We had our second gorgeous spring day here in Michigan. It was sunny and warm and you could hear the birds chirping.
Unfortunately, there's one less bird chirping tonight because I hit a bird this afternoon. I'm sure this isn't a just-here occurrence. No matter where you live, if you drive you've hit an animal of some kind, right? I've hit squirrels, birds (the ones that bounce off the car and the ones that you have to convince a courageous male to pull out of the grill when you get home), skunks, opossums, rabbits, badger and most notably, and more specifically, a duck.
It was, by far, the most disgusting and absurd kill I've had. I was driving down the road and the duck flew and hit my antenna. No, that's not the disgusting part. The part that was really gross was that its head detached from his body and the tendons in his neck cause the head to literally wrap around the antenna. It was one of those, "holy crap, what just happened?!" moments. I looked at the duck head dangling from my antenna wondering if I should drive home and let Jim take care of it later (no, far too gross to let sit there) or if I should get it off myself.
I looked around the van for something to get it off that I could throw away and not have to touch it with. I settled on a pop can. So here I am, pulled off the side of the road, and cringingly unwrapping this thing (it was wound about 4 times) from my antenna.
That was about 9 years ago. I drive by that area at least once a week and often wonder about the body, laying somewhere in that ditch, headless. What would someone think if they found a headless duck? I know what I though. *shiver!*
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Friday, March 29, 2013
Happy Spring!
Today was a 50 degree day and we are in Michigan and that's almost what we looked like. We picked up some handmade hot dogs from a local deli, headed to the park outside the zoo to grill and then headed into the zoo. It is a positively gorgeous, Michigan spring day. It makes me so happy to go out in just jeans and a sweatshirt, catch up with some family time, hang out with wild and not-so-wild animals and just enjoy the outdoors.
I made it through the zoo with just my walker, too. It was a no-wheelchair-for-distances day and that makes me a happy camper, too. I think some sunshine, fresh air, animals, family and fun is invigorating. I might pay for it tomorrow, but I'd lay all the cash on the table for another today.
Thursday, March 28, 2013
"I get tired, too."
Whatever you think tired is, it's not my tired. I have very few moments when I feel awake. I'm almost always some degree of tired.
At best, my tired is the I'm fine and can go without sleeping but if I can sleep I might tired. At worst my fatigue is the kind where, yes this actually happened to me, you fall asleep on the living room floor 10 feet from the bed because getting there seemed the equivalent of climbing a mountain.
I'm pretty sure I scared the crap out of my husband that day when he came home to find me there. Ah, scrapbook moments.
I try to describe my tired as feeling like you would feel the minute before you go to bed because you just can't stay awake anymore. That's me more often than I'd like to recall.
I've taken the meds they give to people that are narcoleptic...and I slept. I changed my diet...and I sleep. I try caffeine and it works a bit...and then I sleep. I've tried exercise and that makes me so tired I can't do anything else. I've tried skipping my naps so that I could maybe go to bed earlier and sleep longer and then the next day I just crashed harder.
At least I look so good, or at least I'm told. Thank you under-eye dark circle correction cream.
At best, my tired is the I'm fine and can go without sleeping but if I can sleep I might tired. At worst my fatigue is the kind where, yes this actually happened to me, you fall asleep on the living room floor 10 feet from the bed because getting there seemed the equivalent of climbing a mountain.
I'm pretty sure I scared the crap out of my husband that day when he came home to find me there. Ah, scrapbook moments.
I try to describe my tired as feeling like you would feel the minute before you go to bed because you just can't stay awake anymore. That's me more often than I'd like to recall.
I've taken the meds they give to people that are narcoleptic...and I slept. I changed my diet...and I sleep. I try caffeine and it works a bit...and then I sleep. I've tried exercise and that makes me so tired I can't do anything else. I've tried skipping my naps so that I could maybe go to bed earlier and sleep longer and then the next day I just crashed harder.
At least I look so good, or at least I'm told. Thank you under-eye dark circle correction cream.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Spring messing things up worse than they were before.
The sun is shining here in Michigan. It's Spring, they say. It's only 30-some degrees but we'll take what we can get. Any day without snow when you're nearing April is a good sign.
The term Spring Cleaning sounds so crisp, refreshing, revitalizing and cathartic. It's a chance for a new start by purging the stuff you no longer need or use and organizing the stuff you want to keep.
