Cost Conscious in CT

OK, here’s another rant. Another pet peeve. Storage Centers.

I know, I know, sometimes your really need a place to stick some stuff for a short period. Aunt Millie died, and left you her antique dining room set, but there’s no room for it in your one-bedroom apartment. Next year, when you finally buy your house, you really want to use Aunt Millie’ treasures. A storage center is just the place for you. That’s cool.

My beef is with the folks who go out and rent a storage bin just because they have too much shit. We are big on acquisition in this country—gotta have the newest, latest, greatest…gotta shop shop shop. Malls are the place to be seen, more visited than churches, libraries and the beach combined. (My estimate—I have absolutely no data to back up that statement. It’s a rant, damn it, not a scientific treatise.)

We are much less likely to get rid of stuff. Maybe it’s guilt for buying the new shit. We know the old one is still perfectly good, so we can’t throw it out. Besides, we may want it someday. So we stick it in the closet….or under the bed…in the basement or the attic or the garage. And when we cannot fit anything else in the house, do we begin to divest ourselves of our shit?

Why should we? Sam’s Super Storage Shop is just down the street. And for a small sum—well, not really small, but not too substantial—Sam will be happy to take in all your extra shit. In climate controlled comfort, if needed. Safe, and dry, and out of your way, until you need it.

And when will you need it? Later.

Yeah, right.

Well, it’s no secret to you that I spend Saturday mornings hitting the local tag (aka yard aka garage) sales. For years I’ve maintained a private rant about poorly executed sales—now I have a forum to expound. Read carefully, if you want to have a successful Tag Sale, and avoid being ticketed by the Tag Sale Police.

Signage

There is one reason for signs—to direct traffic to you sale. SO PUT AN ARROW ON THE SIGN! The only info that needs to be on the sign is your address, the date of the sale, and a BIG, BOLD Arrow. I need to know before I get to the corner which way to turn. Your sign should be big, bright and clear. It should be of stiff, large poster board. Computer printouts are easy but useless—to small to be seen in the distance, and too flimsy. They will flop over in half an hour and no one will be able to read them. Bold block lettering on bright orange, pink, or florescent green is ideal. And did I mention the arrow?

Advertising?

I plan my tag sale trip around the ads in the paper, and/or on Craig’s list. But I stop at any sale along the way. And with the cost of ads going up all the time, I can understand some sellers hesitating to have this bite taken out of their potential earnings. Here’s my tip: If you live on or near a major thoroughfare, you can probably get by with just signs (with big arrows). But if you live in the back of beyond, on East Podunk Road, you’re gonna have to make the advertisement investment if you want anyone to come to your sale.

Merchandise

You can sell whatever you want, but please—make sure it’s clean. Nothing turns me off sooner than looking at grungy junk. (Clean junk is fine.) The best sales are somewhat organized by category—but no need to drive yourself crazy. Just separate grandma’s jewels from grandpa’s tools and baby’s rubber duckie. You should have a source of electricity if you are selling electrical items. People will want to check if they work. And BTW—you can sell stuff that doesn’t work, but play fair and label as such.

Pricing

Why are you having a yard sale? Because you want/need to get rid of your stuff. Price accordingly. I don’t care if you paid $75 dollars for it new, and only used it once. It’s not my fault you’re a stupid shopper. I got out of bed early Saturday morning cuz I’m looking for bargains. If I wanted to pay full price, I’d have gone to the mall. Things at your yard sale should be cheap, cheap, cheap. You can plan to lower prices later on, but remember, you’ll get your biggest influx of people in the first three hours—they won’t come back again. Be willing to negotiate. Don’t be insulted if I offer you $2 for the Lenox vase you got for your wedding. That’s what it’s worth to me. If you don’t want to sell it for that price, just say “No, I really want to get $10 for it.” I just asked. (BTW—you may be packing it back up at the end of the day.

More tag sale do’s and dont’s soon!

