This past weekend Kerry and I jumped in my car and drove 60 miles south to attend Brownville's annual summer flea market. The market itself was huge and there was no lacking of antiquated items or ironic t-shirts worn by market attendees. Nebraska's finest, really.
Brownville is an adorable little town, much like a Stars Hollow. It's main street it made up of small shops and historical buildings. There's a broom store which luckily had a stand at the flea market, Kerry reluctantly walked away from it empty handed.
Walking through the piles upon piles of stuff I couldn't help but imagine how these traveling gypsies live, going town to town hocking jewelry, bottles, old pots and pans, family photos, it's all just a little odd. As much as I love looking through the remnants of other people's pasts, the Brownville flea market was a little overwhelming. There was just so much shit to go through and there are only so many picnic baskets you can pick up before it dawns on you, but I don't really need a picnic basket.
And it wouldn't have been worth the trip if we didn't indulge in some fair foods. We didn't realize it was going to be so hot the day we went, and while most opted for ice cream cones or sno-cones, I had to get some of that delicious processed nacho-cheese while Kerry treated herself to a funnel cake (and toppings!).
I ended up walking away with a ring ($15) a plate ($2) and a bag of beef jerky for Coops ($3)
Oh and there was this too -
PS the title of this post comes from here, but it took every ounce of me not to title it Browntown. Maturity right?