First, Karl says: I do not think it is too unusual for other people to connect with other folks for a one-on-one meeting but this was out of the ordinary as you will read, it took forever to reconnect and I am going to say this was certainly worth it but I am ready to see what others think after reading…

Karl: weird story when yer ready…?!
Jenny: lay it on me
Karl: gave a gal my age my card after she got a “clockwork orange” poster right in front of me at a sale…for a dollar. she said she prolly did not want it…
Karl: that was over a year and three mos ago. she never called but i ran into her at another sale earlier this year and she says, i lost your card…gimme it again, i got records too…
Karl: so, she never calls
Jenny: is that the end of the story?
Karl: i then get a call from her this weekend (four months later) and she says come over last night…she is a pro picker and sells on ebay and has a house full of interesting things i can see – but this is out in the burbs
Jenny: and you got there and she was naked?
Karl: and she then says, lets go to the garage and she has art, she has clothes, she has all kinds of great stuff…and she does this for a living i think. I SAID, I THINK
Karl: hard to tell…but she give me the poster and proceeds to let me at a nice stack of records – about 75 or so. not naked bytheway
Jenny: that would have made the story really good.
Karl: and i get about 25. and she says, $25 including the poster
Jenny: wow good deal! I assume!
Karl: YES! after she tells me that she researched ‘em and that they were easily worth more than a dollar each – AND ENCOURAGED me to take more for .50 cents or whatever…
Karl: nothing funny going on here but i get 25 more and a killer adidas bag and she says, 50 bucks.
Karl: she turns out to be cool. super cool, totally knows her shit. furniture, clothes, you name it – records too.
Karl: i am about to leave and she asks, do you know anybody who can record sound? i say, no but one guy but he’s a recluse…
Karl: she says, “we have spirits here and i wanna know what they have to say”
Jenny: FUCK!!!!!
Karl: “the house and windows can shake, you know”
Karl: i say, NO I DO NOT KNOW!
Jenny: o.m.g
Karl: and she says “they are not ghosts, they are spirits”
Karl: it was kinda creepy
Jenny: weeeeeird
Karl: seriously
Jenny: and she has your number now!
Karl: continues to say, “i need someone to record what they are saying since – well, they said Haiti was going to happen…and Obama was going to win…”
Karl: I WAS LIKE WHAAAAAT?! the fuck?!?!?!
Jenny: dude
Karl: i was kinda tripping out…and left.
Karl: she was so nice jenny but this along with pictures of jesus at her doors…and she said she smokes a lot of weed (hello!)
Karl: i was freaking.
Jenny: good lord. FREAK SAUCE!
Karl: then i am driving home and looking at the records and thinking – am i going to bring these into my home?
Karl: yes, i get over it and now i can’t stop thinking about it.
Karl: straight tripping out.
Karl: KILLER RECORDS! i mean, jazz, psych stuff, indian – everything you can imagine
Jenny: dude, you better hope nothing starts shaking over there…..
Karl: stop that!
Jenny: btw, I am going to copy this whole conversation and send it to Meghan!

And all Meghan said was: “This needs to be on the blog.”

Karl adds: Lastly, I was not scared per se – more thinking, how does one come to tell another person, A STRANGER such things? I am pleased to say I am still around and none of the records have levitated or anything but I must admit, the entire thing still has me a bit freaked.

The moral of the story? Venturing into strange territory in search of the goods might bring scores, but you really never know what else you might find. It could’ve been worse, though … just ask the guy who dug through a bunch of disco records and found a mummified rat. Eek!

Even better when we drove up to our first sale and they had a Churro holder.

Unless it’s for a business, why would you have that? And they didn’t have much else – about six books and some clothing.

Then we hit a sale that started on Friday, but honestly, beggars can’t be choosers. I had been to a pretty good yard sale run by an older woman at the same house a while back, and picked up some pink depression glassware for pretty cheap. When we got there it hadn’t quite opened, so we had to stand around with the line-up of estate sale regulars talking about all their great scores this week. This almost always gets on my nerves and I spent most of the time looking at Jenny saying “grandma needs bail money.”

Once we finally got in, the sale was just “eh” – not really enough stuff to make it worthwhile. Jenny did spot this box filled with a “muscle builder” and I purchased some old Ball jars.

