for the Carport Queen

For my entire life, I remember having what my mom referred to as a "carport sale."  It is now referred to as a garage sale, I assume because here in suburbia we all have garages that close up over our cars and back in Mississippi, we had a carport that was open to wave at the neighbors.  This is certainly better in my opinion as much of my young life involved time spent under a carport - eating watermelon, shelling peas (watching other people shell peas), swinging (because good carports have swings), talking, and listening to it rain in a fold out lawn chair, something my daddy considers as sacred as a national holiday.   I learned very early to appreciate this activity. 

But, at my house, the carport was used several times a year for a sale.  And, people I'm going to tell you that my mama knew how to do it.  My parents even built a carport onto the house that I grew up in because it didn't come with one.  It had an attic above it and she would climb those pull down stairs 2 or 3 times a year and drag out whatever in the world she had down to that carport to sell.  My daddy would tie twine along the sides of the posts of the carport for a clothing rack and there she'd go.  She had plywood boards over boxes for tables, a sharpie, and a roll of masking tape and we'd go to town pricing stuff.  She'd send daddy to McDonalds because cooking was out of the question and she couldn't leave "the sale."  Sometimes my little 10 year old self would be left to watch "the sale" while she went inside for a minute and I'd get worried that I would have to start naming prices, especially when it was stuff my daddy had pulled out like vehicles, riding mowers, or old tires.  We'd have random people trying on clothes in our house, stuffing their feet into shoes that were way too small, and the whole time my mama was telling them how great they looked in so-and-so, and how they really needed to buy the navy blue one too.  And they did.  If they asked how much something was, she said, "oh, a dollar," or "I'll take a dollar," or "how 'bout a dollar."  And, at the end of the day, the woman would have several hundred dollars and what was left, she'd send my brother back up those pull down stairs to save for the next "sale."  

Today I had my own sale in my garage with a couple of friends and ironically it happened to coincide with Carport Sale Queen's birthday.   I pulled stuff down from the attic, stickered it, hauled it, displayed it, moved it, priced it, and moved it some more.  I found myself arguing about $3 for candlesticks with some old man in a Mercedes.  Guess that's how he got it.  At the end of the day, I still don't hold a candle to her but I did make a little money and other people had to haul off my junk.  The city kept taking our sign so we had to alternate people sitting down at the end of the street holding up the sign - we figured it was harder to move people.  Dang codes.  We got lots of compliments on creativity and some people stopped just because of our sign models, one which was my husband.  The difference in me and my mama is that at the end of the day I had Stephen haul it all to Goodwill because I'm not taking it back up to save for another "sale." Carport Queen, you can have that one.  I'm one and done.

The kids an I celebrated the rest of mom's birthday with our balloon send off.  I started this tradition a few years ago as a way to help hang onto memories and talk about things she liked.  Kate was really into birthdays, and parties, so perfect.  Birthdays are happy, birthdays have balloons, birthdays have parties.  I like to keep it simple.  We've really enjoyed this and it's something the kids are starting to look forward to.  The first year was the beach, because we happened to be there and because she LOVED the beach.  Last year, I let Bailey pick and he picked the baseball field where he played Coach Pitch because we all know she would have been at all the games she could.  Perfect.  And, well this year, we had a plan but it got a bit derailed after the "sale" but I think it turned out perfectly.  They picked their Uncle Ed's who has a fantastic yard full of treasures and a pool.  It was 97 degrees.  These kids are brilliant.  

They picked red balloons this year in honor of Nana's favorite color.  It never fails that every year the ladies at Kroger ask if we're having a party and I tell them, "well, yes we are."  We actually managed to make it to the said destination without popping or losing one this year.  We were looking for the perfect spot when I spotted the big ole chicken.  No doubt that was it.  My mama loved a chicken.  She decorated her farmhouse with rooster lamps, canisters, and other Southern farm apparel.  They were tasteful chickens, and really who doesn't love a good old egg laying bird.  She even had a Vera Bradley bag in a chicken pattern that she kept important papers, medicine, catalogs, that she needed to carry with her.  Reference was made to "my chicken bag" whenever I asked where some so-and-so was.  With that big chicken as our backdrop, they sent off those birthday balloons.  Well, sort of.  One kind of got stuck in the tree and a hummingbird tried to eat it.  Nobody freaked out so I figured we'd all come a long way.  I'm sure a big gust of wind will eventually send it on its way.  

After all, somebody's always late to the party.   

Mom's 60th birthday 2008.
Notice that she's nowhere near or interested in the cake, yet completely delighted in
holding Kate and watching her grandsons blow out her candles. Also, note the rooster lamp
directly behind her head.
She was never late to the party. 

Since I'm late to the blogging party, I included our last 2 years of videos too.  This is where I realize how big my kids are.  Look at their itty bitty legs barely sticking out of those shorts on the first one!