I try to get down to the beach for at least a few hours every summer afternoon. There are really only ten weeks or so to do it—two in June, four each in July and August, and maybe a week or two in September.

As a Milford resident the beach is free, as long as I’ve remembered to get my resident sticker. And it packs a million dollars worth of enjoyment. Sitting in my sand chair, feet in the water, watching the sailboats and the motorboats, kids and families frolicking in the surf. Or lying face down on my towel, toes dug into the hot sand, eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the surf, the seagulls—and of course snippets of conversation overheard as folks walk by.

An afternoon at the beach engages all of your senses—the aforementioned sounds, the gorgeous views, the smell of salt water, along with the tang of the salt on your lips. The hot sand and the cold, salty water feel wonderful.

Even when I’m reading my book or magazine, or dozing, the feel of being at the beach pervades my actions, making the moments special. It’s hard for me to imagine the unfortunate souls who live inland, and can only visit the shore for a week a year—or never! Kids that have grown up without ever spending a sunny summer afternoon at the beach.

Makes me all the more determined to take advantage of my good fortune. Look for me there again next Sunday!

Sorry for the week-long absence, oh ye faithful blog-followers. I was away on vacation. A cheapskate’s vacation, of course. I opted to spend the 4th of July with my sister in her new Maine abode. My sister Anne and I drove up to Marjie and Bob’s condo in Belfast (north of Camden) anticipating a long, sunny weekend after weeks of rain. Unfortunately we were looking at the forecasts for Milford (me) and Boston (Anne). The sunshine hadn’t quite made it to Belfast, ME. We managed to sneak in a few hours of outdoor activities during breaks in the rain on Thursday and Saturday, but the rest of the time we devoted to playing games (Scrabble, Boggle, Rummy, Pictionary, and Charades) and that other vacation past-time, shopping.

“Shopping?” you ask, Marie?

It all started when I visited the Belfast thrift shop looking for a pair of jeans (I’d packed only shorts—silly me—and the temps hovered in the low 60’s). The jeans cost $3.99, and had an elastic waist—perfect for that other vacation pastime, eating.

“We’re having a special,” the checkout clerk told me. “Fill a bag for $5.00.”

“Marjie? Annie? We have a mission.”

We filled our bag quite full, and were very pleased with out purchases. Except that I realized I had no tops to go with my new pants. We were forced to visit GW’s, which since it rained the next also was no hardship. Scored quite well there, too. Next, Annie wanted to visit Remy’s, “the Maine Department Store”.

Not exactly Macy’s—but a bargain-hunter’s dream. I found the sleeveless, gauzy, long, white Indian dress I’d been looking three yeas for. Cost? $19.99. Not bad, for retail.

Our last stop was Ocean State Job Lot, which just happened to have a lot of tops and pants from a famous maker, which happens to be one of my favorites (to buy second-hand—never new from the shop). Pants $10; tops $8.

I came home from my vacation with several hundred dollars worth of new clothes, yet I’d spent less than one hundred. Not bad.

Sunday dawned beautifully sunny, and we spent the day indulging in another cost-conscious pleasure. Sight-seeing. The vista from the top of Camden Hill State Park is incredible, and the town of Camden was fun to stroll through. Made a big purchase there, too. Two postcards.

Saturday evening. I was sitting outdoors at the Café Atlantique, with my husband and some good friends. Enjoying the (finally)summer sunshine. Listening to the thoroughly enjoyable blues of Dan Stevens. A little boy, enjoying an outdoor supper with his mommy, clapped enthusiastically after every song, increasing everyone’s enjoyment. Friends waved as they strolled by. The sun slowly set. A perfect evening.
The cost? Under five bucks for an Italian Soda and a Diet Coke. Slightly more if we’d wanted a glass of wine, or one of their scrumptious cookies.
Too steep for you? Then how ‘bout one of the free concerts that nearly every town offers weekly throughout the summer? Bring your own cold drinks, and nibbles. Unfold your lawn chairs or spread out a blanket. Watch the little kids “dance” to the music.
Summer is a wonderful time for a cheapskate

My Mom had a habit which all of her daughters have inherited—rearranging the furniture. My father used to joke that he’d better never come home drunk (he never did) because he’d be sure to crack his shin on a chair or table that hadn’t been there when he left.