We drove across town to hit an estate sale in a ritzy neighborhood that seemed like it could be pretty good.

I took more or less the same tactic while standing in line, this time mostly demanding that folks not purchase an enormous peppermill that we could see through the kitchen window. As folks started to come out they kept saying how there was tons of stuff, enough for everyone. Enough for Seattle: good sign.

Sure enough, the sale was packed. PACKED. P-A-C-K-E-D. Two closets filled with old lady clothes. Living room full of crystal and silver. And a kitchen filled with food, utensils, dishes, and a giant clam broth dispenser.

While I was digging through some shoes, Jenny came over and commented that it was odd how they had displayed stuff on a bedroom shelf like it was in a pharmacy. She asked me to get a photo of it, and I hung around the room for about ten minutes but someone was always standing in front of it. Jenny managed to get a photo a bit later.

All was well and good until we went into the basement. I first noticed the huge amount of cleaning products. I can’t really point fingers, under my kitchen sink there is a little more than I need, but still.

Then we hit the room with the built-in bar.

There were bottles of OLD beer (really, Rheingold Beer?! They haven’t even made that in my lifetime, I don’t think) and open booze from 40 years ago.

I spotted a bottle of Coke in what looked a glass half liter. I remember those from the ’70s. Jenny found a really cool Trader Vic’s bottle of pomegranate grenadine syrup. I wanted to purchase it, but it was sticky. We both seemed to be sticky after touching it.

This room also had some books – not a big deal, we both talked about how she had a few too many cookbooks. Little did I know we would then head into another room with hundreds and hundreds more.

Most of them were just boring, the type that you would see anywhere. Although a few were more unusual.

Later that day I said to Jenny that it seemed odd to have 400 cookbooks and Jenny said “400, NO WAY. There had to be at least 600. Maybe more.” It was frightening.

Off to the side of the cookbook room was the wine cellar.

All bottles were being sold for $2. We both poked around, but it was scary and the room wasn’t temp controlled. I purchased a bottle of red from 1958, mostly just because it was so bizarre. Later on someone broke a bottle, so the whole basement reeked of wine.

In another room I told to Jenny to look behind me. For some reason she hadn’t noticed the shopping cart. How the hell does someone this well off have that in their basement?!

After an hour (yes, an hour) we made our way to the cashier. Jenny only got a couple of old cooking pamphlets and a 1970 “RAP WRAP” folder covered with crazy astrological hippie art. I had crammed stuff into an ugly tote bag just to carry it around at the sale, and the cashiers somehow got me to buy it for $2. At that point I didn’t really care and just wanted to leave. That sale had wiped us both out.

“I’ve seen Repo Man three times.”

“I broke my arm on our skateboarding ramp.”

“I represent Lake Hills on the State Soccer Team.”

“I used to be one of the top five cool people on the scene.”

I’m not sure what the point of this spread was, but I really wonder where all these people are now.

The first one we hit had put about five listings up on Friday, each including the phrase “ALL MOST GO.” By Saturday morning, they had figured out that the word they were looking for was “must.” In any case, I suspect most of it didn’t go anywhere. There was a ton of stuff and it definitely tended toward the junky side. We got there right after it opened and Meghan snagged a psychedelic vintage bathing suit from a box in the living room, but all the other clothes seemed to be old lady styles from the ’80s. Both of us had the feeling there had to be some good vintage finds stashed elsewhere, especially because there were boxes and piles that seemed like no one had looked in them yet. We kept feeling like we were about to uncover something great, but finally had to accept that she had probably gotten rid of all that stuff long before.

I ventured downstairs to the basement where more piles awaited … all seeming like they might have undiscovered treasures, but mostly just turning out to have crap. I saw a 7″ record case out on top of a box, and flipped it open to check out the contents.

Notice that this is “Side 99.” There were also some Book of Mormon flexi-discs scattered nearby. Who knew?!

Most of the basement was just junk. A lot of it was taken up by the dreaded tool area, but the rest was a mixed bag. Ancient cleaning supplies, horrible craft stuff, Depends … it was grim. Though I did think these toilet seats were rather festive.

Meghan discovered this sign in what apparently had been the “computer area.”

I picked up a little round vintage lamp and carried it around for a while … putting it down at least twice, then deciding maybe I’d get it. Since nothing was priced, I didn’t know what to expect, but I figured it would probably be cheap enough that I should just go for it. Sure enough, the guy charged me $1 for the lamp and my only other purchase — a piece of Yogi Bear wrapping paper.

