Will you take a quarter for this?? (Garage Sale whoas)
Ah, summer in the ‘burbs. This conjures up many images; barbecues, pool time, lawnmowers buzzing, and if you are insane enough, having garage sales.
Yes, garage sales. This is a job that requires far more day’s work than the one-hundred dollars you will make on the actual day. I found this out last weekend when I hosted a garage sale in my (finally) cleaned out garage.
Now, you may be asking “why did you do this?” The answer I give you is “I am not sure”. Maybe I like torture. Maybe I like giving more than I get back in return. Maybe this was the light at the end of the too-cluttered tunnel for me. You see, I am a severe pack rat. I horde and I keep until I have too many of everything, and then I wonder why I can’t put anything else into my closets. I could pack it all up and take it to the Goodwill; I actually had started many boxes early this summer with good intentions of being a helping hand in my community. But then my sister called and said she had a great idea: let’s get together and have a garage sale.
Hmmm, the challenge of bartering with senior citizen Sunday school teachers sounded interesting.
It took me five days of setting up, boxing crap, finding tables (this is a challenge in itself) and cleaning the garage. We needed many card tables and I quickly found out that not many people own a card table. So I had to use my own ingenuity to come up with something. I taped up moving boxes with a lot of packing tape, making them indestructible. I was very proud! This was suitable to display my wares. We also crafted homemade neon green signs that read “Garage Sale!” It felt like kindergarten all over again as I lay on the floor coloring in letters with markers.
Next, deciding prices is interesting. What value do you put on an Banana Republic shirt? Or a set of pots and pans that you are getting rid of only because you got new ones for your wedding? I found that I had sentimental value for everything. I am sure that this is due to my pack rat illness. I had to tell myself over and over again that I do not need my every pair of jeans I ever wore, or candle holders that I have not used since the ’90s.
The morning of the sale was cooler and the weather was very beautiful. My sister stayed with me the night before because she wanted to get up very early. She was not, however, prepared for the 6:30 knock on our front door. She answered it sleepily and was confronted by a woman and her college-bound daughter. “Are we going to get this thing started?” she asked. This woman wasn’t messing around. She obviously had a battle plan prepared and a dream of scoring many bargains.
My sister got me up and we opened the garage to set everything out. I would have liked to have gotten myself ready, but I did not have a chance. The minute we opened our garage door we were accosted by several groups of seniors, with a few mom and children combos mixed in. I guess the early bird DOES get the worm. Or in the case, the blender and the used stereo.
The mom and college daughter scored big, finding a mini fridge, cookware, iron and miscellaneous household items for the college dorm. A few of the senior citizens looked around a left in a huff. What were they looking for? Antique toys? Decor in french blue and mauve? I did not have time to ponder this. I was busy helping a very excited preschool teacher add up the prices of the dolls and books she had found. “Will you take a quarter for this Barbie doll instead of 75 cents?” Seriously???
I suddenly had an epiphany; that people come to garage sales not only to cheaply clothe their nine children before the school year starts, but also for the thrill of bartering. The challenge of “winning” the bid, of being the final deciding party on what the item will sell for delights people. A safer way of gambling perhaps. I just wanted this stuff out of my house. Let the haggling begin!
At the end of the day, enough was sold to claim victory. I have only a couple of boxes left for Goodwill and a cool 100 bucks in my pocket. I won’t be doing this again, but at least I had the opportunity to participate in such a suburban fiasco.
A View From Above (Car accident on Big Bend)
I was having an amazing dream. I was in a crowd, looking up onto the stage at a man singing. The energy of the crowd was enormous, and I knew as I chanted along with them that this guy was the one I had been waiting to hear sing. He came around to my side of the stage, and he was wearing boxer shorts with yellow duckies on them.
!!!!!!!
I bolted upright in bed and listened. Something huge had crashed downstairs. It sounded like a bookshelf or something had come down. I tried to shake Vin awake, but he mumbled and rolled over. So I grabbed my stun gun and left the room. (Yes, I am a safety girl.) First room, no one there. The second room seemed fine, also. I started to go downstairs and heard a noise toward our backyard, so I ran back upstairs and looked out back.
Wow. Anarchy on Big Bend. Cars everywhere, and in the middle of everything, there was a car that had run up over the curb and hit a tree. Not just hit the tree, but demolished the bottom of it, and the front of his car was toast. It looked like it had been through a blender.
By now traffic had stopped on both sides up and down Big Bend Rd. Right at rush hour, of course. I heard the sirens in the distance and wondered if the man was hurt badly. I could see his head upwards, so I knew he was not laying in a weird position in the car. A few people were now standing outside of his car looking in. The ambulance and 3 police cars pulled up.
I yelled at Vinny to come look, but he mumbled and pulled the covers over his head. I went and grabbed my camera to take a few pictures, not to share the morbidity with everyone, but to record the close proximity of this event. From my bedroom window, I felt like I could reach down and pluck the man from the wreckage. But of course if I could have done that, he would have reached St . John’s hospital a lot sooner.
