Garage Sales and Father's Day

My mother and I decided to participate in my neighborhood's annual summer garage sale.  It was our first attempt at such an event.  

It was hilarious.  

Thursday evening we prepped the garage for serious selling.  We didn't have any tables, so right away we knew we would be pegged as amateurs.  We soldiered on.  

I helped very little, because, well... I'm pregnant.

That fact is totally irrelevant, as we all know.

I really just don't like helping.  

Trinity and Robby lugged out furniture that we needed to sell to prepare Genevieve's nursery.  

Mom unloaded trinkets from the last 30 years, at least those that didn't drown in the flood.  

Prices on her items ranged from $.25-$1.50, so she was set to make a killing.  

My husband tried to sneak out wedding gifts that he felt were unnecessary.  I stopped him at every turn.  

* Mother is deciding how to price Ralph Wigham from The Simpsons.  He sold for $1.  

Robby reclaimed old Sega games and various items from his childhood and put them in his trunk.  Robby is a bit of a memory keeper in the form of stuff.  He is reluctant to let things go.  I didn't make fun of him at all for this. 

Jane left Friday afternoon with $46 in her pocket, about enough to cover the gas and Starbucks she consumed driving to my house.  

T and I made a profit of $250, selling our old grill, a few pieces of furniture and some of my old pajamas.  That old lady is going to love those pjs. 

We had lots of no-sells.  

like these dolls I had as a young lass.  Her clothes were seasonal.  

On Saturday morning we departed early for a fun filled Father's Day weekend extravaganza.  When we arrived at my parents' house, Robeghan gave me a birthday gift. 

They have a much better understanding of the gift packaging presentation.  

The six of us loaded into a red Dodge Caravan that Robby rented from the airport and headed to St. Louis.  The Thrifty rental car guys gave him a bit of trouble at the rental counter at Indianapolis International Airport because he was a "local" and picking up his rental at 9:00 p.m. on a Friday night.  Local yokels renting mini vans from their city of residence and picking up prostitutes and doing 8 balls of cocaine is somewhat of an issue, and I guess Robby looked suspicious.

I just made that up, but just the part about coke binging and such.  They really were not pleased because I guess local  people might rent cars for parties or something less imaginative than the aforementioned visual I created.  Robby explained he was picking up his Baby Boomer parents, fiancé, pregnant sister and brother-in-law and driving to St. Louis to see a Cardinals game and go to Grant's Farm.  

They gave him the van.   

We arrived safely and I became increasingly concerned about the heat.  93 degrees was the forecast, and sunny.  

Here's a before picture of part of the crew headed into Busch stadium.

Look at me, I'm like all happy that I'm going to eat a hot dog. 

Fast forward one hour.

Holy Mother of God, it was hot.

I was glistening.

T was straight up sweating his a** off.

This is when I was feeling very grateful to my father, and his habit of buyng high priced tickets.  Since we were practically sitting in the 1st baseman's hip pocket, we were allowed access to this underground lair of luxury.

It was a small air-conditioned lounge under the bleachers and it was heaven.  I may have spent the entire game sitting down there, eating Ben and Jerry's mango sorbet. 

I had a trusty companion in Caroline.

She got sassy ra-ras.  

Katie and Chip stayed out in their seats almost the entire game.  That's why I don't have pictures of them.  I lasted about 25 minutes out there, in 3 minute increments.  

Mom and Dad survived.  Mother was wearing her "I'm having tea and crumpets in an English garden" straw hat to protect her face.  

and here comes Betsy beast.

My ankles and feet had swollen to the size of sausages due to heat and baby, I guess.

My precious brother in law was sure to comment on them, and those sandals had to practically be cut off my tootsies.  I fear I may continuously battle with what I will henceforth refer to as 

Big Trouble in Little China feet.  

If you don't know this movie, you haven't lived.  Watch it.  It stars Kurt Russell and Kim Cattrall in all of their campy 80s glory fighting an evil Chinese man named Lo Pan.  We loved it as kids, particularly the part where the guy swells and then bursts into a pile of lettuce and various other vegetables.  I couldn't find a google image of his feet, but you get the idea here...

this is what my feet looked like.

Not good.

We wrapped up our family weekend at Grant's Farm, where we visited lots of animals, including Clydesdales.  

We had a great time visiting with my family and celebrating T's first Father's Day.  It's hard to believe that next year we'll have a 9 month old daughter!