Yard Sale Sunday: Eager Bird

In the deserts of Arizona, yard sale-ing meant getting up at ungodly hours - often starting at around 5am. Most sales began around that time, or - even if they had advertised starting later - eager yard sale aficionados would already be rifling through boxes yet to be splayed out whether invited or not. 

This dynamic made sense, of course, given that all sales were final by about 930am - meaning that the heat was simply too much to bear by that time and sellers packed up shop and buyers went back home. 

In Roanoke, however, yard sales can go all day - even in the peak of summer. But in both cases, the question arises of how important it is to get to a yard sale as soon as possible.

It sort of makes sense: you want to be among the first there so that you can have pickings of everything for sale. If you went later, maybe you'd miss out on lots of items you would have loved to buy. 

However, I'm going to argue for the path of patience here. While I have long been in situations where overzealous buyers have literally shot around my car, screeched to a halt, and jumped out in order to be just one person sooner at a sale, I've rarely seen such zeal pay off. 

Foremost, such behavior is reckless and likely to result in a traffic accident, and certainly won't make you any friends anytime soon (and fellow yard salers do reappear - have no doubt). But the whole point of the rush is - in my experience - just as moot.

With so many sales out there, the variety you'd see rushing around to as many as possible as fast as you can won't get you any more options or deals than the turtle's pace. 

Because we're all looking for different things and willing to pay different prices, there's really no logic in thinking that getting to a sale sooner will mean finding something that would have otherwise been bought already. 

So when you're out there scoping sales, just tell yourself that hurrying won't bring any more luck or quality of goods than taking your time. While there are certainly some wonderful items to be found at yard sales, and even some real money to be made, it should also be about the experience. Let's face it: you're not likely to find a lost Picasso at a yard sale, so have fun with them. Meet people and take your time. There will always be more sales. 

'Til next week: Keep your coffee in one hand and your singles in another. 

Lick, Stick and Try To Mail

It was 6:10pm on April the 15^th (Tax Day) when I suddenly detested our post offices. On the door of my closest office, going far earlier than planned just to be safe, I saw a sign letting me know that they were keeping regular hours, with an insult-to-injury jab at the bottom about the late penalty I'd suffer if I didn't send my return back in time. Time for the mad dash downtown. 

Okay, so I get that every media in the Valley was used to convey that post offices would have regular hours. I know that the Roanoke Times, the local radio stations, and the signs at the post offices communicated this fact to where few could miss it. However, aside from most certainly being one of the people who did miss it, the point I must make is that communicating regular hours doesn't make only holding regular hours okay. 

Everywhere else I've lived had post offices open until midnight, and while those were bigger cities, we aren't exactly a one-horse town here. Even the USPS website boasted of convenience, reliability and extended hours on tax day.

I know that the post office is in trouble with the ubiquitous usage of email, but suck it up: we actually need you for once! (Well, selling books online, I need them a lot, but I'm adopting a community voice here). 

And from the research I conducted after the fact, I see nothing in the way of dissatisfaction about what can only be called shoddy service. I sent a Carrier pigeon to a friend living on an island populated by 18 people, and he told me their post office stayed open late. 

Luckily, my homage to Uncle Sammy still made it out with about five minutes to spare, though this was after wading through the crowds of not-so-happy people who had no stamps and had to wait to use the vending machines. Some might call us procrastinators, but I call us expectant. Expectant of a post office that would make just a little extra effort one day out of the year instead of holding the same friggin' hours they hold every weekday. At least act like you care by being open an extra half hour. 

Yard Sale Saturday: It's wide open

With the perfect low 70s building up to 84 degrees on Saturday, it was an ideal day for yard sales - and this wasn't missed by sellers, who abounded on Saturday. I visited a dozen or so from the Earth Day celebration in Raleigh Court down to 419 by way of Colonial Ave.

I have to say there was excellent signage, with only two wild goose chases (likely from sellers who were scratching their heads wondering where the crowds were).

