Downer Day

I worked really hard on my mom's garage sale today and had almost no sales.  Heck, I had almost no customers!  Her city doesn't allow signs outside of the yard, so to put up signs in the neighborhood was a no go.  That meant that unless someone happened to drive by the house, I was depending on my Craigslist ad to  get the people out.  Bummer.

So much for the thrill of the hunt.  The last minute u-turns and tire screeching when you see a Yard Sale sign. Gone is the entire reason for leaving the house some weekends.  I used my best free-hand block lettering skills to make three bright blue and white signs, with curly ribbon at the corners.  Yeah, I went there!  I kinda wondered when the Community Service officer slowed down in front of the house if I'd violated something.  I had my answer when I saw the signs in her hands.  Oops... but she was nice and ended up being my best customer of the day.  Hopefully tomorrow will restore my faith in the garage sale extra mad money business. I have a few really unnecessary things I'd like to buy.

It's the weekend, which means that I get to listen to my downstairs neighbor's repetitive music and pseudo-explosions, which I assume are due to a rousing game of Mortal Kombat or some such video game.  Add in surround sound, and I'm sure to be totally annoyed and ready to start doing the Casper Slide over his head.   That'll get him!

I worked on my shoe project tonight, and they look pretty good.  I'm looking for an appropriate outfit to wear them with, then I'll take a few pictures and post them.  I love to create--few things make me happier.  I'm waiting for the day when someone says "Hey, I'd like to pay you a ton of money to think, create, whistle and crack corny jokes".  Nirvana.  Until then, I'll think and create, post my thoughts and creations on this corny blog, (while whistling) and then laugh myself to sleep.  After I finish my dance. Right foot let's stomp...take it back now y'all!

Missed Opportunities

I was driving down I-57 from Champaign to Chicago today, and although I know there will be more days like this, I can't help but feel like I missed out on a good one.  A good opportunity to take some great pictures, that is.  At around 7p, the sun was still pretty high in the western sky and the way it was filtering through the clouds was breathtaking.  I swear, the rays were huge and plentiful and I could see where they touched the ground.  Factor in the lack of anything but green grass, the occasional grove of trees and some well-maintained barns and farmhouses and I just wanted to stop the car.  I solicited the help of my two wired-in children but to no avail.  Finally, my son took out his earphones long enough to snap a couple of pictures with his phone, but he was completely unenthusiastic about it, and later told me "you know your head is right in the middle of these pictures, right?"

I'm not a very good picture-taker, but I know what I like to look at.  I bought myself a decent SLR camera last fall, and it makes most anything, especially outdoor photos, look better than pretty good. I'm enjoying it and the fact that it's something I've always wanted to do. Someday actually came!  I try not to think about all the time I could have been doing this because honestly, the shots I missed today were nothing compared to many others captured only by a Kodak disc (!) or a disposable 35mm.  Amateur to the nth degree.

 I think I need a road buddy.  Someone who doesn't mind stopping every few miles to look at the scenery or cool stuff left on the side of the road.  I usually take 55 to Springfield, but the last two trips I've taken 57 South to either 24 or 74.  On 24 you pass through some REALLY small towns and I am always in too much of a hurry to stop and check out the little roadside antique shops or snap a few pictures of some interesting houses I've seen.  74 is a little busier, more "expresswayish" but there's a lot of Illinois beauty to be seen.  When I was in college, all the kids from out of state complained that Illinois was so flat. Actually not true the further south you go, but to have miles and miles of unobstructed view is pretty amazing.  Not that my kids would agree, but that's just me being really mad that I couldn't get those shots today and they were no help.

 

I passed the exit for Gilman, a town I've been meaning to visit.  There's a great spa there, "the Heartland" and I have a paid one-night stay that I need to use. I figured if I went ahead and paid for it, I would make myself go because one thing I won't do is waste my money.  So one day, probably soon, I'll take myself down I-57, take my 24 hours of R&R, visit some antique shops and GET THOSE PICTURES!

