Prison Slang and Monkey Mouth

My wee one, Sadie Bug the pro-level 2 yr old, has an icky viral rash that had her very UNcomfy this week. Scary high fever for about a day, and a yucky rash making her crabby. 
Thankfully she's on the mend, no more fever, minimal scream-crying, unlike the early part of this week. 

I hope you don't get those really nasty ones in your feed, some are just GROSS.

That is from my Facebook page that I used to recommend you follow, but chances are you won't see the posts anyway so why bother? 
I'm falling out of love with Facebook, as a blogger. I spend less time there, as far as the blogging page is concerned, because it's a pain to take the time to type with my fat fingers on my phone's TINY keys, only to have 13 people see it. Not 13% of the people who clicked "Like" but 13 total people. Which sucks because I pink puffy heart LOVE my friends who have clicked "Like" there, but they don't see anything and it makes me want to cry.

Thankfully I am a member of several GROUPS on Facebook, and as a private citizen consumer I love it for those kinds of things, but as a Blogger it can kiss a very large portion of my pink hams.

However, I do love me some #ThrowbackThursday. My family brings up the best (and worst) pictures from the past and it's always fun. This is a picture of a restaurant from the Bridgeport neighborhood on the south side of Chicago. It burned down and sadly they never rebuilt. 

Amazing, right? It was.

It was a fantastic family restaurant with a mysteriously sparkly sidewalk, great food, amazingly thick milkshakes and they would leave the big silver cannister so you could drink an entire blender's worth of milkshake. Did I mention I was a child when we went there? Though really, those would be the best things to me as an adult as well. 

I haven't thought about this place in decades. My family shared memories of the place, and it was lovely. One of the characters I remember fondly was a man we affectionately called "Lester the Drunk." He would join us at our table, with his swollen, blood-red nose and accompanying gin blossoms, and never eat a single thing. My sisters told me Lester the Drunk used to come to our house when I was a baby, and pay them a quarter to bring him a shoot of liquor on Sunday, or early in the day before the city could legally sell liquor. ANY kind of liquor, Lester didn't care.

My cousin posted this beauty from the 70's that I didn't even know existed. Or maybe I did and I blocked it out.

As you can see, I was always super serious. Speaking of my Scott-like personality, I'm very super over-the-moon thankful to Clark for featuring me on his guest post this week at the Wakefield Doctrine! Click there to read an intro-flection, which I'm pretending is a thing, on my personality paradigm shift. It's hilarious to me to post anything about my personality type, since I always thought my type was: None. However, the Doctrine leaves no nerd un-turned. It seems I'm a Scott, with a Minor in Clark-ism.

Clark is one of the hosts of the party this post links up to: The Ten Things of Thankful. Click HERE to join in the fun.

The 2 yr old, she is better and she also learned to master the art of crawling out of her crib. She really seems to be a ninja. You don't even hear a PEEP while she's doing it, or any thud or crash when she hits the ground. 
She also, awesomely, crawled INTO her crib Thursday morning w/her Beary (luvie bear) and put HERSELF down for a nap! I KNOW. She's making up for all the scream-crying and middle of the night episodes from earlier in the week.

This week has been a gift from the universe weather-wise. Three days of 70 degrees, my kind of weather. We've been outside all day, having the WINDOWS WIDE OPEN! 

Well, except our bedroom window because it's right by the radon mitigation mechanism that emits a loud, annoying constant buzzing like a visitor being buzzed into a prison. But it never stops. The Screws never do go in or out, it's an All Day and Night sentence (which is life without parole, for those of the Pepsi Generation.) 

It's maddening enough to require Bug Juice* or Chewie Bleweys*, or at least swig some Pruno. The noise never bothers my Cellie, who snores like a Bear, but it keeps me up and in the morning? I feel like I was Beat Up from the Feet Up.

There's not much we can do so I ain't fitting to Bust a Grape, it's No Smoke. I just need to Hold My Mud until we can afford to move and get out of this Jolt.

Don't mind my Wolf Tickets, I recently read a piece on prison slang.

circle-fashion.com

Incidentally, if you're looking for a Pen Pal, here's a web site to help you write to a prisoner(s). Cleverly, the site is called www.writeaprisoner.com that's a link if you have extra time, or looking for material to write an article or post. 

Okay, enough with the Monkey Mouth. 