They put him on a body board and then into the ambulance. I think he was badly banged up, but the body language of the rescue team was not frenetic. Since I am not skilled in emergency operations, that opinion holds no water. I am just optimistic.
Being the voyeur that I am, I went on watching as they took the man away. The detectives arrived and started talking to a few people about (I’m guessing) what had happened. Now their body language was frenetic. One man was making a straight up and down motion with both of his arms over and over again. I looked up to see if he was trying to wave in an airplane, but I guess he was trying to convey that the man was coming straight at him. Evidently this guy was really late for work (????) and tried to pass everyone on Big Bend. Doesn’t take alot of sense to know that that would not turn out well during rush hour traffic on a hill.
Now, I watch CSI and I figure a lot of people do. So we all know that when the detectives are around, you do not touch anything at the crime scene, right? Well, for some reason at this moment, the maintenance man of the apartment complex next to the wreck moseyed over with a bucket and one of those long metal rods with the clamps at the end. He started picking up random pieces of whatever was on the ground and must have picked up some wreckage, because the cop came running at him and started to wave his hands and yell. The maintenance man dropped the bucket like it had turned into a snake and shrugged his shoulders. He did not care if he did his job or not. He was still getting paid. Who was he to interfere with the cops? The law’s word superseded his boss’. The cops continued to wave their hands at him and yell and finally he stalked off to the apartments.
The finale of the morning came with the tow guy. He came to confiscate the car. Traffic was finally moving, albeit one lane style. People were going to definitely be late to the office today. Maybe this blog will vouch for a few. Anyway, the tow guy walked toward the final resting place of the car. (Ford? Buick? Dodge?) Who knew after this. As he walked to the tree, it was only then that I realized the front bumper was up in the branches!
This was amazing to see. He helped the female cop shimmy up and drag it down, and then proceeded down a small hill to fetch part of the hood, a tire, and a mirror. He was very meticulous, and only after every little peice of car had been thrown onto his truck, did he take off–leaving only a few mangled branches behind as evidence that any early morning helter-skelter had put a dent into West County rush hour.
All of this happened in exactly the first 50 minutes of my morning. It was going to be an interesting day, indeed.
The Moving Chronicles, Part 2 (make me a drink!)
So, up and early again to beat the heat and help my mom move. Ha! It was already 140 degrees at 9 a.m. Oh well. Today was big furniture day. That is always the fun part; you really get to find out if blowing a blood vessel in your brain is possible. Today I was lucky–my brain is still intact.
Moving is something that usually stays in the family; it is very intimate and … oh who am I kidding? No one wants to help you move because it sucks. Thank God for family, because they HAVE to help.
Our first tackle was a queen size pillow top mattress. Very large. Very awkward to move. We heaved and we hoed but made no progress. Finally, we came up with a solution: jump on it, fold it in and tie it up with an electrical cord. This was enough to warrant photographing. Indeed, I need to share the image of my brother in law. So just getting the mattress was half the battle. The other half lay ahead.
The three flights of stairs loomed at us, but with hernia belts in hand we tackled and we defeated. As we brought the last of the furniture in, shouts of victory cried from each as we thought the toughest part of the day was gone. I am sure we had sweated 40 pounds out easily. We finally crawled to the car and started to deliberate on what to eat.
Hot, tired and hurting we drove back towards Eureka so that my mom could drop off the U-haul. We were using the directions that my dad had given her. Yes, a man’s directions. Go to highway 109, he said. It will be on the left. How far down? We drove. And drove. Somehow my mom got ahead of us even though her truck had the engine of a sewing machine in it. As we continued to drive, we knew we were in trouble when we saw her passing us on the other side of the highway.
We called her and she said to try another route. We turned around, and once again, passed my mom on the other side of the highway. This would have three stooges-like, however, my sister was getting highly mad and starting to yell. So, of course, we all started to yell. This prompted me to call my dad and blame him because they were his directions.
We started our trek down a different road, trying to find my mom in the U-haul. We passed her going the other way. We called her. We looked for the damn U-haul building. This was getting so ridiculous.
Finally it occured to me to call the 800 number. (Remember the brain vessels?) They relocated us to a little tiny box in between two buildings with a little tiny sticker on it that said “U-haul”. All we had to do was park and put the keys in the box.
I have never been so elated. The only thing I can say about this experience is that if my mom decides to move again, THE FURNITURE STAYS WHERE IT IS.
Welcome to the world, little Tej Litzsinger!
I want to make an announcement. Actually, I would like to yell from the rafters that after a very long awaited nine months, Gary and Prital Litzsinger have given birth to a 6.5 lb perfect baby boy!!!! He was born Thursday, June 26th. Tej Franklin Litzsinger (pronounced with a long “a” and a soft “j”) came into the world with a huge head of hair and dark, dark eyes. He is the most beautiful little thing ever. I laughed. I cried. And then I drove straight to the hospital because I could not contain myself. When we arrived, we found a sleeping baby wrapped burrito-style in his bed and a very beautiful, radiant Prital. I think motherhood is going to suit her just fine. She did not look like she had been through anything strenuous that day, let alone giving birth! Labor had started to get lengthy, but ended easy for her. What a rockstar! Gary had already formed an alliance with her, volunteering earlier that day to attack the first diaper.
