Cocktail hour at the flea market.

This past week I set up at the Brimfield antiques market, my dad did it every year (he had pre-paid for the space...). If you are a person who shops at antiques markets, I will offer you some pointers;
Insulting people who are working at the market will not get you better prices.
Do not let your children do anything with the merchandise you wouldn't let them do at Target.
Some of us are, in fact, wicked marginal. Question the wisdom of kiting a check (with your address on it) to a guy selling antique weapons...
Its not the American way, but try to see past the way the dealers look. Flea market people are the greatest people you will ever meet.
After dealing with the insults, the chiseling, and the generally hard work of selling junk, we have cocktail hour. This week we were blessed by the presence of Ms. J. and Mrs. R, a pair Texans who really know how to put together a cocktail hour in spite of rustic surroundings...

Beer- of course.
Wine- Gallo Burgundy (ick!) in memory of my dad.
Vodka with limoncello, lemonade and seltzer.
Raspberry vodka with cranberry rasperry juice, a squeeze of lemon and seltzer.

Hummus platter with pita chips.
Roasted, salted Cashews
Tortilla Chips and salsa
Assortment of cheese and crackers.

Then we make fun of our customers, tell bullshit stories about how much we charged for this and that and laugh and laugh and laugh...

No comments:

Post a Comment

No advertising for your weird cookbook please...or sex enhancement drugs...just no advertising at all...