Posts Tagged ‘Daily Life’

Yard sale….garage sale…tag sale….No mater what you call it…it’s a lot of work. 
I have spent the last 4 months gathering stuff together for us to start selling in the early morning hours of Saturday, when I would much rather be …sleeping.

Some of the sale items I hadn’t used in years; some were gifts and well, they were never used. 
Some people have suggested items that they think I should get rid of. 
“Really, the boys won’t care that you kept their first pair of  jammies….” 
Perhaps not, but I do. 

There are things that I will always keep.  And well, frankly, I don’t think they would sell. 
I still have Sam’s baby teeth.  He doesn’t believe in the Tooth Fairy anymore, but he can be heard saying, “You know if you still want to leave a couple of bucks under my pillow, that would be cool Mom.”

I have some of my grandmother’s cookbooks.  Well meaning individuals have said, “you should just toss those, nobody cooks like that anymore…no one uses butter.”  I do. 

At o’ dark thirty, I was setting things up. 
Making neat piles, everything carefully folded…former merchandising rep…what can I say? 

Our appointed garage sale bouncers held back the thundering hoards until we were set up. 

Women balked at $2.00 for a Children’s Place polo shirt that was worn maybe 3 times. 
Mothers asked for jeans in size 10 Slim and Husky 14….”Sorry, I only have size 12 Regular…this isn’t Kohl’s, I thought. 
The man looking for +sizes was very pleased with the selection of men’s shirts and pants.  He snapped up $40 worth.

There were those shoppers who thought we didn’t understand what they were saying to each other….
It was tempting to respond….”Yes, you might think that the gringos are asking too much for the jeans and T-shirts…but frankly I don’t think $2 bucks for a $14.00 pair of practically new pair of Levi’s is unreasonable…and you’ve got to be out of your mind if you think I’m going to accept .25 cents for a bottle Victoria Secret cologne. Perhaps I am naive on the ways of yard sales…but I did not expect to have someone barter with me. 
I stood my ground…at one point Hubby commented…”You’re a hard woman, Mrs. Stuart.” 

In between swarms of shoppers, we were entertained by the 92nd Airborne Hummingbird Division….there was one brightly colored pair that would peel off like X-wing fighters…and then jump to light speed.  Before 9 am the feeders were empty and I had to make a fast batch of syrup.  No chance of syrup sitting for days, fermenting and then  having drunk hummingbirds for neighbors. 

The boys returned with coffee and doughnuts – that was a nice treat…Three dozen doughnuts were a lot though.  Hubby and I silently agreed that we’d start selling doughnuts if necessary, to increase business. 

Extended family members must have sensed there were doughnuts and hot coffee at the homestead, as they stopped by to shop & sell some of their things.  For awhile we were swapping our ‘treasures’ back and forth.  My SIL got one of my sweaters, I got her ceramic pitcher and wash basin bowl…it will be perfect for that bed & breakfast I’ve always wanted to open… 
Hubby attempted to point out that purpose of the yard sale to SELL things…but by then all the SIL’s were on a sugar doughnut frenzy. 

Sets and sets of towels found new homes.  Flannel sheet sets went home for, I was told, a dog who had just had puppies.  I admit that the thought of puppy ‘piddles’on my old flannel sheets was a little distrubing…but she paid me $5 bucks for them…and they were hand me downs when I got them.   Books, vases and an odd collection of nick knacks were bought and space was made for more. 
Where do we acquire these things over the years? 
The plastic containers went fast at 10 cents a piece. 

When there was a lull in the shopping, I would re-arrange some of the merchandise and wouldn’t you know the next batch of shoppers would pick up the items and pay for their new-found treasures.  Hubby was amazed at my curbside merchandising techniques. 

A Marine just home from the Middle East cleaned our most of the big-ticket items…Bless him. 
The college students from the near by UC snapped up the book cases. 
Too bad we didn’t have more to sell.

As the sun was getting low, we boxed up our possessions, debating on what to do with them.  Sam had a grand idea,,,,”Let’s have a garage sale next weekend!”


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I don’t know when Sam went from calling me “Mom” to “Mooothher” complete with the eye roll.  Find myself often saying these days….”Your face is going to freeze that way…” 

Real Mothers don’t eat Quiche; they don’t have time to make it.
Real Mothers really do have eyes in the back of their heads. 
Real Mothers know that their kitchen utensils are probably in the sandbox, the front yard, the back yard or the pool. 
Real Mothers often have sticky floors, dented pots and pans (from drumming) filthy ovens and happy kids.
Dirty ovens make the best chocolate chip cookies. 
Real Mothers know that dried play dough doesn’t come out of carpets.
(Really, it doesn’t.) 
Real Mothers don’t want to know what the vacuum just sucked up.
(That’s why vacuum manufacturers designed the crevice tool.) 
Real Mothers sometimes ask ‘Why me?’ and get their answer when a little voice says, “Because I love you.”
Real Mothers know that a child’s growth is not measured
by height, years, mustache or grade level…
It is marked by the progression from Mama to Mommy to Mom to Mother…

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The DSM V, the bible of psychological disorders will be updated in 2013.  It might seem like this should not be a concern, but a few of us just found out that the category of Narcissistic Personality Disorder may be shifted to be included with other personality disorders…no longer listed on its own. 

To those of us that have survived abuse at the hands of a Narcissist this is a big deal.  When I first read the DSM’s listing of NPD almost 4 years ago, I was shocked when I realized that the characteristics listed were traits that the N manifested on a daily basis.  He has all nine. 