Garage sale tomorrow.  I should be asleep because I didn't get much last night, and tomorrow will be an early, long, and hard day.  If it is profitable however, I think I'll get over it.

Eating Out and the Cherry Tree Story

I love to eat out, but I'm starting to get pickier every year.  The thought of not knowing who and what has been in and around my food sometimes grosses me out.  I'm always looking around the restaurant, at the floors, the ceilings, and I try my best to get a look or a listen at the kitchen.  Years ago I stopped going to the local Bakers' Square because the last time I was there the floor, tables, etc. were dirty.  A local KFC had the filthiest floors and I did something really bad...I went into the bathroom.  Disgusting.  I haven't been to that restaurant in about nine years.  Someone posted to Facebook yesterday a picture of a Taco Bell worker doing--well you can see for yourself:

I think that pretty much takes Taco Bell out of circulation.  My choices are getting slimmer and slimmer.  Once I get turned off to something, it's not likely to come back.

So yesterday I promised the cherry tree story.

One day my mom told my brother and I that we couldn't go outside.  Instead, we were supposed to be in our bedroom taking a nap.  We were about age 8 and 5 at the time and we did not agree with her decision.  We (he) got this idea that we could jump out of the window into the cherry tree and climb down.  This was one of those between first and second floor windows.  We lived in a bungalow, so there were about 8 steps up to the front door.  I guess that put us about 8 feet off the ground since we had to climb up to the windowsill.  He jumped first, since he was the oldest.  He didn't make it to the tree (about 6 feet away) but landed squarely in his bare feet on the ground below.  He decided that I should just jump into his arms.  I did.  We both fell but were still feeling good enough to play which is hard to understand because I remember that it hurt!  We ran into the back yard and started to play. That lasted about 10 minutes and we were ready to come in.  The plan was to sneak into the back door but it was locked!  So what to do but ring the bell?  My mom was really mad--she let us in, yelled at us, and sent us back to bed.  We were retelling this story and laughing about it one day about 10 years ago.  Apparently the four older siblings didn't know anything about it until then.  Even funnier though, was the fact that my mom didn't know either!  Well, she knew we went outside without permission, but she said that all these years she'd thought that we just sneaked out the door when she wasn't looking.  No one, including the person who let us back in the house, were aware that the "babies" had jumped out of the window.  This story is always high on the list of retellings when we get together.  My mom still can't get over it.  YOU JUMPED OUT OF THE WINDOW?!

Fun times.  It's amazing all the things we did before everyone became so safety-conscious, health conscious and eco-conscious.  We rode our bikes without helmets.  We rode in the front seat of the car, without seatbelts!  We drank out of the water hose.  We didn't carry hand sanitizer in our purses. We jumped out of second floor windows.  And we're still here!

I made it safely to Springfield and went on a little tour of the capitol.  My daughter has a nice little workspace and she seems totally in her element.  I'm proud of her...at just 21 she's working on an advanced degree, working a full-time job and navigating a new city.  Me? I'm just looking forward to getting in a little shopping before I go back home.  

On The Road Again...

I love to drive.  Tomorrow I'm heading down to Springfield, Illinois to visit my daughter.  She's been begging me to come visit.  Why?  Well, she does miss me and her little brother.  She also knows that I will take her shopping.  She may get a home cooked meal out of it.  But most importantly, I will clean. She may take a few swipes at it, but nobody gets a house as clean as I do.  No, I'm not a professional, nor do I want to be, but I just like my space clean.  I mess it up all of the time!  But messy and dirty are two different things, and I can't stand dirt and can't stand the thought of my daughter living in it.  Of course, she should learn to do a better job at it, and plenty of people think it's just a shame, but I'm still Mom and as such, still believe in taking care of my children, even if they are 21 years old.  She doesn't have a car so she takes the bus everywhere.  For the next couple of days, I'll get up early, take her to work, pick her up for lunch, take her back and return at 5 to pick her up.  In between I'll hit my favorite Springfield thrift stores and I'm sure I'll find something great because I always do.  And she'll get a good dose of being a kid again for a day or two, with Mom doing all the hard stuff.

