Widows Don’t Need Tools

State of Maine has Marden’s, State of Florida has a one-up. Best yard sales in the country. “Should have bought it......” ad phrase rings true there as well. Remorse by 11am is the same on Fridays and Saturdays. “That whasmagazit would have looked really great right over there...in that spot.”

We’d kicked around Florida a bit before finding our final plot of paradise. Did the usual three-year “plan.” Start with a few weeks vacation. Increase to month to six weeks. Brain warp to “it would be cheaper to own.” Find that perfect opportunity, which in our case, AJ discovers, except these folks leave a completely empty house. Florida “two bagger,” two bath, two bedroom. Spend rest of winter enlarging the kitchen (what else?), painting and of course a bit of tiling. Empty house to be filled. Sparse checkbook. One item in our favor. 1996 Chrysler Town and Country “mini-van,” one with a couple of extra feet added. Never imagined how much the little rascal could carry and keep on clicking.

One statement I’ve made over these past years, or perhaps one of many, some erudite, most gibberish, “whatever comes to Florida stays in Florida.” Folks in Michigan, Ohio, New Jersey, wherever — except Maine — who move down for good bring everything with them, all their wordly possessions. Mainers seldom do because we keep a summer home and all our stuff stays there for the children to get rid of when we head to the north’ard. We’re going back to Maine for expiration. Takes but a few years for these folks to realize they don’t need the gardening gear. Vegetables aren’t worth the effort and hard to grow in sand. Lawns are taken care of by the subdivision or association, except in our case where we have to do it all, vegetable garden excluded of course. So, Fridays and Saturdays, official yard, community, church, flea market sale days were spent with other so-oriented friends searching for the good deals. We have homes to furnish, walls where pictures must hang, shops to tool up, lawns to take care of (until we realize it’s easier and cheaper to hire someone cause grass grows a foot per week in summer and we’re not here and foreboding notices arrive from municipal entities stating “grass is over “X inches” and summons will soon be forthcomng”).

Great fun. Sales take on a psychological bent. Which neighborhoods, communities, etc. are the best. Upper middle class may place too high a value, mobile home parks have to get rid of stuff, very limited room, church sales often astoundingly low prices, moving sales great bargains. Learning to haggle even over the lowest prices soon becomes ingrained and part of the game.

Saturday night cocktail hour and Sunday at the beach we’re bragging of the “score.” Accumulated several favorites. Four of us pulled into a driveway in South Venice. Big sign “Household Sale.” Enter through the garage which is more than common. Garage was full of tools. Realize the heirs had come down and selling off Mom and Dad’s lifetime collections. No prices. I ask, and a lady with carpenter’s apron for change says just put anything you want in a pile and I’ll give you a price. We do. I pile up an electric chain saw, drills, sabre saw, bench grinder, and a bench mounted belt sander, thinking perhaps I’d better stop there. Say, “Okay, how much?” She takes about 10 seconds and replies, “How about 50 bucks?” I allow as how that sounds good and we start gathering more “piles.” That was the last sale of the day. Any more and passengers would have had to taxi home.

This winter, Friday night, I got the cockeyed idea I’d like to put in an irrigation system for some of the flower beds. AJ checks local paper for yard sale lists. Sees one a street over, bought several coils of water hose... $3. Down to a community sale on Placida Rd., raining. Pull into first house and here’s a pile of PVC piping with irrigation nozzles attached. “What’ll you take?” “Make me an offer, wife wants rid of it.” Ah-ha. “Take it off your hands for 5 bucks if I can pick it up when it stops raining.” “Deal. And thank you.” Thanks us for taking a few hundred dollars off his hands to boot. Up the next street pick up two irrigation timers, $8 each, haggled down from $15 each, along with a pneumatic nailer for $18 and a new barbecue for $24. Entire irrigation system worth new, I’m guessing, several hundred for $23. What fun. Except..... I’ve got to install it.

We no longer “shop” with previous intensity, but it’s still fun. Instead of daubing watercolors on various size paper, I now buy matted and glassed frames for a few dollars each and do the painting to size. Agreed as well, if we need something, anything, within two weeks, we’ll have found it. No more “Should have bought it’s...” in this household.

• R E C I P E •

Grilled Steamer Clams
Night before the Fourth, decide to pick up some clams (mud variety of course...sweeter) from the famous “Rat’s Clams.” AJ suggests we cook them on the grill, in shell. Great idea, something we’d ne’er tried with steamers. Had the idea to try something else as well. Clams are layed out on a sheet pan and I snag a half dozen as they start to open. Shucked and cleaned, lay them back on half-shell. Add a small dab of butter, pinch of grated parmesan, pinch of panko crumbs, and hint of ground garlic. Then, set them back on grill as rest of clams were finishing. Not only were the grilled clams better than simply steamed (more clam flavor), half shell “Casinos” were magnificent. We’re doing a repeat performance tonight!!

Fair Winds and Good Roads
– Lee Wilbur