Fleas

It's been about a year since our last trip to the flea market.  With Christmas coming up so quick we thought we should head over and see what treasures were on offer.

None of the expired foods and medicines appealed to us, but we did notice a few people that seemed to be doing their grocery shopping for the week at those tables.  Cari didn't have much interest in the dozen tables selling various models of weaponry although those seemed to be among the most popular.

As we walked through the market on that cold morning I spent some time observing the people around me.  I spoke to a few of the sellers and got the feeling that they share the same story over and over, week after week, and that they enjoy telling that story.

Some of the sellers seemed to be motivated at selling and they tried to get my attention as I walked by.  Others just sat back in a chair and watched people mull over their table.  One specific lady sticks in my mind.  She was the one we were trading with to get some wool socks.  She had the socks priced and on her table.  When Cari started asking questions about the socks, the lady got up from her lawn chair and started her pitch.  "Oh, I have priced these too low.  I was just getting ready to mark them up, but I'll sell to you if you buy right now."

I CAN'T HANDLE THE PRESSURE!!!  Get the socks NOW NOW NOW!

We had walked past a few other tables with wool socks but didn't bother talking to anyone.  The prices seemed to fluctuate a few dollars from table to table on the same sock.  I tried to remember the first sock table across the muddy field.  Did he have three packs or two packs for this price?  Was he going to jack his prices in the next five minutes as well?

As I continued the math in my head, Cari made her purchase.  We both now own wool socks.  

It was a cold and rainy morning.  Look close, and you may see the rain drops in the mud puddles in the photo.  If it wasn't so cold I would have revisited that sock table a bit later in the morning to see if she was pulling the same pricing scheme on other potential buyers.

I looked at some binoculars being sold by a guy with a lot of guns and I stood over a table full of old hand tools for a few minutes before heading out.  While I was occupied at the tool table, Cari was across the shed talking to a guy selling jam.  She came away from that table with some Strawberry Rhubarb jam.  When she held it up to me with pride I realized that there are treasures for everyone at the flea market.  But I had to ask,
"Did he just make that in the back of his van?"