garage sale

Forget that ‘sign from God’ thing I was talking about

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Rose (above) and I fell in love with Ambergris Caye while pedaling around on a pair of rented bikes. We both see this as our primry mode of transportation as we make the move to the island in less than two weeks.
Rose (above) and I fell in love with Ambergris Caye while pedaling around on a pair of rented bikes. We both see this as our primry mode of transportation as we make the move to the island in less than two weeks.

That “sign from God” thing I mentioned in my last post?

You know, when my beloved 1981 Trek mountain bike with the urban tires was almost completely ignored at our garage sale, and I said it was a sign from god that I should keep it?

Well, not completely ignored. This one cranky old guy spent a ridiculous amount of time pointing out the dings and scratches and scars on the frame and kept saying, “Well, you know this will have to be refinished …”

Me: “Well, no, not really …”  and  “Oh, sure, it has marks but …” and so on. Read the rest of this entry »

Moving sale? Not the hell it could have been … not totally

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My arty garage sale signs, which mostly fell apart in the dark of night as I pounded them into the ground. Once again, duct tape saves Fumbling Man.
My arty garage sale signs, which mostly fell apart in the dark of night, as I pounded them into the ground. Once again, duct tape saves Fumbling Man.

Behind the dark bug-eye sunglasses lurked a face, young or old, I don’t know.  But there was a deep world-weary sigh every time she heard the price of a lamp or a pan or a book at the yard sale.

It was if life itself had betrayed her once more. “How? How? How could this lamp I so desire be $15?” her sigh seemed to say.

“Would you take seven?” is what she actually said. Read the rest of this entry »