yard sale

yard sale

When I first moved here from Minnesota, my friend kept going on and on about how much fun yard sale-ing is. I’m a bit slow to begin with, but I really did picture some sort of bicycle or go cart rigged with a big sail on it – as in Yard Sailing – because in Minnesota we had Garage Sales. It was one of those embarrassing misunderstandings I never ever told anyone.

Until now. Blogs are good for that.

That same friend is having her own yard sale this weekend, and she said I could bring some of my stuff to sell, So finally I went through the tubs of Ruthie’s old baby clothes that I just haven’t been able to part with. I’m much more sentimental about her baby clothes than I am with Thomas’ clothes. She’s a girl. She’s my first. She has clothes picked out by Gordy.

She had an amazing shoe collection.

I sorted and resorted about three times into different piles. Sell, consign, keepsake, next baby. WHAT?! I kept shifting outfits around into various piles, and somehow everything that wasn’t a sock ended up in the ‘next baby’ pile. I’m not even sure who intervened in this process to create a ‘next baby’ pile, because I have said from the first puke of Thomas’ pregnancy that I am DONE with babies coming out of my body.

(Maybe.)

Regardless, I can’t afford the space all these clothes are taking up, so I filled four paper grocery bags with clothes to sell, one bag of clothes to consign, and one filled with clothes I can’t bear to part with because I can still see her cute little evil face up to no good wearing that ridiculously adorable pink and red Ralph Lauren sweater from my dad.

If there ever is a ‘next baby,’ she’s screwed.

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