chock-a-blog

Two weeks ago my friend Ana and I spent the weekend in Bisbee at the Shady Dell (trailer park). This, of course, was a joy in itself. But also joyful was a funny little packed-to-the-rooftop musty-smelling thrift store out on Bisbee Road on the way to the Farmer's Market. I rejoiced in finding Jack a pair of OshKosh jeans for twenty-five cents. A quarter for a pair of jeans! Also found this cool ceramic skull ($1.00) just in time for Halloween.

I'm thinking of sticking it in a planter and growing a vine out of it after the holidays are over. Reminds me of Mandy's Darth Maul mug with the cactus growing out of it.

Though I had a great time in Bisbee with Ana, I was a bit disappointed to have missed our church's third annual rummage sale. I previewed some of the goodies and lamented the fact that I couldn't go to the sale. But I did go to church the Sunday after the sale. The youth group leader---who organized the sale---told us they'd raised more money in this one sale alone than they did in all their fundraising efforts last year. There were still a few items left: things that didn't sell at the sale proper, and things that didn't fit in the Salvation Army truck that came to haul away the leftovers. She invited parishioners to take what they wanted and leave a donation if they wished.

SCORE

big time

first I picked up this hippy ergonomic desk chair. I've always wanted one. I plan to strip this, paint it, and recover it, possibly in Dia de los Muertos fabric, if I can find it. If I ever actually do this, I'll post results.

Then I pondered this purchase. I already have a bike. I bought it full price 15 years ago. It's a Bianchi hybrid, and it served me well. But as I've matured, I've always wanted the classic 3-speed. This fit the bill. Would DH kill me if I brought home another bike? Would I ever ride it? Would it languish on the back patio with the family's other bikes?

who cares?

so I gave a $20 donation and came home with this 3-speed. That delightful Cirque de Soleil dragon was already in the basket.

Never heard of Skeppshult? Neither had I. I looked it up on the Internet: Skeppshult. See? That's me some day. Funky urban dweller coasting a cobblestone path to my little apartment above a corner flowershop, where I write critically-acclaimed short stories, drink endless espressi, and cook exquisite meals for my husband and son. See how happy I am?

Maybe 20 bucks can't buy happiness, but it can buy you a $1595 Skeppshult bike. And a dream.

monday melee

Photo credit goes to xeriscapeaz.org On Monday morning Jack woke early and had plenty of time to play with Cassie in the backyard before school. I was inside making Jack's lunch when I heard Cassie's Alert Bark, so I went outside to investigate. She was barking ferociously at the resident herd of javelina, passing through the wash behind the house, trotting on their ridiculously tiny hooves. "Jack! Come see the javelina!" I said. He ran over and leaned against the wall by the lemon tree, where the wall runs shortest. "Here pig pig!" he called. And what the hell? The big ones started coming over, and the little ones followed. "Oh-ho!" Jack was delighted when the entire herd of seven javelina---five adults and two babies---walked over to stand just on the other side of the wall, lifting their round wet snouts and sniffing our air. "Someone's been feeding them," I said, over Cassie's barking, and turned to go inside to get the camera...