Movie Review: Bucket List

Wes and I watched the movie 'Bucket List' last night.
It stars Jack Nicolson and Morgan Freeman.

Wow.

This wasn't a comedy. It wasn't a drama.
It found that sweet spot in between where life is lived with intention, warmth and joy.

I'm not much of a Jack Nicholson fan, but this time he got it right. He wasn't smirky. He wasn't trying to act like someone half his age. He was really, really good in this role.

Morgan Freeman. Words can't decribe this man. He's genuine. He's a class act. Honorable.
This gentleman makes you believe everything he's saying.

I wasn't sure the combination of the two would work, but it does.
So go rent 'The Bucket List".

I'm so glad I did.

Send Ice Water!

It's hot here in Corvallis.

Damn hot.

Scorching 100 degrees in a town that is typically in the low 80's during summertime. Hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk. That is, if you wanted to stand out there in the blazing sun--which I don't.

I'm off to put my head into the freezer.

If you don't hear from me in a couple of days--look there first.

That is all.

We're Empty Nesters

It's official--Wes and I are Empty Nesters.

It's been a long time coming--25 years. But I think we'll get used to it.

Sleeping late. Walking around the house in various states of undress. Eating whatever the heck we want for dinner. Having the remote in our hands, instead of the TV being controlled by one of the kids.

Listening to our kind of music--and not being constantly mocked or seeing the rolling eyes behind our backs. Leaving the house at the drop of a hat to go on a trip.

Not being responsible.

Not being responsible.

Not being responsible.

While the full time parenting was fun while it lasted, we're excited to see what new possibilities life has to offer. We did a great job with our kids. They both turned out awesome. They are responsible human beings that fit perfectly into society, while staying true to themselves and their core values. We can't ask for more than that from them, or ourselves.

Now it's our turn.

So---look out everyone--here we come!

We can't wait.

True to Life Cartoon

Rocking Chairs be GONE

He certainly looked like a great grandfather.

The guy sitting in my dental chair was in his 70's. Balding, grey hair, wrinkles. He even had a hip replacement a couple of years ago. He was aged, but not old. His eyes sparkled with an inner joy. He was practically humming with energy.

As I cleaned his teeth, he regaled me with stories about the 2,000 mile bike ride he and a group of friends just completed. They rode the back roads from Mississippi up into Canada.

One of the riders, a woman, has MS.

One had quadruple by-pass surgery 3 years ago

All in their 70's and 80's.

He said he did it to say he could. To feel alive.

To complete something that he'd always wanted to do.

To push back the hands of time, if only for 6 weeks.

To become a more interesting human being.

As I worked on this man, I reflected on how remarkable his life had become.

This was a guy who was ordinary in every sense of the word, yet he had done something extraordinary 'just to see if he could' later in his life when his peers were sitting on the couch.

Wow, Mr XX.

You are my new hero.

Infidelity, et al

I've been thinking about infidelity lately.

I was listening to Bob and Shari in the morning. They can be found here:http://www.bobandsheri.com/

I really like how these two interact with each other. The chemistry is fantastic.
Sheri is a wordsmith in every sense of the word. Her sensibilities and joy of life are infectious. They both make me laugh, even when I'm only driving to work.


Anyway--back to the infidelity part.


On the show, they were discussing the different types of infidelity. They described the different types of cheaters--Sexual, Emotional and Financial.
People were calling into the show talking about their stories of financial infidelity.
This is where one person in the couple spends the couple's money foolishly and drives their family's finances into the ground. I had never heard this term before, but it was intriguing.
I can see how this could be construed as cheating.

I can almost understand sexual infidelity.
Emotional infidelity would be more difficult to forgive.
But financial infidelity would be devastating.

Think about it.

An Ending and a Beginning...

Brodie moved to Seattle today.



He took all his things, down to his mural off the wall in his bedroom. As I walked into his empty room, there was an echo. The same echo that resonated in my heart.

Nobody tells you that when your last child moves out, there is a hole the size of Texas in your soul. If someone had told me when my kids were young that I'd someday long to have them underfoot and arguing with each other again --I'd tell them they were nuts.

But I do.
How I wish for those days back. I would have played more, yelled less and squeezed every last drop of my kid's childhood . We would have had ice cream for dinner and I wouldn't have cared a fig if their clothes got dirty or not--as long as they had big smiles on their little faces.
Yep, a do-over sounds like a good idea.