The news of a boy was a great surprise to them, because they had opted not to find out during the pregnancy. “Gary was excited to have his boy,” Prital said to us, “be we didn’t care, as long as it was healthy!” The news of a boy was exciting to grandpa, also. Tej will carry on the Litzsinger name.
Wow, 6.5 lbs is small. Tiny apple size head small. Microscopic fingernails small. Everything perfect, all in miniature. How do you handle a baby without breaking him??? I think I would keep him in a bubble, wrapped up burrito-style for insurance against harm. Pri showed us his pampers; they were smaller than any doll butt I have ever seen! This is going to be the greatest baby fix for me! I now have a reason to go into Babys R Us and go hog wild! Who can resist the tiny booties, the little pants that are less than a foot long. Blankies, so soft.
Ok, I am getting a little long winded……
This is the beginning of such a different, but exciting chapter for Gary and Pri. I am happy for them and I feel so blessed to be able to watch this little boy grow. He is yet another member of a very tight knit group of friends whom, with luck, will continue to grow and prosper.
If any of you know Prital and Gary, we would love for you to leave a comment of congratulations for them. I know it would bring them joy to see how many friends are delighted about the good news!
Tune into our photo gallery in a few days to view more pictures of Tej.
I married the worlds best cook
I’m not joking. Jess is honestly the world’s best cook. Don’t let her try and tell you otherwise, either. She has a natural talent at it. I’m not just saying that because she’s my wife. Even when she ‘throws things together’, they still turn out fantastic. I challenge anyone out there to try and out-cook her. if you want, we can even get together for some sort of cook-off.
Spam belongs on bread, not in your inbox!
Well, at least I think spam goes on bread. I am not even sure what spam is. I have never tried to eat it. The idea of meat in a square, squeezed into a little can is a little squirmy to me. People have told me that you fry it. That does not make it any more appetizing to me. It is as yucky to me as fried bologna. When I was in 6th grade, I was totally in love with my best friend’s brother. I followed him around like a love sick puppy.
Then came the fried bologna incident.
My friend and I were sitting at the table doing girly best friend things when in walked this adonis brother of hers. He proceeded to fry a peice of bologna in a pan. I was appaled. What was this? It stank, it looked weird and frankly the idea of “mechanically seperated beef and chicken parts” is a very disgusting sounding process. How could someone this wonderful ( in my pre-pubescent eyes) be eating something so alien and freaky??????
Anyhow, I digress.
What I am getting at is the idea of spamming emails. Even this blog gets spammed responses every day. Do I want designer shoes at discount prices? Do I want a longer, um, you know. Do I want to impress her with my manhood (hehe). I am sure you all are getting the very same emails. We all have a myspace account and thank god for the “private” editing. Before this handy detail, I can’t believe all the crap that was sent. “Get a free Macy’s card!” “Get legal bud!” “Get a laptop for absolutely nothing!” This one was especially great: The “Hi, I am writing you from my friends account, but IM me at this account so I can show you my pictures!”
What are we, stupid or somethin?????
Are these robots, or real people doing one hell of a viral marketing scam? I would love to know. If anyone out there has a clue about this, please clue me in.
As I said, if we MUST have spam in our lives–PLEASE, put it on bread!
Movies worth watching????
It seems that for a long time there has not been a movie out there worth watching. A night at the movies can make a really nice weekend (and keep me out of the clubs). I should also mention that i have an addiction to movie popcorn, the butter-ier the better. The movie theatre is the one place I throw caution to the wind and really dig into junk food. How much popcorn can one consume? ALOT.
Last weekend, we did go to Ronnie’s Plaza. I enjoy that theatre the most because it has the little game room and I am a pro at skeeball. I am saving up my tickets for the really big stuffed something that is hanging on the wall in the prize room. Just a few more….
Anyway, we were going to see Speedracer. Did not sound good to me at all, but it was Vinny’s choose night. We watched the trailers at home, contimplated, got bored of the trailers and switched to Iron Man. This night got very interesting at this point. Vin ordered the tickets online, we got to Ronnies and realized that we did not have the credit card that we put it on. So we tried to buy another two tickets, but it was of course full. At this moment, we contemplated (again) Speedracer. A big shout out and thank you to the two couples who walked out at that time and very loudly announced that Speedracer sucked. They continued to tell us very loudly why.
So we looked at the next time for Iron Man–It was in two hours. Do we stay? Do we go? Aw, let’s stay and eat junk food in the “drive-in” and wait.
Iron man, it turned out, is an awesome movie. Robert Downey Jr. played his part to a tee. I really give this 2 thumbs up, even though I am not Ebert nor Roper.
This weekend, the Gows told us to definitely go to see Indian Jones. Steven Spielberg has done it again.
Have you seen any movies lately??? Please let us know.I really would like to see Strangers, but Vin does not think I need to be scared. Maybe, maybe not.
Give me a shout!