I decided to jump on the living room shelf that stores DVDs, Blu-Rays and CDs. It's been a wreck for months. I'm anal-retentive when it comes to organizing things. If I'm keeping them, they have to be alphabetized and able to be located.
I first took the movies that were all mixed up and sorted them into DVDs and Blu-Rays. I placed the small assortment of Blu-Rays in alphabetical order on the shelf. The 70+ DVDs are stacked in two piles on the counter below the shelf. We have a Blu-Ray player and an HD TV so the DVDs don't get used but they could and....what to do, what to do. Leave them there and let the hubby decide.
After that, I took the hundreds of CDs off the shelf and piled them on the floor. I opened every case to make sure the right one was there or that there was a CD at all in the case. Yes, someone that shall remain nameless tends to put CDs in whatever case is convenient even if that means it is basically unfindable unless you stumble across it by accident.
There were probably around 20 CDs in the wrong case, another 20 cases without CDs at all (though I know they exist somewhere), there are also burned copies of CDs, DVDs made at Vacation Bible Schools, Mother's Day gifts on DVD, computer software, backups... too much stuff; you get the drift.
Now I'm sitting here typing this as the piles of CDs and DVDs are just sitting over in the corner waiting to be told what to do. It looks a lot worse than it did before and now I'm just confused as to how to handle it without just sticking them on the shelf and shutting the doors on it again.
Spring cleaning? Not quite yet.
The term Spring Cleaning sounds so crisp, refreshing, revitalizing and cathartic. It's a chance for a new start by purging the stuff you no longer need or use and organizing the stuff you want to keep.
I decided to jump on the living room shelf that stores DVDs, Blu-Rays and CDs. It's been a wreck for months. I'm anal-retentive when it comes to organizing things. If I'm keeping them, they have to be alphabetized and able to be located.
I first took the movies that were all mixed up and sorted them into DVDs and Blu-Rays. I placed the small assortment of Blu-Rays in alphabetical order on the shelf. The 70+ DVDs are stacked in two piles on the counter below the shelf. We have a Blu-Ray player and an HD TV so the DVDs don't get used but they could and....what to do, what to do. Leave them there and let the hubby decide.
After that, I took the hundreds of CDs off the shelf and piled them on the floor. I opened every case to make sure the right one was there or that there was a CD at all in the case. Yes, someone that shall remain nameless tends to put CDs in whatever case is convenient even if that means it is basically unfindable unless you stumble across it by accident.
There were probably around 20 CDs in the wrong case, another 20 cases without CDs at all (though I know they exist somewhere), there are also burned copies of CDs, DVDs made at Vacation Bible Schools, Mother's Day gifts on DVD, computer software, backups... too much stuff; you get the drift.
Now I'm sitting here typing this as the piles of CDs and DVDs are just sitting over in the corner waiting to be told what to do. It looks a lot worse than it did before and now I'm just confused as to how to handle it without just sticking them on the shelf and shutting the doors on it again.
Spring cleaning? Not quite yet.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Lost treasures.
You've heard the stories about the Picasso found in trash outside an apartment building, the 1400's statue dropped off at a Goodwill, the $2 garage sale find that turned into a $60,000 eBay sale or, like the most recent vase that sold for $2.2 million on auction.
I always wonder about the person that tossed it, donated it or sold it. Surely some of them see their former item, tossed aside to make space, now making headlines for the sale price.
Have any of these people gone into deep depression knowing that they could have retired and lived the high life if only they would have known the value of their item?
Have any of them tried to sue to get their cut of the item or to get the item back? Maybe they would sue on the grounds of temporary delusion or permanent delusion for that matter.
Can you imagine the feeling in your stomach when you saw your item, highlighted on the internet as the find of the century, the find that you wrote off as "grandma's old junk"?
As a seller, I would love to be one of those to find that treasure amongst all the trash. I find little treasures here and there. I find things that make me $100 and feel that the person that donated or sold them would kick themselves if they knew but it's 100 bucks and while that isn't a measly sum, it's no $2.2 million.
Maybe they would make themselves feel better by comparing it to the national debt. Ah $2.2 million now looks like pennies. I feel better now.
I always wonder about the person that tossed it, donated it or sold it. Surely some of them see their former item, tossed aside to make space, now making headlines for the sale price.
Have any of these people gone into deep depression knowing that they could have retired and lived the high life if only they would have known the value of their item?
