reality for pausing: garage sale

Monday, June 29, 2009

garage sale

the garage sale went well. of course, it happened during the hottest days we've had so far (in the 100s!). but we sold at least half of the stuff we set out. the most expensive selling item was 5 bucks, but 99% of everything was 25 cents each or a plastic grocery bag full for 2 dollars. almost everyone did the bag-full deal, and the funniest thing was how many people thanked us as they were leaving; they said, "this was so much fun! thank you for having it!" that was probably the best part of the sale--how enthusiastic they were as if they had just walking away from a day at the carnival. one little girl that day was having her very first experience at garage sales with her grandma and grandpa. after scoring some knickknacks and a paperweight, she exclaimed over one last found item she adored, "oh, grandma! can we please get this? i promise i'll never ask for anything ever again!"

(twixie shopping for a wallet)

the next day, we set stuff out for free and put up signs. by the evening, the items on the driveway had been gone through thoroughly, most of it taken. the rest of the stuff we have will be donated somewhere soon. unfortunately, (due to a migraine last thursday) i never got to the hard work of bringing out the stuff piled in the gazebo. work left for another day, i guess. we'll just have to donate whatever we find in there that is salvageable.

in other news, my grandpa had hip surgery today. the report is: he's doing fine, but grumpy. i'll take my grandma to visit him tomorrow. they had us over for dinner last night. grandma made cheese blintzes with sour cream and cranberry sauce, grilled veggies, and salad. it was delicious! we didn't get to her dessert, which sounds fantastic, but we were too full: vanilla ice cream inside

half an orange with caramel and cranberry pecan granola on top. wow! we've taken a rain check for tomorrow after we visit the hospital.

snark and i tried to do something fun today, but we didn't get too far. this time, he got the migraine. ah, well: we'll aim for some fun time tomorrow.

No comments:

Post a Comment

about this blog

Originally, I created this blog for family and friends to stay updated with our location and happenings while we were traveling the country. But only a few months after I began blogging about our travel adventures we drove into the sweet, slow town of Bisbee and ended up staying. We actually moved five times while living there, thanks to generous neighbors who asked us to long-term housesit in between our rentals. We are on the move once more, and so it seems we are habitually in transition.

Traveling and moving so often stirs up questions for us about what we really need to feel content, comfortable, and energized about life; it emphasizes for us our relationship and attachment to things--ours and other people's things that fill our living spaces; and it encourages me to appreciate the value in staying put, while realizing that frequent physical change underscores the uncertainty and occasions for choice that exist in all moments of life.

MARCH 2011

After a three-month pause for reflection, I'm coming back to this blog with a renewed perspective on what I want to share. I stopped blogging because with so many transitions happening in my life (moving, traveling, moving, and moving again in only a few months)--and, well just ordinary life happening--nothing seemed particularly notable for the sharing. I was feeling tired, overwhelmed, bored, dispassionate, stressed out, worried, weighed down. What did I really have to say? We all feel that way regularly enough, and who needs to hear more?

Pema Chodron touches on this in an article I just recently read in the March 2011 issue of Shambhala Sun: "When we look at the world around us--our immediate world and the bigger world beyond--we see a lot of difficulty and dysfunction. The news we hear is mostly bad news, and that makes us afraid. It can be quite discouraging" (48). Sometimes it takes unthinkable effort to stay encouraged by life when surrounded by so much obvious sadness and negativity--and it's difficult enough to summon the energy to reach beyond the anguish to share the beautiful moments. Maybe we even convince ourselves that the ordinary pleasures of life are insignificant in the face of such suffering. I don't understand the tricks of mind that I play on myself, but I know I repeatedly lose my vision for pausing in everyday reality, for seeing the smallest moments of magic.

Chodron tells us, there is a "basic queasiness that leads us to all kinds of self-destructive and other-destructive habits" and a "whole chain of events that emerges from our fear of uncertainty, of not knowing what in the world is happening or what is going to happen" (49). I feel an urgency to interact with this chain of events; to interfere knowingly--though perhaps innocently; to respond to my abounding fears and uncertainty with intent. I want to return to the primary assumption of this blog--a reality for pausing in: to not overlook or disregard the small points of joy, but to connect them; to appreciate the magic that is present in that which is obscured by routine; to actively express gratitude and to meaningfully alter the "chain of events that emerge" from my thoughts and practices, my surroundings.