Catchy title, no? I thought of it today while I was straddling the top strand of a barbed wire fence while walking in the woods with my dog. Luckily, there was no mixing.
Belle and I got a good walk in this morning. I took some hawk pictures I'm fairly happy with (forthcoming) and Belle got to visit one of her vast pieces of territory that doesn't lie within the confines of our neighborhood. I also availed myself of my parents' kitchen in their absence and made a bacon and apple butter sandwich.
I also entitled this entry This Flea Market Might Actually HAVE Fleas. Here's why:
When I was a kid, the Pevely Flea Market was a magical place where a kid could score piles of old comics at the standard 25 cents each or 5/$1.00 price. Many a summer Sunday saw me pile into the car with my brother, my mom, and Grandma Schwent. I'd go in armed with ten bucks and return with a stack of comics and entertainment for a week's worth of lazy summer afternoons.
The decline of the Pevely Flea Market started when they erected a building in the center. Instead of being a communal yard sale where people could ditch things cluttering their basement, the Flea Market suddenly became a place where people were trying to actually make money. It has been in a state of decay ever since.
Yesterday, I had some time to kill and visited it. Apart from the accursed buildings, it was a ghost town. I entered the buildings and it immediately reminded me of Bartertown from Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome. Gone were all the deals, replaced by bottom feeders trying to sell used DVDs for fifteen bucks. Sadly, Tina Turner was nowhere to be seen.