Have any of them tried to sue to get their cut of the item or to get the item back? Maybe they would sue on the grounds of temporary delusion or permanent delusion for that matter.
Can you imagine the feeling in your stomach when you saw your item, highlighted on the internet as the find of the century, the find that you wrote off as "grandma's old junk"?
As a seller, I would love to be one of those to find that treasure amongst all the trash. I find little treasures here and there. I find things that make me $100 and feel that the person that donated or sold them would kick themselves if they knew but it's 100 bucks and while that isn't a measly sum, it's no $2.2 million.
Maybe they would make themselves feel better by comparing it to the national debt. Ah $2.2 million now looks like pennies. I feel better now.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Yup, someone always has it worse but then, someone always has it better, too.
Some people are motivated to get through the days but just knowing that others have it harder than they do. "It could be worse," they say, and muddle on.
I can be that person sometimes, too, but the fact remains that even though someone else had to have a caregiver bathe them and dress them this morning, it doesn't negate the fact that I can't get dressed without sitting down or holding on to something or that I was too tired to do much else after my shower.
Someone else may be bedridden and can't feed themselves which must be positively horribly, but knowing this doesn't change the fact that I woke up, made my daughter's lunch, had breakfast and now need to go back to bed to recover.
It's the hardest to hear when it comes from the person that had a 5 am spin class, rushed to work at 7:30, finished work at 5, came home, made dinner, cleaned up after dinner, did some laundry, tucked the kids into bed and then made time to watch their favorite TV shows. "It could be worse, my girlfriend's, husband's, boss', next door neighbor has MS and she has to give herself shots every day." It's even worse when they describe a treatment that they give patients right after diagnosis in hopes to slow the disease process, a treatment you have already been through that stopped working years ago.
I do muddle through most days. I get stuff done. I'm no superwoman and I feel like my whole world revolves around laundry and cooking some days but I get by. My husband and daughter are great helpers and seem to understand the ins and outs of the MS BS. That's what makes it easier for me to get through my days.
"It could be worse." Yup, maybe tomorrow.
I can be that person sometimes, too, but the fact remains that even though someone else had to have a caregiver bathe them and dress them this morning, it doesn't negate the fact that I can't get dressed without sitting down or holding on to something or that I was too tired to do much else after my shower.
Someone else may be bedridden and can't feed themselves which must be positively horribly, but knowing this doesn't change the fact that I woke up, made my daughter's lunch, had breakfast and now need to go back to bed to recover.
It's the hardest to hear when it comes from the person that had a 5 am spin class, rushed to work at 7:30, finished work at 5, came home, made dinner, cleaned up after dinner, did some laundry, tucked the kids into bed and then made time to watch their favorite TV shows. "It could be worse, my girlfriend's, husband's, boss', next door neighbor has MS and she has to give herself shots every day." It's even worse when they describe a treatment that they give patients right after diagnosis in hopes to slow the disease process, a treatment you have already been through that stopped working years ago.
I do muddle through most days. I get stuff done. I'm no superwoman and I feel like my whole world revolves around laundry and cooking some days but I get by. My husband and daughter are great helpers and seem to understand the ins and outs of the MS BS. That's what makes it easier for me to get through my days.
"It could be worse." Yup, maybe tomorrow.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
A-Z Spring a Poem
Years and years ago, when I was still in college I wanted to write a unique poem that used 26 words and each word starting with the following letter of the alphabet. Yes, some of the words are a stretch but I'll share it anyway.
Angling branch chases
Doves' ecstatic faces
Giving hope impending
June's kisses lending
Marigolds need opening
Painful questions rendering
Stitches to unhem
Various woody xylem
Youthfully Zealous
Angling branch chases
Doves' ecstatic faces
Giving hope impending
June's kisses lending
Marigolds need opening
Painful questions rendering
Stitches to unhem
Various woody xylem
Youthfully Zealous
Extra! Extra! Hunt around for it!
Every Sunday morning, a newspaper is delivered to our house. It's actually a bundle of a small local paper and snippets from the larger regional paper, like a teaser of what you could get if you paid for the big fancy newspaper. You know you want more bits of entertainment, religion, politics, etc. No, there is no such thing as the internet. Subscribe!
Either the delivery person has problems with depth perception, a bad throwing arm, hates his job or is taunting me for not paying for the real deal. Fact is, I've found the paper in the middle of the lawn, behind the shrubs, sort of near my sidewalk and, most recently, right behind the back tire of my van.
