Musings of an Italian-American Catholic wife, mother, and writer

Musings of an Italian-American Catholic wife, mother, and writer

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Murder and Mayhem at a Yard Sale



This past weekend we had a Neighborhood Yard Sale. Initially we weren't going to participate, but the boys said they had some things they wanted to sell,  and when Nonna and Nonno heard about it they said they had LOTS of things they wanted to sell and could they bring some things over. So, even though I hadn't planned to, at 6 a.m. Saturday morning I got up to shower, put the coffee pot on before Nonna and Nonno arrived, and gather some things from the attic that we could sell.


And where were my boys who instigated this whole thing?


Sleeping.


Okay, then. I helped my Mom and Dad set up in our driveway. My Mom is a keeper, and she had decided to use this opportunity to get rid of some things, many of which were very nice: ceramics, lamps, cappuccino sets, a German crystal punch bowl, a tall fichus tree in a beautiful ceramic pot, and an entire bedroom set (queen headboard, two nightstands, and a dresser). Of course, I scooped up a few items for me to keep (after all, I did have coffee waiting for them).


As you know, if you set up for a yard sale, they will come ... and they did. But after the first five arrivals browsed and didn't buy anything, my mother's feelings were hurt.


"They don't like my things," she said, and she was truly insulted.


Oh dear, Lord. I thought. Please let someone buy something soon.


And someone did. Only it was one of my things ... a wire basket. Not good, at all.


A few minutes later, FINALLY an interested buyer for the fichus tree, but Nonna refused the woman's counter offer and so the woman walked away.


Mom! Millie! Nonna! we all yelled.


Time for an intervention, I could see that.


"Mom," I said, very seriously. "Is your goal to make money, or is your goal to get rid of stuff? If your goal is to make money you won't, AND you'll have to lug everything back home; however, if your goal is to get rid of some things, then you will make some money AND clear out your closets."


She got it, but just to make sure we became quite adept with the diversionary tactics.


Nonno, on the other hand, had the opposite problem in that he practically gave things away. I went inside for TWO minutes, and while I was gone he sold my Lenox Christmas serving platter for $1. Lesson learned: that's what I get for taking a bathroom break, for not putting prices on my stuff, and for leaving Nonno outside alone.


My Dad also likes to joke.


"You might as well go ahead and buy it," he said to a woman who was looking at a boxed carving set. "If you don't use it to carve the turkey, you could always use it on your husband."


"Don't worry," said the woman, whose husband happened to be standing right next to her. "I have a gun, which is much quicker. I also have a septic tank in the back yard."


I hiccuped a laugh. I mean, WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?


By noon, the crystal bowl, the fichus tree, the ceramics, the lamps, the boxed carving set, and the bedroom set ... all SOLD. Of the boys, Timothy made the most, and Joe managed to sell his broken lawn mower (something he tried to do at the last TWO neighborhood yard sales).


"This was fun!" my Mom declared. "Next year we're going to do it again."


All in all it was a good day. The weather was beautiful, we made a little money, we got rid of stuff ... and nobody (thankfully!) was murdered.


Yard Sale



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