I have discovered an interesting sport that grips Wisconsin every spring. It involves patience, stamina, and a sharp eye. No, I am not talking about baseball (even though this could be the year for the Brewers!). I am talking about rummaging.
Now, I have to admit that for most of my formative years (spent mainly in Connecticut and Massachusetts) rummage was a word you didn't hear unless it was in reference to what a raccoon had done to your garbage. We had our garage sales and our tags sales, but they were few and far between. Then I moved to Wisconsin. (I will add that I am not sure if this phenomenon grips the entire state, or if it is confined to just the greater Milwaukee area.)
It starts on Wednesday, when the signs begin appearing on each corner. "HUGE RUMMAGE" they scream. Blue, red, neon green, they dot the landscape like spring tulips, arrows pointing to the hidden treasures. The frenzy continues, sometimes through Sunday, although Thursday through Saturday seems to be prime rummaging time.
At first I chuckled at the hoards of people willing to spend their time sifting through other people's junk. I would slow down, cast an eye towards the tables full of glass knick-knacks, and speed away shaking my head in wonder.
Then I happened upon a rummage boasting tables full of boys clothing. Old Navy, Polo, GYMBOREE???? For a dollar a piece?? I was hooked! Soon I found myself driving aimlessly on Thursday mornings, looking for those signs. I even combed the paper on Wednesday night, looking for ads and plotting my route. I was a woman obsessed. Those expensive outdoor toys I had been buying Little J - foolish me. The $60 Little Tikes picnic table? $5 thank you very much. The $70 Step 2 art desk? $10.
And what will I do with all of these treasures when Little J has outgrown them? Stop by my HUGE RUMMAGE sale and see!
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