The Rummage Sale

After a day in bed recovering, I am prepared to report on the windfall profits I reaped. It took about 4 hours to sort, sift, clean and price 5 box loads of junk--I mean recyclables. (BTW, the dictionary informs me there is no such word as 'recyclables') The morning of the Big Sale I was up early so I could be first through the doors to set up at 9 am. I only had one hour and if it weren't for the plastic wagon--with one wheel broken by the movers--I couldn't have done it. The wagon held one box at a time--so there were 5 trips from the Jeep in the parking lot to the table in the hall. I was dangerously pre-vapors by 9:30 am!

The hoardes of buyers were allowed in 10 minutes early because the organizers of the Rummage Sale obviously didn't hire the local talent (Hall Monitors) to guard the doors. Since the masses simply decided they'd waited long enough outside they just crashed the Rummage Sale and the mob ruled. The one time the Hall Monitors of SeniorLand could have done a service, they were nowhere to be found. As in life, good manners and gentility were defeated by sheer numbers of people with a mission.

There were 51 tables and I didn't get a chance to see what anyone was selling other than my immediate neighbors. For an hour and a half, I was busy wrapping up breakables and collecting my dollars. My business practice was to put ones and fives in my right pocket and everything else in my left. The surprise would come when I finally got home to add up my excessive profiteering. This was in stark contrast to a friend whose accountant husband had come to lend a hand and could give her a running tally of expenses, profit, inflation, inventory and the price of gold at any given moment.

The most amusing moment was when THREE Russians all showed up at my table at the same time. I was selling a little wooden onion dome 'made in Russia' bell. It was painted in those beautiful blues and golds and it had a little eastern cross on the top. Russian #1 asked me something in Russian and drew a blank from me--then he pointed to the ornament and asked something else. I must have still looked puzzled (I'd answered "Alaska") because he then pulled out a cross on a long chain he was wearing and began waving it. At this point the other two Russians showed up . I was catching on because I took out the cross I was wearing and began waving it at Russian #1. This inspired Russians #3 & 4 to take out their crosses and begin waving them. All this cross waving engendered such a feeling of goodwill all around that when I realized they all wanted the same item, I said I would now entertain bids on the onion dome. The cross-waving ceased and the line was drawn. Then--in a flash--the competition disappeared and they began, "No--I wouldn't think of it. You were here first. You must have it" followed by, "I couldn't possibly-- YOU were here first--it is yours." Seeing my profit evaporating, I declared the bauble SOLD to Russian #1.

A more poignant moment was the very elderly French lady who was going through the CDs I was selling. I had 2 sets of French songs and her eyes began to tear up as she read the titles. In a thick French accent she told me her happy memories of when she was a young girl in Paris. She toddled off to find her daughter and came back with a dollar to buy one of the CDs. Over the morning she returned twice to look at the remaining CD. Finally I just gave it to her, explaining that the music would make her happy whereas I was selling it because the music made me sad. I told her how my daughter had just moved to France for three years and I couldn't listen to French music right now. Those CDs found the right home.

Although the sale was supposed to last for 3 hours people were growing tired and wanted their lunches and naps. By noon, people were closing up shop and calling it a day. Two hours of heavy bartering and selling had taken its toll on me as well. I only had less than one box of inventory which I could donate simply by leaving it there. I brought home a few Homer Laughlin china pieces that I didn't want going to those who might not know what it is.

http://www.hlcca.org/

I left the Rummage Sale at 1:15 pm and by 1:30 pm was in bed with a gin and tonic, counting up the fruits of the capitialistic system that has made this country so great--past tense, I feel I must add. (I believe we have passed over into a socialistic system since the Great Taxpayer Rip-Off aka "bailout" was signed by President Bush a few weeks ago. But that's another post)

Sipping my G&T and swooning against my propped-up pillows, I counted my dollar bills. I had a grand total of ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY EIGHT DOLLARS!!! Minus my initial outlay of $10.00 for the table at the sale and totally discounting the cost of my time and energy, I had a profit of $128.00. The entertainment factor for the morning was high. The effort wasn't worth it. Next year I shall apply for government assistence to compensate me for NOT doing the work. It is the new American Way.

The Boomers Are Coming to SeniorLand

The Renovations to the new house are finally mostly complete. I think you'll see the modest remodeling we did paid off handsomely.

