PAWING THROUGH DEAD PEOPLES STUFF

So this morning I needed to go to the gas station and as I was leaving said gas station, I saw a sign that read, "Estate Sale" and I knew I had to follow the signs.


Now I'm a sucker for estate sales for the following reasons:


1.  You can find some swell stuff.


b.  You can find some swell stuff for low, low prices.  And some not-so-swell stuff at "Who are you trying to kid here?" prices.


iii.  It gives you a chance to be nosy paw through someone's stuff and nobody will say, "Hey!  What the hell do you think you're doing in here?"


So of course I must check it out and when I got there, it was apparent that as the sale actually started yesterday, the majority of good stuff had already been snatched up but I took a look anyway.


I wandered from room to room, picking up this, looking at that but not really seeing anything that I absolutely HAD to have.


Until I got into a back bedroom and hanging there in front of me were not one but TWO beautiful satin wedding dresses.


Oh, these were beautiful dresses, one from the 1930s and the other from the 1940s.  Both had cathedral length trains and both still had the headpieces and cathedral length veils as well as the satin shoes.  The satin had yellowed to a gorgeous creamy color and the lace and embroidery were still perfect.  Someone had spent A LOT of money on these wedding dresses.

I wanted these dresses SO BAD, even though I need them like a hole in the head, have no use for them and didn't have the money to buy them anyway but still.  I wanted them.  Sue me.

And then I got sad.  Like the time I went to an estate sale and one of the items was the wedding album of the dead lady. For some reason, that saddened me more than anything else that was in that house.  Someone had lived their life and now strangers were pawing through their personal belongings, hoping to score some good stuff for cheap prices.  

Anyway, I wondered about those wedding dresses.  Why were there two of them from roughly the same era?  Did the lady of the house marry twice in a relatively short time, both times in formal ceremonies?  What was their story?

I finally had to tear myself away from those beautiful dresses and headed toward the door empty handed.

Then I saw a pretty teacup and saucer and something made me grab it, I don't know what or why but I had to have that cup and saucer:

And as I went to pay for them out in the garage, I spied a mirror laying on a workbench and grabbed that as well:

I need a mirror for my entry way and this will be perfect after I've painted the frame.  Sucker weighs a ton, though.

So that was my day today.  Pawing through Dead Peoples Stuff for Fun and Profit.

And feeling sad and guilty about it.

 

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY

SELLING MY CHILDREN TO THE GYPSIES

Not that I haven't considered it a time or two.

Actually, I'm not talking about my offspring, Things 1 and 2. 


Only because I don't think I can get any money for those two.  Goats, possibly.  Money, no.

Because who wants to pay good money for surly teens with expensive hobbies?

*I* certainly don't.  So, I'm stuck with them.

Anyhoo, the children I'm talking about are my books.  My babies.  My raison d'etre.

I never, EVER thought I'd say this but I have too many books and it's time to let them go to new homes.  

I KNOW!!!!

Anyone who knows me knows that is a shocking statement.  And at this point, you're thinking one of the following reasons for that shocking statement:


1.  She's dying.


b.  She's getting divorced and moving to a tiny hovel without any room for books.


iii.  She violated one or more of the multiple restraining orders that various hockey players have taken out on her and will be exiled to some Godforsaken hellhole that doesn't have a hockey team to stalk as punishment and she can't take any books with her.


If you guessed "iii" you'd be correct.


Oh, I'm kidding.  The correct answer is "Diabetes.  John has Diabetes."

Seriously, I laugh every time I see that poster.  The Bucket to Hell has room for one more and I'm climbing in.

While Answer iii is totally viable, not to mention probable, it is still not the correct answer.


The real reason is I need to clear out my office and the bookcase in my office is one of the things that needs to go:

For starters, it's ugly and I can say that because I didn't pay any money for it.  It was someone else's discard and came with my massive desk I hate so much.  That will be shitcanned as well, as soon as I convince TheManTheMyth to build me the desk I want, which is very similar to this one in Pottery Barn although I believe we can do it for much, MUCH less.  Basically, I want a countertop desk over 2 file cabinets.  One of which needs to be a lateral file cabinet.


But back to my books.


I have two other bookcases as well, one in my entry:

and one in my living room:

Please note my Nancy Drew collection.  Those aren't going anywhere.  And look, Mom!  There's the lamp you (and the rest of my family) hate so much!  That's not going anywhere, either.