This doesn't put much faith in the service I would receive if I paid for the paper. I would rather not pay for delivery and have a daily hunt for this so-called treasure. You would think if they are truly trying to get subscribers they would walk up and place it gently on the steps, maybe wrapped in a ribbon and filled with some sort of newspaperly present like reading glasses or a bundle of coupon inserts.
What do I get, an impromptu hunt for a paper I don't want, after it has landed in my muddy or snowy lawn, landed behind my shrubs or ran over by my van. Half the time it doesn't even make it to the recycle bin because it's soaked and dirty. I should look up his license plate and get him ticketed for littering.
Either the delivery person has problems with depth perception, a bad throwing arm, hates his job or is taunting me for not paying for the real deal. Fact is, I've found the paper in the middle of the lawn, behind the shrubs, sort of near my sidewalk and, most recently, right behind the back tire of my van.
This doesn't put much faith in the service I would receive if I paid for the paper. I would rather not pay for delivery and have a daily hunt for this so-called treasure. You would think if they are truly trying to get subscribers they would walk up and place it gently on the steps, maybe wrapped in a ribbon and filled with some sort of newspaperly present like reading glasses or a bundle of coupon inserts.
What do I get, an impromptu hunt for a paper I don't want, after it has landed in my muddy or snowy lawn, landed behind my shrubs or ran over by my van. Half the time it doesn't even make it to the recycle bin because it's soaked and dirty. I should look up his license plate and get him ticketed for littering.
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Look me in the eyes.
This isn't a 13 year old boy finding boobs for the first time or any man at any age finding boobs for the gazillionth time.
This is me, in a wheelchair and people avoiding eye contact. I try to assert myself and talk to people like I always would when I'm in the chair. To me, it's no big deal to interact. People almost act surprised that I can converse like a normal person. Amazing.
To many, it's like they have to avert their eyes so they don't look like they are staring, visually prying, wondering what's wrong. Do they feel uncomfortable like they don't know what to say? Is it necessary to say anything at all? Is it really that different to be upright?
I was an observer in this situation. A man was in the mall in a wheelchair with his helper dog. A young boy was stopped, mesmerized and you could see his mom was uncomfortable, trying to keep him from staring or saying anything. Before long, the little one took off running towards the man. The mom, obviously rattled for reasons far beyond the fact that her child was running away from her, obviously afraid he was going to say something embarrassing to the man yelled after him with a mortified look on her face.
I saw the boy approach the man in the wheelchair and very excitedly ask if he could pet his dog. He didn't see his chair. He didn't care about anything other than the fact that a dog was in the mall. I could see that the mom felt embarrassed by the way she acted, knowing that it showed her own prejudices.
Just remember, we aren't the chair. We aren't our disability. We are people that want to be looked at, not looked away from. It's bad enough to live with what we do from day to day.
My own personal story. I was with my daughter at last year's Women's Expo in Grand Rapids, Michigan. She was "driving" for the first time. She was trying to navigate the mass crowd that was so absorbed that they didn't see her or me or anyone other than themselves, for that matter. I had people walk over my feet and actually had someone almost jump over my legs. Really?!
So now I'm not just being avoided, people act like I'm invisible, too. So I ask you to look me in the eyes, look everyone in the eyes. A little kindness goes a long way.
This is me, in a wheelchair and people avoiding eye contact. I try to assert myself and talk to people like I always would when I'm in the chair. To me, it's no big deal to interact. People almost act surprised that I can converse like a normal person. Amazing.
To many, it's like they have to avert their eyes so they don't look like they are staring, visually prying, wondering what's wrong. Do they feel uncomfortable like they don't know what to say? Is it necessary to say anything at all? Is it really that different to be upright?
I was an observer in this situation. A man was in the mall in a wheelchair with his helper dog. A young boy was stopped, mesmerized and you could see his mom was uncomfortable, trying to keep him from staring or saying anything. Before long, the little one took off running towards the man. The mom, obviously rattled for reasons far beyond the fact that her child was running away from her, obviously afraid he was going to say something embarrassing to the man yelled after him with a mortified look on her face.
I saw the boy approach the man in the wheelchair and very excitedly ask if he could pet his dog. He didn't see his chair. He didn't care about anything other than the fact that a dog was in the mall. I could see that the mom felt embarrassed by the way she acted, knowing that it showed her own prejudices.
