I wanted to properly introduce my friend Abby to SC. She’s from Vermont. Nothing captures the layers of our unique culture better than the Pickens Flea Market. Where else can you find old cobalt blue apothecary bottles and gorgeous stained glass windows on the same table with beanie babies, guns, and saran-wrapped meat?
Today I bought some honey sticks, The Healing Foods Cookbook, Healing with Whole Foods, not-ripe-enough muscadines, yellowroot sticks, Yogi Bedtime tea (1.00/box!), and garam masala. The trick is…you must look past the haze of cigarette smoke and fried pork skin fumes to see the promising treasures.
Things we did not buy: baby turtles, exotic chickens, boiled peanuts, plastic toys, eucalyptus plant, socks, squirrel feeder, or a frightening mole trap (I did get a mole trap demonstration though).
That’s funny, we went last week and found NOTHING. Well, maybe a few books and clothes but if I’d known that was going to be it, I’d have rolled over and gone back to sleep instead of getting out that early. Most of the sellers stayed home, maybe because they thought it might rain (that’s a laugh). But as luck would have it, the nasty cigarette smokers showed.
Best snippet of conversation:
Me: How much is this cowbell?
Old Man Vendor: What’s on your face? Right here? Somebody put something all over your face. Oo-wee, I see, somebody hit you with the pretty stick.
Me: You old charmer. Now, how much is the cowbell?
Old Man Vendor: I’ll take 20.00
Ha! That is hilarious.
I actually HAVE boughten animals there before- goats, to be exact. It was for a failed goat-raising project my husband and his best friend started a few years ago. Apparently goats were in high demand at the time for meat. EPIC disaster. It pains me to even think about it. Apparently goats and the abundance of wild dogs in Oconee County don’t mix.
this was also a good snippit, even if it was at my expense:
julie: here, try a muscadine.
me: hmmm, that doesn’t taste like food.
thank you for opening my eyes to a fascinating slice of life. i am totally going back for $1 boxes of Kashi oatmeal raisin cookies.
Abby, I believe you said, “Hmmm, that doesn’t taste like food” followed by, “it tastes like diesel fuel.”
Yay for almost-expired or bootleg organic food!
Interesting. When Julie and I first met (in HS Chemistry), she made an attempt to feed me pomegranate seeds. I did what any self respecting, southern raised boy scout would have done…discarded them immediately in the nearest trash receptacle for fear of poisoning. How did I know that I could trust this presumably flakey cheerleader? She probably picked these from some lethal shrub as she skipped along to school. I made a mental note that day to avoid her….glad I was an A.D.D. poster-child.
Yes, Julie was a cheerleader.
I would have NEVER guessd you were a cheerleader Julie!
Haha. I never would have guessed cheerleader either! But seriously?! The pickens flea market! Funny! I’m remembering the honey stick that I couldn’t get open…hmmm. And so long ago now. nearly 2 months! Have saved a goody bag from M’s bday party for Norah when I see you next. one of the meetings coming up I’m sure. still haven’t figured out the ring sling. Bringing a friend to that meeting this time too.
HA! I love the cowbell story.
Okay, when I looked at that picture – at first glance, it totally looks like guy in the background is holding some weird doll that is missing legs. But then I realized that the guy even further in the background was bent over looking at something, but then it still looked like the other guy had his hand on his shoulder, which makes it look like he’s carrying the man by his shoulders & the longer I looked, the more confused I became.
I canNOT believe Scott outed me as a cheerleader. On the internet of all places. I don’t know if I will ever be able to blog again. Notice I did not list that tidbit in the 5 things you don’t know about me.
Rachel–I can see how one could get lost in the pic. All I had was my camera phone. The floppy hat guy is playing some sort of two stringed bucket instrument. The guy behind him is a disgruntled teen playing an electric guitar. They were playing some slow twangy bluegrass hymn.
Gini, I’d never run into a situation in which the honey stick could not be opened. Comfort measure backfired!
Gosh, I came back to ask you if there was going to be a Blessingways tomorrow (is there? Because we can finally come!), and found this fascinating conversation! I wish my husband read my blog 😦
I think the weird part of the cheerleader thing for me is imagining you associating with other cheerleader-type girls and the boys they date. It just doesn’t add up! I dreamed of being a cheerleader as a little girl, but it never happened. If you ever saw me dance or try any type of sport, you’d see why.
There will be a Blessingways tomorrow.
One day, I might post a picture and give a full explanation regarding my cheerleading days. Might.
I would definitely be interested to read that post.
I second that!
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