Friday morning about 10 a.m., The Husband and I hit the road to Little Rock, where we hoped to score a treasure or two at a 3-day "Vintage" flea market at the fairgrounds. The Sister- and Brother-in-Law were right behind us in their vehicle. We reached our hotel about 1 p.m., checked in, and went to the fairgrounds. We grabbed corn dogs and drinks from food trucks and wolfed them down and went inside the first building to explore.
The vendors were selling mostly decorator stuff and jewelry, nothing that interested us. In less than an hour, we were googling "flea market near me." For the rest of the afternoon, we shopped the local markets. Come dinner time, we found a Mexican restaurant not far from our hotel. It was over-priced, and the food was meh.
Saturday morning, we googled again and spent about half the day scouring flea markets and not finding much that excited us. At our final stop in Little Rock, The Husband and I scored an autoharp. I've wanted one for years.
We decided to "junk" in small towns all the way home, so we stayed off the interstate. Most of the little towns were dried up, as far as flea market were concerned. We drove all the way from Little Rock to Forest City before we found another place to shop, and this store had nothing but over-stock stuff. By the time we'd zoomed through that store, it was closing time, so we headed home.
We played with our autoharp right away. It was seriously out of tune, and one of the strings broke while we were tuning it. A new set of 36 strings will cost about as much as the autoharp cost. We'll have some fun with this thing.
It's good to be home.
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