Just remember, we aren't the chair. We aren't our disability. We are people that want to be looked at, not looked away from. It's bad enough to live with what we do from day to day.
My own personal story. I was with my daughter at last year's Women's Expo in Grand Rapids, Michigan. She was "driving" for the first time. She was trying to navigate the mass crowd that was so absorbed that they didn't see her or me or anyone other than themselves, for that matter. I had people walk over my feet and actually had someone almost jump over my legs. Really?!
So now I'm not just being avoided, people act like I'm invisible, too. So I ask you to look me in the eyes, look everyone in the eyes. A little kindness goes a long way.
Friday, March 22, 2013
You know that um, er, thingy that uh...
MS leaves me a blubbering idiot at times and a stumbling idiot at others. Let's focus on the former rather than the later for the time being.
I have lesions in the frontal lobe of my brain, the part that affects cognition and speech. Sometimes, especially the more tired I get, I have trouble finding words. My family is smarter because of it, I'm sure. I mean, random rounds of charades is not a common occurrence in every house. Putting your brain power to normally unrequired use is stimulating unless, of course, you're the one with the brain that's not working properly.
Sometimes it's a situation of asking for "uh, you know, that thing with the pages that you read". "A book, mom?" (insert eye roll)
One time it was situation of asking for a snack. Me to Jim. "Can you get me a snack while you're out there?" Jim to me. "What do you want?" "Hmmm...uh...um (no, I couldn't make the words come out)." "Do you want something from the pantry or the refrigerator." "The cold one." Oh, yes, I actually did answer that.
Sometimes I just stop, like opening my mouth and no words will come out. Other times I have talked I I was completely drunk. Had the person next to me tell me to start over because I made no sense at all.
Other times, and those with delicate sensibilities should look away now, I open my mouth and nothing comes out but random f-bombs, what I like to call MS Tourettes. Yes, I know I don't seem the type. Yes, I look sweet and innocent. Yes, I know my mom doesn't like it. No, that word doesn't bother me; it's just a word, after all.
What you wouldn't know unless I told you is that I had to stop typing several times while writing this and rethink words or replace them with other words because I couldn't find the one I was searching for.
I do stop mid sentence sometimes and tell people I just have to start over. It's frustrating and makes me feel stupid. So if I make you play random games, spew profanity or just try to speak and can't make the words come out, just give me a minute. I should be able to make you understand before too long, just be patient.
I have lesions in the frontal lobe of my brain, the part that affects cognition and speech. Sometimes, especially the more tired I get, I have trouble finding words. My family is smarter because of it, I'm sure. I mean, random rounds of charades is not a common occurrence in every house. Putting your brain power to normally unrequired use is stimulating unless, of course, you're the one with the brain that's not working properly.
Sometimes it's a situation of asking for "uh, you know, that thing with the pages that you read". "A book, mom?" (insert eye roll)
One time it was situation of asking for a snack. Me to Jim. "Can you get me a snack while you're out there?" Jim to me. "What do you want?" "Hmmm...uh...um (no, I couldn't make the words come out)." "Do you want something from the pantry or the refrigerator." "The cold one." Oh, yes, I actually did answer that.
Sometimes I just stop, like opening my mouth and no words will come out. Other times I have talked I I was completely drunk. Had the person next to me tell me to start over because I made no sense at all.
Other times, and those with delicate sensibilities should look away now, I open my mouth and nothing comes out but random f-bombs, what I like to call MS Tourettes. Yes, I know I don't seem the type. Yes, I look sweet and innocent. Yes, I know my mom doesn't like it. No, that word doesn't bother me; it's just a word, after all.
What you wouldn't know unless I told you is that I had to stop typing several times while writing this and rethink words or replace them with other words because I couldn't find the one I was searching for.
I do stop mid sentence sometimes and tell people I just have to start over. It's frustrating and makes me feel stupid. So if I make you play random games, spew profanity or just try to speak and can't make the words come out, just give me a minute. I should be able to make you understand before too long, just be patient.
Turning me off.
Nope, not like body odor, bad breath, bad manners, humorless, petty, catty, angry, grumpy people with hairy backs.
I was turned off like a light switch with the flip of an actual light switch. We were in a hotel room and Jim turned the light off and I crumpled to the ground with a magnificent squish of me knocking into the front of the heating/cooling unit at the same time.
It was a real, "what the hell just happened?" moment as I lay giggling on the floor amazed, confused and mostly amused - fortunately not contused and bruised.
