All the Rage...

This post is about underwear.

And garage sales. 

And cold.

But mostly, it's about underwear.

Last Saturday, I hauled boxes of my crap stuff over to my friend Annie's house for The Great Purge Garage Sale of 2010.   It was 39 degrees outside.  And I know all you northern folks totally just rolled your eyes because really? 39 degrees?  But, yes, 39 degrees.  I am from the South, and 39 degrees is considered COLD especially during that first cold snap when our humidity sensors haven't acclimated yet.  It was cold, and also, it was pretty early.  I don't get nice until at least 9 am, so I was still making my grumpy faces when I pulled into Annie's driveway.  And now that I've typed all that, I really don't know why that has any relevance at all except that I probably just wanted you to feel sorry for me, in my tired, cold state. Or something.

During the Belongings Exfoliation of 2010, I realize I had this whole big box of underwear that I no longer wear but that was still in really good shape (I had a shopping problem once.  Darn you Victoria's Secret and your Semi-Annual Sale!)(Also, it's totally weird to say your underwear is in good shape, yes?) Now, I myself am not a secondhand underwear buyer. The thought of it FREAKS. ME. OUT.  But hey, some people don't have a problem with it, and also Goodwill sells underwear so it must be ok, right? I texted Annie:

Me: Do people buy underwear at garage sales?
Annie:  Idk, worth a shot if you ask me.

Settled. 

One of our first few customers was a rugged looking dude, who, when I first saw him, I assumed was looking for tools.  Or broken lawnmowers.  Or socks.  Because that's what the rugged dudes come to garage sales for, you know.  He picks up a few things to buy, then spots the box 'o' underwears.

"I don't mean this to be embarrassing," he says. "But what size is the underwear?"

Me thinking: Cha-Ching! 

I told him what sizes most of them were, and after a short discussion about what size jeans his lady friend wears, I told him I didn't think they'd fit her.  He said ok, paid for the other stuff, and went on his way.

Important note to the fellas:  Do NOT buy your lady person underwear at a garage sale.  She can buy it herself at a garage sale if she chooses, but do not, under any circumstances, bring it home to her.  The only exception is if you have detailed instructions where she specifically states, "If you see underwear at a garage sale, please buy it for me."  This is NOT the same as "I need new underwear."  PLEASE make note of this.  You will thank me.

A lady showed up and sat down next to the box and looked at every single pair, like she was shopping that Semi-Annual Sale. She walked away with 11 pair by the time she was done.  Another lady snagged one pair and several more asked about sizes. People, underwear sells at garage sales! I mean, can you get over this?

After we've been out there about 3 hours, Rugged Dude from earlier comes back.  I see him walking up the driveway like he's on a Rugged Dude Mission.  "He's coming back for the underwear," I said to Annie, laughing.  He glanced over everything on the driveway that he already looked at 3 hours earlier and says, "I was on my way home and thought I'd see if y'all put anything else out."

Me:  (thinking) Liar.  You want panties.

About the same time, there was a lady browsing who was sorting through the boxes of clothes, which were directly next to the underwear box.  Rugged Dude is all randomly picking up items and pretending he's so very interested, but his eyes keep darting to the side, waiting for the lady to step away from the unmentionables.  She then starts looking through the underwear, talking about how she is going to get some for her granddaughters. (Grandmothers:  The secondhand-underwear-buying-for-others rule applies to you too.  As in: Don't.)  Rugged Dude's face gets tense and, trying to be all nonchalant, he says, "Oh yeah, that's what I was coming back for, too."

Me:  (thinking) Mmm-hmm.  Told you.

We all sort of chuckled because, oh well, you can't slack when it comes to garage sale bargains, homeboy.  Everybody knows that. Underwear-Buying-Lady (UBL) dumps the whole box on the table and says, "I'll just take them all."  Rugged Dude gets all antsy and asks if she's sure she's buying them all, to which she replies that she is.  He stomps off down the driveway, jumps in his car, and PEELS OUT while speeding off! Seriously! Reckless underwear deprivation driving in full effect y'all.

The three of us looked at each other.

Me: Uhhh....
Annie:  That wasn't normal right?
UBL:  Uh, no.  That wasn't normal.

About 5 minutes later, as we stood chatting and I bagged the stuff she bought, RUGGED DUDE CAME BACK! He pulled his beater up in front of the house and barrels up the driveway with a wad of cash in hand.

Rugged Dude: Ma'am. Are you sure you're going to buy all of them?
UBL: (slightly dumbfounded) Yes, I am.

