More auction notes (does anybody really read all these?):

Wasn't too happy to see the family sitting in front of us. Antique dealer/decorators from Spa Town. Raised the prices on a lot of items, and got most they wanted. Bought both excellent condition wagon wheels for $140 and $175. Spent $40 on an antique plastic lady's dresser set (mirror, comb, brush, etc.) that the auctioneer called "Isaac-stone."

Then let their 2-year old daughter play with it. Liked them better after that.

Two antique milk cans. One in excellent condition, from the dairy in my home town. Drank milk from that dairy for 18 years. But another of the antique/decorators got it for $45, and was clearly willing to go higher.

One box of small gardening tools included a half-dozen old seed packets. Which were included in the auction as "antique garden seeds."

About mid-way through the morning session, the wife nudged me and pointed out the Hamms Beer wall light behind the auctioneers. Seems one of her earliest vacation memories with her family was in a restaurant in Wisconsin, where she spent most of the meal watching a Hamms sign. 'Course that sign had a waterfall with water that looked like it was moving.

In a few minutes the sign scene behind the auctioneers had rotated, and there was her moving waterfall. Had no idea where we would put such a thing, but I wanted to buy that memory for my wife.

I should pay more attention to prices at auctions, instead of people. "Vintage" beer wall lights are apparently hot. They started bids at $250, and the offer was immediately taken. Finally sold for $625. And auctioneers were disappointed, saying such items usually go for over $1000.

Crap.

Wasn't really hungry at noon, but by 12:15 I was starved. And the wife knew why. "We know about that, don't we?" Our youth group ran the concessions at these auctions for a summer. And soon figured out the way to start the lunch rush was to send a volunteer into the auction room with a chili dog. Insisting that they wander the length of the room before stopping to eat.

Within five minutes the lunch rush would be on.

When I went out front to get our hot dogs, I spotted the auctioneer's daughter visiting with her mother. I went up and interrupted. I just had to know. You bought those Disney videos for your son to watch, right?

"Of course," she said with a puzzled look. Like us, she also buys things at an auction to use, not resell.

While I was waiting in line for the Men's Room, the auctioneer went hustling by. "If I had a quarter slot on that door, I'd make more money out here than I do in back," he said.

These guys have a pretty good idea of the value of most items. When five branding irons came up, they started the asking price at $75, but got no takers until he was down to $2.50. Then bids flew up at $2.50 increments. The final price? $77.50.

An old, antique Dutch oven in great condition went high. The winner? # 12. "Leonard's got some cookin' to do."

Ever seen a cast iron, stovetop teapot? Sized for 1 cup? I have, now. Cute. But also great for decorating Western-motif restaurants and bars, so it sold too high to buy.

Our friends were parting with four antique canning jars filled with chips (debris from Indian knap-tool making). Didn't see anything of value in the jars, but one dealer apparently did. But I, and I alone, made him pay $47.50 for the four jars.

Ed wasn't doing much better with his absentee bidder cards than Jay. When he won an antique steamer trunk (excellent shape, complete with original wooden hangers) for $110, he couldn't figure out which bidder card in his hand had wanted it.

"Just pick one," said his boss.

Our friends also parted with two picture frames full of complete or near-complete Indian artifacts that they had acquired. Asking price started at $50 for the first, but went down to $10 before someone bid, then bounced up near $150. When the auctioneer started the second frame at $50, there were again no takers, for something that was obviously going to sell for more than $50.

"You folks must like to hear me talk," was his comment.

When we were married, the wife took the leftover mints from our wedding reception and put them in the living room in one of her antique tins. The tin soon sealed itself shut, cannot be opened, and has not been opened for over 20 years. It is still on the same table, with the mints from our wedding rattling inside. She snickered aloud when an identical tin (except in color) came up on the block, and they couldn't get that one open, either.

An antique handkerchief box, with hankies, came up, in a carton with an old juicer. Bill waxed poetic on the hankie box for quite a bit, and then threw in a comment about the "gorgeous" juicer. All laughed at his misplaced enthusiasm, including his fellow spotters.

