Nice Mom and I traded jobs for a few hours last weekend. She took charge of putting my toddler down for a nap. I chauffeured her teenager to lunch with friends.
Unlike nap time--when I always feel a little guilty if I don't get up and do something useful--chauffeuring gave me an hour of quality me-time. I picked up a bottle of hair gook and some yummy smelling body scrub. I drove by a few old haunts. And eventually I ended up at the flea market.
If you frequent such places, you'll know that sometimes you get on a theme as you're browsing. I've had "Awesome Find" days and "Cute Stuff for the Kid" days and "Amazing Old Quilts By the Dozen" days.
But Saturday? Saturday was "Weird Day", through and through. Clockwise from top left: a wind-up, tin roller-coaster (broken), a life-size pony (complete with giddy-up bouncing action), a still full bottle of cinnamon flavoring (that would not un-separate when I shook it), and a non-Pyrex dish (weirder in person, trust me).
Even more fun? As I stopped to take a picture of the pony, the owner of the booth walked up to tell me the full history. When I told her I had a toddler at home I think she thought she might have a buyer, but I had to regretfully tell her that we're full-up on...um, pets.
But the pony was nowhere near as strange as the cinnamon flavoring. Ew.