Elizabeth Wilder's Blog

The LAST of the Lasts

For many years, our family has done yard sales - you know where you spend weeks driving around enjoying the country and finding treasures until you do the same so others can drive around and take the treasures away.  Once upon a time, we would have big yard sales with friends on a Saturday and then walk around the Flea Markets on Sunday to see how many of our things we could find.  Those were the days when this type of activity was a hobby and we had great fun. (Also always picked up some profit, too).  We had made two big yard sale signs and used them year after year. The last several years however, took on a different style.  The "stuff" was not found by hunting but by finding out just how many of our treasures had been buried like pirates, not in the ground but under piles in the closets, corners of the garage and as a Thomas English Muffin, in all the nooks and crannies.  For the past 5 years, I have said - THIS is the last yard sale.  I'm getting too old and this is just plain too much work to which my family would humor me with a - sure Mom.  Since we decided to sell the house, we have had 3 yard sales with my same never again refrain but have done better by taking the left overs in the pick up to the local Goodwill Store (I'm sure we stocked the odds & end section for a year). The dregs we put on a table on the corner of our acre and put out a big FREE - HELP YOURSELF sign. Can you guess  the first thing taken - the sign!    The final stop at all sales is tossing the rest in the dump.  (My husband was forbidden to bring anything BACK).    Last weekend we did it again - managed to open more closets - should have just nailed them shut and sold the house as is.  I made my declaration - this is the LAST!  This sale included some of the furniture not making the trip to PA so I must admit it was a big help with the "big stuff".  Once we went through the system of giving to a couple different charities and left things out free for the pickers, the truck left for the dump.  On top of the pile were two big handmade garage sale signs.  I should have painted across them in bright red - the END!

Please note that my daughter has published a new children's book for a client through www.alexemi.com .  "Hiccup Hop" is a delightful story for a young child.  Also, her book written with my granddaughter "The Mommy Orphanage" has just received a national review at http://www.examiner.com/x-591-Childrens-Book-Examiner?mode=search&q=the+mommy+orphanage&Submit.x=16&Submit.y=9    You go girl!!!!

Another note:  I am a member of a site for grandparents of Chinese adoptees.  Each year Angel Covers has an auction to raise funds for international orphanages.  One of the founders of Angel Covers is a daughter of one of our members.  Originally they began by raising money for blankets for Chinese orphanages and now do wonderful educational and care projects for orphanages all over the world.  The auction this year runs from Nov. 1 - Nov 8.  You can take a look at www.angel covers.org and click on Gifts for the World.  All items are donated and you may find just the thing you like for yourself and/or as a gift.   

A Dutchman's Pants

The sudden crash startled me as I reached for a napkin on top of the fridge this morning.  The cuff on my blouse had caught the edge of a photo magnet on the door and popped it from its 15 year old display spot.  With an audible "no", I heard the white ceramic frame shatter on the floor and scatter like a jigsaw puzzle  - an "I LOVE" here - a "MY" there and GRAMMA looking like tiny fragments in a kaleidescope. As it broke I felt a piece of my heart break with it.  This crack opened an internal valve releasing tears from pent up emotions that I had bravely (or stubbornly) held tight inside.  As my Gramma would say - the straw that broke the camels back.  Along with the tension felt by all as a by product of life, we have added a pending major move to PA while our home in ME still stands FOR SALE pushing my stress-o-meter up another notch.  Add to that -  Friday night I rushed my husband to the ER due to a recurrence of a bleeding problem that we felt was well in the past.  Now here I was very early in the morning -for me - (I'm a night person) and into 30 nearly sleepless hours, getting ready to head back to the hospital to get test results and there on the floor among the rubble was a sweet picture of me and my tow head grandson as a toddler and although the frame was gone - the snap of that moment in time was still there.  I could hear my gramma on my shoulder again - "Betty, there's no use crying over spilled milk". As a child I was truly a klutz and heard that a lot.  With a sigh I picked up the pieces of frame (and me) and found a small magnet to put the picture back on the fridge.

The drive to the hospital takes about 30 minutes and it was a cloudy, dreary morning and I was deep into cloudy and dreary thoughts.  Then I saw it - just a little bit of blue peeking through the clouds.  Gramma always told me that the day will be fine as soon as you could see enough blue to make a Dutchman a pair of pants.  There it was.

At the hospital I walked in on my husband eating a huge breakfast and relishing every bite of scrambled eggs.  The GI specialist had been in even earlier (glad I never became o doctor) and said the tests reported the bleed had stopped and was stable.  If his blood counts were holding, he may be able to go home when our doctor saw him later on.  He wandered in at 11:30 - guess his circadian clock is more like mine.  My husband's blood counts were recovering nicely and the doctor was setting him free, even to ride to PA on Wednesday to sign papers for our new adventure.  This means I have one day to pack, plan and clean for an open house while we are gone - just the same old, same old.

Before leaving, I stopped at the cafeteria (yes at the hospital) and picked up a nice big lobster roll for his welcome home treat.  The sky was now totally a full brilliant blue - now that must be one big Dutchman.  Thanks Gramma - you and all my other guardian angels never get heavy on my shoulder - whisper in my ear any old time.   

USE or LOSE

Last weekend Hurricane Kyle took a jog to the East and traveled past our Southern Maine coast to Nova Scotia after causing some damage Downeast (the Northern Maine coast).  Once the rain settled in our area, we took a drive along the sea wall to see how we made out.  Even though Kyle was quite a way off shore, his presence had made the ocean mad enough to send raging surf to spit up seaweed and throw rocks over the wall and across the road to the cottages on the other side. I had always dreamed of owning a home right on the water until I saw what havoc a nor'easter could raise.  Living a few miles inland offers the same wonderful access to the coastline without the toss of the dice with every storm.

The salty air in the lingering mist conjured up a taste for seafood so we stopped at the nearby market and picked up a wonderful piece of fresh Atlantic salmon for supper.  There were two other customers ahead of me in line to check out.  The first was loudly complaining about elected officials and what was going on in the country.  She didn't like any of them and wasn't about to waste any of her time going to vote. (I thought - my Dad came home from Okinawa after WWII and told me even though he did not have to go - too old - he had to so he could protect my freedoms.  He and generations before and after have made the same sacrifices for you and you can't even exercise your right to vote?) The second customer said the first Tuesday of the month she always meets friends for lunch in Portland so would not be in town that day so most likely not be back to vote.  (Good grief lady - how about a few minutes on the way to Portland or come back a few minutes early.  I just saw a group of newly naturalized citizens on TV waving flags and when asked why it was so special, most said - "now I finally have the right to vote" and you find it an inconvenience?)  The cashier said he works late that day so won't be voting (Come on now - the high school is just up the street).  Then the cashier said - but if I don't vote I guess I really have no right to complain.  At that time I guess my thoughts became audible as I said "AMEN!" Suddenly I had 3 pairs of eyes staring at the crazy old lady.

I do agree with the clerk ------

USE YOUR RIGHT TO VOTE or LOSE YOUR RIGHT TO BITCH!