We also got to hear very loud construction, thanks to neighbors across the street. The kids got to watch Dump trucks leaving mounds of dirt, and whatever you call the trucks that move the dirt, and all of the trucks backing up at an ear-piercing decibel. 

I imagine this is sewer-related, as we seem to have major sewer problems in this area of town. Constantly. 

Hopefully they're building something amazing over there. Like a Fountain of Youth, or at least a water slide. They seem like nice people, and by that I mean they are some of the select, very few, ever-shrinking group of people in-my-neighborhood that I don't despise. Yet.


Here's a pay-off for enduring my Monkey Mouth.
Hopefully, anyway.
______________________
*Prison Slang Translation, since as Clark pointed out, I often write with the AUDIENCE in mind, being a monkey-mouthed Scott.

Pepsi Generation: New prisoners
Bug Juice: Psych meds
Chewie Bleweys: Xanax
Pruno: Prison wine
Cellie: Cell Mate
No Smoke: Being agreeable
Bust a Grape: Make a big deal, 
  (literally burst a hemorrhoid. I may have to use this in my daily slang.)
Beat up from the Feet Up: Tore up from the floor up.
Hold My Mud: Not being a rat
Jolt: Long sentence
Wolf Tickets: Bluffing
Monkey Mouth: Unlike Urban Dictionary's definition of morning-after-drinking mouth, in prison slang a Monkey Mouth goes on and on and on and ON about nothing. 

from funnyjunk.com

I should really change the name of this blog to MonkeyMouth.com 

I wanted to do a whole post with this slang, but who knows if it will ever happen and in the meantime I found these interesting.

Good day. Good week, Sirs and Madames.

Clarks and Scotts and Rogers, OH MY!

Today I'm guest posting for one of my very favorite male bloggers, yes they exist, but they are precious and rare like the Crowned Tree Frog. 

from ctaudubon.blogspot.com

This adorable frog is known for the bony spikes on it's head. 

And all male bloggers know I'm totally kidding comparing you a rare bone-headed frog. Big fan. HUGE fan of male bloggers. Seriously, there are only so many Mommy-PMS-Menopause posts you can read, no matter how funny they are, before you start to miss Marmaduke comics from the paper. 


Clark Scottroger is quite the opposite of a bone-headed frog. He's a warm-blooded, non-amphibian mammal, and a very intelligent one. I quite often have to re-read his deep thoughts to understand them, feeling like a bone-headed frog myself.

Clark writes the deep and heady Wakefield Doctrine, the theory of Clarks, Scotts and Rogers, which maintains that every person can be broken down into one of those 3 personality types:
Clarks who think
Scotts who act
Rogers who feel

I know, I thought the same thing. Only THREE types? Shirley,  you jest. But there is no Shirley, and all signs on the Magic 8-Ball of the Blogosphere point to YES. 

You would have to read more about it to see what I mean, and I advise you to do that. Not when you're tired though, then you'll have to read it 2 or 3 times to understand it. Though that just might be a ME thing, for you see among many other interesting attributes: Scotts are stupid. You see? He's RIGHT ON with his theories!

Find out more on the doctrine, after you read MY little challenge for the author on just WHY this former flamin' Scott is not quite so Scott-ish lately.

Click **HERE**, and then click the 3 personality types on the top right of the site. There went your day! 

NOT Scottish, the word is "Scottian"

on the Doctrine. Just a brat.

Zombie Apocalypse or Family Vacation?

Last week was our Family Vacation, and by that I mean most of my EXTENDED family, my sisters, most of their kids, our cousins, etc. This GROUP dynamic took some getting used to, especially by my husband, but we've doing this since I can remember and now I'm glad we have.

We have had experiences we wouldn't normally have had. My husband is the only child of an only child, and being THAT CLOSE for that amount of time (especially to MY family) teaches you about yourself, Life in general, and group dynamics. 

I started thinking about how these Group Vacations prepare you for so many things.......like, say a Zombie Apocalypse. Or any dystopian apocalypse, really.

Cat Apocalypse: The smelliest of all. From shirtshovel.com

I'll name some necessary skills, and you guess whether it applies to Family Vacation or an Apocalypse.

Building or Finding Shelter. 
Apocalypse. 
Mostly.
Finding shelter for a vacation mostly involves using a computer and manipulating search engines and/or email, not exactly life threatening. However, negotiation and compromise is usually involved with both.

