One Woman's Trash Is Another Woman's Treasure

Sometimes the seemingly unexciting, minor events incorporate meaning into life. Sometimes it is the topics I won't commit myself to write about that flow effortlessly and before I know it, what was supposed to be a post about a sushi dinner turns into a random musing about a yard sale. Yard sales require a dedication of time and efforts, but if you are up to the challenge, can prove a fun and rewarding experience. Lugging box after box up flights of stairs from the basement and going through individual items only to slap a price tag on them significantly less worthy than the retail or in some instances sentimental value can take a toll both physically and mentally. a) Boxes are heavy! b) Some sh*t is hard to let go of. On a certain level you understand it is just time. On the contrary, it is a huge relief to get cash for that piece of crap, ugly looking, what the hell was I thinking purchase or what the hell were they thinking gift. In a less severe case are items of mediocre value, perhaps some truly lovely household decor which no longer have a place in your space. Those once useful tools, appliances, electronics and kitchen wares served a purpose and can move on. It is fascinating to observe who picks out what. That ugly picture frame you though for sure no one would want flies off the table, while that vintage / antique piece you thought would go in an instant sits around till the very end. Interesting are the characters who barter with you till they score and those who pays the asking price without a second thought. Who is the seasoned scavenger, attending a sale like this every Saturday morning, to the casual browser who just stopped by on a whim. Rewarding to me is the teenage girl who just scored a stack of Gap, Abercrombie and JCrew clothes at $1 a piece. We were practically giving away a sundress here, a Columbia ski jacket there, a pair of Nine West heels for $2, a Banana Republic tweed button down coat for $1. A woman looking fabulous in a pair of my H&M shades marked $1, I let her have them for the quarter she offered. People went crazy for Mom's dried Hydrangea bunches. I even took one home myself. Neighbors flocked over, some with their dogs in tow. Old neighbors, new neighbors, supportive neighbors (Katie!) who baked us pastries. These napoleons were dreamy pillows of flaky pastry crust sandwiched around a light airy cream that was so smooth and sugary it glistened. Friends from town stopped by (Aimee, Rosie, Scott, Cindy, John T) who I hadn't seen in awhile. Multiple parties even let me know they've discovered and have been reading the blog! I love gaining new readers and am truly thankful and appreciative of the support and approval. (Thanks guys!) Whatever clothes, shoes, books and purses didn't sell on Sunday were donated to the Salvation Army. The futon didn't sell (it was a long shot) and neither did those framed pictures above. Those items were moved back to the basement. A portion of the profits were drank in the form of specialty martinis and sake carafes, and ate in the form of maki roll bliss. Which is the post I intended to write about here before I got carried away in glorious yard sale moments. You just never know where I'll find inspiration. Thank goodness I named my blog after the word.

Next up: The sushi is way more exciting than the front yard scene.