Later at my neurologist appointment I recounted the oddball situation. He explained that I use visual cues to make up for the lack of feeling on my right side so I know how to walk basically. When the lights went off, my visual cues went away and, well, if you forgot already start reading this entry again.
Ah the peculiar side of MS that you don't see in the triumphant marathon running, mountain climbing, conquering the world "I have MS but it doesn't have me" media spewing.
I saw a shirt online once that said, "I have MS but it doesn't have me. Who am I kidding? MS owns my ass." Put that on the front of a magazine.
I was turned off like a light switch with the flip of an actual light switch. We were in a hotel room and Jim turned the light off and I crumpled to the ground with a magnificent squish of me knocking into the front of the heating/cooling unit at the same time.
It was a real, "what the hell just happened?" moment as I lay giggling on the floor amazed, confused and mostly amused - fortunately not contused and bruised.
Later at my neurologist appointment I recounted the oddball situation. He explained that I use visual cues to make up for the lack of feeling on my right side so I know how to walk basically. When the lights went off, my visual cues went away and, well, if you forgot already start reading this entry again.
Ah the peculiar side of MS that you don't see in the triumphant marathon running, mountain climbing, conquering the world "I have MS but it doesn't have me" media spewing.
I saw a shirt online once that said, "I have MS but it doesn't have me. Who am I kidding? MS owns my ass." Put that on the front of a magazine.
Thursday, March 21, 2013
"I hear you sell on eBay. Will you sell my widget?"
No. Nada. No way. No how.
Here's the thing. I like the thrill of the hunt, digging through boxes at sales, scrounging through thrift stores, dusting off treasures at estate sales and finding a treasure at a garage sale.
I love the victories of found items being sold for much more than I paid for them. I found a tiny DAM troll doll with a tail at a church sale in a 10 cent box. I thought it was unique and, of course, it was cheap. I brought it home, did my research and it ended up selling for $142!
One time my husband, Jim, and I were at a garage sale where a guy was selling an early 80's HP computer. He talked about all the programs it came with, a modem (that was an actual handset!) and on and on and on. He went on about how he wrote programs, went on some more about the quality of the computer, on about this and on about that. He practically begged Jim to buy it for $15 and the curiosity was well worth the $15. Who wouldn't want to see this thing?
After our curiosity was met, I decided to eBay it. I was excited to see they were selling for around $100. I put it up for a week and slowly watched it climb and then sit for days around that price. I was happy with my return on investment. As the clocked counted down and the auction was almost over I had a huge thrill as a seller as two bidders were fighting for it with the countdown clock at 10 seconds. When the clock rolled to 00:00, the bid sat at $390!
Another time I was at a sale with two elderly women who were selling off all their mother's "old junk". They told me how they had lived with all these antiques their whole life and can't understand why anyone would want any of it. Nonetheless they were trying to sell it and I was happy to pay them a nice, shiny quarter for a Gucci scarf that was shipped to France for the selling price of $97.50 + shipping.
It's not like every item sells that way, though. People find out that you sell and want to give you 30% of the sale price if you sell their (insert random "valuable" here). They think you're throwing a picture online and raking in the dough. Other than my thrill of the hunt being gone as an item is dropped at my doorstep, they also want me to make a measly sum for what I do.
I don't do anything other than researching, taking pictures, uploading pictures, editing pictures, writing descriptions, packing items, weighing items, shipping items, communicating with potential buyers while the auction is running, communicating with buyers once the item is over, driving the package to the post office (granted it's .8 miles round trip for me...but still), getting out of my vehicle, taking it inside - you get the drift.
I'd rather make 100% profit (less eBay and PayPal fees, of course) on my 25 cent find than 30% of your grandma's pots and pans and your toddler's tennis shoes.
There are a few reasonable people I do sell for. These are the people that understand that I can't complete a listing in 3.7 seconds and that my time is actually worth something. Mostly, though, I will tell people "no" when they ask me to sell for them so don't ask, okay? Imagine me beaming with happiness and jumping around like Snoopy in his silly dance while I'm searching for things to sell. If that doesn't work, imagine me in tears sobbing over a box of your stuff. Put a picture bubble above my head with me among a pile of unshipped boxes, an elapsed time clock of 73 hours and me holding $14 worth of dollar bills. I bet you won't ask me to sell for you without taking into account what it takes for me to do my job now will you?
