Come on, Come on...

So Friday morning finds me wandering out to my mailbox with bleary eyes, bed head hair, Starbucks mug in hand, clad in only a plush leopard print robe.  Truly a sight for sore eyes and morning commuters whizzing by.  Certainly not the vision they needed burned into their brains on this, the beginning of the weekend.  But I digress.  My peripheral vision shows my neighbor-up with the birds, I presume-lugging stuff out of her garage for a sale.  Oh Lord..the utter ambition.

Flashbacks!!!

Until the past few years, when she had nothing else to sell, my Mother held her annual 'G Sale'.  Such sale was a major production involving our whole family with weeks of preparation.  My sister, brother and I would be called upon to sort through clothes that didn't fit and toys that we no longer played with.  My Mom scoured the basement and storage areas of the house for things that did not make the cut for last years sale.  My Dad would move his stuff around the garage to allow space for the set up.  His truck was used to haul tables needed to display the merchandise.  My mom would painstakingly price each and every item, securing a small paper tag with a straight pin.  We then filled the spaces with organization that would rival a Gap store. 

In the preceding week, friends and neighbors would be phoned and invited to the 'pre sale'.  Early sales were necessary to make room for better displaying of the goods.  All week, our hallway and bathroom were busy as the area doubled as a fitting room, one with no limit on the number of garments allowed.  Children were left to their own devices to shop or play with toys.  There was always a 'free box' where they could help themselves to headless Barbie dolls and puzzles with missing pieces.

On Friday morning, my Mom would be up at the crack of dawn setting the dough for her famous cinnamon rolls.  These gooey treats were traditional and fill the house with their lovely cinnamon scent.  The goodies would be ready around eight and my auntie, uncles, grandparents would pour in to grab a mug of coffee and a roll as we waited for our customers.  Usually we just got our signs posted when it was time to open the garage door.  Our sales were legendary and our shoppers did not disappoint.  Sales were brisk until lunch when we would stop for chili and sandwiches.  It was fun to count the money box to see how we were doing.

At six the door would close and we would wrap up the day with pizza.  Saturday was much the same except all items were sold at half price.  Sales were slower but it was important to get rid of the stuff.  Sale goers were encouraged to buy, buy, buy.  At four, we boxed up the remains and prepared to 'curb it' for the garbage man.  Money was counted and recorded and split among us.  The cigar box was put away for another year.  Inevitably we would comment that it was the best sale ever.

Feeling tired and content, we were happy to retire from retail/resale for another year.

Thank you all for your patience in reading what may be my longest blog post ever.  It was simply a story that must be shared.

P.S.- Do you have or go to garage sales? Or do you just call Purple Heart?  Ever find any fabulous finds?  I'd love to hear.. xo