Flea markets

I was at the Alameda Antique Faire today. Make no mistake about it, this is a flea market, and a vary large one. I was reminded of nothing so much as my father. He loved these places. He spent a lot of time at them, on both sides of the booth – usually as a seller, but also as a customer, always on the lookout for something he could flip.

So it’s strange to realize that I’ve been thinking recently that a great way to purge myself of a decade or so of accumulated junk would be to set up at a flea market for an afternoon! It would be so easy just to set this stuff out on the curb, or take it to Goodwill or another charity. But I know that there’s a little bit of my father in me when I just can’t bring myself to do that, knowing that there is a couple hundred dollars to be made, three and five dollars at a time, amongst all this… stuff. Plus ├ža change…

Relief

The 2012 presidential election is over, thank god. It felt very different this year, much longer and more protracted and more vicious, of course. But what I really mean is that when it was decided a few hours ago, my emotions were quite different. I was happy, naturally, but whereas 2008 was utter elation, 2012 feels like relief. I’ll take it…

wtf?

In the space of a month, I’ve suffered not one but two flat car tires, and now a cracked windshield. I suppose worse things could happen, but this seems a bit excessive, in terms of frequency.

At least with the second flat tire, I made enough noise at Wheelworks that they managed to remove it and patch it without damaging my rim a second time.