Our next stop was a moving sale. Walking in we were greeted by this inflatable monkey and a leg lamp (a la Christmas Story)! But they wanted $100, which is freakin’ ridiculous.

We walked on into the main room where things were laid out looking like an antique mall or something. The seller was sitting in a chair in the middle, just watching us make the rounds. Her prices were out of hand and we left quick.

We headed over to a moving sale that we couldn’t find, until we saw the seller putting up a sign on the corner and she pointed us toward the house. Inside was a guy strumming a guitar, and one of the lamest sale spreads I’ve ever seen. And you know that is saying a lot! There was a huge pile of old computer monitors and keyboards on one side of the room (stuff you’d have to pay to dispose of), and about four worthless items on the other side. “Is this it?” we asked the guy. He said there was also a lawn mower outside. Great! Then he said “Yeah, I was a little surprised when I came over to help out.” It was truly pathetic.

Our next moving sale was a little better. There were a ton of books there, mostly an odd mix of new-age-self-help and gun collectible guides. I didn’t think I’d find anything I wanted, but I ended up getting a copy of Charles Krafft’s Villa Delirium for $1. I also picked up a tiny little plastic refrigerator that I first thought was a kid’s toy. The seller pointed out that it was actually for your desk, with plastic food-shaped office supplies (push pins, tape, clips) inside. Odd, and cute — I bought it (for another dollar). Meghan got some kind of weird fur coat for $5.

Next was an estate sale in a pretty nice area. When we walked in they had some cool antique-y stuff, but their prices were crazy. Then in some of the other rooms stuff was really cheap. The people running the sale really seemed to be all over the map. Upstairs was pretty much “elderly people with refined taste.” Downstairs is where it got weird. Most of the walls were bare, but there were a few things left up that were sort of funny.

In one room were tons of CDs … almost all classical, but with the occasional recent techno or swing title thrown in. We also spotted these stickers.

Then there were a bunch of crazy goth/raver clothes that did not seem to fit with the rest of the stuff at all. Platform boots, fishnet tops … and these out-of-hand fuzzy blue pants.

The label on these is FunkyFit. How great is that?

We figured there had to be a grandkid responsible or something, especially after we saw these ads taped up.

I said something about the clothes to the lady running the register, and she claimed that they all belonged to the old man. I have my doubts … but if true, that’s kind of awesome. Meghan and I each bought a few books here. She also got a cool pair of vintage shoes; I got some ’80s red boots, and a crazy pair of purple/gold platform boots that I can’t really even describe (or explain why I was compelled to buy them).

Next was an estate sale at a ritzy condo, which turned out to be way more massive than we’d expected from the outside. Everything there was pretty high-end.

I will note however that this was the second sale of the day with packages of adult diapers. I’d like to propose that if you are an estate sale professional and come across any of these, you should forego the possible couple of bucks you might make if someone actually buys them (which seems really unlikely) and just donate them to a worthy cause.

I didn’t purchase anything here, but Meghan bought a few schmancy sweaters. She also found an ’80s magazine clipping while flipping through the cookbooks — it had a poached salmon recipe on one side, which was presumably why it was saved, but the other side has captioned photos of various punky youngsters. If the stars align correctly, you might just see it in a “book report” here soon.

After one more stop at a very crappy estate sale, it was time to call it a day. None of the sales were spectacular, but for January I think the haul was not bad!

Other times, the added information makes you more interested in the item. Once I decided to buy a $3 shirt only after learning that the seller had bought it in Paris. Another time I’d already bought a small wood table, but I liked it even better when I learned of its previous history as the “kitchen table” in a school bus which housed the seller’s family when she was a child.

But what happens when the information about an object is completely made up? The Significant Objects project is an attempt to find out. Curators Joshua Glenn and Rob Walker buy things at thrift stores and yard sales, then get writers to create completely fictitious stories where the object plays a prominent role. The item is then put on eBay — with the story as its sole description. And sure enough, the objects sell … for much more than their original purchase price. (Winning bidders also receive a printed copy of the item’s story.)

The stories in the auction listings are clearly marked as “invented.” In some cases this is a good thing: who would really want to risk the curse of Mark Frauenfelder’s miniature bottle or Jason Grote’s creepy dome doll?