Hunting and Finding Food. 
Both. 
Though for us: Apocalypse.
On our Family Vacation, there is gun shooting but only at clay targets. There is fishing and some eating of the fish, but mostly we get food from my sister's garden and the grocery and take turns cooking and doing the prep/cleanup of meals. Not exactly bow-hunting wild boar.

Totally GRATUITOUS Daryl Dixon picture. Because I can. AMCTV.com

Sharing the Shitty Jobs. 
Both.
Unless you're filthy rich, or filthy in credit card debt, you probably still have to cook or somehow provide food for your family while you're on vacation. Families are relentlessly hungry. Then also someone has to clean their areas. 

If you're smart you'll work out a Buddy System, either set some picks or at least take turns, so one person (Mom) doesn't have to do it all. And then have a nuclear meltdown just to get other people to help. Like at home.

When it comes to 
Laundry
Apocalypse. Mostly.
Most people opt NOT to do laundry on Vacation. 

from persephonemagazine.com

I do laundry when I can, so we don't have to pack as much, but I'm weird. 

In the event of an apocalypse, unless you have to be nomadic and run from zombies, someone has to wash some laundry.

Otherwise the smell of the rank survivors will bring the zombies, or cannibals, or at the very least Swamp Ass. 

And guess what Lori from Walking Dead? 

If you can't hunt and/or butcher animals, where does that leave you? Accept your skill set. Or learn to hunt.

Whining. Again.. from giphy.com

Food Prep/Cleanup
Both.

You've made dinner for your family for years, but cooking for a GROUP filled with different kinds of picky eaters is another experience. Entirely. 

You know that "many hands make the load lighter" saying? That. 
We usually take turns cooking, or more often than not I'll do food prep and/or cleanup after. 

Finding Your Place In The Group
Both.
Do you know your place in a Group dynamic? What assets or skills do you bring? Anything of the above essentials, money/currency, entertainment? Are you too good/not good enough to cook or clean? Hope you got jokes, or grab a guitar and entertain the rest.

Glen. Am I right? from videogum.com

Turning Everyday Items Into Weapons.
Apocalypse.
Unless you have a very specific type of family. 

NOT a spoiler, this is a behind the scenes shot from AMCTV.com

Using Maps To Find Things
Both. 
Does GPS work where you're going? Time to remember they used to make these paper directional thingies called maps.

Conflict Resolution. 
Both.
Granted post-apocalypse situations would tend to be more stressful, but trust me, Family Vacations bring out about some major conflicts, and you learn to work that crap OUT.

No group is going to agree 100% of the time. This is a good time to practice social skills, for adults and kids. Kids don't even know they're learning new ways to negotiate new situations. Parents realize how they raise their children actually does affect other people.

from halloweenforum.com

Even if your children are the only kids on the trip, they're dealing with adults they would not interact with at home. 

This is a really good way to get a free Self Assessment on your parenting style. 

If your kids are whiny, bratty, spoiled, you know who will let you know? FAMILY. Especially my family.

Self examination.
This is also a good time to reflect on yourself, your annoying habits, and how you deal with stress. 

from quickmeme.com

Everyone has flaws, and if you don't have the kind of marriage or home arrangement where you can constantly call each other out on your bullshit, because we're all just Human after all, then you should have your family or friends do this. 

I know that sounds crazy, but do you know what happens to people who aren't kept in check? 

Charlie Sheen. No really, that is Charlie Sheen.
image from icydk.com 

The kinds of people that only surround themselves with YESmen and no one ever calls them out when they're being a douchebag? Yes. They become a bigger and bigger bag.

Shia TheBeef. from holymoly.com

As much you don't want to hear it, sometimes you NEED a brother, a sister, a friend, to tell you when you're being an ass. It makes you a better person.

Family is perfect for this. They will not only call you out on your current asshattery, they like to bring up your past mistakes. You know, so you don't forget. 

This will really make you think twice before doing things like....publicly exploding in a fit of rage. 

Trust me on this. Speaking of that:

Knowing your limits. 
Important in any situation.
Specifically, learning to recognize when you've about had it, and then acting before it's too late. This will help you in every aspect of your life. A lot of times people don't know how to resolve their misery, so they just trudge through until they snap. Then they say and do horrible things. Then they have to apologize, but they don't, because they're too mad from whatever drove them to that point, and the whole thing escalates. 

One example is The Planner. Every family or group has the person/people who Take Charge, and start planning things. 