I overheard a conversation at the pool the other day. The two women chatting were in their 80ies.

"I saw a couple the other day."

"Buying a house?"

"Yes, on our street. It's not the first time either."

"Well, I guess we better start getting ready for them."

Turns out they were talking about Boomers! I introduced myself as a Boomer who had recently bought a house here in SeniorLand. And their response? Not "pleased to meet you" or "welcome" BUT "Do you think your generation is ever going to get your act together?"

Okay--there you have it. But--we have our first official position here in SeniorLand. We are block captains for the Emergency Preparedness Team! Now I know it's because we both drive and no one is on oxygen yet but still--there you have it.

They could not have selected a better couple. I have my apocalyptic vehicle(Trail-rated 4x4 Jeep Quadra Drive II hemi 5.7 litre engine), gas masks bought immediately after 9/11, a good supply of Cipro(stocked since the last anthrax scare), innumerable first aid kits, hand-cranked flashlights and radios, space blankets, CB radios, and a shelf's worth of survival books. I will keep you posted if we are ever called upon to assume the mantle of leadership in an emergency.

Most of the basic house updating is completed. The number of unpacked boxes is dwindling--althought it's difficult to tell from the mess in every room. The doggy door is in but not the steps so if the dogs try and use their door, they have a steep drop of about 4 feet. The labradoodle can manage it--she's just slow to remember--but the poodle can't get back in the house. Ahhhh, the learning curve between breeds has never been more obvious.

And for those of you who couldn't imagine 2 slices of garlic bread from 2005 looking still edible, here is photo evidence for you.

Okay, Okay--before I start getting the comments--this is what our house really looks like!(The other "cottage" is a winery across the street!

These are a Few of My Favorite Things----NOT

The dreaded moving day arrived and for the 15th time we got to watch all our things get “dumped” onto, into and next to our house. Boxes that had been put in storage nearly a year ago suddenly materialized. Boxes that would need unpacking! Furniture that needed to be put someplace.





We had 5 movers, one supervisor, a handyman still installing the baseboards and doggy door, carpet installers laying bedroom carpeting and Mr. T and myself with “deer in the headlights” facial expressions. Here we go again.
It took the movers from 11 am until 9:30 pm to empty the two vans. Did you know that the trucks (tractors) are expected to get ONE MILLION MILES from the engines?? Do you know a grand piano weighs 900 pounds and requires 3 men to move it—move it into the house or move it just maybe 4" more to the left? No—I mean forward—wait, 6” forward and back to the right?






When we moved to Bakersfield in 2003 I got brand-new, matching washer and dryer! They are no more—the electric dryer doesn’t work in the gas hook-up house. So—the new dryer goes up for sale and I’ll make do with the 20 year old gas dryer that came with the house. The freezer arrived moldy beyond rehab. There are now 2 refrigerators. These are little problems.






We have slept on Select Comfort Air Beds for the last 4 years. These beds are totally useless until the pumps are located! I will keep you posted.

Is it possible to unpack a kitchen and NOT line the drawers with that sticky paper with the dumb flowers? I can’t. I was imprinted too early. And why would movers pack tea cups in one box—which has been found—but pack up the saucers somewhere else? In a box that has NOT been found.

But the “OH YUCK” award goes to the bun warmer. Yes—an electric bun warmer—that contained 2 slices of garlic bread from some long-ago dinner. The bread had solidified into rock-hard plastic-like faux bread. No deterioration, no mold, no melding—just life-like petrified garlic bread.






Is there an expiration date on running away?

Singet, Singet.....

HEINRICH SCHUTZ

October 8 1585--November 6, 1672

Today is the anniversary of the birth of Heinrich Schutz--pretty close since that's the old calendar--but good enough. Schutz was one of the greatest composers who ever lived and my own personal favorite.

To please his father he got his law degree and then promptly left "Germany" for Italy to study with G. Gabriell. That was definitely a good decision for music!

You can look him up yourself although it is pointless if you don't also listen to his music. His life was long, sad, unsettled and productive. One of his most joyful compositions--The Christmas Story--was written at the end of his life when he was in his 80ies.

It does not do Western Civilization any credit that so much of his music has been lost to the mess of wars and carelessness of those who don't know treasure from trash.