You know, while I think it's fantastic Brodie is chasing his dream of becoming an underwater welder, part of me wanted him to settle down nearby. Maybe even next door so we could always be close. Holding him back would have been the easier thing to do. He'd be safe, but unhappy.
I'd be happy for awhile, but if my child is miserable--so am I.
So I let go. And let go. And let go.

I held it together up until the final hug. That's when I lost it. I desperately wanted to scream "NOOO--YOU CAN'T GO".
But I didn't.
So I squeezed him tight with a whispered "I'm so proud of you, son". He kissed my cheek and squeezed tighter.
I couldn't turn around as I walked away. He didn't see me stumbling blindly into the house, tears coursing down my face as he pulled out of the driveway with the big U-Haul trailer behind him.

He is so excited to begin his journey. I couldn't take that away from him by being sad.
So, it's a new beginning.
For both of us.

Baby Territory

I've been invited to my co-worker, Traci's baby shower on Wednesday.
I thought I knew what I was getting her, but when I finally ventured into the baby store--the items I want are no longer made. Apparently, they are now considered unsafe.

Wow. Glad my kids are still alive.


So I wandered up and down aisles aimlessly looking for something that would be suitable for a baby who already has everything. What to buy? I picked up stuff and put it down. Everything seemed too...packaged. Too trite. Too pink. Too princess (how I loathe the 'princess trend'!), too much, too one dimensional. Dang, this is harder than I thought it would be.

I'm racking my brain--What can I get Traci (and baby Peyton) that's original, interesting, different, practical and affordable?

I think I'll get them a puppy. Yep--these 2 babies could grow up side by side.
Potty train in tandom. Chew on each other's toys. Cry in the playpen together.
So a puppy it is.
Now there's a gift that just keeps on giving for years and years and years...


(Please note---NO, I am not getting them a puppy. I like Traci too much to do that to her.)

Who thinks of these things?

I have no idea why egg/chicken things and pictures make me laugh.

Obviously, it's a sickness.

Death Be Not Proud

I read my hometown paper online every day.

It's a typical small town paper filled with stories about the rodeo, the police department and people who are getting awards. Local happenings that don't mean much to people who live outside of the area. Actually, it's more of a leaflet as opposed to a real newspaper--it's that small.

Every once in awhile I read a name that I recognize and it's kind of fun to see where life took my school chums after high school. It's weird to see former friends having grandchildren and retiring. In my mind, we are frozen in time at 18 years old.

After all, I look the same, they look the same. Right?

This week, I read in the obituaries that one of my former classmates died. She was 45.

This information was a shocker, to say the least.

I figured it was cancer or an accident. It wasn't. Apparently she was sitting at her kitchen table enjoying dinner with her family. She had a massive heart attack. Gone in an instant.

I had never really been friends with this person (she bullied most of us through grade school), but I certainly always thought she would be around. But we'll never see her again. Ever.

The finality of her death is pretty overwhelming.

So this bit of news immediately turned my thoughts to ME--as all things should. :)

What if it had been me? How much time do I have left?

I don't know.

What I do know is that I'd better get my underwear drawer in better shape, and destroy all evidence of my angsty teenaged years. Silly things I've been hanging onto forever , like plushy animals, diaries, love letters,yearbooks and photos. Bits of odd notes and cheap plastic souvenirs.

Yeah--that stuff is too personal to have my kids riffling through it.

They'd never understand how a warped 45 record of Styxx could trigger a memory of a hot summer night at the county fair, and a midnight dip in the river. The memory where I'm 17 and the world was new and full of possibilities. The freedom. The innocence. The passion. The fun.

I'm sure they would toss my 'garbage' into the trash can and close the lid securely. They'd casually scoop up my old love letters and burn them in the fireplace. The silky ashes would slowly wind their way up the chimney and float away into the wind.

Memories set free.

I guess that's when I'll be truly gone.

Indoor Chic?

Can someone (ANYONE) tell me why suddenly it's considered 'cool' to wear sunglasses indoors?

Who decided this? Stevie Wonder?

Liquid Sunshine

We did it.

We painted the exterior of the house.

When we bought the house , I remember telling Wes 'We REALLY need to paint the exterior--that color is just awful". Fast forward 9 years and we're just now getting to it.

We spent months picking out the perfect yellow paint.
MONTHS.

