|Several months ago, Friend and I had went to a local antique auction in the neighboring town. Nothing really interested me until a large box of old, dusty burlap sacks came up for bid. I had the winning bid and became the proud owner of 25 vintage burlap sacks.
After sitting around a few weeks gathering more dust, I had come up with the idea that I would make market bags and art pieces out of half of them and take them to the flea market to sell. I thought it was a good idea but no one wanted to buy any. I put the bags up on eBay and still no bites. The market bag that I am giving away for the gift card guessing contest is one that we had made. Mom and I were beginning to wonder if the bags weren't cursed or something. The only burlap pieces I sold was the plain, boring sacks that hadn't been altered in any way. I think I sold about 3 of them.
Anyhow, all of that background info brings me back to this past weekend. The month of January in the North Georgia Mountains has been cloudy, cold, icy and snowy, as has most of the Eastern United States. Definitely, not what we're used to. So, when temps in the mid 60s was forecast under sunny skies, you could bet that a lot of folks were going to try and get rid of their cabin fever. And what better way to do that than to go walk around the flea market and buy some junk.
I decided that I would throw some stuff into the car and see if I could sell something. At the last minute, I grabbed up the remaining plain burlap sacks, roughly 12, I believe and threw them in too. The flea market that I normally sell at hasn't opened up for the year yet, but there is a new one that I have been wanting to check out a few miles down the road.
I set my wares out next to a nice lady that was excited to be there. Her daughter, son-in-law, and three kids had been staying with them along with a husband that drank, five dogs, three cats and a pot-bellied pig. Her drunkard husband had gotten into a fight with the daughter and said if they didn't start bringing in some money soon, they might have to butcher and eat the pot-bellied pig which they called Fluffy. Needless to say, this made everybody mad and no one was talking, so the lady got the hell (her words) out of there and came to the flea market.
About 10 o'clock or so, somebody must have opened the gate because that place filled up fast. You would have thought I was giving away money the way folks was swarming around my table. And best of all, they were actually buying.
As usual, no one was paying attention to the burlap sacks until a guy walked over that was dressed in boots, bib overalls and a John Deere hat. "Where'd ya get them sacks at?" he asked. "These are find to in this good of shape."
"I got 'em at an auction," I said, and proceeded to tell him what I wanted for them.
"Sounds fair. I'll take all of them."
"You will!" I was so surprised you could have pushed me over with one finger. "What are you going to do with them?"
"Oh, we use 'em to kill hogs."
Oh. My. Goodness.
I really didn't need to know that. "Well, okay. You have a nice day," I replied.
About that time, a small group of people walked up to my new friend's table which turned out to be her family. After a short discussion, she walked over and asked if I had any more burlap sacks.
"Nope, I might have one more at home. What'd you need one for?" I asked.
After a few moments, and with a look of resignation, she said one word: "Fluffy."