When things go awry, the Planner(s) feel responsible, and start to stress out. Suddenly they don't want to be the planner and aren't sure how to get out of it. 

from modernbusinesslife.com

This is exactly the time and place to learn to ask for help. 

Or just throw your arms up in the air like ya just don't care and say "I'm done. YOU PEOPLE can plan from now on." 

If that's what you have to do to avoid meltdown, DO IT.

If we learn to recognize when we've about had enough, change whatever is driving us crazy, we don't have to snap and punch a moose. 

from fasinfun.blogspot.com

Believe me, once you snap no one will care how much you put up with, how long you've endured.

All anyone will remember is what you said and did when you broke. 

theb9.com,

You can't take that back. You have to learn to know your limits. Know what you or your children need, and learn to communicate with people to get there. This is life in a nutshell. 

I suggest learning this shit with your family, because those assholes have to love you, no matter what. They will usually tell you what you need to work on. It will make you a better person in the long run.

from sodahead.com

Then you don't ever have to fear an apocalypse. Humans and their needs are all basically the same. If you can learn to survive and enjoy the Group Vacation dynamic, you can handle any situation. You'll be a better person, much more pleasant for the rest of humankind.

So especially to you Horrible People, people who married jerkbags, or people that slowly developed into a-holes:
Do us all a favor. Take a group vacation!

Don't forget the most important thing on a family vacation:

Don't die unless someone's home. I mean, really.

RIP, eventually, Aunt Edna  from 70schild.blogspot.com

_______________________________
If you haven't seen the movie National Lampoon's Vacation, the above picture is Aunt Edna. RIP. She died when her idiot son went out of town, and had to be mounted to the top of the Metalic Pea Family Truckster, and have a makeshift unceremonious ceremony in the backyard. Here's a clip. Top Ten Movies Of All Time.

My Husband Laid Pipe, See The Pictures

It's been a busy week, lots to be thankful for. Family Vacation, and all that it brings. I'm working on a post for the things I've learned from mine over the years.

We swam, played games, had bonfires...

That's Lola on the other side, she's not as close to the fire as it looks 

...made S'mores. Seriously. Whoever realized that 3 pretty good foods together combine to form a Perfect Snack, deserves some sort of award. Much more than actors do. Steve Buschemi is damn entertaining to watch, but probably an awful snack.

Right? My cousin's daughter's dainty hand

We went on their pontoon boat, which I STILL kind of feel like I'm aboard almost a week later. I don't have pictures aboard the boat because I'm not allowed to bring my phone near the water, after killing so many phones. Someone else took this on my sister's neighbor's pier.

Husband Alex and Bug, the 2 year old

We went blueberry picking...

...and had some good relatively-clean family fun.

My husband took the week off work, we did some necessary home-groaner projects. Which, as per our usual, brought about MORE projects. Cleaning the laundry room caused THIS to happen behind the dryer.

BEFORE

It's okay to marvel over my husband's shiny pipe. Yeah, this is more duct work than PIPE, but that's not as funny. 

AFTER

Fun fact: Did you know when you replace duct work, you're not actually supposed to use the duct tape we know and love? And have tons of. Nope, totally different tape.

Oooooh, shiny

 It was a good thing this happened because this contraption (below) in our duct work from the 1950's, which they thought would be a smart way to heat homes, blows carbon monoxide into our HOUSE, and needed to be fixed. For the past almost 6 years we've lived here with this. Maybe I'll be less tired all the time now? Who knows.

Horrible idea. Dryers should vent OUTSIDE

That meant: Back to Home Depot for us! We should really just have our paychecks direct deposited to their headquarters. I'm thankful we have this house, DGMW, but we've been there so much this year, my kids think it's their playplace.

Hide & Seek

Now instead of crying and screaming to get down from the cart, they're yelling and screaming and LAUGHING while running down the aisles. Somehow that's better.

 and building towers with duct work.

and pretending to be merchandise? "How much for thee leettle girl?"

Their noise still seems to bring workers blissfully to us, asking if they can help, and making sure my kids don't hurt themselves so we don't sue them. Double bonus!

This post is part of the best better-than-a-blog-hop Silver Linings Upside-Down-Frown-Turn, that hopefully washes away some of the week's bad deeds of this sinner: The Ten Thanks of Thingful. Click HERE to join in, and tell us what you're thankful for.

