While my daughter, son-in-law and two grandchildren were visiting in Colorado, we ate at Yak and Yeti, Silvies, P.F. Chang and Kachina Restaurant at the Westin Hotel. Indian, American, Asian, and Mexican food satisfied all of our cravings.
A friend of mine collected fancy tea cups and I wondered why. He never used them and had them as decorations on a wall shelf. He told me his wife loved the dainty cups and the flowers painted on them. When she passed away, he kept them but wanted me to have them. "You can add to them and start your own collection," he told me. I didn't want to hurt his feelings so I took the carefully wrapped box and stored it in my basement. This past weekend, while getting ready for a garage sale, I found the box with the cups and saucers. I didn't dare put them in the garage sale for fear of breaking them so I left them safely wrapped in the box.
Today I got the cups and saucers out and am falling in love with them. They are beautiful and colorful. On the bottom, some have Japan on a sticker or Japan is stamped at the bottom. I wondered if the dishes were like our current day, made in China. I was wrong. On the Internet I found out that Japan made many of the cups and saucers for the United States, except for a few years during the war and two years after the war when there was an embargo against buying anything made in Japan.
Some of the cups are stamped with a label of Royal Sealy China
Japan or Elizabethan Bone China of England. From not knowing anything about tea cups I have learned that bone china is translucent and you can see through the china. As I unwrapped each piece I could see how beautiful the cups and saucers had been painted. I can picture these fancy cups at a High Tea or a sophisticated gathering of women with fancy hats! I can understand why the delicate cups and saucers become collector's items. As beautiful as this collection is, it is just not me, and the whole set is headed to an antique store where they can be sold and purchased by someone who loves this type of collection.
"The most trying hours in life are between four o'clock and the evening meal. A cup of tea at this time adds a lot of comfort and happiness." Royal S. Copeland
For over a year I have looked for my journal of when I was in Europe. I found the slides but the journal was no where to be found. I was so sure that I had written about my travels in a speckled Composition note
book. I have around fifty Composition books and I went through every one, twice, but none had my information about my travels to Germany and other parts of Europe. As I went through some of my books to see what I would put into the garage sale, I found a small red book with RECORD on the front. I opened it, thinking it might have some financial information, and there was the long, lost travel journal of my European trip.Reading through my journey I could not believe how many little things I had forgotten. Here are three poems I found at the end of my journal.
The two of us, traveling together.
In the morning it greets me as I walk by,
If I cry, it too will cry!
I see my reflection
brushing my teeth or combing my hair.
It mimics my every expression,
and does what I do.
Its clothes are just like mine,
and it looks exactly like me.
It shows its face when there
is a mirror or glass.
It never tries to go ahead or pass.
Where ever I go, it is with me.
Always with me for me to see.
On the train it sits across from me
On a bus, right next to me.
A pure likeness
exactly like me. A question makes me wonder
about where does it go when it's not with me?
If we go through a dark tunnel
is it still with me?
Where does it go when I'm not there?
My reflection is my other half even though it's not flesh and bone,
when I travel, I am not alone.
Unseeing eyes behind dark glasses,
clicking a white cane as he walked.
The woman had never heard
a sound, living in a world of silence.
The boy had no legs and rolled
in a chair with wheels.
And I was mute,
unable to speak.
Hearing and not understanding,
seeing and unable to explain,
walking and not knowing where,
because I was a stranger in a foreign land.
Waiting with anticipation and excitement.
Waiting for the rumbling iron monster to swallow me in its swaying stomach.
A colored caterpillar of cars rolling with definite rhythm.
Ta-ta-tum. Ta-ta-tum. Ta-ta-tum.
Woe be me if I am late,
the roaring mover does not wait.
A screeching scream brings it to a halt
as it expels a loud, raspy breath.
Doors slide open,
people crawl in or out,
each knowing their special route.
At a designated spot, the beast will stop expelling a loud sigh.
In the past, my car would barely fit into my garage, but after having a garage sale, I have plenty of room. Today when I drove my car in, I had the feeling I was entering the wrong garage. Two days of getting rid of stuff at a garage sale, taking items to ARC, taking books and records to 2nd and Charles to sell and piling lots of trash near my mailbox, one would think the house would be fairly empty. It's not. Why I have accumulated so much stuff is a mystery to me but I do feel a relief now that there are fewer things in the house and the garage.
A few years ago, my artist daughter made a sign to advertise a garage sale. People often stop by to tell me how much they like the sign. I have used it before and every time, the majority of the people will mention the "neat" sign.
Two things that sold are still in my garage and this week the organ and cupboard will be taken to their new homes! Then, the garage will really be empty!
On Pinterest,I saw this quote:
"Garage Sales are just reformed hoarders
enabling new hoarders."
