by Leslie Brier
A few weeks back my friend Janet treated me to the most divine weekend of junking. We spent three glorious days stopping at every single antique shop, thrift store, and junk pile between Fredericksburg and Smith Mountain Lake. The junking was punctuated by button sorting, good food and lots of chocolate.
Janet and I have truly mastered the womanly art of junking.
If it was rusty or dusty, we stopped to look at it.
When I go with my husband, and see an enticing pile of rust by the side of the road, I'll usually get one of three responses: "Huh?" "I didn't see it." or "You should have told me sooner".
Janet has catlike reflexes that allow us to go screeching into the seediest of roadside junk shops in the blink of an eye.
We didn't miss a single roadside stop, even when our knees and backs were begging for mercy.
Black Dog Salvage in Roanoake was one of the highlights.
We came home with tons of good stuff, and I was even to recipient of two freebies - random acts of kindness from dealers who knew how much we appreciated their wares. I can't wait to get started making robots and jewelry from the goodies that we found.