Estate Sales, and The Final Boss of Pancakes

Estate Sale #1: Christmas Poisoning 

So think back to your childhood. I'm sure you had that one family friend, or maybe even your own family, that was a bit too into Christmas.

Well whoever owned this house beats them ten fold.

Now here's the thing. This isn't even like a third of it.

Christmas as far as the eye could see. At every turn. Village buildings, plushies, decorations.

Of course, none I wanted... or at least for a decent price. I enjoy Christmas village stuff, but the actual buildings were $20 or $30, which was a bit rich for me.

And of course, there were some non-Christmas finds as well!

I enjoyed the graphics on this (CB?) radio box. Airbrushed-style graphics, woodgrain, silver facing... ah, good aesthetic.

Our first retail-related find is this Optimus-brand cassette recorder. Optimus was a house brand of Radioshack, and was at least originally for "higher end" stuff, as far as I can tell, with Realistic for the more budget goods. Though by this point, it seems the distinction had largely disappeared, and so Optimus got slapped on this basic looking tape recorder.

This bag here is branded for AAFES, or the Army Air Force Exchange Service, which is a long winded name for the sort of "General merchandise" stores that operated on military bases, selling everything from jewelry to gasoline and everything in between. According to Retail Retell on Discord, the independent brands were consolidated under "The Exchange" a few years ago, with the exception of the Naval Exchange Service, NEX.

Estate Sale #2 - Faux Deco

Our second estate sale takes us "beachside" over to the town of Melbourne Beach, to a rather impressive house that I took far too few pictures of. However, it is listed on Realtor.com with much better photos, and an asking price of a cool 1.2 million dollars. There go my chances! Link

Here's my meager photos.

I wanted to note this little nightstand, which I enjoy. Though someone else told me it reminded them of hotel furniture, so ymmv I guess.

Now, the estate sales wrapped up, we make our way to the second part of our title- The Final Boss of Pancakes. And let me jump on a little tangent, real fast.

You ever heard the phrase "attack and dethrone god"? I'm fairly sure it originally came out of the mouth of some paranoid idiot crying about how trans people will destroy western society, but in more recent years its been co-opted as a kind of joke phrase to yell at incredibly gaudy, over the top, luxurious beyond reason things. The example that always comes to my mind is the "Well There's Your Problem" podcast episode on the Costa Concordia disaster, uttered whilst describing the ludicrous features of Symphony of the Seas, the largest cruise ship in the world.

This phrase passed through my mind when my plate was delivered at a little restaurant called My Island Pancake House in Rockledge, Florida. Betraying it's name, it's actually located in Rockledge, about a mile and change from the nearest actual island (a small spoil island in the Indian River), and a mile and a half from Merritt Island, (which is a peninsula). Annnyway. The Rockledge location was always talked of positively on Facebook, and I wanted to go that way anyway, so I set my sights on it. It's a well-done little building, a former Golden Corral, later a sports bar, painted in a bright blue.

I have only two photos from my time there- my phone having been on very low battery at that point. Both are of my food; I ordered what I believe was called "Peanut Butter Delight Pancakes", or maybe "Peanut Butter Lovers Delight Pancakes". Now, skimming the description I readied myself for some good pancakes, with maybe peanut butter "chips" or chunks, a sprinkle of dry peanut butter, and a drizzle of peanut butter sauce.

 Now imagine the stages of grief my face rapidly flashed through when the following arrived at my table.

I guess I should note that it didn't arrive already part-eaten.

The entire 2-pancake stack is smothered in some kind of liquid peanut butter, topped with a generous crumble of dry peanut butter and a thick drizzle of peanut butter sauce. It was, in simple terms, too much for my mortal soul to consume. Let me be clear in that it was not bad. It was pretty good, actually. It's just, a lot. I dread to think the calorie count for this, and I feel it's knowledge man is best left not knowing. 

All in all, I'd be happy to return- just with the deathly important knowledge to order some normal flapjacks.