Dad California Visit 2, Day 2

Sunday morning is meant for worship and rummaging. Today, Kobe's swap meet won as Renee and Dad dug for overlooked treasures. Treasures here were buried under old printers, old plates, and young simba:

Just as unique as the piles of heap that filled half of the arena parking lot were the folks that drove the sale. The point at which a person realizes that he or she is better off peddling junk than anything else, I wonder, must have something to do with a lost bet or an overwhelming sense of life's satisfaction. This man was peddling uphill all morning:

Accessories make the man. I count six on this gentleman dealer, although the mustache was priceless: or five bucks after some haggling:

Broken-down cobra. Rare. Good condition:

I think these were the toys nerds got in elementary school for kissing up to the teacher and ratting out the normal kids. I should know: I collected them all:

U-haul's marketing department redirects from historic tourism to gang signs:

I like snacks:

So does this baby. It was gnawing on the stroller for a good five minutes until I finally caved for the picture:

Dad didn't notice. He smelled a deal:

Number 1 Mom has the creepiest porcelain eyes of anything below the stereo and on this side of the bicentennial glasses; of anything between the ashtrays and the thimble. anything in this three inches right in here in this area; that includes the Chiclets, but not the erasers:

All of the magnetic copper jewelry lumped together created a super magnet that caused significant interference with the neighboring booth that featured X-ray glasses and the entire VHS:

We've all seen banana bikes near the coastal strips in southern California. Rims, however, set the real standard between the idle and the truly idle with money to burn:

Somehow, this side made more sense:

Sunday with mom, in a wagon, in camouflage:

Everyone can pose for a single shot. Posing for an entire roll of rapid-fire photography takes a unique talent:

After several more aisles of nothing interesting, Renee brought up that there wasn't much else to photograph. I agreed, and further blamed the clouds for bad lighting and sour grapes. Then, this warrior passed. I ran back further ahead of him, chose my background, focused, and met his evil glare. The difference was this his was backed by a sword and the proficiency to use it. The real question then was: did I feel lucky?

Everyone at a swap meet needs a sword:

Although this helicopter push toy may have lit up any small child's day, my remote control helicopter still has me grinning. Mine flies, but this one has such adorable headlight eyes:

Speaking of headlight eyes, this doll, well, there isn't much to say. It's quite sombering if you stare it a bit:

A puppet in front of a tile wall:

Even as the skies parted and the sun revealed Excalibur, lost Dead Sea Scrolls, and socks by the dozen, Dad still couldn't find a deal worth taking home. Renee did walk away with a small clock though.

Going from local fun to touristy haven meant driving under the 5 to Old Town San Diego. Here, designer hays and grasses mimic the early days of San Diego when Old Town sold overpriced crap to settlers:

Still no sun though:

An artist's corner in the colony:

We went to Coyote Café for some Mexican lunch. Next door was the Native-American souvenir store. Outside, the palm trees were wrapped in sarongs.

The stain glass of a church:

Mexican barbies by the dozen. My favorite is Barbie-Maria Rancita Hamina-hamina Rodriguez, pictured here in the pregnant moomoo:

If you want to try on the outfit, they first staple you to the post, and then add the clothes on later:

A battle of the lenses:

Signs of Old Town:

The town:

That night we all went down to the Cheesecake Factory for a healthy change to American food to orient Renee's palette that got lost in translation with all of the ethnic food. Good food, fun service, good day.

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