Buying and Selling

Saturday (5th May) was the day of the great Garage Sale Trail. The Garage Sale Trail is about sustainability, community and creativity. Conceived as a platform for anyone who wants to make some money/raise some money and connect with their community, ultimately the Garage Sale Trail is about making sustainability both fun and social.

I love stuff like this. Fossicking around in other people’s belongings, hoping to turn up a little gem that may just make my heart sing. A bangle from the 1950s, funky old knitting patterns, a (toy) dog in high heels and a tutu: all of these things and more have to come to me via garage sales. Sadly I missed out on visiting the Garage Sale Trail this year as I took part instead! Yes, the declutter I mentioned in an earlier post is finally complete and from 7am until Midday (early birds aside!) Andy and I were spruiking our wares on the front lawn.

We had a couple of early arrivals but since they bought up big and were a very sweet older couple they were completely forgiven. We had three guys vying for our (broken) lawn mower and a car full of (how can I put this delicately?) bogans (I couldn’t put it delicately) do a slow drive-by before turning up their noses and screeching off up the street. I imagine their conversation went something like this: “naw, let’s get out of here Kev, we don’t want any of their shit!” “Yeah Darl, their crap isn’t even worth getting out of the Commodore for.” They were not missed.

I’d say it was a semi-success. I think we offloaded around 25% of our stuff which means our local op shop is about to hit pay dirt. It was fun and a surprisingly good way to spend some quality time with my little family as we sat and chatted between shoppers and watched our little girl toddle between the tables exclaiming “ooh” with each new discovery.

In other news, I have been on the hunt for the perfect wellies, or gumboots as they are more commonly called in Australia. We’ve booked a trip away to the country (in 15 days and counting!) and I strongly suspect there will be mud and puddles and possibly cow poop. Whilst I tend to skirt around these things – except for the occasional puddle, who can resist a quick splash when no one is looking? – Agatha is drawn to them like a bear to honey. Her tiny feet tingle in anticipation of a good old rollick and who am I to deny her such simple pleasures? So, in the interests of enabling my lovely girl to do more of what makes her happy, I have been looking for wellington boots in a miniscule size which won’t restrict her newly acquired walking skills.

It’s harder than you think with most rainboots coming halfway up the leg and starting at a size way beyond the feet of my wobbly midget. But persistence and serious internet thrashing have paid off and these beauties are winging their way from Edinburgh as I type.

I know I need to get out more but aren’t they just divine?

Clutterly brilliant

I love my stuff. I have trinkets from my travels, books by the bucketload, collections comprising teacups, vintage glassware and buttons. I love our stuff – the hundreds of mismatched CDs and records (thrown together when Indie Kid met Happy House Raver) that somehow, over time have bridged the distance so that now Andy can be found navel gazing with Teenage Fanclub while I practice my running man to K-Klass. I love all of Agatha’s stuff, simply because it belongs to her.

Needless to say, my study is a storeroom. Boxes full of very important paperwork (neither of us know exactly what’s in there but it must be important if we kept it all this time). Bookcases chock full of books I have read and will never re-read and those that I will never read at all. Cupboards bursting with clothes that no longer fit us (but they might, one day) and drawers swimming in bits and bobs that may come in useful, if only we knew what they were for. It’s starting to feel uncomfortable, all this stuff. I’m not a hoarder but I am overly sentimental and loathe to hurt any feelings; “we can’t give that away, our old neighbour brought it back from Malaysia for us… Yes I know it’s a Petronas Towers money box wrought large in plastic but it was a gift!”

So, what to do? Celia Barbour (writer and contributing editor at O, the Oprah Magazine) says “a home is a place to do things, not store things. It’s not meant to house your possessions but your life.” This really speaks to me – especially the bit about a home not housing your possessions but your life. Part of my quest to do more of the things that make me happy is to live by the motto that less stuff = more life. So I am going to declutter. I’m going to have a huge garage sale and the proceeds are going into our Hawaii account. I’m going to donate much to charity. I’m going to recycle and, as a last resort, throw away. When I am done I will look around my home and actually SEE the things that are special to me. I am going to try and live by William Morris’ exhortation to not have anything in my house that I do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.

Anyone want a money box from Malaysia?