In other stories, you almost wish they were true. Shelley Jackson’s charming tale of a crumb sweeper, previously the property of a fastidious werewolf, manages to transform an object that’s frankly somewhat icky into a lovely souvenir. And how much cooler is this coconut cup when you imagine that it really did come from Space Beach?

As someone who spends too much time looking at unwanted yard sale objects, it’s fascinating to see such items injected with invented meaning. The stories do add significance to the object in question, and maybe even others of their kind. I wouldn’t have thought twice about passing up this Missouri shotglass at a yard sale, but if I see it around now, you can bet I’ll buy it … purely because I dug the story Jonathan Lethem created for the one that was part of this project.

With the completion of Phase 1’s 100 stories, the project’s curators are examining the data collected through the auctions. They’ve created charts and discussed various factors — timing, story themes, type of object, visual appeal, etc. — in search of trends that might help explain why some objects sold for more than others. Author fame seems to be a factor in some cases (the person who bought Colson Whitehead’s Wooden Mallet is presumably a fan, later getting him to sign it). But some of the highest-priced items had stories written by less famous writers. And while most buyers probably found the auctions from the stories, I’d love to know how many people stumbled upon these auctions by accident. What if some dalmation lover was browsing for a “spotted dogs figurine” and ended up finding the listing with Curtis Sittenfeld’s poignant description?

Maybe there are discrete factors that will be shown to affect the price of an object, but it seems to me that the actual significance of an item is based on something less quantifiable. Something about its story gave the object more resonance. What is it? Only the person who spent that much knows for sure. (Or maybe not. How many times have we bought something just based on a vague feeling that the object is somehow calling to us?) A more “qualitative” research phase is coming up soon, so maybe we’ll hear more from some buyers to find out just what they were thinking when they placed their bids.

And meanwhile, Phase 2 has begun: a 50-story charity fundraiser, with all proceeds going to the very worthy nonprofit group 826 National. So far, the stories are equally fascinating (with similarly yard-sale-reject-worthy items) — a few of my favorites are the “Women & Infants” Glass, Hippie Bear Ornament, and even a forlorn-looking Pincushion Owl (which, according to Margaret Wertheim’s story, is holding together the very fabric of the universe. Who knew?)

And this is where I come in! I have contributed a story about this object.

I’m thrilled to be participating in such a cool project. And I want to know … is this Dolphins Box now significant to you? Think about it … it could be yours!

Anyway, at that sale Jenny found a copy of Crafts for Retarded. No, really.

We had a discussion about who would buy it, which we seem to do on a regular basis. In the “one of us needs to buy that” sort of vein … and let’s get real, it’s usually me that takes the bait, since I have no will power.

What exactly is this book? Well, let me start by saying that some of the crafts look downright difficult. Many of them I probably couldn’t do now (and maybe that is saying more about me). Far as I can tell it’s a school aid or parent aid for teaching crafts to the mentally retarded.

This is the first edition from 1964 and lord knows how many printings they could have had. Hell, even growing up in the ’70s saying retarded was a NO-NO. Not that it’s stopped me from calling all of my friends retarded many, many times.

Shocking that even in 1964 they would use a swastika in this drum project.

Yes, I know that it’s a Native American symbol and you can tell me all day that it’s a symbol used for 100s of years, blah. There is no friggin’ way that it’s ever going to be okay to use in a children’s book.

Not only is the drum odd, but there’s a full-on product advertisement on page 53 for textile paint. This is in the table of contents.

I did think these “Phonograph Record Bowls” were pretty cool.

Wanna see a better cover? Awful Library Books uncovered a less scraped-up copy.

I hit the Angel Thrift Mart, a large thrift store right in the middle of the Palm Springs on Indian Canyon Drive. I had blogged about this store last winter and ended up having the best luck there this year, buying a Louis Vuitton Epi Purse for $69 along with a Gucci ’70s bag and a killer pair of shoes. That store rocks!

On Saturday morning I talked Dan into driving with me to hit a few sales. He even looked some up for me on Craigslist. There really didn’t seem to be that much, but it’s also December. As we pulled out of the parking lot at the hotel I spotted an estate sale half a block away, so we re-parked and walked up to the house.

The garage was full and the yard was packed with statues, shells, and even a rabbit in a suit playing a fiddle.