I should have known better than to pick a sunshine-y color on a gloomy Oregon day. I should have been more aware of my mood at the time. Think about it--if we had recently returned from our Bahamian trip, I would have been inspired by the sea, the sand and the tropical colors of the islands. The house would have been neon purple with pink trim, as on the island.

As it was, I think I must have needed some serious sunshine in my life.

I guess that's why I picked the yellow.

It was cheerful and fun on a cloudy, dismal day.

So, for the past few days we've been pressure washing, caulking, taping and papering the house getting ready for the actual paint to be applied.

Then, we did a coat of white primer. All day long today I was practically vibrating with excitement. Wes was going to be spraying the perfect yellow onto our house.

The PERFECT yellow.

I couldn't wait.

I was sure the entire neighborhood would stop by and exclaim how beautiful this color was. People would drive by slowly just to see how gorgeous our house turned out. Maybe they'd stop, knock on our door and ask what color we'd chosen because it was so nice. Yeah, the paint was that perfect.

I had a meeting at work this afternoon, and as I pulled back into our driveway, I saw the color we'd so painstakingly chosen. Looming before me was the most hideous yellow house I'd ever seen. It was garish. Ugly.

Very, very unclassy in a very, very classy neighborhood.

OOOOHHHH NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

After nearly bursting into tears and begging my stalwart husband to re-do the color into something a bit more neutral, it seems Wes likes it. Actually, I'm not sure he likes it as opposed to not wanting to un-do all the hard work he's already put into it.

He's also not willing to spend another $800 and 3 days changing the color to suit me.

He got that stubborn look on his face and I knew right away I'd been beat in a battle of wills.

He won. Wow, did he win.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

And so I have to live with my yellow house. The horrible, no good, very bad yellow color.

The paint color I once loved is now the the paint color I loathe.

I hope the neighbors have good sunglasses.

Maybe they won't notice how awful the color is.

Maybe the yellow will fade with time.

Maybe I just won't care after I get used to it.

That's a lot of maybe.

Senior Moments

There is a place between 50 and 60 that, when you are called a 'senior' --it makes you cringe.

I'm not there yet, but my husband, Wes is.

He thinks getting older is somehow a failure. Like he's no longer vital or vibrant. Nothing could be further from the truth, but remember--this is the guy who spent his 30th birthday in bed all day mourning the loss of his 20's.

His age now is like a big secret. He wants his damn senior discount, but he's not willing to tell anyone that he's eligible for it. When I recently booked our September Alaskan Cruise, I wasn't shy about asking for that discount.

Yes, I'm willing to whore Wes out for a few bucks off my bill.

Why not? It's not MY age I'm spilling!

I guess he doesn't want to hear that I found a 50+ 'senior' apartment complex with amazing low rents, plenty of activities, transportation and fun.

Nah--he won't want to sell our ridiculously too big house and move into a smaller senior apartment. An apartment without lawn care or roofing issues.

Never mind that he'd probably be viewed like a rock star by the other ladies there because he fixes things and is soooo nice. They'd be swooning for sure.

Nope--I'm not going to tell him.

It's a GIRL!

As promised, I wanted to announce that my co-worker, Traci had a GIRL on Saturday night.

She was 6lbs 9oz, 19 inches.

Her name is Peyton Alaina.

Traci, Kevin and Peyton are doing really well and are excited to be a family.

First Impressions

Would you befriend this individual? Why? Why Not?

I used to be proud that I could figure out a person within minutes and pretty much know them. Who they were. What they stood for. I admit I saw people in black and white terms with limited sight.

I was so, so wrong.

I realize now that people think they can sum me up really fast by my outside appearance, yet they don't know who I am, really. Most of my friends are fairly shocked once they get to know me. I'm completely different than my outside appears. Very different.

To most, I appear very conservative and stuffy. But I don't fit that mold. That tiny little box they want to shove me into. I'm much more than that.

Case in point: My son, Brodie has a large tattoo on his back. Both ears are pierced and he has large gauge earrings inserted. He also has a cartilage piercing at the top of his ear. Do I like it that he has chosen to modify his body in this manner? NO.

However, he's also an Eagle Scout. A straight A student in advanced placement classes. Opens doors for strangers. Says "Please, Excuse Me and Thank-you". He tells me every day that he loves me. He is kind to babies and toddlers and he adores animals. He has an amazing sense of humor and he is honorable to women.