Today is my son Tinny's 19th (yes, I'm that old) birthday. I have mixed feelings about that, since he's currently living with his dad for not following the rules here again, but I'm thankful he's lived this long. I'm thankful he has the option to live with his dad, he hasn't seen a whole lot of him for the past oh, decade or so, but since he does need tough love, and to learn consequences and I'm not ready to kick him to the actual curb, I'm glad he's got another option in between.

I'm thankful my husband and I don't fret over every storm. I'm a member of a local parent page for my town, and I woke to see hundreds of comments from panicked moms about last night's Tornado Watch, or was it a Warning? No tornado was spotted, we haven't had one this close to Chicago for some time, but the conditions were right and a LOT of parents lost sleep, moved their families to the basement, etc., and we slept peacefully not even knowing anything about it. 

Flooding in Burbank, IL from cbslocal.com

I let them know I have THANKFULLY installed an AccuWeather app on my phone. It sends me a very loud audible alarm if there is something to actually worry about. It sent me a flash flood warning, and there was enough rain to cancel a concert AND the Taste of Chicago, and knock out our power for hours yesterday, but it thankfully didn't worry me needlessly last night. Technology FTW!

A different kind of thankful. A memorial thankful.

Once in awhile on this rock of rotting, fetid garbage you meet people that put your faith back in humanity. Some people are so kind and generous, you wonder HOW the hell could I be the same species? The good people of this hop, for example, and the people of the Chicago Breast Cancer 3-Day.  

If we're smart, we learn from their example. Friday morning the human race got some bad news: An amazing woman I met passed away, and lost her fight with that evil demon cancer. 

Marylou was one of the most amazing women I ever met, I'm thankful to have met her and to have known her. She was the perfect mother, wife, grandmother, friend, volunteer, human. She not only volunteered a great deal of her time to cancer charities, when she was no longer able to do that medically, she would knit hats and such for the homeless. From her sick bed she did this. 

She gave everyone she knew an example of how to live, how to love unconditionally, how to give back and be a graceful angel even during the darkest times. 

When I first met her amazing husband (of 45 years!) was wearing a shirt that read:
"HumanKIND: Be Both"
and that sums it all up right there. 

from northernsun.com

I will never forget you, Marylou, and how you always had a smile for everyone. In the freezing cold, in the pouring rain, at 4a.m. when your team was breaking the "No whining" rule. 
Even the a-holes that didn't really deserve one. You made every event, and the world in general, a better place. I can only hope to use that example to try to do a little sliver of the same in my remaining time. I will never be the angel you were, but I shall really, really try to be better. 

The 2nd Worst Garage Sale Of My LIFE

Last weekend was our neighborhood garage sale event. A local church hosts it, and a few houses on every block join in to get in on the foot traffic. As much as I love shopping at Goodwill and resale shops, I HATE garage sales. 

from twindraggonflydesigns.com

I hate them like dogs hate storms, like cats hate being reasonable, like Shakespeare hates happy endings, like Vee hates Red. 

You get the idea.

I hate the intimacy of it, invading someone’s territory, their home, and looking at their personal items of their life.

Right in front of them. 

They watch for your reaction, you can hear them thinking:

Do they like my crap? 

Are they going to buy my crap? 

Why? Why not?

I LOVED this thing, this insignificant thing that has so many memories, why would anyone not want to have this?

I also have a touch of PTSD from the garage sale I had to help my father with. That’s a long story, I started to write about it until the shaking overcame my ability to operate a keyboard. 

Mayhaps with enough time and the right medications I will be able to finish that story, but the moral of that story: 

It was a terrifying day and has left me scarred for life hating garage sales, and in mortal fear of certain garage sailers.

I previously didn't know these were a thing.

The Early Birds. 

They come BEFORE it even opens. Sometimes hours before your POSTED SIGN says you're going to open. They don't care, they need to look NOW.

The Negotiators. 

Working lamp for a dollar? Oh no, honey, I can do better than that. Just so I can brag about it later to people who don't give a shit. Nothing like The Priceline Negotiator, who is delightful.

Slay Daddy. from allwomenstalk.com

The Bullies. They don't follow rules, it's their world. They're the worst. They are why I hate garage sales so hard. Also people.

Okay, I can't think about that, let's just get right to the story.

Last weekend, the neighborhood sale. 

