'Ff'lo (fflo) wrote,

yard sale a-gatherin'

I guess I've gleaned from the assembled what-all a few times now, so maybe it's not so surprising I'm not coming up with lots to sell at the group yard sale at my work next weekend.  I haven't looked at books yet, so maybe I'll grab a few boxes of those.  Not selling clothes, either, cuz let's face it that's not really a great yard sale thing.  To me.  Okay you don't have to face that if you don't want.  It's maybe not something that's to be faced by us.  I don't know why I said that.

Found the most special of my ex-'s dead great grandfather's outsider-art-type plaques.  It's the one that isn't decorated with just seeds and beans but with his daughter's gallstones as well.  I knew where the two boxes of his works were, but that one we'd had out separately.  The artist's great-granddaughter and I used to contemplate seeing if the American Visionary Arts Museum (back in Baltimore) might be interested in them.  Probably not, since he wasn't insanely obsessive, filling five rooms of a house and an entire barn with the things. Always seemed like the artist's story had to be other-ly enough that visitors to the museum could feel not crazy by comparison, or fortunate for their circumstances, or something like that.  Just a little thing that always bugged me about that place.

I price things cheap for yard saling.  With the exception of one or two items that aren't particularly more valuable but that I decide to value greatly.  "Bizarro dog puppet" is one such item this time.  I remember one time I asked something ridiculous for an old paperweight made of rocks that looked vaguely like a volcano.  I'd had it since childhood.  It was really ugly.  So I wrote on it "So ugly it's beautiful!"  And I got my price.  Or that's how I remember it.

I'm not gathering Grandpa Great's stuff for the yard sale, though.  That's to give it to his other relatives, the H-bomb's cousin and aunt.  Or auntie, as it is in that clan.  They may be coming through this berg week after next.  Kinda wild.  I told the cousin I'm not in touch with her cousin.

I wonder a little bit why she would want to see me, beyond gawking at what's become of Lisa.  That's not a thought I'm particularly proud to have.  But it has something to do with having had such a struggle in picking myself up and dusting myself off, and in surviving financially, in the aftermath of their relative.  Quite a legacy, having been left in that mess.  Not the least of which was naming it for what it was.  And starting to learn why in hell I'd have let myself have lost sight of reality as I did when I was sworn in my heart to root for her no matter what.
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