Chocolate, Spraypark, and Garage Sales

As a freelance writer working out of a home office, I've discovered a few temptations inherent in the profession. I cannot keep chocolate on my desk as I did when I worked with other people, because there is no one else to eat it - and so I do. Not good - well, actually quite delicious, but definitely not good in light of the fact that this is bathing suit season.

Which leads me to the second temptation, for on a picture perfect morning (or a sticky, sultry afternoon), I don't want to keep my nose to the grindstone - I want to head to the Kroc Center Spraypark. I admit to some self-conscious moments while strolling down Liberty Street in bathing suit attire, especially with no small child in tow. But I've perfected the doting grandmother look, so once I get there, I can stand under the tumble buckets without shame, even if the lovely Madelyn Simone isn't with me.

But the lure snagging me in these early days of summer is the garage sale bug. I used to work my way from front to back in the Times-Gazette each morning, starting with the headlines, checking out the obituaries, reading the opinion page, bemoaning the fate of Cleveland sports teams, and scanning the Tell and Sell. I'm still OK with that plan on Monday and Tuesday, but by Wednesday, I turn addictively to the classifieds to plot my garage sale adventure for the week.

What do I look for? I'm not big on collectibles, so the Precious Moments and Hummels don't catch my eye. I don't fish or ski, and my husband still has all of his father's tools as well as his own. Exercise equipment - fat chance. The truth is, I really don't need much of anything, but I'm delighted when I unearth a few books for vacation reading, and I keep my eyes open for clothes or other surprises for Madelyn.

Here's the bottom line of garage sailing - at least for me. It's not about the stuff - It's about the hunt. Can I get something I might use some day at a bargain price? If so, I'm pumped!

The hunt begins with the drive-by drill. First, you check out the neighborhood, looking for adjoining houses with sale signs to make the trip worthwhile, and then you drive by slowly, getting a glimpse of the goods. If it's only knick-knacks and adult clothing, I don't stop. Unlike retail, presentation isn't everything, but curb appeal does help, and I'm appreciative when kid's clothing is washed and sorted by size.

At first I felt guilty if I walked out empty-handed - after all, the garage sale host or hostess went to all that trouble - but I quickly realized if I bought something at every garage sale I browsed at, I'd be starring in Hoarders by the end of the year.

While "the hunt" may be the enticement that draws me in, what I've experienced over the last few weeks of intermittent garage-sailing is the same thing I love about Ashland - the people. I've had the best conversations, often beginning with, "Don't you write in the Times-Gazette?" From there I've chatted about writing projects, world peace, teen age girls in the Bible, being smitten over grandchildren, and the spraypark (especially on the hot and humid days).

I've also been amazed at the kindness of people I don't know, especially the house where I scored a backyard swing. I asked if I could leave it there until I could arrange to pick it up, and the woman hosting the garage sale said, "Let's toss it in my truck and I'll follow you to your house." Let me tell you - that wouldn't have happened in Philadelphia or Cleveland. Thank you.

I have a few boxes set aside with fuzzy plans for a garage sale of my own. I even have my classified ad figured out - "buy my junk - CHEAP!" Now, if I can just get over my fear of rejection, I might sell enough stuff to buy some chocolate, and take Madelyn out for a happy meal.  Keep watching the classifieds!