But I love them. I love cleaning out closets, I love thinking that stuff I no longer have any need or want for will find a new home, and of course, I love making some extra moola. I was very thankful my mom was here to help me – we spent Friday night in the sweltering heat of my garage setting up and pricing. Saturday morning, I rolled the door up early – 6:15 am – to drag some things out on to the driveway and the first car pulled up at 6:37 am. 6:37!
The sale was listed to start at 8 am. But you know what? I love early birds. We had the most business from 7am-8am, and then again from 10:45am-11 am while we were packing up. In fact, one lady made out like a bandit with a bag I had ready to go to Goodwill. I’ve always heard people say that clothes don’t sell at garage sales, but the two we have had down here in NC, I haven’t found that to be the case. I always wonder if I’m going to be walking around Wal-mart one day and see someone rocking some of my former duds.
We wrapped up by 11 and dropped off the leftovers at Goodwill by noon. It’s nice to have my guest bedroom back – I had twenty boxes of “garage sale” stuff piled up in there for almost 2 months getting ready. Doesn’t it amaze you when you start getting ready for a garage sale (or when you go to move) how much stuff we seem to continuously acquire? I pride myself on regular trips to Goodwill, consigning or Craigslisting but I am still continuously boggled by the amount of stuff we own.
Which is interesting, considering a conversation my mom had with a neighbor across the street before the sale. He’s an antiques dealer, with a garage packed full of goodies, so of course he had to come over the night before and see if I had anything worth anything. (I didn’t. Because the world didn’t end in 2000, so my Y2K Beanie Baby is not worth the millions my 18 year old self had hoped it to be.) He and my mom were discussing the kinds of things he sold, and he commented how much the antique world had changed since he got his start in 1982. He was talking about the phases of collecting he’s seen, and in particular mentioned baskets. Oh my gosh, BASKETS. I can remember my mom going through a basket stage. She even took a basket making class. She was so into baskets. Anyways, he and my mom were saying how people today don’t really collect like they used to, and they have less interest in family pass-downs.
I know this to be true. My mom recently cleaned out my grandma and grandpa’s home, where they resided for 63 years. She texted me to ask if there was anything I wanted. I haven’t been in their home since my Grandma’s funeral in 2005, so I had a hard time remembering anything that was there, so I just asked her for some sewing notions. She brought me a few sewing notions, and a cookbook notebook in my Grandma’s hand and a book of poetry written by my Great-Grandfather. And that was the perfect amount of stuff. I’m certain there were so many things she put her hands on before putting them in a box – to be put in her basement, to go to Goodwill, to go to her garage sale – and held a particular memory in her hand in that moment. But what to do with all that stuff? She and her siblings homes are full, and their children (myself, my siblings and cousins) are of the Pottery Barn generation: neutral palates, less is more surfaces and maybe one or two interest pieces – a fabric covered last name letter, a few hardcover books, maybe a framed portrait – per room. No tchotckes in curio cabinets for us.
But we still acquire and we certainly do accumulate en masse. We preserve the memories in jpeg formats, in blog posts, in facebook status. We acquire facebook friends, Twitter followers, and external hard drives to hold the 800 digital pictures we took on one vacation. (This post is not self-reflective at all.) Our shelves may be mostly bare, but our drawers are filled with boxes of chargers and cords and software discs, the remnants of the shiny new whatevers.
I imagine that growing up in a time when stuff was not as cheap and plentiful as it can be today (see: Wal-mart) made the acquisitions of possessions a careful and deliberate process, and the parting with said possessions done with even greater care and consideration. My grandparents, who lived through a Great Depression we can’t even begin to fathom, probably saved every item they spent their hard earned dollar to acquire.
Meanwhile, I am practically impulsive in my willingness to Ebay an item, but will give excruciating consideration to deciding to un-friend someone on Facebook, even if they are the friend of a friend I met at wedding, got along with great under the guise of too much chardonnay and have never spoken to since. (Call me! We’ll do lunch! Someday!)
I guess what I’m trying to say (in my always so succinct fashion) is that the desire to acquire and to keep must be part of human nature; it is simply the means of doing so that varies from generation to generation. My grandparents saved every material possession they owned. I saved every IM conversation I had in college. Is there a difference? Does “don’t let the things you own, own you” apply to packrats and hoarders alone, or does it apply to my digital generation, smug at their sparsely decorated apartments, while hastily saving every moment in an 140 character blast?
While you think about that one, I’m going to finish backing up my blogs about July 2010. My grandkids might want these one day.