I'm having a garage sale this weekend.  This is the most packed garage I've seen--not trashed, but full of real stuff...furniture, tools, toys--no junk.  Since I can't work around the fridge, the washer, the dryer, the 500 or so records, the wheelchair and the desks and dressers, I will have to wait until Friday morning to get set up so I can actually pull things out into the driveway.  Should be an interesting day!  Did I mention that this is my Mom's garage?  I can't complain because I'm the one who is insisting that this take place.  It's kind of scary in there right now, plus I need the work space.  As much as I love my new spot, I miss the yard, the driveway, the basement and the garage.  I'm free to use hers, but it's up to me to clean it out and make it usable.

I was trying to think of a good story to share today.  I remember that when I was a kid, my grandfather had the best smelling back yard because the entire patio and back porch was covered by a grape arbor.  Nothing fancy mind you, just leafy and sweet and purple and green.  According to my sister, who seems to remember everything, there was a secret tunnel under the house as well.  The assumption is that bootleg liquor was produced and sold on his property before he bought it.  That's never been verified, but this is Chicago Heights and plenty of major players in the business passed through here, including Al Capone.  My dad graduated from high school in 1939, so he went to school with a lot of interesting characters who grew up to be even more "interesting".  Anyway, it's a good story, and the grapes were good.  Occasionally I see similar grapes in the grocery store.  They call them "table grapes" and they have a kind of weird, dry skin--you know what I mean?  But boy did I eat a lot of them when I was little.  Those were the only grapes I knew.  Now I'm thinking about all his other fruit trees, and the cherry tree we had in our own yard.  I have a good story about that, but I'll save it for another time.  It's a great story about a cherry tree, an open window, and two kids who really wanted to get outside to play.  Where there's a will...

I carted my camera around all day today, but didn't take any pictures so I'm going to post one that I took early one morning last winter.  I was still getting used to my new (old) surroundings.  The sounds (the bird that wakes me up every day), the smells (my neighbors are always cooking!) and the sights.  My view is pretty nice looking out at "the Street" but my bedroom faces the parking lot, dumpster and the alley.  Still, I woke up earlier than usual, the camera was handy and I took a few shots just as the sun was coming up.  After uploading them, I decided to play with the special effects and the results were pretty neat.  You just need a good picture with a little color to start with.  

It's all about perspective.  I saw the alley, but then I saw what was above it. I decided that this isn't such a bad place to be even if I don't have a yard or a basement or all the space that I used to have.  It has a great view!

I went to my favorite vintage sale this weekend--twice!  I never cease to be amazed at how much you can get for so little when you know where to look.  I found:

A great mid century table,

Two of these art deco inspired lamps,

A great vintage martini set.

If I told you how much I paid for all three of these, you would likely not believe it.  

 I refuse to read the stories regarding the latest celebrity's baby shower or wedding.  The excess is sickening.  I'm not suggesting that they take their millions and hit up the Goodwill, but gold and crystal encrusted cribs and high chairs just seems ridiculous.  When the spit up and poop happens, it will be as gross as anyone else's.  And it will settle into the crevices between the Swarovskis and really gunk up the thing.  Now was that crib such a good idea?

I took a trip to the "great equalizer" today...the DMV.  Man, they don't care who you are or what your issue is, you're waiting, you will get attitude and you'll inevitably be in the wrong line. THEY DON'T CARE. Some people need this reminder.  We are all the same.  Babies and the DMV can help you get understand this in case you don't already.

Short and sweet tonight.  I am beat and I'm falling asleep at the computer.  Take this into account when you find errors here.

Done!

My Glass Slipper Moment

Sounds interesting, doesn't it?  I actually just typed that title because I realized it was after 11p and I hadn't blogged yet.  I think it's a little early to be falling off the wagon.  I got kind of caught up in Facebook and lost track of time.  So with only minutes to spare, I'm getting this in before it's officially Monday.