"Will I sell for you?", you ask. "Um....yeah, no."
Here's the thing. I like the thrill of the hunt, digging through boxes at sales, scrounging through thrift stores, dusting off treasures at estate sales and finding a treasure at a garage sale.
I love the victories of found items being sold for much more than I paid for them. I found a tiny DAM troll doll with a tail at a church sale in a 10 cent box. I thought it was unique and, of course, it was cheap. I brought it home, did my research and it ended up selling for $142!
One time my husband, Jim, and I were at a garage sale where a guy was selling an early 80's HP computer. He talked about all the programs it came with, a modem (that was an actual handset!) and on and on and on. He went on about how he wrote programs, went on some more about the quality of the computer, on about this and on about that. He practically begged Jim to buy it for $15 and the curiosity was well worth the $15. Who wouldn't want to see this thing?
After our curiosity was met, I decided to eBay it. I was excited to see they were selling for around $100. I put it up for a week and slowly watched it climb and then sit for days around that price. I was happy with my return on investment. As the clocked counted down and the auction was almost over I had a huge thrill as a seller as two bidders were fighting for it with the countdown clock at 10 seconds. When the clock rolled to 00:00, the bid sat at $390!
Another time I was at a sale with two elderly women who were selling off all their mother's "old junk". They told me how they had lived with all these antiques their whole life and can't understand why anyone would want any of it. Nonetheless they were trying to sell it and I was happy to pay them a nice, shiny quarter for a Gucci scarf that was shipped to France for the selling price of $97.50 + shipping.
It's not like every item sells that way, though. People find out that you sell and want to give you 30% of the sale price if you sell their (insert random "valuable" here). They think you're throwing a picture online and raking in the dough. Other than my thrill of the hunt being gone as an item is dropped at my doorstep, they also want me to make a measly sum for what I do.
I don't do anything other than researching, taking pictures, uploading pictures, editing pictures, writing descriptions, packing items, weighing items, shipping items, communicating with potential buyers while the auction is running, communicating with buyers once the item is over, driving the package to the post office (granted it's .8 miles round trip for me...but still), getting out of my vehicle, taking it inside - you get the drift.
I'd rather make 100% profit (less eBay and PayPal fees, of course) on my 25 cent find than 30% of your grandma's pots and pans and your toddler's tennis shoes.
There are a few reasonable people I do sell for. These are the people that understand that I can't complete a listing in 3.7 seconds and that my time is actually worth something. Mostly, though, I will tell people "no" when they ask me to sell for them so don't ask, okay? Imagine me beaming with happiness and jumping around like Snoopy in his silly dance while I'm searching for things to sell. If that doesn't work, imagine me in tears sobbing over a box of your stuff. Put a picture bubble above my head with me among a pile of unshipped boxes, an elapsed time clock of 73 hours and me holding $14 worth of dollar bills. I bet you won't ask me to sell for you without taking into account what it takes for me to do my job now will you?
"Will I sell for you?", you ask. "Um....yeah, no."
Unphysicality
So what's it like having MS anyway?
It's like being a patient that just had gastric bypass surgery staring at an all you can eat buffet.
It's like a being diabetic and sitting with a hot fudge sundae in front of you and being told you can't have a single bite.
Like someone who likes to sing more than anything in the world getting laryngitis, losing the ability to even speak and then being taken to a karaoke bar.
The world around me is full of things I can't do. I used to be a tomboy, playing all kinds of games, riding bikes, roller skating, and just plain doing anything physical.
Facebook can be a bit of an enemy. I read about people running marathons, going dancing, playing tennis, lifting weights, roller skating, going for long walks on the beach and I feel like I'm in a bubble all by myself watching people go off and do all the things I long to do.
MS can feel like solitary when it comes to things like that. "Hey, mom, come with us to the roller rink" (and watch everyone else having fun).
I was once told by another MSer (who shall remain nameless for now), "Suck it up, Sunshine." Most days I can. I sleep while others play. I try not to let it get to me but, well, I think it goes without saying. Sometimes is just sucks to be on the sidelines when you want to be a player. I get to be the one handing out Gatorade while someone else gets the touchdown. Fun.
It's like being a patient that just had gastric bypass surgery staring at an all you can eat buffet.
It's like a being diabetic and sitting with a hot fudge sundae in front of you and being told you can't have a single bite.
Like someone who likes to sing more than anything in the world getting laryngitis, losing the ability to even speak and then being taken to a karaoke bar.