There is a slight air of What The Heck now floating about.  Rugged Dude looks at me.  I look at Rugged Dude.

RD:  And that's all you have?
Me:  Yes, that was it.
RD:  I'll give you $10 for the whole box!

Dude.  I can't make this stuff up.

Me: ......
Annie: ......
UBL: ......
Me thinking: ......
Me:  I'm sorry, but I already sold them to her.

*Tension*

He wheels around and storms back down the driveway in an underwear fueld rage, and again, peels out.  Now help me understand this:  Does the peeling out help you cope in some way?  Because it's not like I'm about to chase you down the street and change my mind because you were clearly upset enough to PEEL OUT AT A GARAGE SALE!

And y'all, it's not even over!  He drove by TWO MORE TIMES glaring at us.  Freak me out, why don't ya?  The second time he drove by, the Underwear Buying Lady was gone, and since I'm pretty sure that's who he was looking for, that was the end of it.

Moral of the story:  Let Goodwill take care of the underwear selling.  

Words of Wisdom #467...

If one attempts to outrun a pomeranian that has been unleashed in an open field for the first time in said pomeranian's life, one will lose. Badly.

It is written.

3 Years....

 

3 years ago today, you had to leave us.  Too soon, we were left without your smile, your humor, your friendship, and your love.  Not a day goes by that you are not remembered and missed terribly.

Love you whoadie.

Simple Mind, Simple Pleasures...

Oh good gravy, people, do you have as much stuff as I have?  I mean it's like a Belongings Party all up in my homestead.  My lovely parents were kind enough to load all of my belongings that were still behind in the Texas and haul it all down here when they came for a visit. (Ed. note:  My parents RULE parentdom.  Fact.)

When I first moved back to my home sweet home state in March, it was after having been out of work via layoff for almost a year and a half.  I was a little bit broke, and due to circumstances, couldn't afford to transport anything.  But, I had an unbelievable living situation fall in my lap that I could not pass up.  So I loaded my tiny little Mazda 3 down with whatever pomeranians and clothing and miscellaneouses could fit and drove on home. No furniture. No bed.  No nothing.  My dear, darling friends, Shara, Amanda, and TJ, met me at my new townhouse to help me clean and get settled.  I sat in an overwhelmed heap in the middle of a room FULL of trashbags while my little busy bees buzzed all around me, cleaning and organizing and mother henning.  I owe those girls. Huge.  Were it not for them, I would undoubtedly STILL be sitting amongst those trash bags in a fetal position, trying to figure out just where to put everything considering the whole "no furniture" thing. Amanda and TJ loaned me an air mattress and sheets that I would end up sleeping on for a good 4 months.  Some would call them friends.  I call them angels. (OMG, can you believe I said that?!?! hahahahaha. My cheese-o-meter REFUSED to budge unless I typed it! Ha!Sorry! Live, laugh, love, and all that.)

Point:  After living so sparse for a good block of time, it kind of frees the mind a bit. I've been unpacking and unpacking all of the stuff my parents brought me, and while there is a good bit of it that I intend to keep for want/need purposes, I realize how much of the stuff I "needed" is really just stuff.  Something about the sentimental reasons I keep things goes by the wayside when I've lived without it for a significant amount of time. Or maybe it's just in the grand scheme of life, when you've been through the fire, it all of a sudden seems so trivial.  The sentimentality behind it can remain, but the material thing is just that: material. Just because I'm getting rid of that glass dolphin (yes, I have a glass dolphin. Shut up, you know you do too.) that I've been hanging onto all this time, because ohmygosh, I got that from so-and-so that one time at that thing with those people, doesn't mean I'm garage sale-ing the memory, you know? 

Wouldn't life be so much easier if I could just apply this thinking to all areas of life?  I don't want that shirt anymore because it no longer fits or serves a purpose in my life.  Can't I say the same thing for an unhappy memory or an unresolved hurt?   I've been hurt. BAD.  So have you.  So what good does it do us to let ourselves feel that ache everytime a certain song comes on or a reminder pops up?  There needs to come a point when the scar has formed just enough that I can choose to not wince when something hits it.  How much of it is actual pain, and how much of it is just a habit?  How much of it is the fact that I want to hold onto it because admitting it doesn't hurt as much means admitting that I'm letting go?  Nobody likes to let go.  Nobody wants to get rid of their crap that's buried deep in the recesses of home and heart.  Because it becomes comfort.  It becomes what we know.  But what if we cleaned out our hearts/minds like we cleaned out a cluttered closet?  What if we vacuumed and swept and Febrezed the heck out of our spirits so that anytime we open that door, we're bombarded with the scent of fresh and clean and airy?