Today turned out to be cold.  Not just chilly, but cold.  It's June 2!  It was 75 yesterday!  Chicago weather...gotta love it.  But I don't.  I had a cute little sunny day outfit planned, walked out the door and was, let's just say, uncomfortable.  I just loaded up my car with winter coats yesterday to take to Goodwill and that may have been slightly premature, but I really don't want to look at them anymore.  The cold weather wears me out and the sight of wool makes me itchy and mad.  I'm sure there's a 14th Street that I can love just as much in someplace like Florida, California, Hawaii, Brazil, Jamaica, Puerto Rico or Belize.  I'll have to do some research.

Could be this--

Or this--

Or this!

It might be hard, but I think I could learn to love it...

Last day of school tomorrow for my son.  I have no clue what I'm going to do with this teenager for the entire summer.  I usually have some things planned, but for some reason this year, I'm stumped.  He wants to make money.  He wants to drive.  Best plan I think would be to make the money, buy his own car, then drive.  He's a good kid though, so after he sleeps 'til noon, I'll try to make the next 12 hours interesting and fun.  And somewhat productive.  And with some time spent behind the wheel.  

Maybe he can at least buy his own gas??

Still Afraid of the One-Armed Man

In 1967, we moved from our house on 14th Street to a new home in another suburb.  We moved with about a month left in the school year, so our routine changed up a bit.  My dad worked at a local clothing store, Hayman-Hawkins Clothiers.  They sold high-end mens' and womens' clothing.  Since he was a manager, he opened the store.  For that last month my brother and I accompanied him to work in the morning where he opened up and got things rolling before dropping us off at school.  Every morning he'd unlock the door and we would cover our ears since the alarm went off every time.  If you read this blog yesterday, you know that I watched "The Fugitive" on television for the four years that it was on.  I never got over the feeling that the One-Armed Man was lurking somewhere in that store.  It was actually more fun than it was scary but it definitely got the morning off to an exciting start.  I saw a dress today at a rummage sale which was tagged "Made Exclusively for Hayman-Hawkins Clothiers", and it got me thinking about those very exciting days when a lot of things were changing. At age six, to be able to walk around a store with no one else there felt pretty important.  At that time, the store was located on 14th and Wentworth.  A few months later the store burned down.  It was on the news...my dad's store was on the news!  What I remember most about that night was learning the meaning of the word "looting".  See, you really do learn something new every day!

I found a 2004 Tribune article about the store and it was pretty cool reading.  Joseph Hawkins, the store owner was my dad's employer and friend for many years:

Selling his last suit this month after nearly 50 years will be a fitting end to the career of Joseph Hawkins, who will close the Hayman-HawHawkins came north from Biloxi, Miss., in 1936. He became a door-to-door salesman for the Hayman brothers store in Chicago in 1942.

His sales record impressed owner Harry Hayman, who was seeking a location and manager for a store in Chicago Heights. But the owners of a prime Halsted Street location didn't want a store with an African-American manager.

That hurt.

They finally secured a location on Wentworth Avenue in early 1954. Not long afterward, however, Hayman died.

Hayman's widow kept Hawkins as manager, and he did well, selling suits primarily to African-American and Hispanic men, and in 1961 he moved into the space at 326 E. 14th St.

"Fourteenth and Wentworth was State and Madison for Chicago Heights, and man, my business took off," he said. In 1965, he became full owner.

A bit of luck gave him a hand on his way to Halsted Street. He had ordered his 1968 fall line, but it hadn't been delivered before fire damaged his Wentworth store. By that October, he was in business on Halsted.kins clothing store at 1542 Halsted St.

When he does, a chapter in Chicago Heights' history will come to an end. Hawkins, 86, was the first African-American businessman on the block where his store was a mainstay for more than three decades.  

Every town, big and small has it's own history.  It's all interesting but even more so if it's YOUR history.  Seeing that dress, with a handwritten tag attached which read "A Piece of Chicago Heights History" made me smile.  I don't know how many other people there got what that meant, but I not only got it, I loved it.