to Baxblog stalwart DT and recent converts James and Courtney for their gifts.
DT did me no favors by packing Steeler PJ's atop his care package- the wife screamed in horror and I had to fling handfuls of less polarizing items from the compressed brick of clothing skyward to distract and placate her.
As of this writing she hasn't seen the terrycloth I.U. onesie J & C sent us, but I greatly appreciate the cigar at the bottom of the box and will be enjoying it on the balcony this evening after we finish off the last stubborn vestiges of resistance in the garage.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
garage
We've finished everything except the garage, the subconscious of the house.
So far it is a fine rich stew.
The recipe is forthcoming.
So far it is a fine rich stew.
The recipe is forthcoming.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
false perception of value
Chatting with Bobo while he surfed Ebay.
"This guy thinks he's going to get more than 1,000 for this pile of junk because that's what he paid for it. Schools should start teaching a Realities of the Market class."
I get this all the time at the store.
"I paid $30 for this!"
"And I'm not giving you more than $2."
A lot of people think because something is theirs it is automatically valuable. Finessing around this giant cultural blind spot takes up a lot of my time when I'm buying stuff, assuming the books are worth the effort.
Sometimes I just shove reality out onto the stage, naked and shivering in the spotlight, and let the customer make of it what they will.
A gal was just in a couple of bags of absolute crap.
I winnowed two mildly saleable books out of the dross, a Getty collection of photos from the '50s that was slightly water damaged and a Melissa Bank book we didn't have in stock. The Girl's Guide to Hunting and Fishing is her only really saleable title, but it's nice to have the other one if we can get it cheap.
My offer of $2.00 didn't go over well and the titles rejoined their companions with the huffy exclamation that she'd "sell them on Amazon".
Yeah...good luck with that.
Assuming she actually lists them and gets a buyer (the Getty book had condition problems and would have been 'as is' in the store, which is a recipe for a costly and annoying return on Amazon) she'll make....two bucks.
GRATZ!
"This guy thinks he's going to get more than 1,000 for this pile of junk because that's what he paid for it. Schools should start teaching a Realities of the Market class."
I get this all the time at the store.
"I paid $30 for this!"
"And I'm not giving you more than $2."
A lot of people think because something is theirs it is automatically valuable. Finessing around this giant cultural blind spot takes up a lot of my time when I'm buying stuff, assuming the books are worth the effort.
Sometimes I just shove reality out onto the stage, naked and shivering in the spotlight, and let the customer make of it what they will.
A gal was just in a couple of bags of absolute crap.
I winnowed two mildly saleable books out of the dross, a Getty collection of photos from the '50s that was slightly water damaged and a Melissa Bank book we didn't have in stock. The Girl's Guide to Hunting and Fishing is her only really saleable title, but it's nice to have the other one if we can get it cheap.
My offer of $2.00 didn't go over well and the titles rejoined their companions with the huffy exclamation that she'd "sell them on Amazon".
Yeah...good luck with that.
Assuming she actually lists them and gets a buyer (the Getty book had condition problems and would have been 'as is' in the store, which is a recipe for a costly and annoying return on Amazon) she'll make....two bucks.
GRATZ!
Monday, August 11, 2008
insomnia
Sorted and packed at her house after work and woke up at 4am with Speed Trials running through my head nonstop.
The death certificates arrived so I can meet with the lawyer and paper over her life. They look just like birth certificates, only a different color.
I wonder if all copies of vital records use the same paper.
I suppose it would be efficient.
It seems stupid to me after sitting and watching her go in time lapse, needing a document to prove she's gone. But nobody will talk to me without it, the hole in the living room doesn't mean anything to them.
They're the kind of memorial the bureaucracy can understand, solid like the brass handles of a coffin.
And it doesn't have to mean anything to me, it just has to work.
A couple of months back we were getting in the car when a young urban nomad riding his cruiser up the street the wrong way called out
Apparently karma didn't know quite what to do with me.
The death certificates arrived so I can meet with the lawyer and paper over her life. They look just like birth certificates, only a different color.
I wonder if all copies of vital records use the same paper.
I suppose it would be efficient.
It seems stupid to me after sitting and watching her go in time lapse, needing a document to prove she's gone. But nobody will talk to me without it, the hole in the living room doesn't mean anything to them.
They're the kind of memorial the bureaucracy can understand, solid like the brass handles of a coffin.
And it doesn't have to mean anything to me, it just has to work.
A couple of months back we were getting in the car when a young urban nomad riding his cruiser up the street the wrong way called out
You can't escape karma!
Apparently karma didn't know quite what to do with me.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
quotes
from the wife:
and a reply from bobo:
Bastard!
He's got a boob in his mouth, his eyes are crossed and he's shitting!
and a reply from bobo:
Like father like son!
Bastard!
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