Grandpa mistakenly called a small alabaster box "asbestos." A spotter pointed out "we wouldn't be touching that if it were asbestos."

Grandpa also kept insisting that two small brass pots would nestle one inside the other. When they finally proved to him that that was not the case, he conceded defeat, but rebounded with "But they're 'gorgeous'."

When itemizing a box of brass, one spotter mentioned it included a "brass ass holder."

For a moment the room was quiet, even the auctioneer. The spotter picked up the urn and swore he had said "brass ash holder."

But we all heard what he really said.

If you're ever in this place and they try to sell you something with "hanging dew-floppies," they mean the crystals you find on chandeliers.

When three scruffy-looking men came in around 2 o'clock, the wife asked if we should tell them they were too late for the guns.

"Maybe they're here for the glassware," was my response.

"Or the dolls?" she asked.

After selling a leather gun scabbard for a high price, they then brought "the good one" to the block. And asked the buyer of the first "Don't you need one for the other side of the horse?"

One of the items I had been eying was a pair of old snowshoes. The good, leather and gut kind. One needed a binding, and some lacework, but otherwise they were in good shape. I know the previous owner had used them often. But I had underestimated the economic power of Western motif decorating. I was immediately out of the running, with a battle ranging between the high-dollar out-of-towner and a friend trying to decorate his own local restaurant.

Friend was a little dejected about losing, but wife pointed out to him the other woman was clearly willing to go much higher.

When a package of shooting sticks came up, the auctioneer decribed how useful these are in our wide-open country, and asked for a starting bid of $25. Then looked at the price sticker on the package.

"Well, if they were only asking $9.95 new, maybe we should start at $5." And ended at $5, too.

When the spotters brought up a pair of antique cross-country skis and an antique single buck saw, the auctioneer decided to sell the two items apart.

And couldn't even get $2.50 for the skis. So the saw went back on the block, which our decorating friend got.

The downhill skis were next. The auctioneer's dad asked him, sarcastically, if he wanted to sell choice on the skis.

Near the end of the auction, they began combining boxes of glassware to speed things up. To get the few items we wanted, we ended up with at least five times as much junk.

Including a soft Taco Bell chihuahua.

Squeeze him and he says "Drop the chalupa."

Now the wife won't part with him.

As things neared the end, the wife pointed out that two women in the front row, on the right, were whispering to each other and holding an amber glass cannister from their cache that matched two that we had ended up with.

Too bad. If they wanted the full set, they should have bid for all the boxes.

One lady finally got the wife's attention. She pointed out their cannister matched ours.

Would we like to have it, to complete the set?

Talk about feeling small. She gave us the third cannister.

Auctioneer retrieved a mass of metal wire and small bells from a box. "I have no idea what this is." His dad recognized it immediately. "That's a Buffalo wind chime."

And so it was.

When things get slow, the auctioneer gets loud again to pick things up. One "Yeah!" shouted near the top of his lungs caused a spotter to bobble his box of glassware. Fortunately the table was close.

Usually the absentee bids are kept confidential. When a bidder finally quit on an antique wooden Remington arms ammo box at $27.50, the auctioneer told him not to feel too bad. And let him know the absentee's high bid was $130. "That's what these things are really worth."

In describing a box of kitchen ware, the auctioneer held up a spatula and said the box included "this flipper-lifter." When a woman snickered, he steeped forward to show her the label on the handle, "That's what it says, right here."

And one of the last items (besides the furniture, which we did not stay for): a small box of about a dozen or so antique spice boxes. Like modern square boxes, only not plastic, and with old labels. For $50. Really.

Our purchases? (Besides the flag - my early Father's Day present, or Flag Day present.)

Four or five boxes of glassware and brass, to get just a few pieces. A knick-knack shelf that matches the antique the wife has from home. A spotting scope (early retirement present), and a box of old scouting stuff (including some medallions that may or may not be valuable).

Oh yeah, and three tanned mink feet. (Wife says there were four at auction start. And they threw the tail in with an antique music box (go figure).)