As we walked in I was honestly freaked out by the amount of items crammed into this house. I kept saying “OH, GOD” and Dan bumped me, whispering “stop saying God in front of a nun!” I hadn’t even noticed that the sale was being run by Orthodox Jews or Orthodox Catholics (or Orthodox somethings). I felt very uncomfortable taking photos and just snuck a few.

The place was huge. I could have taken hundreds of photos. A long living room with three chandeliers, china on every surface, tapestries all over the walls along with large painting of the woman that had died. There was so much stuff! Dan was a little freaked out when he spotted a mounted kangaroo head. I was freaked out by the Christmas dolls.

Please note: I had to take two photos to try to really show how friggin’ much there was.

AND I heard later that the neighborhood association had to ask her to tone down her Christmas decor a few years back. One can only imagine after seeing the amount of stuff already on the lawn.

She did have a stuffed peacock and I found that sort of sickening, but not as bad as the stuffed swan. I am from the Midwest, been in homes filled with taxidermy as a kid. Hell, when I was growing up my home town had one of the largest taxidermy schools, but a swan?! Come on!

Dan was excited to hit a mobile home sale after that. I was less excited, since I know that folks that have downsized to a trailer probably don’t own very much. This was the most literal “drive-by” ever. We just drove around the Mobile Village and looked at the sales, then drove away.

We hit a few more sales – I loved the huge palm trees at this one.

Sadly, we did miss the “wifes gone and every thing she left must go to” sale. Sounds fun, right? Maybe she wanted someone with better spelling and grammar?

I purchased this at what we now refer to as “the freak sale.” It was in a box of wacky pamphlets that were priced at a firm $1 each. This was the only one I decided was worth it. And let me tell you, I have definitely gotten my dollar’s worth of entertainment from this baby! It’s like the Bad ’80s Hair edition of Awkward Family Photos, crossed with Gallery of Regrettable Food: The Next Generation.

The food in these photos actually has no bearing whatsoever to the featured recipe. For example, the recipe featured above is “Strawberry Trifle.” And despite this happy couple’s use of a pasta machine, their recipe is for something called “Baked Stew.”

It is kind of tragic that the food isn’t pictured. I can only imagine the glory of the “Pretzel Jello Salad” presented by this glamorous family.

Or the “Party Log” shared by these folks.

Oh yeah. Party Log. Ingredients: cream cheese, scallions, olives, and one small jar of dried beef. Sounds like a party to me!

The sheer datedness of this thing is pretty amazing. Here’s a shot where — if you can believe it — they have a whole role reversal thing going on. I mean, isn’t it wacky how the man is serving the food to the woman?! If that was ever to happen, they’d obviously be wearing the “wrong” clothes.

Their recipe is “Carrot Cake,” which seems sane enough, except for the inclusion of “3 small jars strained carrots (baby food).” (For completely unknown reasons, this is one of two baby-food-using carrot cake recipes.)

I think this next shot may also be trying to make some kind of commentary on the inability of the menfolk to perform simple food preparation tasks like putting together a sandwich. Though I suspect that trying to deconstruct these pictures is a losing battle.

There is definitely something a little off with a lot of these photos. Like this one — naturally, the accompanying recipe is “Frosted Peanut Butter Bars.”

Not to mention this. Football players, or serial killers?

In case anyone gets the wrong idea about these two, their “Buttermilk Pancake” recipe clearly states that it makes “about 15 bachelor-sized pancakes.” Get it? They’re not a couple. Just two bachelors, hanging out together, enjoying the finer things in life. Until Mrs. Right comes along and takes away their Bud and potato chips.

There isn’t much evidence for the cooking skills of some of the wives, either. There is no food in this photo, and the recipe is for “Russian Tea.” Bet you didn’t know there’s Tang in that.

These two, however, are shown with a bountiful array of produce. Clearly, they’re toasting their good fortune to be in possession of such a large zucchini.

The decor in these photos is also worth mentioning. In the sense that it’s practically non-existent.

Really, did everything just look wrong in the ’80s?

There were many more pages in this cookbook. Many, many more. But I think you get the idea. I’ll just leave you with one more of my favorite pages, which has a recipe for Rutabaga Apple Casserole. The photo that was chosen to go with that?

Yeah, I’m pretty sure this gem was worth $1.

