Sunday, July 27, 2008

A Garage Sale

(Check that loot out. That's sweet loot.)

Phaedra and I enjoyed yesterday one of the great American pastimes: the garage sale. Not only did we purify our garage (thank God), we met our neighbors and talked to very interesting people (one of whom, a vintage 1960s hippie lady, allowed her dog to pee right under a rack of clothes). We also sat in the afternoon sun until we wilted and turned into finely crafted bad attitudes.
We're glad we did it, though. It was my first. There's a lot of work that goes into these things, good gravy, and you have to navigate some tricky garage sale culture issues. But we made mad money (my favorite phrase of the day). We got rid of stuff. We put to practice a principle that hopefully will mark the rest of our lives: simplify, simplify, simplify.
And at day's end, we celebrated our accomplishment by donating all the un-sold items to Goodwill and then getting Thai take-out to accompany our watching of the movie THE KITE RUNNER--which left us thoroughly devastated and in the worst conditions in which to fall asleep.

Here are a few pictures from the day.

Getting things set up early morning. We wanted things organized and we thought about traffic flow. We were aiming for a happy customer experience. We even put on an all-80s and 90s radio station. I've told Phaedra I really want the city of Austin to hire me to re-arrange all its traffic lights. I have a thing about illogical, dumb traffic lights. But for today, we cared only for mad deals on rad steals.
Total thumbs up. I'm off to put up signs around the neighborhood. I've got my backpack full of cardboard signs and the bike pack equipped with hammer and nails. I'm ready to announce good news: a 1 dollah shangri-la.
My padre counting the mad money. Shaun Fox walking off with one of my fine shirts.

Artsy folk inspecting artsy ware.

Eli Santostefano lets me borrow his Speed Racer helmet and shows me how to put three fingers in a very chill way. He does a much better job of chillin' than I do.

One of our many satisfied customers of the day.

Phaedra impressionistically waiting for someone to buy something, for the love of zeus.
Phaedra stands heroically, at the end of a long day, over all un-sold items the color red .

6 comments:

livingpalm said...

dang it, I want that glass-paned door thing leaning up against the tree!

w. david o. taylor said...

Oh yes, my friend, it's still for sale. It's an old 1950s window that I carved out a couple of years ago in order to replace it with French doors that exit out onto my deck.

For you my friend, a good price.

livingpalm said...

ah,yes, but can you guarantee free AND safe shipping?!?

w. david o. taylor said...

Alas, nyet.

kathleenborkowski said...

You are a total nut!

Also, until this year I had never heard of J.I. Packer - but earlier in the year our pastor made Packer's book, Evangelism and the Sovereignty of God, suggested reading. I haven't gotten very far in the book (so many things to think about!) but it is amazing that I've gotten to know so much about him through you.

On the surface, you seem light years apart from the pastor of my congregation (i.e. he has no use for art, other than architecture; he likes medieval theologians best and using their words as responsorial readings in the worship service, the response being reduced to a mumble because of the clunky, old fashioned wording - OY) -- I guess it is a Spirit thing and reminds me of Jesus saying "The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going." -- and a confirmation to me to finish Packer's book.

w. david o. taylor said...

Kathy, I hope I'm not *lightyears* apart from your pastor, because that would make me a Martian. Then again, I'm a rabid fan of Ray Bradbury and the Martians get good press in his stories, so maybe that's not so bad. But I'm glad he recommended Packer's book. It's a goodie. Hang with it. It'll be worth the perseverance.

If your pastor is down with Medieval theologians, tell him to look up Abbot Suger. While more historian than theologian, the Abbot was nonetheless an articulate defender of art. He coined one of my favorite phrases: that all should be done, artistically speaking, "with all inner purity and with all outward splendour."

And that word is a good word still.