I took my granddaughters to the annual St. Anne's Bazaar this past weekend. The California grand-kids had never been to a Colorado Bazaar and they were curious as to what happens at our bazaars. My Colorado grandchild, tries to go every year to try and win a ham, block of cheese or a salami roll. She is pretty lucky and this time it was no different. After a few tries, the wheel stopped on her number and she chose a long salami. After a few more tries, my son won a large spaghetti bowl with four bowls. The California girls told me that their "bazaar" has carnival rides and a concert with no games. One of the girls enjoyed playing the "cakewalk." On Friday, she did not win anything but on Sunday she held a winning number and chose four gourmet cupcakes.
On Friday, we ran into my son and he entertained us by his crazy antics. At one of the games, if he had broken three dishes with a softball he would have won a gigantic stuffed animal, an elephant or a whale. He broke two and we all hoped the third plate would be broken also, but it didn't happen. I played pickles and won $5.00 and one of my granddaughters won $1.00. Somehow, the food seems to taste better at the bazaar and two of us ate delicious Italian sausage sandwiches, another ate a smothered tamale and a dilly bar, and I had a Frita bread with sugar and cinnamon.
On Sunday we returned to the bazaar to drop off my raffle tickets with the hope that maybe I would win $5000 but it didn't happen. I let my grandchildren know that a few year ago I did win the $2000 raffle at the bazaar and maybe that was my limit!
Somehow, I do not mind spending money at the Bazaar because I know it goes to the church or the school. It is a great way to pass a pleasant and fun time, maybe win some prizes, and sometimes run into old friends!
Who would have thought that a garage sale could be so much fun. People that stopped by, were interesting and with a little bit of encouragement, tales were told. An interesting man showed up around seven (sale to begin at eight) and he bought tools, furniture, and anything that looked like an antique. He has a "barn" where he re-sells what he purchases. "My intent is to stay busy," he said, "I am 84 years old and this keeps me going." A lady wanted dolls for her collection and I just happened to have a Story Book Doll which I sold her. Going through my books, another lady found three self-help books and commented, "This is all I read and I found three good ones." Another lady picked up a Debbie McComber and said, "This is one I haven't read." A family wanted to bargain so we had fun bickering about a price. They were from Mexico and said, "We never pay the original price!" Children had fun picking out a toy, and then after they purchased their quarter toy, we gave them another toy for free! One man bought some trophies, won by my daughter, and said he uses the tennis, volleyball, soccer or bowling figurines on top of the trophies to put on cars as a hood ornament. My Halloween stuff did not move as fast as I would have liked but people enjoyed listening to all the eerie noises and seeing skeletons dance, skulls sing, and hands try to grab you as you reached in the bowl. One big surprise were my dancing shoes purchased by a dancer. She knew the value of my shoes that are made in England. A neighbor who never misses my garage sales moved recently and I thought about him, knowing that this would be my first sale without him. When I heard my daughter talking and laughing with someone who remembered her when she lived in my house, he turned around and what a pleasant surprise to see my old neighbor. It was nice seeing him and chatting about his move, his new home being built, and what he has been doing. I told him, "I thought about you but never thought I'd see you." He laughed and replied, "I had to take my car in for repairs near here and happened to see your sign!"
After two days, our sale ended at 2 p.m. today and everything was loaded into boxes and taken to ARC. Someone else will get to use some of my goodies! Even though we got rid of a lot of stuff, there are many more items that need to be sent to new homes! Do I see another garage sale in the near future? Maybe so!
Preparing for a garage sale, as I arranged books on a shelf, a piece of paper fell out of one of the books. My Father had written 1995 and Rocky Mountain News on the Quote of the Day. It was wrinkled but I could still read it. I found it to be interesting that a Republican was asking for a "no" vote and that news is pretty much the same now as it was then! Rich vs. poor an unending theme!
My California family arrived to help me clear out some of my "stuff." We planned a large garage sale and an ad was placed in a local paper. Tools, furniture, toys, pots/pans, dishes, books, shoes, frames, baskets, bicycle, lawn chairs, medical items and jewelry would be placed in my driveway to see what "treasures" people could find. Before my family arrived, I had already piled some of things I was willing to sell. When they arrived, a few days were devoted to bringing up items from the basement and clearing out the garage. My daughter commented, "Mom, you have everybody's stuff in this garage." As I looked, I had to agree. I had things belonging to my Mother, my Father, my aunt, my brother, two friends, and my son. Some of the things buried in boxes, I had never seen. Was it my memory or had I really never seen them?
My son-in-law informed me that the goal of a garage sale is to get rid of stuff and if things do not sell, never bring them back into the house. Just take them to a Salvation Army, Goodwill, or ARC and be rid of the items. I thought back to other garage sales and remember repacking things and sticking them back into the garage and thought, I like the way my son-in-law thinks!