We usually take the kids in the stroller and will look over at least a few. We need a lot of things for the house, the kids will always need clothes, bikes, etc., that we would rather get used. I don't enjoy enduring these home-hosted flea and potentially bedbug markets, but I suffer quietly, as my dad taught me to do.

We happened upon a garage sale 2 blocks away, with items laid all up the driveway and in the garage. Then I noticed a 2nd smattering of items on the opposite end in the lawn. That initially didn't strike me as odd. I'm not a logistics person.

A double camping chair, WITH DRINK HOLDERS (as all good camping chairs should have) caught my husband’s eye, and I started chatting with the homeowner as he took it out of the box to see how hard it was to operate.

Meanwhile, she was really trying to push an old fashioned Pepsi cooler, which was very interesting but not a thing we can realistically have, or store. We don’t have room to store large non-essential items. 

This was the size and SHAPE, the picture above, but it had the old logo from the 60's or 70's I guess. I tried to find one and got lost in a Pepsi logo tangent. I can't believe how many different logos they've had.

from pepsiman.50megs.com

from famouslogos.us

FYI, below is the logo circa 1900.

from huntersproject.weebly.com

Fun fact: Caleb Bradham was a pharmacist that made up the Pepsi formula in his drug store. He later renamed his drink to Pepsi-Cola because of the pepsin and cola nuts. Five years later Pepsi-Cola received it's first logo.

Look, how 80's-tastic is this one? Radical.

from blog.signalnoise.com

Reminded me of Crystal Clear Pepsi, remember that? When that came out, Saturday Night Live did a "Crystal Clear Gravy" commercial that was hysterical.

from howtobeawesome.org

Okay, tangent Pepsi logo trip over. 

Bringing back in.

We do not have room for this cooler and frankly if I were going to spend any money on a giant cooler, it better look like R2D2. 

I want a PBR from R2's head

If I were crafty I might have painted the Pepsi one, but it may be a collector item, and as my sister often says: If your aunt had balls she’d be your uncle so why talk about IFs.

The point is, I REALLY did not want this giant-ass soda cooler, and for some reason I started to feel guilty about it. 

Something in her face and her sense of urgency was making me feel an inexplicable sadness. 

I explained that our house is not really a “party house,” we just knew we wanted a house in my son’s school district, and we had X budget and the only house we could afford in the area with 2 bathrooms is not exactly a house to have big parties in. We had hoped to move up North by now, closer to my husband's work.

She explained that’s why they bought the cooler, for parties. They used it ONE TIME when they first got it, but never had a party with it. Now she has to move to a ONE-BEDROOM APARTMENT, so she has to get rid of most of her things. That’s the way she said it, I have no issue w/living in something of that size.

Like the awkward idiot I am, I filled the following uncomfortable silence with that information. 
“I lived in a small apartment for almost a year, it was SO EASY to clean that whole place. Sometimes I really miss that. And no yardwork, no weeds!” 

She gave me a half-smile that said 'Thanks I guess,' and added that it's not her choice to move out, they're getting divorced. I started babbling something between an apology and "Shit Happens" when my my husband brought the camping chair over and said we would take it. She explained they NEVER used it, tags were still on it, they were supposed to go camping and never got the chance, and my husband wisely asked about another item. 

That other item, whatever it was, was also NEW in the package, they never did use it. My husband asked something from the other pile. She told us that the other side of the lawn was a whole separate sale. 

She used broad sweeping movements to show us how everything on this side was hers, and everything on that side should be paid separately to the girls on that side.

I started to put this together. His And Her Divorce Garage Sale.

I just stared at her. I tried to stop the train of Stupid that was chugging up my throat, but it had boarded, picked up steam from somewhere and it was too powerful to stop. 

Out they came.
"You're having a combined garage sale?"

She nodded: Yes. 

Again my mouth vomited words before my brain could do anything about it:
"You're a better woman than I."

She looked at me, wiped her face slowly with a wet napkin she took from her pocket and added:
"Not my idea."

I looked at her, commanding my body not to say anything. For once, please, just shut up for a beat.

She filled the silence this time thankfully, with:
"It's okay. I'm okay with it."

Now I couldn't even make myself talk. 

WTF, Brain? Where are all those stupid non-conversation words and lame jokes you're always spewing out all the time? Where are they now?

She added, sagely:
"What can you do?"

I stood there for about seven hours, speechless. Well, it felt like 7 hours anyway. 