My sister found her wedding dress today! She had narrowed it down to two by the time I got down there today. I knew instantly when she put the first one on that that was the dress. But I was very curious about the second one… I couldn’t imagine her looking more radiant than the first one. It was a tough competition – the second one was just as gorgeous and she looked just as lovely. (Can feel the eyes getting a little prickly right now thinking of my baby sis walking down the aisle. Scuse me for a second, while I do the Southern Lady eye fan and regain composure.)
Both dresses were made for her, but the first one was it.
My mom and sister arrive from New York tonight! I wonder if my Mom knows what she’s getting into.
It has been really, really, really hot here. Really hot.
I’m going to cook flat-iron steaks with a balsamic vinegar reduction sauce tonight. I really like saying “reduction sauce” because it sounds fancy, but it really just involves leaving something liquid on the stove for a long time until about half of it evaporates.
When you do that accidentally it’s called “getting distracted.” BUT, call it a reduction sauce and suddenly it sounds fancy.
My mom and sis will head on down to Charlotte on Wednesday, where they have wedding dress shopping plans all day. I’ll join them Thursday, to hopefully help narrow down some finalists.
Friday, my mom will return to me where I shall put her to work helping me get ready for our garage sale on Saturday. Like I said, I wonder if my Mom knows what’ she’s herself into.
I think some gene gets activated when you have kids that makes you suddenly and selflessly okay with doing what would otherwise be intolerable activities, all because your sweet precious babies asked. I mean, I adore the Budster but he’s never asked me to help him move, organize a kitchen, iron a shirt, pick him up from softball practice, quiz him for a spelling test, or make a grilled cheese sandwich. Now that would test my love.
Then again, I’ve never asked my Mom to take my crate out back and hose poo out of it every day for an entire year. So, yea. Gene activated.
Totally innocent. No idea what this “crate business” you have mentioned?
I laid in bed til almost eleven. ELEVEN! I kept dreaming of water boiled bagels from Brighton, and french toast from Midtown Dessertry and even, I think, a Bojangles biscuit.
I don’t even really like Bojangles biscuit but that tells you how delusional slash sleepy I was.
When I did finally get up, I had Dad’s homemade banana bread instead. I won’t tell you how many slices I had, but I will confess my luggage had two more loaves in it.
It’s hard to want to be in two places at once.
I had Pontillo’s for lunch one last time and continued working on cleaning out my room. I can only do a little bit at a time, because it’s hard for me to get rid of stuff.
Like slap bracelets.
And best friend necklaces.
And my parents’ pass to get into basketball games.
Those are memories, ya know? (I’m a bit of a packrat.)
Then I packed, and we left for the airport. Weekends at home go too quickly. My travel back was uneventful, but I’m thinking that I’m going to stick with driving more these days. It bugs me that ever since airlines made us pay for checked bagged, everyone is bringing ginormous bags as carry-on. Now you can even pay more to get on early to make sure you get overhead space, which at first I thought was totally stupid, but now I see is kind of necessary. And it’s becoming a vicious cycle of paying for more things and it annoys me.
I’d rather pay for gas, diet mt. dews, combos and roll up I-95 with the windows down, singing to myself at the top of my lungs.
(My biggest fear in life is that I’ll purse-dial someone while I’m singing “Don’t Stop Believing” at the top of my lungs and instead of hanging up when they realize it’s a purse dial, they’ll listen to the whole thing because my singing is so atrocious.)
(For real. Whenever I’m singing in the car, I check my phone compulsively to make sure it didn’t dial anyone.)
Travel makes me punchy. I got to Charlotte around 10:30, and drove up to Winston. Then, because I had started a really good book on the plane and was almost done, I stayed up til almost 3 am finishing in the book. File under “bad decisions.”
But, I did come home to a clean house. Swiffered floors, laundry put away, dishes done. That is the best surprise I could have ever asked for.
I don’t have any work to do until later today, so I’m having a slow morning. A few more slices of banana bread, and I might get going.
I adore this dress. Can someone please invent a party for me to wear this to again?
Or perhaps, I could star in an off-off-off-of-off-off Broadway production of Beauty & the Beast. (My sister and I spontaneously broke out into singing “Tale as Old as Time” when I put this on.)
I’ve given away every other prom dress, homecoming dress and bridesmaid dress. But this continues to take up prime real estate in my closet. I don’t know why I have such a hard time parting with it.
Real life should include more opportunity for tulle.