How does this relate to saving? You get a whole new look for your living space with virtually no outlay. And you can do it several times a year.

In the winter, I pull all of the seating close together, away from the windows in the colder part of the room. I switch to long, lined drapes. House plants are prominently displayed, to compensate for the lack of green in our lives.

Last weekend, I switched to summer mode (I had done the “spring reorganization” in March). My goal was airy, light and spacious. I have lamps that look like seashells (picked up at a Christmas Tree Shop sale for $9 each). Barely there sheer blue curtains. And seashell/beach glass décor—picked up on the beach, or purchased for pennies at a yard sale.

“Wow! It looks all light and airy in here—more spacious!” said my very intelligent husband when he walked into the room.

It’s a wise husband who knows his wife.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to accompany Frank Juliano on his “Breaking the Sound Barrier” walk from Milford Harbor to the Connecticut Coastal Audubon Center. I’d promised to join Frank, rain or shine, but I was pleased that Mother Nature, despite the forecasters’ predictions, provided a dry day, with just enough sunshine and breezes to make the 4.8 mile walk enjoyable.

And it reminded me once again of the incredible jewel we have in our backyard. For free, my cost conscious friends! Most of us know the joy of lying in the hot sun, listening to the surf, and doing absolutely nothing for a few hours on a summer weekend afternoon. But our Connecticut shoreline has so much more to offer.

Go down on a stormy day and listen to the surf crash. Feel the tang of salt on you lips as droplets of ocean spray provide a free moisturizing treatment. (OK, I’m no beauty expert, but that’s how it feels to me!)

Get up early one morning and watch the sun rise over Long Island Sound. Or better still, do it lots of mornings. It’s different every day. Watch from different perspectives along the coast. Not a morning person? The sun sets every evening, too.

Visit the beach on a misty, moisty day. If you’re lucky, you’ll be alone with the sandpipers and egrets. Or maybe a fisherman or two will be visible, casting from one or the rocky reefs.

Take off your shoes when you visit the beach! Feel the sand between your toes. Walk along the water’s edge, with the wavelets tickling your ankles. And make sure you bring your camera—I can guarantee you’ll see award-winning vistas. In our short walk from the Milford Harbor we saw waves lapping at sea walls, sand flats, and marshes; plovers, egrets, and of curse the ubiquitous seagulls; a sailboat regatta, catamarans, and a tethered rowboat, and a plethora of incredible skyscapes, with the sun playing hide-and-go-seek with the clouds.

And it’s all free, my friends.

Yoo Hoo! The Farm Markets are beginning this week. (Although I can’t imagine what local produce, besides lettuces and spinach, could be ripe this soon, and with this much rain.) The opportunity to buy local foods—real foods that have not passed through the industrial food chain—brings a smile to my heart.

Have you read either of Michael Pollan’s books—The Omnivore’s Dilemma, and In Defense of Food: An Eater’s Manifesto. They should be required reading for everyone. Mr. Pollan points out that, “instead of food, we’re consuming “edible foodlike substances” — no longer the products of nature but of food science.” We’ve forgotten what real food tastes like. Pollan cautions to: Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants

Now, many of you may feel that a column devoted to saving should tout the less expensive food available from the mega food chains. While it is true that some fruits and vegetables purchased at the local supermarket might be cheaper, the exchange in flavor is hardly worth the few pennies saved—even to a tightwad like myself, and the health benefits from eating plenty of FRESH fruits and vegetables, make the slight additional cost well worthwhile.