I just could NOT stop imagining the horror that would be a garage sale with my ex-husband. Sweet baby Jesus in the manger, you could not force me to have that day. There is not any item, or any amount of money, that would make that day worth living. 

I would give up every material item I have ever possessed, and just walk away. As I did from my first marriage, with only a bag of clothing for me and for my son.

I couldn't even force myself to have that day of:
"Is this mine or yours?
Do you want this CD?"

I just left all of it. Nothing is worth that. NO-THING. Take it, take all the things.

I would rather be homeless and live in a dumpster behind a pet store. 

I would rather sleep in the middle of Lake Shore Drive during rush hour traffic. And other elaborate thoughts about what I would rather do than stand among a yardfull of my failed marriage's items and try to negotiate with people to buy them, filled my head and would not leave.

Can you even imagine?

Eventually I found some words, but had no idea what to say to this stranger. 

"What indeed," I lamely whispered.

I suck at these situations. I am about the least comforting person in the world. I am usually trying so hard not to say something awful, or make a terrible joke, that I lose all ability to talk like one person speaks to another person. 

I know that my oldest sister could have handled this with tact and compassion, she would have put an arm around her, and called her "Honey" and made her feel better. I swear to blog I tried to think of something, anything, to say that might make her feel better. For the life of me, I just drew a blank with words.

I tried to change the subject, but I think we've already established I'm an idiot, so I asked about a fancy, elaborate picnic basket with room for 2 wine bottles. 

Yes, this is what I chose to change the subject with. A romantic-looking picnic basket. 

To ask the hostess of a Divorce Garage Sale. 

Jesus, Joy, why don't you just ask if they have any condoms they're not going to be using now?

She mentioned they were given this basket as a gift, for picnics and she gave an involuntary *shrug* when she said 'picnics' and added, but didn't have to, that they never used it.

My children started fussing a few seconds later, blissful timing, and I tended to them dramatically until my husband eventually returned from the other (dark) side with whatever item he purchased from that side, a small rolling shelf and a small stuffed horse, which my 2 yr old proudly held up for the woman to see. 

"Oh, you have a horsie! Sorry I don't have toys on my side, I never did have children. They have toys on that side, he had children. And toys...." 
her voice just faded away, and I imagined she was thinking about her ovaries.... just another thing they never did use in this marriage, and my husband looked at me confusedly. 

He had not heard the whole 'his side/her side' explanation, and for some weird reason I panicked, saw a sled with a Bears logo and jumped up to grab it before my traitorous mouth could betray me again. 

"Oh look, a sled!" We have used sleds before. 

My teenager asked about sleds one time. Ever. But oh yeah, we need a sled, sure, we will DEFINITELY NEED this damn sled, that she obviously NEVER USED (tag was on it) so I need to pay her for this sled. Right now. And these 2 umbrellas, I mean when you see an umbrella for a dollar you buy the damn umbrella. 

I have a whole theory about umbrellas. To me they're like books, you don't own them, you just borrow them from the universe for awhile until you, or more likely your children, leave them somewhere for the next person. I have purchased probably 50 umbrellas from Goodwill, resale shops and garage sales. We now only have THE TWO I just bought at this Divorce Garage Sale. Until the next time my teenager has to walk to the bus or to work in the rain. Then, they'll be gone, on their way to another adventure with another family. Farewell.

And farewell to the renters of the house 2 blocks away, who are getting divorced. The soon-to-be-ex-wife will be moving into a 1-bedroom apartment, never having used any of the fun items she & her soon-to-be-ex-husband intended for their marriage.

Our hasty retreat. That's the Bears sled, which I will MAKE SURE we use at least once.

Maybe just maybe, said my husband on the walk home, if they HAD used any of these fun, romantic, non-essential items in their marriage.....they might still be married?
Who knows, thankfully I managed not to ask before we left.

We had a picnic later that same day at a park. 

No fancy basket, no wine, just snacks and us and kids and smiles and laughs.

and tangerine flowers

Lesson: Have the fun, do the things, go on the picnics. 

Forget about all the STUFF of life, and focus on the fun. The Love. The Laughs.

Because you might not have the chance. 

And for frick's sake, do NOT have a joint yard sale with someone you're ending a relationship with. Craig's list, e-Bay, phone a friend, sell some dru---I mean, I can tell you better ways to make a couple hundo. 
*fingerphone* Call me.