GarBage Sales

I remember going to garage sales as a little girl. To me, it was a whole new world full of cool knick-knacks,  furniture and toys...I was blown away by the toys; I was also between  nine and 12-years-old and have only moved to the states not too long ago. Now 20 years later I thought garage sales have become obsolete. Not so much! They're still going strong; nothing has changed-nothing but me. A girlfriend of mine had a garage sale a few weeks back and told me to come get her lawn furniture. I came over and it was in full swing. Cars were pulling up and the sales were hot! She had desks, chairs, lawn furniture, art, so many goodies! I picked up a beautiful bench and a table from her at dirt cheap prices. These are like Havertys or Ethan Allen pieces in great condition. I decided I'm hitting up garage sales. I got on craigslist, all the local newspapers and garage sale sites and mapped out my adventure. I started in Plano, the ad promised a smorgasbord of treasures. I guess the famous saying goes both ways...in my case it was more like" one man's treasure is another man's trash." I pulled up to a house in a nice Plano neighborhood and saw a beautiful couch table that would look great in the living room. I asked the woman how much she wanted for it. "65 dollars" she tells me. I caught myself in time not to blurt out "holy shit, what?!" I thanked her and she asks "well, what's your offer?" I said "it's nowhere near THAT!" I'd give them $15 for it...and that was only b/c I was in a good mood and felt like buying something at a garage sale. The woman then brought-in the big guns...the husband-to tackle THE BIG negotiating. "Well it's a $245 table" he tells me. OK great...I'm sorry am I at Haverty's right now? He proceeds to explain that they were asking $120 for it the day before but have now slashed prices and I can have it for only $45. I thanked him and turned to walk away. He says "what, no counteroffer?" I said "no sir, I don't want to offend you," and so started my treasure hunt around town. I figured I'd head over to Highland Park where the folks have deeper pockets and nicer things to sell. HA the joke was on ME! There were things for sale I wouldn't put out by the trash during daytime. These folks have no shame. At one of the sales I overheard a girl trying to convince a woman to buy her True Religion tank top for $20. TWENTY DOLLARS for a tank top at a garage sale? That thing had seen better days and looked dingy. The seller's close was "this top retailed for AT LEAST $45 at Northpark! You know Northpark mall, right? The upscale mall?" I felt sorry for the Hispanic woman. I wanted to tell her I have a bag of clothes she can HAVE...they also came from that same upscale mall and are in much better shape! Moving right along to the heart of Highland Park. A moving sale on Mockingbird looked promising. They had furniture, lamps and other home stuff. I found a cute lamp...it was one of those 6" lamps that would be a perfect night-light in the bathroom or on the stairwell. I figured she'd want about $5 for it and I'd roll her to $2. Plan set...let's go! HA! talk about sticker shock. She wanted $10 for that thing. REALLY? Am I at Haverty's again? Is the recession affecting garage sales or is the Texas heat starting to screw up everyone's reality? I let her keep her priceless night-light and left. The highlight of my trip was a stop at a sale I saw along the way. I parked across from a house with a beautiful royal blue Rolls Royce and a man was getting out of it. WOW...what a beautiful car and a gorgeous house. There was also a powder blue Jaguar in the driveway. I though, someone I've heard of must live here. Sure enough, it was "The Strong Arm" himself...Mr. Brian Loncar.
In the end, I felt jipped. It was my fault though. I can't expect everyone to have the amazing stuff and prices like my friend did at her sale. Today was the beginning and the end of my garage sale extravaganza. In the end I was burned out, I used up about a quarter tank of gas and came home empty handed.

The Master Cleanse AKA Lemonade Diet

NO food. NO juices. NOTHING but the lemonade...for 7 days. I decided to give this bad boy a shot.

 

Day 1: I was pretty anxious to start starving myself and see what this lemonade diet is all about.  It started out pretty easy. I think I was getting-by on sheer curiosity as to how this “lemonade” works.  I wasn’t hungry for most of the day. At about 3 o’clock visions of tomatoes and cucumbers danced in my head. I chugged my lemonade concoction and the visions eventually went away. Day 1- not too bad.

 

Day 2: You’re supposed to start the mornings with a Saltwater Flush…about a liter of it. The recipe comes with very specific instructions written in bold all caps…”DO NOT FART.” Point taken! I mixed my sea salt and water and figured I’d just chug it. BLEEEECH. I felt like I was drowning. The taste of salt water threw me back to Cancun when I ate sea water after an unsuccessful attempt to jump a wave. No salt water flush for me…I’d rather take an Ex-Lax.

That afternoon I had BBQ catered in to work for lunch. I wasn’t tempted to eat, ‘cause I was so full of water I could hear it swishing around in my stomach as I moved. Although, by about 3 o’clock the pickle chips looked soooo good. I could taste the pickle juice. I thought about taking a piece just to suck on it and spit it out, but then I knew that I’d eat that pickle so fast it wouldn’t know what hit it.

