Breakfast at Tiffany's. No, Shoney's.

It was a busy weekend. Michael's great-uncle has been moved from the hospice at St. Thomas back to his house (next door). We went over and hung out for a while when he got home Friday. You're never really sure how to approach situations like that; he isn't going to get better and the doctors say he'll die within a few weeks. I ended up telling him the truth, the only thing I could find to say: I'm glad you're home and get to spend your time here instead of in a hospital.

Michael and I slept over at our friend's house on Saturday night, which was so fun. I can't remember the last time I spent the night with a friend. We all went and got breakfast at Shoney's the next morning, where I ate my entire day's allotment for calories in a mere 30 minutes. Talent. I got to swimming in a pool instead of a creek or lake, so I was really excited about that.

Except for the bickering trio of children.
Child 1: MY corkscrews (dives) are better than yours, Junior.
Junior: Whatever! That is a lie. You both know I am the best at diving.
Child 3: Dad, tell them that I am the best diver. You saw me go in , I didn't even hit my head!
Dad: (not very motivated) Boys, now stop. You're all good at diving.
Child 1: Aahh! I cut my foot on the ladder! It's rusty--I don't have up to date shots! That means I've got tetanus!
Dad: (obviously impressed that the boy knows what tetanus is, but upset that the child is a whining drama queen) Tetanus? Aw, come on. Let me look at it. (Looks briefly, for what signs I'm not sure) Nope, just like I thought. No tetanus.

Even though my friend and I didn't exactly feel...safe due to the number of 45 year old men called by names like Pit Bull (I swear I am not making this up) that were appreciative of our swimsuit attire, we had a good time. And even got some water aerobics in, if kicking your feet and treading water while counting to 10 repeatedly counts as water aerobics.

Somehow, with the foodfest at Shoney's and all, I've managed to lose another 3 pounds this week, as determined by my yard sale find: a bright turquiose scale. It's like I lose more weight and am more active when I'm not trying as hard. Good to know.

I've heard from a couple people that they are reading and actually enjoying my blog. It makes me really happy to hear that because I really enjoy writing the posts and telling about the weird things that always seem to happen to me.

Thanks for following my train of thought!
Deb

Maybe I missed my calling.

Perhaps Healthcare Administration isn't the direction I should be going in. It's become clear to me, after the loads of cash I raked in at the yard sale, that I am natural born business woman. That's right, I can goad people into spending money on things they don't need, or even necessarily want. The trick is to make them THINK they need the item, and then feel guilty if they don't buy it. Here's an example:

Lady: Yeah, hon, it's cute, but I don't even HAVE a baby. Why would I need this stroller?
Me: Oh, strollers are great for loads of things. Do you have a pet? You could push them around the neighborhood.
Lady: No, I don't have a pet. I hate animals. And I don't live in a neighborhood.
Me: That's perfect! Then you can push the empty stroller around and no one will look at you and think you're crazy, since you're out in the boonies.
Lady: (a little more hesitant)....nah, I don't think I need it.
Me: (small sigh) Oh, alright. I just really wanted to sell as much of this stuff as possible. We'll be moving soon and there's no way I can carry all of this to the new house.
Lady: Can I give you $5?
Me: Sold!

I won't mention the loveseat in good condition that I sold for $10.
Or the brand new clothes that somehow slipped away for a mere 25 cents.
It's pointless to add that I may have sold an entire basket of new OPI nail polish for $3, or that those shoes I was NOT selling for less than $10 escaped my grasp with the promise of $2.

I think the key to doing business well is being friendly, which I've practiced so much in the mirror, I can almost do it now. I mean, if you asked any of the people that dealt with me during the sale, they would probably say that I was the nicest yard saler in the neighborhood. That may or may not have to do with the fact that the other sellers were 100 years old and not happy about baking in the sun or parting with their dusty quilts, but I digress. Friendly, check.

I learned a valuable lesson today. Sometimes it is better to sell something for a fraction of what you expected, just to get rid of the darn thing. Any amount of cash is better than lugging it back to the house (ahem, $10 loveseat) and finding a place to put it AGAIN.

I'm going to enjoy the rest of this beautiful weekend. Get off the computer and go do the same!

Deb

Sailing away

My plan for the yard sale is pretty simple. I will set up around 7am, placing everything in colorful containers with clearly labelled prices (no "This looks like it says 5 cents." "No, ma'am, that's $5.") and make sure to wear yard sale clothes. By this, I mean ugly clothes. See, other women, who comprise most of the "yard sale shoppers", are turned off when they notice a cute young mom selling her brand new clothes on the front porch of a yellow house. They are drawn like magnets when that mom is dressed in ugly clothes, especially if the stuff is brand new and they can all cackle together over what a great deal they got from the old hag in the yellow house. To find out more, read up on women's psychology. Something about jealousy.

All that being said, I better make lots of money (aka $100 or more).

Deb