So I decided that having to log into Friendster to blog was a pain in the ass. So here I am.
Today I had a garage sale and managed to rid myself of a sufficient amount of crap. Cristi will be sad to know that I parted with a great deal of my old piano music. I am finally acknowledging that I am no longer a concert pianist, I am not going to be a concert pianist, and carrying around the library of a concert pianist is both time and space consuming.
Career garage salers scare me. We had people showing up at 7:15am for an 8am garage sale and looking with great confusion when only half the stuff was out. What do these people do with their lives? Do they comb the classifieds and set out their route, mapping their destinations on mapquest to figure out the shortest and most efficient way to hit sixteen garage sales in one morning? If so, was I their first stop?
As the child of my father, I will never be this person. My father and I (as both Cristi and Drew can attest) share the common gene of needing to throw things away. It is my great hope that, as I get older, I do not inherit the "throwing things away and then forgetting as to alleviate guilt" gene.
Back in Bloomington, the weather is lovely and cool, completely unlike the inhospitable heat I met in LA during my home visit. I made it back to the balmy Midwest with the help of my good friend, Garrison Keillor, reading aloud from Homegrown Democrat through my CD player.
Must go cook dinner for the Other Half.
