B, G and J Day: Vintage

B:

He has become a Craigslister. This is mostly because of me. Our garage was full, you see, and our basement full and our barn in MO not full, but somewhat filled with stuff.


Too much stuff.

Stuff that Bryan agreed we needed to get rid of. But stuff that was "worth something."

Oh yeah? Fine. I've got a friend, Stephanie, who sells things on Craigslist. I talked with her about selling our stuff for us and I'd share the profit with her.

Then I told Bryan that this friend was on deck to begin the liquidation and he said, "I'll sell it myself!"

Oh yeah? Well, you got through the weekend to get started, pal.

And he did. He began with the 5 ficus trees he bought at an auction 2 months ago, when I asked him to buy me one ficus tree for our master bedroom. But at 2 bucks a piece, how was he going to pass up a whole forest of them?

He sold them for 20 bucks a piece, at which point, he was likin' the Craigs list. . .

Since then, he's sold a lot of stuff at prices a lot better than one would get if yard saled or auctioned. Part of my deal with him is that he can keep his profits in his own "auction fund" to do with as he pleases. I have a dream that his auction-going will become a self-sustaining hobby. . .

So. One of the items he sold was a vintage Coca-Cola cooler. It was metal. Not very thermo-efficient. But classy in that banged-up vintage way.

The buyer first asked Bryan if he'd come down in price, but Bryan said, no, he was pretty sure he could get that much for it.

The buyer still wanted it, and wrote,

"Just to give you a snapshot of this cooler's future life with me: I have a ranch outside Denver and I use my '63 Chevy pick-up to get around. Your cooler will ride in back and have a couple of cold long necks waiting for me at the end of a hot day. Big Red, as I call her, is going to look great with a cooler from her day."

Charming, right?

Bryan read this and didn't want to sell it to him. My husband thinks that such vintage items should be displayed somewhere in a cool, dry place away from direct sunlight. This guy was going to use the cooler? As a cooler???? What was his problem?

My only thought, after reading this "future life" spiel, was that the guy was going to show up and try to dicker down the price again. That he was trying to soften us up with his tender vision.

Bryan arranged for the sale. The guy drove down during the day and I was sure to be wig-less when I answered the door. Who's going to try to dicker the price with a cancer patient?

He turned out to be a very nice, very wealthy man. Signs of wealth:

1. He lived with his wife and newborn son on a horse ranch while working as a lobbyist in DC. I didn't ask what he lobbied for because I didn't want him to tell me something horrible. . .

2. He told me about his '72 Mercedes, of which only 600 were made, and how he kept it completely original, right down to the television set in the back seat.

I received these data points with a polite smile and thought, "I'm glad Bryan didn't come down on the price."

The buyer did say something that will stick with me the rest of my life. He explained how he and his wife really enjoy antiques from all over the world, and that he is just passing through history. As such, he's the care-taker of these items that will belong to a different place, time and person after he's gone.

What a lovely way to think of antiques.

I shared the thought with Bryan, who said, "Yeah, well as caretaker, he probably shouldn't fill the thing with ice!"


G:

The other night, Gemma arranged in the afternoon to have chicken tenders for dinner. It was a pre-emptive request as she realized that I would be preparing big salads for Bryan and myself.

Sure. Chicken tenders. No problem.

As the dinner hour approached, she saw the literature packet regarding my PowerPort--that valve thing implanted in my chest. What was this for? she wanted to know.

I explained. Or tried to. Wasn't sure if I'd done a good job making it clear. I finished the explanation and then asked, "Capice?"

Long pause. She looked at me and then said, "You mean 'chicken tenders.'"



J:

He came into my room one morning, too early. Had his jammies off. His pull-up off. His underpants up around his knees, which is about as far as he can go when dressing his bottom.

"Good morning," I murmured to him as he stood by my bed. "Did you get yourself dressed?"

He nodded and said, "A little bit."

Bonus J story:

We were reading on the couch today, a child on each side of me. He turned towards my ear and said, "What's this?" and started poking his fingers in.

Kids do this when they're 3. They notice that human beings have ears and that ears are full of contours and it's just a major discovery.

So I answered him, "That's my ear."

He glanced at me with a look that kind. . .waived me off. Like of course he knew this was my ear. And he kept fiddling, his brow furrowed.

Then he pulled out the little white cushion that was on my ear bud from the ear phones I wore while working out this morning.

"No, this!" he said.

Oh. That. Yes, that is a real discovery. . .