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Yard sale liveblogging – Day 2

I definitely should have been covering our yard sale yesterday on Twitter. The excitement of updates like “Some lady claimed $20 for 8 place settings was not a bargain…” or “I just spent 15 minutes trying to prove that a $10 microwave still works – JUST TOUCH THE FREAKING CUP! IT’S WARM!” would have driven my stats through the roof. If only it had occurred to me that my wireless access actually works outside… That’s why I’m blogging now. We’ve got some leftover crap that’s all in the “under 2 dollar” range (much of it free) and I’m stuck playing retailer for any stragglers while The Woman tries to get Kayleigh down for a nap.

But it’s a beautiful day outside – perfect to take advantage of the mobility of modern computing. D’oh! Just lost Internet briefly. Maybe modern computing isn’t as wonderous as though.

As hectic as yesterday was, we did well for such a disorganized bunch (thank you so much to all of our friends that swung by and provided us with help/goods/company/distraction). Cut the money in half and I would still have been thankful just to be rid of so much bulky crap in our basement. There was a little anxiety  towards the end with so many unsold items left, but eventually we ditched 2 air conditioners, a microwave oven, a wet/dry vac, 2 light fixtures, 16 plates, 8 bowls, and 8 mugs. Lots of other little chachkas made their way into other people’s lives, but not having to return large metal devices to their resting place in our basement was the biggest win.

And today, with just a small amount of foot traffic, I can proudly proclaim that both of the large mirrors that taunted me all yesterday have left our possession. Yes, this weekend was a total win!

As much as I’d like to have another go at this later in the year, Craiglist and eBay will most likely be the tools of use for the remainder. The haggling drives me crazy. Going for a bargain is one thing. Acting annoyed because someone won’t sell crystal that’s worth $70 for less than $15 is another. And you know that people who balked at a DVD for a couple bucks will think nothing to pick it up in the store for over ten. At least we didn’t have someone trying to talk us down from a dime to a nickel like last time.

Later today it’ll be back inside to clean up the mess left behind. The only annoying part of getting rid of clutter is realizing just how much more was hiding behind it…

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Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough

I think it’s safe to assume that you’ve all heard the news. Thankfully I’ve already posted a couple times this month because it would really bug me to break my silence over the death of such a bizarre pop icon. And let’s face it, the jokes are too easy, the tributes are too schmaltzy, and nostalgia is too glossy. But that doesn’t change the fact that a man who touched so many of our lives passed away and that makes us all take a step back for reflection.

Thriller was the first album for more. I was planning a list of the top 10 albums to impact my life, and it was #1 (chronologically at least). This was the album that made me, as a nervous little kid, figure out how to work that record player. I remember looking over the album cover and reading the lyrics while the music played in the background. And what makes that an even greater memory is that so many of us share in it.

A couple years ago there was an article in Paste Magazine about missing Michael Jackson. Not simply missing the talented singer/dancer/entertainer, but missing the concept of the huge pop star that everybody loves. In this day and age of constantly looking for the next great thing, we lose one of the best parts of music and pop culture in general – sharing the experience with other people. We all knew – and still know – Thriller inside and out. Just queue up that song in the middle of any group and someone will start acting out the video – and everybody else will recognize it.

Look at some of the big viral videos the last few years: Indian Thriller, Prison Thriller, A Capella Thriller… Even before those there was Alien Ant Farm’s cover of “Smooth Criminal”. We all recognize and cling to our common past.

Oh crap… am I veering towards schmaltzy?

At this point let me just say that I agree with Chris’s take on MJ. I wanted a comeback (with or without the capital C). I wanted to have a king of pop again. As much as I wanted to dislike everything he did after Thriller, that would ignore “Smooth Criminal”, “Black and White”, “Remember the Time”, “Leave Me Alone”, “The Way You Make Me Feel”, etc. The video for “Bad” turned me off so much, but that didn’t change the fact that I actually continued to enjoy his music – come on, I LIKED MOONWALKER!

I’d like to say that this is the end of an era, but that era ended long ago. We may still cling to it in the 80s revival genre of movies and music, but it’s far from the same thing. Still, there’s a modicum of sorrow no matter how late we say goodbye to the past. At least we can still enjoy the music… and in this case maybe we can enjoy it even more without the bizarre personal sideshow that has plagued it for years.

