What is it about garage sales? This past weekend, my neighborhood had a garage sale, and it seemed that just as the sun was coming up, there were people driving  around, parking, prepped to get their shop on. They had coffee, donuts, water bottles and their deal shoes on. NOTHING was stopping them. For two days, our street looked more like 94 than quiet ol’ Misty Creek.

Personally, I’m not a fan of garage sales. I’m not into clutter, and I’m constantly getting rid of things I don’t use. The last thing I want to do is go paw through someone else’s sloppy seconds. Well, I felt that way until I had a kid. Now I will go to garage sales if I know there is a possibility of scoring a great deal on some over-priced gadget that my son will use maybe twice in his life.  I’m talking about people that LIVE for garage sales. It’s like a second job for them. They creep me out, like those extreme coupon people, “Look, I got 30 cases of Ramen Noodles for FREE!” Good for you lady, guess what, the medical care you’re going to need after consuming that much Ramen won’t be free, I can assure you.

The only thing I dislike more than going to a garage sale, is hosting one. The museum I work at is currently preparing for one of the biggest garage sales I have ever seen in my life. So I have been helping out, going through bags, and boxes, and crates of random crap. It gives me the heebies. I feel slightly voyeuristic, like I’m poking around in someone’s diary. Old clothes, jewelry, bedding, books. I get a sense for what this person was like, and I wonder, if they have passed on, what they think of me tossing their once-loved objects into the trash because I don’t think it will sell?

I also feel so gross and dirty, and wouldn’t be surprised to find bugs crawling on me.  When I bust open a bag of old bedding that has that distinct, musty attic or crawl space smell, I can almost hear the bed bugs scream in unison “GET HER!”  The only thing good about being involved in this process, is that it reinforces my OCD to constantly de-clutter and get rid of crap I don’t use. I don’t want some poor schmuck going through my crap after I have kicked it saying, “More New Kids on the Block stuff? What a weirdo STALKER!”  or “Ok, someone was obsessed with purple!”

So, should you find yourself at a garage sale, and you happen upon a stack of cute Santa plates, or a darling lawn duck, no need to share your score with me. I’m all set. Oh, and if you are one of those who are obsessed with garage sales, go to the Kalamazoo Institute of Arts May 18 (8-5) and 19 (8-noon). Trust me, your brain will explode.

I’ll be in the shower, delousing.

Am I mom enough? Yes, I am mom enough to not use my child, who has NO say about this, as a way to further my own personal agenda. Yes, this cover was meant to be provocative, and start a dialogue, so it has accomplished that.  If this woman’s goal was to normalize extended breastfeeding, it fails miserably.  Any woman who has breastfed knows it looks NOTHING like this. But for pregnant women who are undecided about breastfeeding, seeing this image is far more likely to make them opt for formula than breastfeed. For those who demonize breastfeeding as abnormal in our “modern” society, this image only reinforces that belief.

Well done Time.

As for the mom featured on this cover, I certainly hope you saved any money you received for your photo and put it directly in an account to fund your son’s future therapy that he will undoubtedly need for this. As this image is not only in print, but blasted all over the internet, this kid is going to be forever known as “that kid sucking his mom’s tit on Time magazine.” He will get to spend his school years being asked by class mates if he remembers how his mom tastes, and dealing with catcalls of “Your mom is HOT, I’d suck on that too!”

Nice move mom… its obvious to everyone that this is all about YOU. Enjoy your fifteen minutes of fame, at the bargain basement cost of your son’s lifetime of shame.

 

Married, not Melded

 

Great article on how to stay married. A key point that jumped out at me was this:

Doing your own thing, having your own friends, being completely insanely passionate about something that the other person has no idea, really, about, is awesome. It allows your spouse to be your cheerleader, uncomplicated by knowledge or personal investment. And it means you’ll always have stuff to talk about, because you’re not overlapping all the time.

I agree. People who are incapable of having a life of their own outside of their spouse/partner are simply leaches in my opinion, and like a leach, they drain the life out of their partner because they feel trapped. It’s not cute that you can’t do anything without your husband/partner. It’s stifling and its creepy.