News
ENLARGE
“The early birds are going to get everything!” Husband-Head cried as he came bounding down the stairs early on a Saturday morning. “I need to get out there! They're going to take all the good stuff!”
Husband-Head is a diehard yardsaler throughout the spring and summer, coming home with all kinds of little treasures — most of which I won't let in the house.
There have been lava lamps, velvet paintings, video games, a pool table, beer cans and signs, license plates and lots and lots of speakers.
“Isn't the yard sale season almost over yet?” I asked him. “Summer is coming to an end, and it's starting to get a little chilly in the mornings.”
“Nah,” Husband-Head disagreed. “Only wimps stop at Labor Day. It's never too late to have a yard sale.”
This, of course, is the same man who wears shorts until, like, Thanksgiving. ...
“So what are you after today?” I asked curiously. “You're usually on some kind of mission.”
“I need stuff for my Halloween decorations,” he said with excitement. “I have a plan for my theme this year, but I'm not going to tell you yet.”
As one of his all-time favorite holidays — up there with St. Patrick's Day and Groundhog Day — Husband-Head is notorious for decorating our house at Halloween.
“OK, I'm off!” he yelled and went skipping merrily out the back door to his truck.
It was a couple of hours later when I heard the truck backing into the driveway.
“Come see what I got!” he cried out to me. “This was a good day!”
In the world of yard sale fanatics, some days are apparently “good” and some days are the “same ol' people selling the same ol' stuff,” according to Husband-Head.
I went out to his playhouse and just shook my head when I saw it.
Standing there was a headless, five-foot-tall skeleton dressed like Herman Munster from the 1960s show “The Munsters.”
“Where's his head?” I asked.
“They didn't know,” Husband-Head shrugged. “That's why he was only $2. But look at what he does!”
Husband-Head pushed a button and the headless mannequin came to life and began to dance, waving his arms and moving his hips side to side — all to the very appropriate song “Super Freak.”
Then Husband-Head went over and grabbed one of his many fake skulls and plopped it on top of his new toy.
Now with a skull head, it was really creepy.
“He needs eyeballs,” Husband-Head determined. “It's not scary enough without weird eyeballs. I think I have some in the basement.”
OK, now it wasn't the dancing doll that was freaky, it was the fact that Husband-Head had a pair of EYEBALLS on hand.
“Who the hell has a spare pair of eyeballs in their basement?” I asked him in disbelief.
“You never know when you'll need ‘em,” he answered simply.
Sure enough, Husband-Head came back from the basement with the plastic eyeballs and plopped them into the skull.
“There,” he said. “Now I need to go back out and find more stuff.”
A yard saler's job is never done. ...
This was proving to be a profitable day as a short time later he returned with another treasure, and this one was even weirder.
“Isn't this COOL?” Husband-Head exclaimed as he put his latest find on the counter. “I can't believe somebody didn't snatch this up!”
I could.
It was a large gray head wearing a gold turban and blue eyes rimmed in black. The head sat inside a plastic bubble.
Husband-Head turned it on.
The head began to move around and the eyes went back and forth and then the thing began to speak in a deep voice.
“Come closer,” the head ordered. “Let me give you some advice. ... If you're too open-minded, your brains may fall out ... HAHAHAHAHAHA!”
“That's sick,” I summed up. “It looks like one of those creepy fortune-teller things you see at a carnival.”
Husband-Head was done yard saling for the day.
“What in the world are you going to do with yourself when yard sale season is over?”
Husband-Head just smiled.
“Oh, I'll be fine,” he assured me. “Regular football season starts next week.”
Heidi Rice's column appears every Thursday in the Citizen Telegram and Friday in the Post Independent. Visit her website at www.heidirice.com to see more columns or buy her book collection.
Husband-Head is a diehard yardsaler throughout the spring and summer, coming home with all kinds of little treasures — most of which I won't let in the house.
There have been lava lamps, velvet paintings, video games, a pool table, beer cans and signs, license plates and lots and lots of speakers.
“Isn't the yard sale season almost over yet?” I asked him. “Summer is coming to an end, and it's starting to get a little chilly in the mornings.”
“Nah,” Husband-Head disagreed. “Only wimps stop at Labor Day. It's never too late to have a yard sale.”
This, of course, is the same man who wears shorts until, like, Thanksgiving. ...
“So what are you after today?” I asked curiously. “You're usually on some kind of mission.”
“I need stuff for my Halloween decorations,” he said with excitement. “I have a plan for my theme this year, but I'm not going to tell you yet.”
As one of his all-time favorite holidays — up there with St. Patrick's Day and Groundhog Day — Husband-Head is notorious for decorating our house at Halloween.
“OK, I'm off!” he yelled and went skipping merrily out the back door to his truck.
It was a couple of hours later when I heard the truck backing into the driveway.
“Come see what I got!” he cried out to me. “This was a good day!”
In the world of yard sale fanatics, some days are apparently “good” and some days are the “same ol' people selling the same ol' stuff,” according to Husband-Head.
I went out to his playhouse and just shook my head when I saw it.
Standing there was a headless, five-foot-tall skeleton dressed like Herman Munster from the 1960s show “The Munsters.”
“Where's his head?” I asked.
“They didn't know,” Husband-Head shrugged. “That's why he was only $2. But look at what he does!”
Husband-Head pushed a button and the headless mannequin came to life and began to dance, waving his arms and moving his hips side to side — all to the very appropriate song “Super Freak.”
Then Husband-Head went over and grabbed one of his many fake skulls and plopped it on top of his new toy.
Now with a skull head, it was really creepy.
“He needs eyeballs,” Husband-Head determined. “It's not scary enough without weird eyeballs. I think I have some in the basement.”
OK, now it wasn't the dancing doll that was freaky, it was the fact that Husband-Head had a pair of EYEBALLS on hand.
“Who the hell has a spare pair of eyeballs in their basement?” I asked him in disbelief.
“You never know when you'll need ‘em,” he answered simply.
Sure enough, Husband-Head came back from the basement with the plastic eyeballs and plopped them into the skull.
“There,” he said. “Now I need to go back out and find more stuff.”
A yard saler's job is never done. ...
This was proving to be a profitable day as a short time later he returned with another treasure, and this one was even weirder.
“Isn't this COOL?” Husband-Head exclaimed as he put his latest find on the counter. “I can't believe somebody didn't snatch this up!”
I could.
It was a large gray head wearing a gold turban and blue eyes rimmed in black. The head sat inside a plastic bubble.
Husband-Head turned it on.
The head began to move around and the eyes went back and forth and then the thing began to speak in a deep voice.
“Come closer,” the head ordered. “Let me give you some advice. ... If you're too open-minded, your brains may fall out ... HAHAHAHAHAHA!”
“That's sick,” I summed up. “It looks like one of those creepy fortune-teller things you see at a carnival.”
Husband-Head was done yard saling for the day.
“What in the world are you going to do with yourself when yard sale season is over?”
Husband-Head just smiled.
“Oh, I'll be fine,” he assured me. “Regular football season starts next week.”
Heidi Rice's column appears every Thursday in the Citizen Telegram and Friday in the Post Independent. Visit her website at www.heidirice.com to see more columns or buy her book collection.
