“Somebody better be dead. They just started the dance routine on this episode of ‘Tracy’,” I answered.
“Happy getting sauced in our fat pants, are we? Get up and get sober. I’m on my way over with an idea.”
Mental Checklist: moving the Cariboo means I will not be in the same neighborhood as Taff, thus no easy access. Win.
We disconnected and I forced myself off the couch. 30 minutes, a pony-tail and a cup of coffee later, Taffi was in my family room parked on the same couch I’d just peeled myself off of.
“I’m waiting for a response,” Taff was literally on the edge of her seat waiting for me to respond to her suggestion of a neighborhood garage sale. “And, seriously, are you going to call Dr. Shelton and get that,” she said while pointing at the spot in between my eyes, “taken care of? It’s almost too much for me to look at.” She added while finishing off my last bottle of Robert Mondovi.
“Taff, you’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”
“Good mood, my ass. I’m lucky you’ve still got your buzz on. Either you’re in or I’m going to go sell my idea to the hippies over on 172nd. I’m sure the hood would love them to sell their stuff instead of displaying it on their front lawn with a sign that says FREE.”
That moment my son Grey and his older half-brother, Mitch, walked through the front door. It was our weekend with Mitch and since he played hockey that really meant he spent “our weekend” on the ice with Grey.
“Hey, Taff,” Grey said while nodding at her and walking toward me. “Mom, Mitch and I are going to a movie. He’s paying.”
“OK. Make sure you tell your dad you’re leaving. What movie?”
Mitch answered, “Bridesmaids. And before you ask - no it’s not porn.”
“Grey doesn’t need porn. He’s a pre-teen with a subscription to Netflix. He can watch all the reruns of Alias he wants,” Taffi spouted while getting up to go rummage in my wine bar for another bottle of chardonnay.
After a quick discussion about the movie Priest, the movie the boys were actually going to see, I completed my conversation with Taffi and agreed to the garage sale. I needed to unload my baggage – literally and figuratively – and a garage sale was a great way to move stuff without doing too much leg work.
Two weeks later Taff and I were parked in my garage with the sale in full swing. The neighborhood hadn’t agreed to the sale, but my entire block was participating. This meant that Taffi brought all of her wares to our house to sell. The early June weather was perfect for the sale and Taffi and I treated ourselves to rum and Diet Coke while watching the sales stroll in.
“Hey! No looky-loo’s!” Taffi hollered at a lady I swore could pass for Mrs. Roper while clinking the ice cubes in her glass.
Mrs. Roper left our garage and I turned to Taffi, mouth open and asked, “What the hell? You just cost me a potential sale.”
“Really? Are you going to haggle over the pot holder marked 25 cents? She wasn’t buying. I’ve watched her case every joint on this block.”
“Case every joint?”
“Max was travelling for work this week so I watched a lot of Magnum P.I.”
I raised an eyebrow and she added, “What? Like you’re the only one who has an 80’s obsession. Besides, I don’t think Tom Selleck gets enough credit for that role. Do you know what the humidity in Hawaii does to naturally curly hair?”
“Oh, I didn’t know his hair was curly.”
I mulled that over while watching a couple in their early 20’s look at our framed art. I was starting to feel nostalgic and realized that I was about to kill a sale myself when I said to the couple, “Those are buy one, get one free.” That upped their enthusiasm and forced me to smile. I’d make it through this day, Taffi had brought over 3 bottles of Parrot Bay just to be sure I didn’t break down and decide to keep everything in storage.
“What’s our total?” Taffi asked Mitch and Grey.
Our garage sale was a huge success, but Taffi and I cleared 2 of the bottles of rum just to be safe. At one point during the day I told a kid to drop our pepper grinder and put his hands where I could see them. That was when Jameson had to physically remove me from the sale and asked the boys to keep track of our earnings. Now we were standing in the garage with empty shelves and only a few odds and ends left to go to Goodwill and the Women’s Shelter.
“I think its $892.75, but you probably want to count it again when you can see straight,” Mitch said while the boys fist bumped and then laughed together.
Mental Checklist: my life had been reduced to less than a grand and we only had 6 weeks left to complete my checklist from 2 months ago. What was up with my time management skills? Fail. Oh, and buy more chardonnay.