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Sunday, September 12, 2010

You Never Know What You Might Find




It felt like an impossible situation.

  1. Winnipeg free cycle? Just imagine driving around in dad's old truck, up and down streets for hours, laughing hysterically and picking up any manner of free junk. Why? Because, I just have spent hours cleaning up the garage and making millions of trips to the thrift shop and dumpster to ditch stuff- leaving the poor garage looking lonely. And in need of Stuff.

  2. Manitoba's longest/ townwide yard sales? Hey- I believe in the one hundred mile diet when it comes to accumulating cool stuff. And town wide is pretty much in my back yard. Very ethical. Sort of righteous, really.

  3. Or. Go with the Mennonites. To Morris. Yep, that eagerly anticipated annual auction sale fundraiser. Tables upon tables of weird stuff. Machine shops floating in borscht. Lardy farmer sausage floating in schmont fat with perogies three ways-- yum, yummy, and yummier.

Slow down. Breeeeeeeeeeeeeathe. Think of the needs of others.
Like-- your parents for example!
Friends will wait, and yard sales abound. But a ma and a pa in their eighties is hardly something to be trifled with. Besides, it might be just the place to browse for spare body parts that might tip the scales in "favoured daughter point" status. Nothing says "hero" like an impromptu organ transplant in a quanset, surrounded by long skirted silent types.

Dad has been hinting for some time now that he'd like a new pair of legs- ones that would work like his younger ones once did.

Too bad it wasn't a problem with the plumbing. Could have done a bowel transplant right then and there, what with the antique tools and organs sitting around on silent auction tables. Man, I wish I could get me one of them pretty bowels. Wouldn't have to worry about being vain, with all that gorgeous bowel buried deep in my insides.

And for just a dollar.



Might have even found a little something to take the edge off the pain of major surgery without anesthetic.



But, sadly, I'd been mistaken.
It only looked like a scotch bottle with a matching set of shot glasses.
Nope, those Mennonites were onto something- that was a fancy Candle Holder.
Do you know anyone who sells that fancy party lite? Do they have a line of candles that go by the name of "scotch"? Or should I look in the Yellow Pages for somebody Scottish? The Mennonites didn't seem to sell the coordinating candle set.
Well, I never did find a spare set of legs either. Most of them were hidden under flowing denim, wide legged coveralls, or hidden behind buffet tables groaning under apple pie and rhubarb sauce.
Maybe I'll just scoop up that nice set of candle holders for some Mennonites I know.
Might come in handy for sipping that non-alcoholic grape juice that I hear they like to enjoy with their busted up saltines crackers.

7 comments:

Anonymous said...

what a nut you are...love it : ) L-lew

Anonymous said...

HA! HA! HA!!! Bowels and candleholders. Those crazy Mennonites.

Ali

janice said...

Gotta get me some new Bowels. Ha ha

it's a gong show... said...

thanks for making me laugh out loud! love ya!

Rosa said...

tHAT IS SO GREAT POOR SPELLERS LIKE MYSELF WOULD HAVE WALKED RIGHT BY THAT AND NOT NOTICED .. i LOVE IT. tOVE REALLY ENJOYED RUNNING INTO YOU ON sATURDAY.

Anonymous said...

I humbley confess that when I wrote for auctions, I would identify numerous "bowels" for sale, until I was corrected. I never was a great speller. However, now in health care, when I write "bowel", you can be sure I MEAN it!
VB

brenda said...

Joyce, you don't get it, do you? "Fancy candle holder" is what grandma used to call it when guests dropped by unexpectedly and grandpa'd forgot to put his swill back into hiding. I used to think that the magnum of rye on my dad's bedside was a special "man's" lamp. I thought my dad had really bad taste in bedroom decor.