 

Day 3: Spent most of the day around food. Talk about a test of willpower. Grocery shopping then cooking dinner. I stayed strong…for the most part. I made salmon, roasted pesto potatoes, roasted asparagus, spinach salad with grapes and hazelnuts, I also roasted some hazelnuts and glazed them with honey. I can honestly say I didn’t sample anything while cooking…note I said “while cooking.” Will power started to slip at the dinner table. I caved…I devoured 3 stalks of asparagus and a handful of grapes. It tasted so good but then I was overcome with guilt. I mixed 4 glasses of the lemonade and chugged one after another, that made the urge to eat something go away, as there was no more room in my stomach for any food, much less a drop of water.

 

Day 4: Wild rice. Oh what I’d give for a bowl of wild rice with mushrooms right now. I wonder what I’m losing through the cleanse that my cravings vary. 

Day 5: Woke up with a slight headache that eventually went away. Nothing major. I started scrolling through the Rolodex of my fave foods in my head...nothing piqued my interest. GREAT I thought. No cravings, no hunger pains, no rumblings...I'm off to a great start. That all went down hill when I walked into Quick Trip to get some water. 

There they were...long, meaty, crispy taquitos, slowly spinning on the warmer under the bright lights. There were cheese taquitos, beef taquitos, nacho taquitos...and I wanted to devour every single one. To make matters worse, they were giving out free samples. I struggled while I stood in line but managed to get out of there with just water. Temptation averted!

 

Day 6: The urge for solid foods is behind me. I no longer want anything but my lemonade. I tried going on just water alone all day, but that made me super lightheaded. There really is something to the maple syrup and lemon juice concoction. It has calories, sugar and carbs from the maple syrup. I didn't add Cayenne pepper to the mix, I took supplements instead.

Day 7: I MADE IT! I wanted to celebrate by taking care of my Mexican food cravings. I treated myself to Guacamole. I didn't want to go crazy on meat and heavy foods so I don't hurt my stomach. It tasted so good, but then I felt awful. I felt heavy, lethargic and I wanted a nap. I never felt like that while on the master cleanse. I had energy and if I was hungry I just drank and drank drank. In the end I lost 9.2 lbs, lost cravings for sweets, meats and bread. I ate salads over the weekend, but I'm so ready to get back to my lemonade for round 2.

Hurricane Katrina

Walking up to the Reunion Arena, I only then got a sense of how many people were impacted by the devastating Hurricane Katrina.

There were people in wheel chairs riding up and down the sidewalks, young kids playing in a corner, younger couples waiting in line for freshly barbecued hamburgers and hot dogs, as well as retired couples who were just sitting around, waiting. But what could they possibly be waiting for? Are they waiting to go back home? Perhaps they’re deciding whether to relocate to Dallas.

The looks on their faces were unforgettable. Most had smile on their faces, but their eyes spoke volumes. The eyes told me that their owners were weary, many were reminiscing, others were plain emotionless, and they were all ready for a significant change for the better.

I made my way to the Red Cross volunteer desk and asked how I could help. Another Red Cross volunteer who assumed that she ruled the world since she actually sat behind the desk said “We don’t need any volunteers right now.” She then glanced down, as her straw hat slid down her forehead, and proceeded to give me a form to fill out. Then without looking up, continues in her falsely acquired authoritative tone of voice, “Fill out this form, we’ll call you when we need you.”

I fought the urge to invite her back to reality. I took a breath, put on a smile and proceeded to explain to her that I was there to talk to a refugee and asked if I could go inside the Reunion Arena.

Perhaps she thought I was either a complete idiot, or that I must be hard of hearing. In any case, she raised her head as her straw head slid backwards this time, squinted here eyes from the sun, and in a raised and somewhat offended tone of voice tells me, “The Reunion Arena is like their hotel…” at this point, her overheated sidekick picks up the conversation, “Would you just walk into a hotel and ask to go chat with someone in their hotel room?”

“No…” I said, as he cut me off again, “Well then how do you expect to get in?”

They pointed to a crowd of people sitting outside and said “There’s a lot of them out here, talk to someone there.”

I got somewhat offended by the way they spoke, but I brushed myself off and made my way to the crowd of people sitting in the shade.

Little did I know that this would be the most incredible experience of my life.

I walked up to a man, in his mid 40s. He just sat there, staring. His red and black baseball cap barely covered his eyes, which looked empty. His tall, slender body was limp; his palm cradled his chin as he rested just gazing into the distance.

“Hi.” I said, in a soft yet positive voice. He looked up at me with his big brown eyes, and smiled.

“Hi darlin’” he replied, in a very hopeful tone.

I introduced myself, and shared with him some things about myself. Then I asked if I could learn more about him and his experience with Hurricane Katrina.
“Absolutely, darlin’” he replied, “pull up a chair.”

Mr. Webster began, “It was Saturday evening…” He pedaled his bike as fast as he possibly could. The strong wind and the stinging rain were hitting his face and eyes, making it that much harder to see. His body was soaking wet, yet he kept going.

“Hurry!!!” a man yelled from a booth on the bridge. The storm was getting worse and he needed to raise the bridge; which became the only way out of the city that became Hurricane Katrina’s playground.

According to Webster, he was the last person to cross the bridge out of New Orleans.