Narcissistic Personality Disorder

A pervasive pattern of grandiosity (in fantasy or behavior), need for admiration, and lack of empathy, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by five (or more) of the following:

(1) has a grandiose sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements)

(2) is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love

(3) believes that he or she is “special” and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people (or institutions)

(4) requires excessive admiration

(5) has a sense of entitlement, i.e., unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment or automatic compliance with his or her expectations

(6) is interpersonally exploitative, i.e., takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends

(7) lacks empathy: is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others

(8) is often envious of others or believes that others are envious of him or her

(9) shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes


In the grand scheme of things it may not really matter if NPD is deleted or included with some other “pathy.” 
I understand that “they” are accepting comments from the public until April.  If you are interested in voicing your experiences and sharing your comments please click on the link below and follow the prompts to share your comments and concerns. 


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God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change that I have too much stuff….

Courage to change the things I can to throw the stuff away

And the Wisdom to know the difference that this part of the journey is only a brief side trip.

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Hubby and I were sitting in the family room surrounded by packing boxes. 
We decided to take a break and Hubby was channel flipping…a favorite male past time it seems. 

There was a movie with a familiar black-haired man. 

Hubby:  Where have I seen that guy before? 
ES:  Well, he is a famous actor/singer from Broadway, movies and television.  His name is Mandy Patinkin. 
Hubby:  What have I seen him in? 
ES:  He plays in Criminal Minds…
Hubby:  No, I haven’t seen him in that. 
ES:  He was in the Princess Bride…”My name is…you killed my father…prepare to die…” 
Hubby:  No, we saw that a loooong time ago…it was something else…
ES:  Then…you may be remembering him as ‘Huxley’ in the movie Elmo In Grouchland
Hubby:  That’s it!  I knew I remembered him from somewhere!

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I stood in my kitchen this past Saturday morning, stirring my coffee and wondering where does one start when packing up 20 + years of life and memories? 
It was early, before 7 a.m. and as I looked down at the floor, I saw the shadow of Max walk by…even the shadow of his tail looked fluffy. “Hi buddy,” I said…and then I remembered. 
I smiled, something that I had not done for several days. 
You see, Max died on Saturday, January 2nd, between 4 and 6 am. 

Max stumbled when he walked in the door after sitting outside on the patio the morning of the 29th of December.  My husband and I exchanged worried looks of concern and immediately drove to the vet; Max was put on an IV, the vet felt a mass in Max’s belly that his technician was going to try and “tap” to determine what it was.   

Wednesday, the vet called to tell us that Max had cancer.  Our doctor wanted to know if we wanted to take Max home and spend some more time with him. 
Of course we did.  The first evening, Max ate a little bit and even sat on Sam’s Bakugan game board and tried to look interested in what Sam was saying.  Max tapped one of the balls with a paw. 

After that he slowed down more each day; he stopped eating and drinking. I started using an eye dropper to give him sips of water.  
How ironic. 
(When Max first arrived home with Hubby nearly 14 years ago, I had to feed Max with an eye dropper because he was so young, he still should have been nursing.) 

We prepared Sam for the fact that Max was not going to get better.  We all took turns holding Max and keeping him warm.  At night, I slept on the couch and kept my hand on him to make sure he knew I was there. 

By New Year’s Day, it was evident that we would be going to the vet’s office the next morning so that a shot could be administered.  The vet had assured us that Max was not in pain, but that death would not come without assistance.  By the evening of January 1st, Max could no longer walk, so I would change the thick towel we kept under him, since he could not get up to use the kitty box. 

Late that evening, he began to whimper every few minutes.  Finally sometime before 2 am, I was able to get him comfortable.  With my head pounding with a migraine, I gave him a kiss, told him we all loved him and I went to lay down in bed for awhile. 

At four in the morning, I went to check on him.  He was warm and he moved one of his cute little paws when I stroked his fur.  At 6:30 a.m. he was gone. 

I know that the phantom images of Max will not continue in our new place, so I am grateful for the vision I had early Saturday morning. 

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Never before at Christmas time have I ever had the gifts wrapped before midnight on Christmas morning.   Often hubby and I  were both bleary-eyed when our three boys woke up to open presents.  Where is the coffee? 
This afternoon my youngest went out with one of his brothers and I had over six hours to my self.
I thought I could clean the tub and take a hot bath without expecting someone to come bursting to ask if I had seen this or that.  And then, I heard an angel chorus….I could get all the Christmas presents wrapped!  I could even use the big table and not have to hide in our bedroom.  I wouldn’t have to lean over the bed, wrapping on top of the comforter; having to be careful not to cut fabric when I cut the wrapping paper. 

After about 3 hours, Pete and Sam called to say they were on their way home…”Did I need anything?”  “Yes,” I shouted, “I need you to stay gone two more hours!”  Sam wanted to know if I was wrapping stuff for him…he wants a razor scooter…the kind that sparks.  “No,” I said, “I don’t think there’s anything here for you yet.” 
Five hours later, I had everything wrapped…including the skooter….buried behind the tree.  Stocking stuffers are in five separate bags, ready to go when my family is down for the night.  I have a  new bottle of cough syrup to go in my stocking.  The kitty treats and toys are in their own gift bags.  

When hubby got home from work and the boys returned from the movies we had bowls of Superbowl Soup (shameless plug for past post) and corn bread.  I still haven’t asked what movie they saw, (maybe I don’t want to know) while enjoyed two more hours of wrapping in peace. 

This evening I walked past the tree.  There, hiding underneath was AJ, with her face buried in her gift bag. 
Even she can’t wait for Christmas.

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