Someone just looking at him would see never my son for those excellent qualities. Instead, they would choose to see a 'freak'. Although it's their loss to consider him in this way, I

would like for them to get to know him for who he is....not what he looks like.

Yes, his body modification is unexpected. Kind of strange.

But I'd rather see someone modify their body than be bound by petty prejudices.

At least Brodie's earlobes will grow back.

This really makes me laugh...

Riot at the pump! Riot at the pump!

The other day I was running errands. I needed to fill my car up and I figured I'd pop over to Safeway, pick up a few groceries and grab some gas at the same time.

Gas that was $4.11 a gallon according to the overhead sign.

This was supposed to be a quick, uneventful trip.

As I sat in the car waiting for the vehicle in front of me to finish, I heard an awful racket. Horns were honking, people were pouring out of their cars and yelling--there was bedlam all around me. Scary--I thought there was a bomb or something.

I couldn't figure out what was happening--until I noticed a man gesturing wildly nearby. He was pointing at the large sign announcing Safeway's gas prices. In the 5 minutes I had been waiting in line, the employees had changed the sign to read $4.19 a gallon.

Gas prices jumped .08 cents a gallon while I sat there.

I suppose I should have started my car and left. I could have quietly protested by not purchasing the gas I desperately needed. But I didn't.

So what did I do?

I bought $65.00 worth of gas. I shut up about the price and paid the tab. I was polite to the shaking guy who pumped my gasoline. (For those of you with your mouths open--No, I wasn't being lazy--Oregon people aren't allowed to pump our own gas. )

Then, I took my now-melting groceries to the hardware store and picked up a locking gas cap.

I'm no dummy.

Calling Colonel Sanders

On my way to work every morning, I pass by several pastures.

Near one of the fences, I always see a large flock of chickens.

There are about 15 plump hens of various colors. They are busy busy busy hunting, pecking and looking for bugs. At the helm of this large flock is probably the most magnificent rooster Ive ever seen. His plumage is white, red and the most striking black. His feet are feathered and huge.

He's regal. He is proud. He is awesome in his cocky maleness.

As I was driving this morning to work, I noticed the birds were somewhat scattered.

When I approached the slight turn in the road, I saw why.

The rooster had been killed by a car. His feet were up in the air and his silky feathers were strewn all over the roadway. There was no movement. No breath.

I felt terrible for him. How very sad to be cut down in your prime. What a tragedy.

While working, I grieved over this horrible spectacle all morning. I wondered what happened. I wondered how the hens would cope and if there would be any chicks born this year without the rooster.

At lunch I was telling co-workers about this bit of awfulness in my world, while unwrapping my chicken sandwich. My yummy, flavorful chicken sandwich.

I stopped. I stared.

Oh, the irony.

Chase This

I'm going to rant here for a minute.

Give me this tiny milli-second of your attention, because this may someday happen to you.

My credit card was declined when I tried to purchase something yesterday. Wes tried it with one of his purchases the day before and it was also declined.

WHAT. THE. HECK?

I contacted our credit card company (Chase) and was given the following excuses:

1. "Your credit card will be expiring in 3 weeks and we're sending you a new one."

2. "We weren't sure if someone had stolen your card or not"

Why didn't they contact me? Why wouldn't they simply pick up the phone and call? They call me for every other thing--like, do I want insurance? Do I want to give to a charity they sponsor?

Apparently, it's OK to call me for that drivel--but not for something important going down on my account.

I was humiliated when my card was declined. Since I pay the balance off in full every month, I knew I hadn't done anything wrong. Of course, nobody believed me when I told them that. They stand there with a smug look, trying to conjure up the pity/sympathetic face for my benefit.

This is the same card that, in December when we called to question a certain purchase (it was legit, the name was different), they immediately cancelled our cards. We didn't request a cancellation. They decided this on their own.

This incident happened 3 days before we were leaving to go out of the country for Christmas. The new cards arrived 2 hours before we were going to leave on the trip.

Too close for comfort in my mind.

This time, they messed with the wrong consumer.

I think I'll be shopping around for a different Visa card.

That'll show 'em!

Rain, Rain Go Away

It's been raining in Oregon a lot. Raining, windy and cold. BRRR!