He didn’t think the situation would get this bad. Suddenly a mandatory evacuation was issued, yet Mr. Webster didn’t think much of it. He stayed home for another hour until it was announced that all the bridges were closing.

“It’s time for me to go,” thought Webster. He got on his bike, and left.

“The line at the Superdome seemed like it was a mile long,” said Webster. He waited in the rain, but finally got inside.

Inside the Superdome, Webster reunited with his sister-in-law and her family, as well as his fiancé who evacuated earlier.

Mr. Webster spent four days at the Superdome. By Wednesday the situation inside the Dome got much worse. At one point someone started shooting, and then a smoke bomb was set off.

“It seemed like the place was on fire,” said Mr. Webster.

People were getting restless, and everything was hectic. To add to the chaos, the water in the dome was cut off, and the toilets backed up.

“The smell was indescribable,” said Webster, “There was urine, and body waste…” he paused as he leaned forward, dropped his head in his hands and shook it as if to erase a picture off an etch-a-sketch.

Slowly raising his head, Webster continued, “I have good memories embedded in my head. I erased my bad days.”

On Thursday afternoon, busses transported the refugees from the Superdome to shelters in nearby states.

After a stop in Beaumont, Mr. Webster and his family were en route to Houston. Mr. Webster’s bus, however, was re-routed to Dallas while his fiancé and the rest of his family were headed to Houston.

Upon arriving to Dallas, “I just bowed down and kissed the ground,” said Mr. Webster. “I thank God its over.”

The Reunion Arena became Mr. Webster’s new temporary home, a home he has to share with over a thousand other refugees.

“The arena is like their hotel,” explained a Red Cross worker.

Although the arena doesn’t proved half of the amenities a hotel does, Mr. Webster doesn’t complain.

“He has a very cordial attitude, and appreciates what everyone does,” said Yolanda Williams, who volunteers at the arena daily and got to know Mr. Webster.

One day Williams took Mr. Webster with her to a family dinner. During dinner, Mr. Webster heard Amazing Grace playing on TV.

“He broke down and started to cry,” said Williams teary eyed, “Then asked if he could hug me.”

“Sometimes I get by myself, start thinking about the hurricane and start crying,” said Webster. “Just hearing their voices gives me strength.”

Webster got excited when he talked about going to Houston to spend his birthday with fiancé.

“I can’t wait to see my fiancé, I miss her pretty smile.”

Love in the Big City.

What is it that drives men to cheat or stray from a relationship? Is it the thrill of the chase? The taste of something new? Or is it simply to see if they still got it and can still bag a chick? If people are not happy in a relationship, then why should they drag their partner along and make them suffer too? Isn't it easier to sit down, hash-out your problems, and either move on as a couple and build a solid relationship...or decide things are not working out and end the misery and the relationship right then and there?
I know there are a lot of hopeless romantics who believe in working things out and giving it one more try, but when is that one-try too many? Granted, someone will end-up getting hurt. That's love and that's life. But, I think it wouldn't sting as bad as living with false hopes, being strung along, then dropped for some bar skank who is "easily accessible"...if you get my drift.
The games are old. Who came up with the 2-day rule and playing hard to get? Are these people living happily ever after; or are they old, miserable, and alone?
There's just so much to comprehend. It would be much easier without all the b.s. games. Chivalry as I know it is dead. Whatever happened to actually picking up a phone and asking a girl out? Our society is so mesmerized with instant gratification andgetting everything fast...from fast food to speed dating. Honestly, what's the rush? You won't get to know a person through text messages. What happened to putting a little time and effort into creating and building a relationship? Our generation has become so independent that we're so fast to write someone off and figure there's plenty of other fish in the sea, and we are content being single.
Why is it that when a guy/girl gives you what you want...they call, invite you out, and is completely smitten with you, we are so quick to label them as "needy," "too easy of a catch," and toss them to the curb. Yet when a guy/girl doesn't give you the time of day, it all of a sudden becomes intriguing, and hot, and exciting. I guess it's the hunter's instinct in us. Dating is a lot like hunting. Going out and scoping for prey only instead of killing them with bullets, we try to kill them with kindness, flattery, lame lines, and cheap drinks. For example: When guys go hunting a lot goes into strategizing how to capture their prey. They buy the bullets, camoflauge paint, camo-clothes, they get up early and go to the woods to stake out deer. Hours later they kill a deer, clean it up, bring the head home, and proudly display it above the fireplace. However, you put that same deer head on the guy's front porch and tell him it's his, I"ll bet it's not getting hung above the fireplace. Since there was no hunt or chase, the deer head is no longer seen as a trophy to proudly display. There's no story that goes along with it. By then it's just a piece of meat...just like those bar skanks who are "easily available."
I know it sounds like I'm contradicting myself..."play games, don't play games;"but it's such a fine line that playing games could cost you a relationship if you play too much. Pretending to be too busy and putting off calling that person you're interested could backfire. Your love interest will lose interest and move on to the next person.
Have your own life, do what you love, don't neglect your friends, but at the same time, if you truly care about or are interested in a person, make time for them, because later you will be thinking about the one that got away.