I made a bit of a last minute decision and bought a flight to go home to Pittsford for my ten year high school reunion.
Ten years! It doesn’t seem possible. Imagine a decade from now…. 2020. Doesn’t that seem like eons from now? Like, we’ll have flying cars and self-cleaning houses (oooh!) in the oh so futuristic ten years from now, right? Ten years goes fast.
The reunion was so much fun – it was an odd mixture of people who came, I guess since it was in the middle of summer, and a fairly small representation of my class. Maybe forty people? I think we graduated with about 250. It was kind of nice that nobody seemed to have their entire high school posse represented so we all just sort of floated around and visited with each other. Or maybe it was just after ten years, no one remembered or cared who belonged to what clique anymore. No one seems that different from ten years ago, but everyone seems to be doing good things with their lives.
I only took one picture the entire time, and it was in the cab on the way there. This is my best friend, Krissy, and I. We met in eighth grade, in a class called Enrichment. I don’t remember what we were supposed to actually do during Enrichment, but if passing notes was the point, then we were top of the class. We originally bonded over our musical preferences. While everyone else was listening to either Pearl Jam, Dr. Dre or Dave Matthews Band, we had both (separately) discovered a love for the oldies station. We had certain songs we’d call each other when we heard them on the radio: Little Red Riding Hood and Snoopy vs. The Red Baron stand out in my mind.
In other words, we were pretty dorky. But we managed to turn out okay.
10 years ago: Spring Break in Myrtle Beach, April 2000. My sister, Katie, and friends Jamie, (me), Krissy and Tamara. And a waiter who wanted to immortalize himself in this shot too. I don’t think we’ve changed too much in ten years, except that no one parts their hair in the middle in the anymore. So late 90s.
I feel like the advent of Facebook (and the ease of keeping in touch over instant messenger, email, texting, cell phone/no long distance) has made reunions a little bit anticlimactic. I’ve kept in good touch with my closest friends from high school through these mediums, but I also have the ability to spy on almost anyone I’m slightly curious about from high school or other past stages of life via Facebook. There were very few people who I saw at the reunion who I didn’t have some semblance of what was going on in their life already. In fact, I found myself in conversations mentioning something about someone’s life and realizing I only knew that because I had seen it as a Facebook status. Since it happened back to me, I think that’s okay. For example, congratulating someone on a baby they just had when you probably haven’t had an actual conversation with them since sometime around graduation day? Thanks to Facebook. I obviously love the connections that internet/technology allow me to make and keep, but it certainly ruins the “where are they now” moments that reunions are supposed to have. I know exactly where they are; their Foursquare check in just told me.
What was the last reunion you had? Did you attend?
I’m kind of obsessed with this sandwich. I made it for dinner Tuesday night, and then had it again for lunch Wednesday, Thursday and Friday.
It’s good, ya’ll. Even if you’re not a big fan of squash, you might like it this way. Besides, what else are you going to do with all the extra squash your neighbor keeps giving you?
I made a video how-to of this last year, which I’ll post at the end. But if you prefer the drool-worthy picture step-by-step, here you go.
You’ll need: squash or zucchini, olive oil or balsamic vinaigrette, pesto, basil and real mozzarella (the kind that comes in a ball).
1. Preheat oven to 350.
2. Cut your squash (and/or zucchini) into rounds that about as thick as a quarter.
(PS, that’s my cute sister in my kitchen!)
3. Lay the squash coins out flat on a cooking sheet.
4. Drizzle with olive oil or… even better the balsamic vinegar recipe I gave you in my previous post! Sprinkle with Mrs. Dash’s, or Italian Seasoning or good ol’ salt n pepper.
5. Roast the coins in the oven at 350 for 20 minutes. Check them half way through, and flip ‘em over.
6. Meanwhile, spread about 2 tsp of pesto on a slice of bread.
7. Lay two thin slices of mozzrella (abt 1 oz) on the bread. Sprinkle a little pepper on, and microwave for 10 seconds just to get it a little melty. This is about where you should be dying from the delicious aroma of pesto + melted cheese.
8. Cover the mozz with basil. I really don’t believe in too much basil, but use your own discretion.
9. Once the squash is cooked, add it as the “meat” of your sandwich.
10. Devour. Repeat for the next four days in a row.
Okay, if that wasn’t good enough for you, you can watch me make it here. This is a lower-calorie version with a few swaps, but the steps are still the same.
I am thankful for every minute of the sun soaked days on a flat as glass lake spent with the best of friends.
