The Sun
Sunnyvale's Newspaper

The hunt is on for buried treasure

By Ingrid McCleary

What prospectors did during the gold rush, you can do every sunny weekend--hunt for treasure. You can sift through the mundane pebbles in search of golden nuggets. However, you have an advantage over the prospectors of yesteryear: While the gold in streams came in only one color, the gold that's discovered at garage sales comes in all colors.

This weekend, April 18-19, is the citywide garage sale. Once again, my family will pile into our 1966 International, a truck with such character we've named it Dino (the license plate reads RDINOSR). We'll cruise the streets, each looking for our respective treasures.

Finding things at garage sales permits me to buy without guilt. It allows me the luxury of buying something I don't need but simply want. Or to try out things I may have considered but couldn't justify the expense.

Take an espresso machine, for example. Before Starbucks coffee shops sprouted everywhere, I indulged in the occasional cappuccino and discovered I was a coffee aficionado. Interesting roasts were hard to come by then, but when I did find them, I'd wonder how they would taste made with an espresso machine. But when weighing the expense of a new espresso machine against a new pair of soccer shoes for my daughter, my daughter won out.

Then my husband came home with a gently used espresso machine. We tried it out and loved the results, and soon a nightly ritual developed. The gurgle, spit, whoosh of the espresso machine signaled a time when the kids were tucked in bed and we could kick back and enjoy each other's company. Indeed, if the rush of the day spilled into the late evening and we couldn't partake in "our time," I wouldn't whine, "We aren't spending any time together." I'd simply say, "You know, it's been three days since we've had an espresso," and Bill would understand that it wasn't the cappuccino I missed but him.

I'm always on the lookout for bargains on writing supplies, pet accessories, gardening tools and camping gear. It doesn't matter to me if these items are brand-spanking new. The appeal of garage sales for my husband stems from the assumption that a man can never own enough tools or electrical doodads.

We certainly don't need a radio in every room or stereo speakers in the garage, but if you can pick them up for $20, why not spoil yourself a little? I've long given up on understanding the nuances that differentiate his electrical tools--why, for example, this particular sander can do things his other two sanders can't. If it makes him happy, I say that's a small price to pay. Literally.

As for my kids, where else can they stretch their meager allowances into major buying power? A stuffed animal usually goes for a buck, so if Travis wants to buy a stuffed rabbit to keep our live rabbit company, I say, go for it.

For my daughter Jamie, an avid reader, it's an opportunity to find books that she can take to the beach or camping without having to worry about library due dates.

My son Casey has adopted the boy version of the aforementioned assumption: A boy can never have enough sports equipment.

It doesn't matter if you're rich or not. I enjoy garage sales as much as I did in my less affluent days. I admit I'm more discriminating now, but I still enjoy the hunt.

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The Sun Sunnyvale's Newspaper

The hunt is on for buried treasure

The Sun
Sunnyvale's Newspaper