In the morning, Jenny was feeling like crap and had to bail. Honestly I was feeling pretty good about staying in PJ’s for a while. We might have dodged a bullet on this one as far as not going in the morning. People camp out hours before to go to the sale. I like shiny stuff too, but not that much.

I was hemming and hawing about even going, but curiosity got the better of me and I went with a girl friend at 2:30. The parking lot was still a total zoo and it took us 20 minutes to find a space about a block away. Then the line just to get into another larger room was about 60 people deep. I can’t even imagine what this was like at 10 am. Nightmare!

The ten jewelry cases had flocks of people all trying to get a look, racks of leather jackets, bedazzled jeans, blazers and many other craft projects gone awry.

Tons of prom dress from the ’80s, and tons of wedding dresses.

And shoes. Tons and tons of bronze, silver, gold and sparkled shoes. Plus, tons of those little girl glitter shoes from the Wizard of Oz.

Honestly, for the crowd it wasn’t that great, but I did pick up two items.

In line I met possibly one of the most annoying women I’ve ever encountered. She spent the entire time name-dropping different lines that she had items from. She had found a pair of Ferragamo loafers for $79 at the sale and went on and one about her “Prada this” and her “Ferragamo that” — it was pretty irritating and the line was long. I was pretty happy when I finally got the hell out of there.

Let’s face it, a lot of us yard-sale fans probably have a wee touch o’ the hoarding. I’d even venture to say it’s one of those “spectrum disorders” — some people might have a few symptoms yet still live completely functional lives, while others (like most of the folks on the show) are severely affected by what seems to be a true psychological problem. I mean in those cases, it is severe, and it’s not a matter of “they should just stop” — it seems like a lot of them can’t stop.

But for the rest of us, when is it that things get taken too far? What if you collect bottles. You might have a lot of them. Is that hoarding?

Probably not. But what if there’s more?

And more? Along with other glass items. Lamps and beads, anyone?

Maybe there’s too many to have out on display. You might need to just start filling up boxes. Hey, is that a crap-ton of polished rocks over on the right?

Maybe you need some boxes to store all of your decorative Avon bottles, too.

As you may have guessed, these photos are all from one estate sale, which we hit last weekend (after a several-week-long sale break). What you also need to know is that there were more bottles, more rocks, more Avon, more beaded necklaces … lots and lots more. Enough that it was definitely starting to feel a little hoardy in there.

But this person didn’t hoard everything. There were some vintage clothes that she’d kept around, but only about a closetful. Books, records, sheet music, kitchen stuff … positively reasonable in number. And the house was huge. If you have the space, and keep things organized, is it really hoarding if your collections have just gotten a little (okay, maybe a lot) out of hand?

Hmmm. Probably not. But what if you also have multiple containers of decades-old instant coffee in your basement?

And some equally ancient cans of food?

What about stuff you canned yourself … about nineteen years ago?

And what if all that was in an entire room full of about a hundred times more of it (plus a heaping helping of more glass bottles and other random crap to boot)?

I don’t know. Like I said, the house was big. It was probably all very organized (things were laid out on tables and such for the sale, but it seemed pretty tidy). Although the stuff did fill up almost every possible inch of the house — even a little nook on the back side of the furnace.

And it often didn’t seem like deliberate hoarding, so much as just buying stuff and storing it away and then never thinking about it again … for like thirty years.

Now, people in houses full of weird thrifted crap probably shouldn’t throw any stones. But going to this kind of estate sale does feel a bit like watching the Hoarders show (except that you’re left to your own imagination as far as the people involved). Both of those leave me with the urge to really pare stuff down. I mean, it’s fine to stock up on useful items, or have collections, or do crafty things like make jewelry or can food. But when you never use the stuff you stockpile, or you end up with way more than you could possibly ever appreciate or even remember you have? What’s the point?

I’ll leave you with perhaps the best and worst of this sale. This assortment of products and packages was presumably collected, not stored since their original purchase (though really, who can be sure). As with every single picture in this post, what you are seeing is just a small subset of similar items at the sale.

And finally, you know how sometimes people have a junk drawer? This house had an entire junk room. Here’s one little bit of it.

Phew. Time for us to start going through our own stockpiles and start planning our next yard sale! In between hitting some more of the always-questionable off-season offerings around town, of course …