For three days we have dusted, carried, priced, washed, and arranged many items that will be sold at the garage sale. Today I sold some antique Irish linen napkins and doilies for $4.00. Of course, I always feel as if I should have gotten more money, but I have to keep reminding myself that the object of the garage sale is to get rid of things, not to
make money! A hard concept to accept!
Conversation as we prepare for the sale: Toss or keep? Trash it. It might sell. Put it on the $1.00 table. It's worth more. Someone might buy it. What do you think? And on and on the conversation continues as we set things out on tables.
To some it means nothing.
To some it has no value.
To some it can be tossed without regret.
It does no good to fret.
It's good to see it go,
giving feelings of high and low.
A memory is ripped from the heart,
it's hard to see your things depart.
Is a garage sale a good endeavor?
Part of my life will be gone forever.
Regardless, keepsake or junk, gone is all my stuff.
Sometimes easy and sometimes rough.
When everything is gone from my garage sale,
that will conclude this woeful tale! E. Moscoso July 24, 2014
Once upon a time and long, long ago, my daughter and I were in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. We went to a Mexican Fiesta at La Iguana Restaurant and Bar. At that time, this was the only place that celebrated Mexico with a spectacular fiesta. Through the years, most of the major hotels also began putting on elaborate parties for the tourists. The variety show featured singers, dancers, lots of food, music and tequila flowed like water.
A photographer roamed the fiesta, taking pictures. When he came by with a large sombrero and a small Mexican blanket to take our picture we told him we did not want our pictures taken. He laughed and said, "Doesn't cost you a thing." He plopped the red embroidered hat on our head, draped the serape over our shoulder, snapped a picture and disappeared into the crowd, clicking away with his camera.
Before long, young girls came around showing us the pictures that had been taken. As every photographer knows, no one can resist a finished product of a souvenir photo?
Over our many refusals
they took our picture anyway.
And when I saw the photos
my money came out to pay.
Us in bright red sombreros
and we were hooked when we saw how cute we looked!
Rudolfo Anaya is one of my favorite authors. About a year ago, I met a woman who is married to Rudolfo's cousin. She told me about her parish and invited me to visit her parish, "I want you to see our little church," she told me, "it is small but when the priest gives his sermon, it's as if he is speaking right to me." And then, this weekend she called me to invite me to their annual summer bazaar. "You can come and see our little church." It just so happened that she is a "comadre" of a person I know from the Young At Heart group at Spirit of Christ Catholic Community. Their adult children are married to each other and the two mothers share grandchildren!
Tents were set up with food and games. A bingo game was in progress. Pickles were being sold and a young girl won $240. The grand raffle prize was for $2,000. The Rick Garcia Band was playing oldies, Tex-Mex, and New Mexico music. The dance floor had many dancers who changed their movements to the rhythm of the music. A horseshoe competition had some serious players and I meet the 2nd place winner but 1st place had to be decided by the teams that were still slinging their horseshoes. The clang of the metal and the horseshoe landing with a thud in the dirt was fun to watch.
I met many people but my favorite was Federico Pena. I called him a celebrity and he said, "I'm not a celebrity, but I will take a picture with you." He was the first Hispanic Mayor of Denver from 1983 - 1991 and he is known for Denver International Airport and the Convention Center. He was United States Secretary of Transportation, 1993 -1997 and Secretary of Energy from 1997 - 1998. If that doesn't make him a celebrity, I don't know what would!
The history of the Little Church began in 1949 when Hispanics needed a chapel of their own. Their prayers were answered when two streetcars were donated by Denver Tramway. The cars were put on cinder blocks, two walls torn down to make one room, pews were added and an altar built. At that time it was known as Chapel of the Good Shepherd. In 1954 the name was changed to Our Lady of Visitation. In 1957 the church became a mission of Holy Trinity Parish. Some of the people I met, referred to their church as a "streetcar church." A painting of the streetcar hangs in the hall.
It was fun playing some of the games though I did not win anything. My friend won $35. The music brought many memories of when I would dance the night away to the happy music. What an enjoyable afternoon meeting people and seeing everybody having fun at the bazaar.
Graduation photos of my brother and me, my brother and Dad with me, my father, my two brothers and me with my Mom, my brother and me on our tricycle, my brother when he was in the Army (in front of the mess hall,) my parent's wedding, my little brother who was born with lots of hair, my Colorado grand-kids, my California grand-kids with their parents, me and my first grandchild and me with my son and grand-kids.
I cannot believe all of these pictures were either on a wall, on a shelf, in a bookcase or displayed somewhere in the house. Lots of pictures that will now be stored in an envelope!