Surprisingly, the Lutherans have a day during the year when 3 great protestant composers are honored: JS Bach, Handel and Schutz. Although in my heart I always felt Schutz was a secret Catholic--all that exposure in Venice to the True Faith while the True Faith still took music seriously--is a tribute to Lutherans that they still honor this superb composer.

One of his more interesting commisions must have been when Schutz composed the funeral music for Count Heinrich Posthumous Reuss, who died on December 3, 1635. Apparently it was performed so the Count could hear it while he was still on the right side of the grass--talk about your "pre-need" funeral planning!

Schutz wrote some of the most beautiful choral music the world has ever known. He was a renowned organist--none of his organ music survives. In fact, none of his instrumental music survives. This is how society treats its jewels. I wish we learned from the past.

Schutz worked most of his life(when he wasn't on the run because of the 30 Years War) in Dresden and was buried there. Nearly 300 years later that magnificent church and Schutz's bones were destroyed in the firebombing of Dresden--that completely unnecessasry, vengeful destruction of one of the jewels in the crown of Western Civilization.

Today also marks the anniversary of my own reception into the Catholic Church 23 years ago. I chose the date on purpose.

http://www.realmusic.ru/songs/418947/

And An Ordinary Life Continues.....

Back from Denver. By the second day I'd learned how to navigate the public transportation from our hotel out to National Jewish--a piece of cake! So many people take the busses and trains in Denver and it seems to work well. I never did figure out what to do with the little piece of paper the bus driver gave me but once I figured out where the fare went and where to get off the bus, the system seemed to work very efficiently.

http://portfolio.lieblein.com/projects/wheels/

The news from the doctor was good: no further lung damage. Now I play the waiting game for the lab results--it should be about 8 weeks. That is the real report card.

Going through security at Stapleton was a mess. This time we got herded into a line where they were testing a new security device. It was a little "phone booth" that blew air at you. The air was strong enough to blow my blouse nearly over my head--sort of the device used for those old cheesecake photos of starlets having their skirts blown up from sidewalk grates.

The sneaky part of this line was victims were NOT supposed to remove their shoes so this slowed the line down even more since we're all programmed to take off our shoes. So---shoes had to be put back on, into the air-hissing phone booth, out the other door, and then see if your carry on had passed security.

Once again, mine did not. I got quite the lecture--only ONE baggie allowed, ONE quart size only, and if I didn't get with the program I was going to have to watch a video on clearing security. I was so discouraged I couldn't even start singing "My Country 'Tis of Thee." Besides, when I started singing going through security in Seattle, my mother had wadded up her boarding pass and stuffed it in my mouth. No one was happy with having to unwad a damp boarding pass and touch that!

Today is October 3rd. The Congress passed the so-called bail-out bill. In my opinion, today marks the end of the United States as we thought it was. We have slid over the line into socialism and the sad part is that I think most people want it. The dream has begun morphing into the nightmare and the grand experiment is over. There is a grieving process beginning.

In this so-called economic crisis we signed escrow papers. I doubt there will be any government help in lowering our principle or our interest rates. Alas, the people have discovered they can vote themselves funds. The takers will continue to take and the politicians will continue to pillage. Watch who gets this $800 billion rip-off. It won't be you and me. No one will go to jail; no one will forfeit their gross rip-offs at taxpayers' expense; no one will be held accountable. And, even worse, no one will even feel ashamed. They might as well be Catholic bishops.

Finit.

Mama Toc Helps Out Mother Earth

Yes--I took the bus. A city bus. Here in Denver which is a big city. Armed with a print-out of the bus route and 2 maps of downtown(totally useless for me) I arrived at the bus stop with 3 minutes to spare. I hopped on the 15L and 15 minutes later, I arrived at National Jewish. It was a piece of cake.

Denver is a young city. People in cities walk faster. There were mostly minorities on the bus but everyone but moi seemed to have the system figured out. I noticed that everyone seemed to know how the bus system worked--and nobody but myself used money. They all had something they flashed at the driver who barely looked up--but was very helpful with me and made sure I got off at the right stop. But when I stood up to get off the bus I was horrified to discover my jacket, pants and the bus seat were sopping wet! I couldn't imagine what had happened.

I soon discovered that when I'd left the hotel room I'd thrown my bottle of water into my backpack at the last minute. I'd forgotten to screw the top down so when it ended up upside down in the pack, it had leaked water out all over everything! I shudder to think what the next person who sat in my bus seat thought had happened to the previous patron.

