Flea Markets and Cardio Drumming

Since the first Monday in July was smack dab in the middle of a four day holiday, I was surprised that all six of us Gathering Girls showed up for our monthly brunch. But it no longer surprises me that we never seem to run out of things to gab about. Our modus operandi is fully developed now which means we’ve mastered the art of laughing at ourselves in that way only a bunch of gal pals can do. 

That was the 3^rd of July, on the 4^th two of us Gathering Girls went to a huge flea market thirty minutes north of town. It’s a mecca for antique collectors who are willing to pay $20.00 to get admitted before the general public comes through the gate for $3.00. We got there closer to noon, avoiding the long lines that are reported close to opening time but my husband was a fan of paying the Early Buyer fees at places like that. Back in those days I usually had to work on market days but we’d meet for lunch and his show-and-tell. After I gave up the wedding floral business we even rented vendor space a few times at that same market where B.L. and I went yesterday. Don and I was selling to downsize my husband’s growing collections but I’m guessing half those vendors pack up at the end of each market and do it all over again in another town the following weekend. That would be a hard life and some of the full timers have hard luck stories to tell. 

At this market, vendor tents and tables are set up under giant white pine trees and seeing them yesterday reminded me of camping overnight with the other vendors. A lot of 'horse trading' goes on that night before the markets open and I still have an Indian blanket acquired in a swap. It’s hard to explain how excited I was about having the opportunity to go back to that market after so many years. I don’t collect anything anymore thus I wasn’t anticipating the thrill of the hunt. The heat, the sun, the dirt, the Porta-Potties---none of which are particularly endearing at my age (or any other) but still it felt like a part of my past was inviting me back for a sentimental visit. I’ve been on both sides of the vendor tables: at low quality markets and at high quality markets where buyers peeled off a stack of hundred dollar bills to pay for what they were buying. Our biggest outdoor market sale was $7,000 and the guy who bought the glass gas globe swore us to secrecy because he didn’t want other globe collectors to know how much he was willing to spend on pieces he wanted. I broke one of those pricey globes once, dropped it on the cement and can you believe it, all my husband said was, “Oops.” 

On the 4^th this year, all I bought was a down-under style hat to keep the sun off my head, a loaf of bread from an Amish vendor---they are growing in numbers in that part of Michigan---a slice of spinach pie and a small wedge of polished, purple and gray stone. B.L. is the only other person I’ve ever known who loves stones and she bought three or four. 

Change of topic: Last week I stopped by the nutrition store where they have the cardio drumming classes, fully intent on signing up. But their instructor is in the hospital with a serious medical issue so they’ve suspended the classes until they can find another certified teacher. Cardio drumming, in case you’ve never heard of it involves using weighed drum sticks on large exercise balls. It combines dance moves, rhythm and it’s a fairly high-energy work out. I was disappointment! What am I going to do without a new class to challenge me this summer? Classes are not that easy to find when you don’t drive downtown (art classes), or you’re bored with hand projects (quilting or knitting classes), or you don’t want to gain weight (cooking classes) or you don’t want your brain “coached” at the Thought Studio although their Mindfulness class would probably do me a lot of good. The Sculpture Park has some great classes but they’re mostly for kids this time of the year and all the Olli classes require a morning rush hour trip through a congested part of town. I don’t do rush hour.

Henry Ford was quoted as saying, “Anyone who stops learning is old, whether at twenty or eighty. Anyone who keeps learning stays young,” but good old Henry didn’t mention how much harder that is when you don’t have a chauffeur to cart you around in your old age like he had back in his day. Ya, I know, there are books, documentaries on TV and the internet but, for me, nothing holds a candle to learning in groups. ©