Here are some interesting finds this week:

1. A collection of very warn Nora Roberts paperbacks for $2 each. Umm....good luck with that.

2. A huge collection of books, VHS and DVD movies, and CDs in what must have been the emptying of a bachelor pad of winter wares. A little pricey, but some good finds there.

3. A lone woman selling hunting equipment, motocross gear, and tools in what I'm assuming was a less-than-amiable split with Mr. Outdoorsman.

I picked up a slew of books and several movies - some of which I'll be keeping, and still others that are listed online already. I guess the fortuitous find this week was a pristine copy of The Golden Compass, which I'd been wanting to see again.

So yard sale season is good to go here in the valley. Let's hope the weather stays warm and dry for the next several weekends. Keep reading as I'll be going into some tips on having your own yard sale, which we're gearing up for around here.

In the mean time, make your signs big and keeps your pockets full of change.

Awe of Easter Lacking Luster

Alright, I admit it: I hadn't been to church in a while when I attending Easter service. The churches know the score though, often adding another service to accommodate what I've heard called the C and E Christians (attending Christmas and Easter services only).

I've never found church pews terribly comfortable, not like sitting in a movie. And it's true: my mind begins to drift as it did when I was a kid, and I check the bulletin to see how far along we are. But all of these are inward feelings and thoughts, and no sooner manifest outwardly as would a belch.

And yet - judging by the packed house at my church this Easter - you would guess it's the first time many people have gathered socially since Christmas. Behind me, Chatty Cathy and Prattle-On Barbie have a full-on conversation only stopping during the sermon, at which time they switch to a whisper.

Surely coffee is cheaper than their tithe, and they can talk all they want at Starbucks, so why come to church to begin with? Are either one really under the impression that God cares is someone comes to church to talk about tv shows and weekend chores?

To my right sit Mr and Mrs Insecurity - the former playing an air piano during every choir song, and the latter signing every word spoken while whispering it out loud. What could make someone so insecure as to try to glean stares during church? Like a talent agent is going to approach the couple after the service and say: "Hey, I noticed you guys rock the air piano, and you've got services for the hearing impaired covered. How would you like to be rich and famous?"

While kids acted like kids, and did a fair bit of wandering around - no doubt bored to tears by concepts way over their head - it was the adults really shining in the spectacle department this Easter. Give me crying babies over obnoxious and self-important adults any day.

But let's get real for a moment: far be it from me to judge what anyone does with his life, but if you're incapable of sitting through a one-hour service without wetting your pants or deafening your peers with the sound of how awesome you are, maybe just stay home and let the Lord come to you.

Or just don't bother at all.

David Sedaris Comes to the Valley

I love Zebra brand pens. They look good, they feel good, and they're durable. This was the reason I gave celebrated author David Sedaris a black, ball-point Zebra I happen to have on me, risking him thinking that maybe I was a pen salesman, sure, but I also figured someone with a line like he had for the book signing portion of his show needed a reliable pen. This was during his Friday night reading at the Jefferson Center downtown.

My wife and I showed up late - halfway into the first story Sedaris read, but still getting the gist by the end. My wife had insisted on it being a surprise, and since she'll be late to her own funeral, no doubt, by extension we were running to our balcony seats.

Sedaris read several stories, as well as some hilarious journal entries, followed by some Q and A before signing books.

My new copy of Naked was graced with a drawing of a turtle with the head of Abe Lincoln. My wife jokingly reminded me that singed books that were addressed to someone sold for a lot less, though she knew I had no intention of selling my new book - reading it, certainly.

I've read Sedaris in The New Yorker, last year's Greatest American Short Stories, and his non-fiction essays and short stories in collections Me Talk Pretty One Day and Holidays On Ice. His knack for seeing the comic potential in every situation, and the ability to communicate that comedy in an astute and complex fashion only makes the laughs that much bigger.

Though he has traveled all over, it's still nice to know the Roanoke is big enough for what seem to be annual visits (I missed him last year, alas). He's from Raleigh, which might have something to do with touring cities in the area, though I was proud to see a pretty packed house that night.

If you've not had the pleasure of reading Sedaris, his work is sure to have even the most somber cackling, and the partioned style is perfect for the person who takes months to finish a book.