Being back at National Jewish was a familiar experience. I was feeling pretty cocky until it was my turn to check in. That's when I realized I had screwed up BIG TIME just before leaving the hotel room. The purse I'd brought wasn't nearly large enough to hold everything I needed. I had taken the purse and shaken the contents into my backpack and dashed out of the room. The problem was that my CASH, CREDIT CARDS, ID, HEALTH CARD, MEDICAL RECORDS & CELL PHONE were not in my backpack! I was stranded. If it hadn't been for the $5.00 bill Mr. T had left on the desk and I had shoved in my pocket at the last minute I would have been up S. Creek with no paddle!!!!

Fortunately, the people at NJC were very understanding and I didn't need to present anything--they had all the information still on file from last April. Once again, I proclaim that Congress should just GO HOME and turn over the running of the country to the amazingly efficient folk at National Jewish. The place is amazing. I had 5 procedures done over 3 hours and poof! was done and out the door--ready to tackle the return trip by public transit.

Now it was rush hour and the trip was quite different. First of all, I would like to point out that the 15L bus is definitely NOT the same as the 15 bus. I managed to get on the 15 bus. I think I was distracted by the young man with dreadlocks down past his shoulder and a fake pony tail that dangled at least a foot past his, uh, how shall we say? elimination portal? It swayed when he walked, bopping each "cheek" of his butt. No wonder I got on the wrong bus.

The bus was jam-packed on the return trip. After about 25 minutes on the bus I realized I was on the wrong bus. I asked the driver how to get to Champa St. and she pointed in a general direction and I got off. Oy vey! It took me about one block to get totally lost. I passed a Starbucks--can't go in and get coffee--no card or cash. I passed a Ross--I really wanted to get a new purse that would work on this trip--no go--no cash, no credit card. I was in a whole different world. It was a world where I could not just get what I wanted. It was a sobering thought. I wasn't talking about lavish expenditures--I was just talking about a few items that would have made my life easier at this particular moment.

In short, the trip home took me an hour. I stumbled upon the hotel in what seemed to me, totally by chance. I had no idea where I got off the bus and had left the card with the hotel address in the purse. All I know is that I blessed Mr. T a thousand times for having gotten a bottle of pinot grigio the night before. Don't bother with a glass--just put a nipple in that bottle and hand it over!!!

One has survived. More to follow.

FORE!

This is one of the few times in my life when I have nothing to say. Too much is going on and the activity blocks most thoughts, clogs up the memory banks worse than bacon does arteries and causes a general mental shut-down. How about a demolition crew named Paolo, Hill and Able??? How about the number of golf balls collected from the back yard in one week's time standing at 51???

We are now homeowners again. Closing escrow was less painful than in the past although for stress, we had to turn off all media so we didn't hear the financial crash and burn news while we were getting back in the housing market. Our pattern has been to buy houses at times of dire financial plunges--first in 1973 just before the devastating inflation during the Carter years and interest rates of 10%; we bought again in 1980 with what was then called "creative financing" which meant you took out 2 mortgages for a combined interest payment of 15% and a huge balloon payment after 5 years; And again in 2008 where it feels we've come full-circle.

This last house is different--I refused to put in hardwood floors that are guaranteed to last longer than I will. I'm breaking out of my antique white mode which I have had in every house we've ever owned--I'm breaking the color barrier by painting the interior SPANISH SAND!! (The paint sample to the left looks NOTHING like Spanish Sand) Such eccentric behavior must be a sign of senioritis. But rest assured--I have only expanded to Navajo White for the trim.

A friend of mine since the 5th grade and I took our 85 year old mothers on a cruise to Alaska last week. At least this time we got one day of sunshine and it was while we were in Glacier Bay. It was one of the most awesome sights I've ever experienced. I got up before sunrise and stayed on the bow for 3 hours snapping photos. It was luscious.

We now have until the 8th of October to get the flooring and new carpeting installed, the lighting wired in and all the interior painting done. I will photo doc this process to the total boredom of my casual readers and breath-baiting interest of my regular 18 fans.

But first--back to National Jewish for my first "report card" on the lungs. Inhale, hold, spit, etc. I will spare you the worst details.