The weather is supposed to start getting warm by now, but Mother Nature has another idea apparently. I'm starting to sound like a recording to my patients 'Wow, will this rain ever let up?" "I don't remember it ever being this cold so late in the year" and "How is the weather out there?".

I'm even getting sick of hearing myself complain about it.

Sooooo...I have decided to make a list of the positive things about rain.

Here goes:

1. I don't have to water my garden

2. I don't have that 'I really need to go outside because it's nice' feeling when I am at work

3. No outdoor excercise

4. It's OK if the lawn looks sad--because it's RAINING and we can't mow

5. Risk of skin cancer is lowered

6.

Well, it looks like 5 will have to be good enough. If someone can think of the 6th positive thing, I'll be happy to post it.

In the meantime, I need to go clean off the mildew growing on my car.

Delivery Time

There is something about a pregnant woman that brings out the best and the worst in other women.

One of my co-workers, Traci is having a baby. Hopefully, by the time you are reading this post, she's already had it. We'll see. I'll update when I find out what she had and when.

See? I'm doing it too.

Giving out Traci's private information on the internet. Assuming that you all want to know if she had a boy or a girl. What date she had it. How difficult her labor and delivery was.

It's really none of our business, is it?

I've been watching all 25 women in our practice practically pounce on this poor girl the moment she announced she was expecting. They've regaled her with stories of their own births, horror stories that grow with each telling. If we don't have an awful enough tale to tell--we know someone who does. Then, the cycle starts all over again as we seek to scare the living daylights out of Traci. I have no idea why this happens. It happened to me and I hated it, despite being morbidly fascinated by the entire ordeal.

We mothers cackle and rub our hands together as we dole out unasked-for advice on how to induce labor, how to avoid stretch marks... how many kids and spacing she should have.

It's not right. I've managed to stay out of it as much as possible, but it's tempting to jump in with both feet and 'assist' her in her decisions.

I'm refraining, but I admit freely that it's hard.

I just wish the little dumpling would arrive.

I wish Traci a speedy delivery.

I wish her a healthy baby.

Sunday Morning Breakfast

Cash Crunch

I've been surprised to hear that celebrities are losing their homes in the mortgage crisis.

Case in point: Ed McMahon.

I would think that an 85 year old man who has been on TV every day for the past 70 years would have a home that was paid off. A nest egg, at least.

The fact that he's $644,000 in arrears shockes and saddens me.

He said he 'hasn't been able to work' in the past year due to wearing a neck brace for a broken neck.

Ummm...am I crazy if i think that, at age 85, maybe he shouldn't have to go out and hustle for a job?

Shouldn't he spending his time golfing, playing with the grandkids and loafing around?

I suppose we can all learn a valuable 'plan ahead' money lesson from him.

I guess I can only hope that I'm not handing off shopping carts at Wal-Mart when I'm in my 90's.

It's booked.

I'm so excited.

I just booked a 7 day cruise to Alaska on Holland America!

After several weeks of exhaustive online research, I finally got the deal of the century.

I wasn't sure I could pull it off with the way the economy is going and how wiggly the travel industry has become. I was worried about booking a flight since airlines are cutting service, folding, closing their doors and stranding people. I knew I didn't want any part of that mess until it sorts itself out.

Anyway....

Wes and I are leaving mid-September and will cruise out of Seattle. We get to spend a couple of days with Brodie, and then take off on the ship.

The plan is we'll drive to Seattle after work on Friday.

If gas gets any higher ($4.08 today-YIKES), we'll probably take the train instead of driving.

Travelling by train is only a couple of hours longer and certainly more relaxing.

I'm pretty sure it would be less expensive compared to driving too.

We'll see.

But HEY--at least we have a trip planned!

YIPPEEE!!!!!

My Office

I love where I work.

I was just given the 'Employee of the Month' award yesterday.

I got a nice gift certificate and a round of applause.

It was the first award they've ever handed out, and it feels sooooo good to be recognized for the little 'extras' I do for the team.

Things that I wasn't sure anyone noticed.

I'll be basking in this honor far longer than I probably should.

At the risk of sounding smug......GO ME.

Small Town Living

I live in a small town.

It's a place where people know each other. They care about each other. There is a sense of community. It's a place that could easily have been put in the 1950's where there are young kids riding bikes, families out walking and people still whistle a tune when they are happy.

There is also a sense of naivete' when it comes to strangers.