But I have a diverse collection of books on various subjects and it's going to be hard deciding which to get rid of and which to keep. It's like Sophie's Choice in book form.


Or deciding which of my children to sell (or trade) to the Gypsies.


Decisions, decisions.

LOVE HURTS

So, last week, TheManTheMyth was working on his motorcycle, prepping it for the April 22 Vikings MC National Hare & Hound desert race and I was interrupting him by blathering about my upcoming 5K race when suddenly, I realized something.

Me:  I just realized something, do you know what Sunday is?

TMTM:  A Day of Pain.

Me: What?


TMTM:  I'm racing a National, it's going to be 100 degrees at the race so it will be a Day of Pain.

Me:  No, it's our 23rd wedding anniversary!

TMTM: Same thing.

And we looked at each other and then roared laughter because Romantics we are Not.

Which is one of the reasons our marriage works.  


So, flash forward a few days to April 22, aka, "A Day of Pain."


I get out of bed and you may as well call me Uncle Joe because I was a-movin' kind of slow (at the Junction.  Petticoat. Junction) due to muscles that had not been used since Hector was a pup.  Oh, I was stiff and sore.


I spend my 23rd wedding anniversary doing laundry, paying bills, watching the Stanley Cup playoffs and waiting for my Menfolk to check in and let me know that they had finished their race and were safe and sound.  

Or alive at least.


Nine out of 10 times, their method of "checking in" consists of their arrival at home, tumbling out of the truck and announcing, "We're alive."


This time, TMTM actually calls to let me know they were done and heading home.


Yay, I say.  How was the race, I ask.  And TMTM replies, "I got T-boned by another racer barely 2 miles in so I didn't finish and Thing 1 had his best start ever until he went about a mile and sputtered to a stop because he forgot to turn the gas on like an idiot and he got passed by a bunch of racers."


And I'm all, "Wait.  You got T-boned?  Are you okay?"


And he says, "Well, I don't think anything is broken but my sternum hurts when I breathe.  But I got checked out by the medical team so I'm probably okay."


So they get home and TMTM gets out of the truck verrrrrrrry slowly and he's holding his arm kind of funny and I ask what's wrong and he says it just feels better to hold it like that and I help him hobble into the house.


He's unable to lift his arm to take his shirt off so I have to cut it off.  Nice road rash on his hip and shoulder from hitting the ground.  I get his shoes and socks off and I look down and ask, "What did you do to your foot?"


And he says, "Nothing, why?" and I say, "Oh, I don't know.  Maybe because it's swelling up like a sausage and is turning black and blue as we speak."


And he looks down at his foot and says, "Huh.  How'd that happen?"

So after a visit to Urgent Care, it has been determined that TheManTheMyth has broken ribs.

He can't lift his arms any further than chest high, he can't lean forward much, he can't lay on his side which means he has to lay on his back when he sleeps which means he snores like a lumberjack and I can't nudge him over on to his side which means I've been sleeping on the couch.  Again.


I coaxed Thing 2 into letting me bunk with her and she grudgingly agreed but then she complained that I snore (LIES!) and Gracie Lou got all freaked out because I wasn't in "our" bed and came looking for me and since Thing 2 INSISTS on keeping her bedroom door closed, Gracie Lou scratched frantically at the door and barked until I let her in and then Gracie kept moving around and then found something to chew on (and that Something turned out to be Thing 2's bottom retainer that had been left within reach) and that was when Gracie and I found ourselves unceremoniously booted out of The Cave with my pillow chucked at my back and we were told to find someplace else to sleep.


WhatEVER.


So I'm back on our Looks Comfy but Sure as Hell Is NOT sofa until TheManTheMyth heals up enough to at least turn on to his side when he sleeps.


Goody.


Oh, and today, I found out that when you hug someone with broken ribs, they will scream like a girl.


Because Love Hurts.

AND I RAN, I RAN SO FAR AWAY

Guess what I did yesterday?

No, go on, guess?

Give up?

I entered, ran AND finished my very first 5K race!

I KNOW!!!

I, who have not run willingly unless the police, hockey players, rabid dogs or zombies were involved, did this willingly.

LOOK!  Photographic evidence!

And, for all you doubters out there, proof that I finished

I KNOW!!!

Yeah, I know it's not the fastest time out there, I believe I finished something like 82nd in my age group (45-49) but dammit, I FINISHED!