Whew.  That went down a totally different thought path than I was expecting.  I planned to tell you all about my Electric Youth perfume (with the hot pink lighting bolt inside the bottle!)(!!!!), but instead we had therapy.  What do you guys think?  Do you have cluttered lives? Cluttered emotions? 

Let's share a group hug!

Words of Wisdom #145...

One never knows how flexible one is until one attempts to bathe a dog that does not wish to be bathed.

Go forth young grasshoppper.

Whole Living...

Ten Tenets of Whole Living

 

1. Happiness is a choice. Make that choice today and every day.

2. Good health isn't a gift; it's a habit you cultivate.

3. A healthy, fit body is not enough -- true fitness engages the spirit.

4. Think more about what you should eat than what you shouldn't.

5. Laugh at yourself. You're funny.

6. Nurture your spirit. It's your source of strength.

7. Stay connected to the natural world. It will feed your soul.

8. Believe in yourself. Your intuition is rarely wrong.

9. It's never too late to take the first step toward your aspirations.

10. What you pay attention to will thrive.

Read more at Wholeliving.com: About Body+Soul Magazine

And the title goes here...

Ohhhh how I'm looooving this weather!  Is it beautiful where you are?  Fall has fallen, and I am in low-humidity heaven.  The past month has been a whirlwind of activity, involving visits from out-of-towners and dancing and football games and bumblebee stingers that just left me completely spent. Having fun with people you adore really takes it out of ya. Life is hard when you're having the time of your life, wouldn't you say?  So this was the first weekend of nothing-to-do-ness that I have had in a quite awhile, and I had BIG plans for me and myself. 

First, there was the doing nothing.  Gracie helped me out with that on Friday night, which was greatly appreciated.  It can be a big task to take on by yourself, but thankfully, my pupster was right by me, helping me carry that burden. I don't even remember Saturday morning.  It was a blur of lazy and nap until about 1 or so.  Doesn't that sound like the most fantastic day ever so far?  I even had on my favorite sweatshirt!

We spent a couple of hours at the dog park that afternoon and made some really wonderful doggy/people friends.  This gorgeous yellow lab showed up and her people brought her into the small dog park which had me all kinds of irritated and ready to offended because hello?! SMALL dog?!  Well, the universe checked me right quick because this was the sweetest, most harmless giant dog I'd ever met.  Gracie pranced her sassy self right into the middle of the park and bark bark barked her head off, desperately trying to get this lab's attention, and that polite girl did not even look Gracie's way.  Gracie is terrified of any and all dogs so this act of bravery was new to me, but I suspect she was showing off for Ernest the Pomhuahua because really, wouldn't you do the same?  By the end of our visit, Gracie and Lady the lab were BFF, bonded by their mutual fear of each other and everything else. 

Something about lazy days at the dog park make me want to go to the grocery store to get food for dinner.  Or maybe it's the whole not grocery shopping for like 2 weeks so there's nothing in the pantry except for a jar of salsa and a can of butter beans that makes me want to go to the store, I don't know.  I was totally gross, of course, after spending hours in the wind and dirt and grass, hugging on dogs of different shapes and sizes and political backgrounds, and really, I just had no business being seen by the public eye.  But man, Whole Foods has some reeeeally good egg salad that sounds perfect right about now.  So I hopped in the car with the dirty, grassy workout clothes, and the eyebrows that hadn't been tended to in 2 5 days because I was just going to run in and run out right? Right.

Ladies.  Here is what I need you to help me understand:  Where is it written in the laws of the cosmos, that when you are wearing a FLUORESCENT PURPLE scrunchy from when you were 15 AND rocking some 5 7 day old eybrows, you are guaranteed to see the most beautiful man that has ever crossed your dirty dog park covered path?  This dude could only be described as smokin' yo, and all I wanted to do was yell "WHY ARE YOU HERE TODAY OF ALL DAYS?!?!"  Because you just know that when you are looking all kinds of  "wow, my hair is so shiny today", and "oh my gosh, have you ever even seen a backside look so fantastic in a pair of jeans?" and "no, of course I don't smell like Ajax.  Nothing but vanilla over here!", you will not see a single soul other than a 90 year old who can't see anyway, gay men, or your brother.  I mean, this is just a fact right? Sigh.

Stupid egg salad.