Estate

All the yardsales were listed as Huge, Enormous, and Epic. There certainly were a lot of 'em, on this first dry, warm weekend of spring, and so close to the end of the month. We got out early, which didn't work against us as much as I thought it would for a while. Most of them were decent garage sales, too. Stuff out, not all clothes, low prices. We only drove right past a couple, which is an amazing ratio. Got some very nice finds, nothing expected, but useful. Including a small phillips screwdriver, and a rug that Moby likes.



"Mine. Thanks."


The last few, we realized our luck for the day had been exhausted, so we called it, picked up groceries and sand, and came home for an early lunch.

There is an area of the city, uphill, high rent district, older neighborhood, where we have gone to a number of estate sales. The former residents lives laid out on tables, and we diagnose, sift as much for clues as for potential treasures. How religious, and of what flavor? What did they do, how many grandchildren, how old were they? These are fairly easy questions to answer from the display.

D says since we've been doing this, he's seen inside a lot more very expensive houses than he'd ever expected to see. And we are struck by how much of the same tat shows up in all of them. That, although they are larger houses, they are not any more livable than a lot of apartments we've rented, and nowhere near as pleasant as our own house.

In many cultures, grave goods are what that person owned, buried and not for further use, which seems a bit wasteful for rare and valuable objects. But the idea of buying someone else's clothes, especially underwear, toiletries, bedding, is distasteful, even a bit revolting. So, there has to be something about close personal objects that most cultures draw lines around, to return to the dead. Not to hold - too intimate. Or maybe just too disgusting to transfer. Haunted, tainted, or sacred, all mixed together.

I thought about what will be left when we are gone, someone picking through our belongings, hoping for something interesting for a few dollars. I'm good with this.

Snail disruption path established. Bricks put to creative display.



As I sat out with Moby earlier, and again reading on the porch, a tiny preying mantis crawled onto my knee. Expressive little creature, and I welcomed it, inviting the eating of as many aphids as it liked. Eventually walked it over to a plant, explaining it would have better hunting there. It seemed to agree, and vanished into the marigolds. It looked immature, just hatched and finding it's way around. I do hope it stays.