The Square Dance Mother Load

Lisa and I went to an estate sale in our neck of the woods several weeks ago that promised to be chock-full of old Western and square dance items. The ad for the sale showed vintage dresses, crinolines,  string ties and all sorts of goodies that were going to be right up our alley. Of course, since we didn't get there before the doors opened, by the time that we did arrive an hour later, most everything had been sweeped clean. We enjoyed looking at the house and it wasn't a total wash as I found an album and Lisa picked up some pretty ties and a camera. We also saw this guy:



We didn't stop to offer him assistance so in retrospect I hope that he was fake and not under some kind of duress. I don't know about Lisa but I obviously was never a girl scout. I had my eyes on some unseen prize and was willing to forego the humanitarian mantra of "no man left behind".  Besides, I've learned from my true crime shows that once they're bloated like that, they've done gone home to be with Jesus. Once they bloat, that's all she wrote. 
  We were only there about ten minutes but before leaving, we went down to check out two small sheds on the property. In one shed, there seemed to be a lot of competition over a lawn mower and weed eater. Thankfully, that's not our bag. What is our bag?
Danger, baby. 

Now Lisa looks as safe as a swaddled lamb in this photo but right after I snapped it, a big honkin' wasp landed right on her forehead. Swarms of wasps continued to buzz around us as we investigated this shed with piles of unopened cardboard boxes and plastic Christmas garlands strewn inside. 
We knew that at any second, we could be knocked down by the wasps and become the stuff of whispered tales of warning between estate sale goers for decades to come. Did that stop us? Heck to the no. Lisa was digging on some old curtains and I love anything hidden in a filthy cardboard box that hasn't seen the light of day for decades. This was that kind of shed. It had been handed over to the wasp gods years ago. And probably quite a few spider gods. No woman should tread there but yet...we soldiered on. 
When Lisa suddenly pointed out an enormous box of magazines and I saw what was in there, well I almost stroked out like the guy in the rocking chair. I bring you...

Kapow! and Dosey Doe! 
Over three hundred square dance magazines from the 60's and 70's!   I was a bit worried that I'd never be able to afford them as a single magazine of the same kind was marked fifty cents inside of the house. Even though I suck at math, the numbers that rang up in my head had this score going way up towards the $150 range. I was worried but after showing the cashier the boxes in the shed (where she didn't want to step foot into), I got an "oh god, just get those nasty things out of that nasty shed and don't make me ever think about them again" deal at $30 for the whole lot of them as well as the record that I'd found.  I wonder if this sounds like a lot? But I don't think so because square dancing memorabilia is one of my favorite things....like....ever.  And since they were fifty to sixty cents per issue back in the day, I figure I got them on "discount". 

Thanks to Lisa who helped me drag that filthy weighty cardboard box full of magazines out of the shed, up the driveway and finally somehow into the trunk of her car (with wasps still trying to make a nest in her braid)  - and later for helping me get it out of the same trunk and onto my porch where it eventually fell apart, spilling out magazines like a musty piñata. I've only begun to barely look at them but here are some sneak peeks at the splendor:

Each page, article and ad within these magazines delight me to no end. Even the letters to the editor are fascinating as you will see with this one about a poodle called "Flip" who has been named after a couple's favorite square dance caller:


Aww! at him! 

I can't wait to have a big chunk of time to go through them all! On a related note, if you hear me talking about buying a "smaller house" and "downsizing" just slap me. I'm pretty sure that the Mister wishes that I'd collect something small like say, stamps.




Until next time,
x's and o's,
Eartha