Case in point:

Since we're looking for a good color to paint our house, Wes and I were driving around recently and found a house color we liked. We immediately stopped the car, and Wes went up to the door and knocked. A woman in her late 50's opened the door. She invited Wes into her home, and took him down into her basement where she kept the paint. She carefully wrote out the paint numbers on the can, handed him a sample shingle and showed him to the door.

This entire time, she didn't know that I was waiting in the car. Wes could have been someone there to do her harm, but she didn't think like that. Coming from a bigger city 9 years ago, I was shocked by her trust.

It also raised my hope that the world is a kind and giving place.

So a big "Thank-you" goes out to the good hearted woman who lives in the beautiful yellow house.

I appreciate your spirit.

Parenting: Not For The Faint Of Heart

I've been amazed how many people I know who let their kids completely take over the household. These kids don't go to bed in a timely manner. They back-talk, lie, are rude and disrespectful, get poor grades and yet expect the world to be handed to them on a silver platter.They have the sense that the world revolves around them.

What kind of adult do these children grow into? Probably not one that most people would want to be around.

Parenting is the biggest responsibility on the planet, in my opinion.
There are no reason for being a bad parent. NONE.

If you feel like you've lost control of your kids, you probably have.

So, get back on track. Stop making excuses. Get counseling if you need it.

Just fix it. NOW.

Kids need a leader. They respect a proper role model. They deserve a parent, not some soppy, whiney, hand wringing quasi-adult that doesn't have the guts to raise them properly.

Kids want order in their lives. By not having this vital component, they will act out in just about every way possible. Pretty soon, nobody wants to be around them. No friends . They aren't invited to class outings or parties. The child becomes lonely. Loners aren't valued in our society, so they will have a difficult time as adults. Jobs won't be easy because the kid will lack the social skills to cope with co workers and the rigors of employment.

We aren't even going to discuss the high rate of divorce among people with low self esteem. Yes, a lonely kid (adult) will lack self esteem and confidence over time.

My late mother in law, Katie said something very wise to me when my kids were babies. She said " If you don't discipline your children now, society will do it for you later"

So I became the meanest Mom on the block. Tia and Brodie had a bedtime routine, were forced to eat vegetables, were grounded for the slightest infractions, and learned to work. Sometimes, I could tell my kids really didn't like me very much--and that was all right by me.

Sure, it would have been easier to say YES instead of NO--but I knew I had to be strong if I wanted to raise good kids. As a result, our kids were well behaved and welcome wherever we went.

My kids respect other people and I've even heard them saying 'excuse me' when the dog was in their way. Wes and I had high expectations of them.

Still do, in fact. Parenting doesn't stop. It changes, but it's never over.

Raising a human being takes work. If you do it right, it's a long-term joy.

Do it wrong, and you're visiting your kid through plate glass.

Which choice will you make today for your child?

Cleaner than Thou

I used to be a great housekeeper.

Wait, strike that.

I used to EMPLOY a great housekeeper.

I was able to keep up with the kids, job and other extra curricular activities by having someone come into my house twice a month and clean their little hearts out. It took 4 people 3-4 hours to get it done-mopping, dusting, wiping, 3 bathrooms, changing sheets--the works.

They even left gold stickers on the toilet tissue.

How I loved those gold stickers!

Sometimes, I even had the crew come in and clean right before we had big parties. That way, I looked like I could do it all. Yeah--I looked good.

It was a total farce, but for the most part we're on a "don't ask-don't tell" basis anyway with most people.

Then, in a fit of economy--I decided I could clean ALL BY MYSELF.

What was I thinking? Why would any normal, red-blooded BUSY woman in her right mind let a cleaning service go? A cleaning service that was reliable, affordable, honest, nice and CLEANED TOILETS LIKE A DREAM?

My house has never been so messy. Part of the problem is that we have waaaay too much stuff. We've been saving things for Tia and Brodie to take when they move out. However, Tia barely took anything 3 years ago, and it doesn't look like Brodie will be making any kind of dent in the clutter.

Now what?

We're going to wait until Brodie is completely moved to Seattle at the end of June, and then we're going to have the World's BIGGEST yard sale. A mammoth sale right there on the front lawn--all our crap, hung out there for the entire world to see.

Perhaps I should call the housekeeper again.

I wouldn't want anyone at the yard sale thinking we're messy people....

Brief and to the point

This pretty much says it all.