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Belated Father’s Day

One part of my gift for this past Father’s Day mirrored part of my gift for The Woman back on Mother’s Day – a tear-jerking slideshow set to appropriately maudlin music. Although it was uploaded to Youtube somewhat quickly, it was never posted here because… because our copyright laws are retarded. There, I said it. Here’s the video in its current state; please sing CSN’s “Our House” while viewing:

I plan on substituting another song, but haven’t had the chance to do it. And in the meantime I’m avoiding turning this into a rant against the ridiculous music industry…

Along with the slideshow, I got an awesome tie. It’s not just awesome because its beautiful and cool (which it is), but because it’d the stereotypical dad gift – and that makes me feel like a real part of the club. But the nicest part of the surprise was a copy of “Where the Wild Things Are” (along with a little stuffed Max), which I promptly read to my little girl. And yes, my voice cracked midway through.

Fortunately I was able to compose myself long enough to partake in a breakfast burrito and bacon/avocado omelet at Raymond’s. It was a good day.

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Your moment of (baby) zen #5

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When it rains, it pours

So I started writing something a couple nights ago. But sleep has a tendency to rob me of those late night posts that I used to… you know… post. So I thought I’d finish it during a break at work. But the rain has just played havoc with some critical lines, and left me with no free time. And then the following night we were faced with a difficult night of attempted baby-sleeping. Which brought me to this morning, when I figured I could finish my thoughts or at least upload some baby zen. But that needs an Internet connection…

Yeah, of course, as soon as I get some time it’s spent fixing something. In this case I was stuck yelling at some automated troubleshooting agent from Verizon… “Are there any lights on the router?” “One” “How many are there?” “ONE!” “I’m sorry, I couldn’t understand you. Did you say fun?” “THERE IS ONE LIGHT YOU STUPID PIECE OF…”

Let’s just say that I’m not a fan. But after 10 or 15 or 20 or whatever minutes they agreed to send me a new router. This would be far less frustrating if I hadn’t just spent a few hours last week taking out my old router and switching back to Verizon’s because of “issues”. Fortunately my other old router (one that Verizon forgot to ask be returned) is acting as a suitable replacement for now.

But in case you couldn’t guess by now, inspiration has totally left the building. It’s been a struggle to get this far and I have no idea what to write… wait a second… inspiration… a new reality show: fat women, old women, strippers and midgets compete for the love of a blind man. That’s so money, baby!

Alright, maybe it’s time for me to shut down for the night…

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Your moment of (baby) zen #4

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Happy Mother’s Day

This isn’t the video I wanted to make, but it will have to do. For my beautiful wife, who has given me the most wonderful gift that is Kayleigh. Happy Mother’s Day.

P.S. For those curious about the music, “Danny’s Song” was the first song that we used regularly to put Kayleigh to sleep. It’s now embedded in my head forever.

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Your moment of (baby) zen #3

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Take my money, please!

We’ve been itching to get some work done on our house. Nothing too big…actually we wanted something very big. There is a plan. A master plan. A master plan that involves knocking out walls and parts of the roof and rearranging plumbing. A master plan that would turn our humble “3″ bedroom cape (our office/den is counted as a bedroom while the ones upstairs are awkward and small) into a spacious home with plenty of room on both floors.

But that plan had a flaw. And that flaw was the need for money. Specifically a need for money when the global economy decided to flush itself down the proverbial crapper. After a couple months of toying with the idea and speaking with some contractors I finally caved and called a bank. And they laughed at me. Alright, maybe they were actually polite about it, but some words were bandied about that didn’t put me in the best of moods. Words like “not economically feasible” and “decreasing property value” and “fat chance” and “stupid”.

It was disappointing because we managed to find a local contractor that seemed like the perfect choice to do the work. He suggested ways to cut costs even though he was already cheaper than other estimates, showed us some of his other work, took us to his office, bought me coffee, and was just generally a friendly guy. Once the money started to evaporate, we talked to him about doing the outside work that we need for safety reasons with the hope that next year some of the master plan could go into effect. And that’s where it currently ends.

And I’m left wondering, why do contractors not want my money? You see, we already started talking to some people last year about our crumbling front steps, potholed driveway, and collapsed retaining wall. They came in with some great ideas and put together some initial estimates. But once serious adjustments were made… where’d everybody go? Seriously, doesn’t anybody want money these days? Or are all contractors required to be flighty, inconsistent, and at least slightly unethical?