I am doubly thankful that said friends welcome us (and our doggy) into their family-filled holiday weekend with open arms and room on the boat and the biggest platter of chicken salad I’ve ever seen.
I am thankful that after 200 failed attempts at wakeboarding, I didn’t give up, I stood up and finally experienced the thrill of *boop* going over the wake.
And with regards to that, I am thankful that Craig starts the boat slow enough that I actually *can* stand up.
I am thankful for the experience of watching Donna and Matt make their first attempt at wakeboarding, and specifically the smile that erupted across Donna’s face when she got it. (On like the 3rd time. Jerk.)
I am thankful for SPF 50.
And on this holiday, I am thankful for the freedom that living in this country bestows upon me: the right to pray to my God, to speak my mind, to choose my spouse and to get an education. To name a few basics.
Hope everyone had a happy and safe 4th. What are you thankful for?
I don’t know why people don’t believe me when I tell them about my dog’s anxiety. I mean, LOOK at him. He is just WILD and out of control.
Um, yeah, he’d be the one all noodled up in the lawn while 15+ people splashed in the lake, spun off on sea-doo’s and ran back and forth past him to the house up the hill.
I was just thinking to myself the other day that I wished we still operated in a world where “bartering” was common and people paid for services with fresh eggs and zucchini and green beans, cos I had a hankering for some farm fresh food and no space in my day to get to the Farmer’s Market!
Be careful what you wish for, right? A day after thinking this thought, I was given a bag of green beans, a bag of zucchini and squash, THREE bags of basil (pesto), a whole heap of cucumbers and some heirloom tomatoes. It was time to get cooking!
This is obviously the best time of year for fresh veggies, and if you’re lucky to live near a Farmer’s Market (or have clients who show their thanks in produce) then this is the time to take advantage of the Earth’s bounty. But one of the challenges of eating from the market, is eating what’s in season… and that might sometimes be veggies that you aren’t familiar with. If your usual veggie MO is to tear open the bag of romaine and pour some ranch dressing on, then let me introduce you to my favorite veggie prep method…. ROASTING!
Roasting is so absurdly easy it shouldn’t even be called a technique, but I think it is truly the most delicious way to prep a vegetable. Really…. better than a Bloomin’ Onion. Roasting brings out the natural sugars in vegetables and makes their flavors sweeter, more potent and diminishes the bitter flavor that turns many people off from veggies.
Almost any veggie can be roasted. My favorites are zucchini and squash, green beans, asparagus and root vegetables (onions, potatoes, beets.)
Prep work:
1. Preheat your oven to 400 degrees. A nice toasty oven is the key to roasting.
2. Chop veggies into even sized pieces. I like either “one bite” or “two bite” pieces. (You know, a piece you can eat in either one bite or two bites.)
3. Put your veggies in a ziploc bag and add 1 T of olive oil. You may have to adjust that depending on how many veggie pieces you have, but I find that’s enough to cover a whole cookie sheet of veggies. Shake shake shake to coat all the pieces.
4. Lay out in a single layer on a cookie sheet. If you’re not into messes, you could cover your cookie sheet with tinfoil and you’ll have the easiest clean up EVER.
5. Sprinkle with a little bit of rock salt, and pepper if you’d like.
6. Roast for 10 minutes. Take out and move around (stir, flip, shuffle… just wiggle them around a little bit.) 10 more minutes, shuffle. 10 more minutes.
***Pay attention after the 2nd 10 minutes (20 minutes cook time.) Some veggies will be done at this time. You can taste or poke to be sure.
7. EAT! )That’s my favorite step, of course.)
Alternative Options:
#1) Dress with balsamic vinaigrette for a little more flavor (works especially great on squash and zucchini.) Shannon’s Homemade Balsamic Vinaigrette Dressing (makes a big batch)
2/3 cup olive oil
1/3 cup balsamic vinegar
1 T dijon mustard
1 T sugar
In case you’re wondering, Shannon was the owner of the coffee/sandwich shop I worked in all through high school. We kept this dressing on hand and put on just about every salad and sandwich we made. I still keep a batch of it on hand at all times.
#2) Toss afterward with a homemade vinaigrette. Here’s one of my favorites to toss on green beans.
3 T olive oil
2 T white wine vinegar
2 t sugar
1 t dijon mustard
Any chopped herbs you might have (parsley, basil, dill) or a pinch of dried basil
Put in a glass jar with a lid and shake to emulsify, pour over hot green beans and serve!
