And the gal in front of us, #23, got the womp'em sticks along with a bunch of other toys. Seems she's got seven kids.

Probably needs womp'em sticks more than we do.

One of the last items (we left soon after the womp'em sticks) was a hand ice auger. Ohh, I have plenty of non-pleasant memories of augering fishing holes through reservoir ice in the Green State to the south.

Takes a looong time to drill by hand through 18" of hard ice. Especially when your parents want several holes to move around in.

Which is one reason why I started bringing my ice skates when we went ice fishing. (Another being able to explore large tree-covered islands by yourself.)

Anyway, there were no takers on the auger until it started at $1, then it went up by dollar increments.

Ken, one of the spotters, tried to offer $4.50 as a bid.

Grandpa glared and snapped a "No!" at him, and promptly sold it to someone else.

Yep. Time to go.