Unfortunately the hardscaping is not something I can do on my own (or even with the help of drunken friends). This isn’t like ripping out sheetrock or putting up shelves or replacing electrical components. We’re talking about demolishing brick steps, removing a concrete walkway, hauling lots of dirt and rocks, building a wall, and paving a driveway. My cordless drill, reciprocating saw, Wonder Bar, and large tub of joint compound just ain’t gonna cut it. Even if I drag up the sledge hammer chances are a few more bricks will be loosened and we’ll end up be using the side stairs for the next 3 years.

For all I know by this time tomorrow someone will get back to us with some concrete (har har!) numbers and we can start making plans to upgrade the decaying rubble look of our front yard properly. But I’m beginning to think the next time The Money Pit is on TV I’ll mistake it for a documentary…

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What’s the return policy on nostalgia?

I’m a collector. Of lots of things. CDs, DVDs, books, receipts… Receipts?!?!

Alright, it’s not like I pick up random receipts off the ground or snag them from tables when people aren’t looking or go to trade shows to discuss the latest and greatest in receipts. I simply don’t throw them out. And I attempt to organize them. Attempt being the operative word.

It all started sometime in the mid-90s. I got ahold of a database to keep track of the CDs I purchased. It even had a place to record where and when you bought it along with the sale price and the regular price. For all of those anal retentive people out there who get giddy about keeping track of too much information I say SQUEE! Yes, for years I dutily entered all of this information in the database… and kept the receipts as… let’s just say backup.

But this habit spread. Why just CDs? Soon I was holding onto every receipt for books and DVDs just in case I got a database for them. Then I started thinking of the possibilities. Why not keep track of how much money I spent on clothes, food, or computers parts (which, sadly, may have been more than clothes or food)? And thus I started filing away every little carbon copy I got in preparation for the day that I would finally have the capability to search, sort, and calculate to my hearts content.

Fast forward, oh, let’s say 10 years. My filing system is… no longer a system. Every statement, bill, invoice, receipt, birth certificate, etc. is crammed into random drawers and boxes spread throughout a house that managed to double the amount of paperwork that was generated in the decade beforehand. In other words, it wasn’t working.

Sure, I started to go through things. I would check purchases at the end of some months and chuck any slips for patently ridiculous items – do I really need to remember when I bought those envelopes? But too many things remained – because I did need to remember the $1.09 I spent on a bottle of water… in HAWAI’I! Now we are faced with the task of preparing our humble abode for a small creature who looks to start moving about on her own and putting everything within reach directly in her mouth. Perhaps it is time I dispose of my most carbon and ink covered collection.

Since I’m obviously not going to just dump it all without going through the various piles and folders, a weird sense of nostalgia has crept up. The obvious ones are receipts from our honeymoon and other vacations – little reminders of what we did on this day or that (except for this one for 150 bucks that I cannot for the life of me figure out). But other things start evoking memories, too: my old TV from Nobody Beats the Wiz, liquor for the big New Year’s Eve Party, and the deposit slip for my second car! One of the oldest ones I recently threw out was a dinner with a girl I dated years before The Woman came along – but it was from a couple years before we dated. I do have a funny story from that night – but not one that requires to know the price of the meal.

The computer related ones are fun because every nerd loves reminiscing about the days when we bought RAM in 1 MB increments and were excited to add a 16 color monitor to our rig. My first DVD drive is in there, but not my enormous 420 MB hard drive from freshman year. 50 dollar video games for the Playstation can get a little depressing, but the memory of bringing that system back to my dorm room for the first time is cool.

But it’s probably the CD receipts that still bring back the most memories. I spent many Saturday afternoon meandering through the Village looking for obscure releases and used deals. Each piece of paper from a defunct shop is a jolt back to all the hours I spent browsing cramped aisles searching for some band I heard someone mention to someone else must be checked out. Etherea closed around ‘98, but I’ve got proof that I was there! And the first time I brought Neutral Milk Hotel or Autechre home? Fantastic. How about that vinyl pressing of Kraftwerk or Glass Candy? So awesome.

But it’s time to realize that this little obsession has totally nerdified my best shot at hipsterdom. Off to the shredder we go!