My time would have been much better if either of these men* were running away from me ahead of me, 

They can run but they can't hide.
 
I have to give huge thanks to the following people:

My seester, Bippy (in blue), who "sponsored" me, meaning, she paid for my entry fee which meant there was no way I could flake out because she would kick my ass.

My friend Miss Lisa (in DayGlo Green) who kept me motivated and encouraged throughout because people, I had never run for more than a few minutes at a time since high school.

And kudos to my brother-in-law, Garen, for finishing his first 10K.  

That's Garen in the white tank, with Lisa's husband John (who finished WAAAAAY before Garen), offering encouragement toward the finish line.  Pay no attention to the little kid finishing ahead of Garen. 

We all had a great time, the weather was perfect (overcast, cool and gloomy) and when I got home, still feeling that Runner's High, Gracie Lou was waiting for me to take her on HER morning walk.

And guess who's moving just a wee bit slow this morning?  That would be me.  You can call me Uncle Joe, who's a-movin' kind of slow at the Junction.

*Of COURSE I would find a way to include hot hockey players in a post about running.  Because I'm Me.  And I love hockey.  And hockey players.   Okay, I'm done.
 

ONE MORE YEAR. PLEASE.

If there is a sport that I love more than any other, it's hockey.


I love me some hockey.


I also love me some hockey players.  Although they prefer that I love them from a distance of at least 150 feet.


Party poopers.


Anyway.


My daughter, Thing 2, shares my love of hockey.  TheManTheMyth and Thing 1 do Not.


Philistines.


Anyway.


What with the love that Thing 2 and I share for hockey, you'd think that we'd be season ticket holders for Our Team, the Anaheim Ducks or at least attend as many games as possible.


You'd be wrong.


I have gone entire SEASONS without attending a single game.  Which kills me but shit happens.


This year, I vowed that I would go to at least ONE game and as the clock ticked on the regular season and it became apparent that my team would not make the playoffs, I threw caution to the wind and bought tickets to last night's final home game.

Which means we'll be eating cereal and soup all week but dammit, I NEEDED my hockey.


Here is a view from our seats, which came with oxygen masks because we were WAAAAAY up there in the nosebleed section:

And those weren't the cheapest seats, either.


It was Fan Appreciation Night and there were thousands of prizes and goodies being given out as well as actual game jerseys given to a handful of lucky fans after the game.

Guess who didn't win a single thing?  Not even a coupon for a haircut, let alone Jonas Hiller's game jersey.  I would have traded Thing 1 for that jersey.

The three of us (Thing 2, her sidekick Sara and I) had a great time despite coming home empty handed:

Gee, and you wonder why the demented woman pictured above is not allowed anywhere near the players.

I promised Thing 2 that we would try to make it to at least one game a month next season.

We're hoping that Teemu Selanne will hold off on retiring and give us just One More Year.  


Last night, the cheers and chants of "One More Year" even delayed the dropping of the puck.  Even Thing 2 said that's the loudest she's ever heard the crowd at Honda Center.


Come back, Teemu.  Just One More Year.

WELL, THIS IS NOT GOOD

So yesterday, we started painting our Great Room, aka, Dining Room and Living Room.  Which is one Great Big Open Area along with our kitchen.  I'd show you a picture but everything is one Great Big Mess, what with furniture moved to the center of the room and all sorts of flotsam and jetsam covering every flat surface.

TheManTheMyth was getting ready to paint the ceiling, which I wanted painted a very, very, VERY pale blue, which HE was not in agreement with and, in fact, told me to step away from HGTV before someone gets hurt, when he started to remove our ceiling fan so he could paint the ceiling Not Very, Very, VERY pale blue.  Dammit.


I was in another room when I heard a crash and a few choice swear words coming from the Living Room.


This is what my beautiful Minka Aire ceiling fan looked like Before:

This is what it looked like After:

What's wrong with this picture?

What's worse is that I went on Minka Aire's website to see if I could just buy a replacement blade since that's all that actually broke and the answer was No.

Ironically, Thing 1 has the exact same fan in his room and when it was being installed, it was dropped and the only thing that broke was, you guessed it, one blade.  Yet we had to order an entire new fan.

So now, I have to order yet ANOTHER fan and I wish this was an April Fool's joke but, sadly, it's not.

Sigh.