The world around me is full of things I can't do. I used to be a tomboy, playing all kinds of games, riding bikes, roller skating, and just plain doing anything physical.
Facebook can be a bit of an enemy. I read about people running marathons, going dancing, playing tennis, lifting weights, roller skating, going for long walks on the beach and I feel like I'm in a bubble all by myself watching people go off and do all the things I long to do.
MS can feel like solitary when it comes to things like that. "Hey, mom, come with us to the roller rink" (and watch everyone else having fun).
I was once told by another MSer (who shall remain nameless for now), "Suck it up, Sunshine." Most days I can. I sleep while others play. I try not to let it get to me but, well, I think it goes without saying. Sometimes is just sucks to be on the sidelines when you want to be a player. I get to be the one handing out Gatorade while someone else gets the touchdown. Fun.
Out of the mouths of babes
When my daughter was maybe 4 years old we had been talking about the Multiple Sclerosis, what it means, why mommy is so tired all the time, and so forth. She had watched me give myself Betaseron injections and watched me the with fatigue, sore muscles, achiness that came with every injection.
I had a cane at the time and used it for distance walking like when we would go to the mall or the flea market.
One day she very seriously asked me, "Mom, are you healthy?"
I was caught off-guard and was trying to buy some time to organize my thoughts when I asked her, "What do you mean?"
She replied, "If a bear ate you, would it be good for him?"
:D
I had a cane at the time and used it for distance walking like when we would go to the mall or the flea market.
One day she very seriously asked me, "Mom, are you healthy?"
I was caught off-guard and was trying to buy some time to organize my thoughts when I asked her, "What do you mean?"
She replied, "If a bear ate you, would it be good for him?"
:D
A Bit About Me
Well here I am. My name is Tricia. I live in Michigan with my husband, daughter, two cats, two leopard geckos and a fish tank that houses different numbers of fish on different occasions depending on the death rate.
I am 37 years old. I have a degree in English Language and Literature with an emphasis in creative writing and minors in advertising/public relations and philosophy. Banking became my career option of choice after college since that seemed the only thing available. Ah, irony at its best.
My husband and I were married in September of 1997 on a gorgeous fall afternoon. I was 21 at the time. I had started working at the bank before we were married, moved to another bank after a buy out and quit when my husband told me "either the job is going to kill you or I will" during the layoff, short-staffed, overworked and underpaid period of my life there so I quit and became my own boss - sort of.
eBay became my new job of choice and, I guess, the first time I kinda sorta put my degree to use. I was advertising, after all, in a round about way. It was nothing like I had anticipated for a career but a girl needs to start somewhere.
A few months later I got pregnant with my daughter after trying for about 3.5 days. I expected months to prepare for this pregnancy thing. Boy was I wrong!
Just 9 days before turning 26, I gave birth to my daughter. She's been a joy ever since.
When she had just turned 2 years old, I turned to get her as she was running towards a pool with no life jacket. I twisted my back and got some numbness in my leg. When we got home from our trip I saw my chiropractor and he started working his magic.
I got pregnant again, my numbness went away and all was well until I miscarried at 7 weeks. I went numb from head to toe on the right side of my body. I underwent various tests including an EMG, spinal tap, evoked potentials, MRI and lots of blood work and was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis right around my 28th birthday.
Before long, it was obvious that I was never going to be in the workforce again. I was never going to use my degree outside the eBay realm. What else was I never going to be able to do? Ah, more to come!
I am 37 years old. I have a degree in English Language and Literature with an emphasis in creative writing and minors in advertising/public relations and philosophy. Banking became my career option of choice after college since that seemed the only thing available. Ah, irony at its best.
My husband and I were married in September of 1997 on a gorgeous fall afternoon. I was 21 at the time. I had started working at the bank before we were married, moved to another bank after a buy out and quit when my husband told me "either the job is going to kill you or I will" during the layoff, short-staffed, overworked and underpaid period of my life there so I quit and became my own boss - sort of.
eBay became my new job of choice and, I guess, the first time I kinda sorta put my degree to use. I was advertising, after all, in a round about way. It was nothing like I had anticipated for a career but a girl needs to start somewhere.
A few months later I got pregnant with my daughter after trying for about 3.5 days. I expected months to prepare for this pregnancy thing. Boy was I wrong!
Just 9 days before turning 26, I gave birth to my daughter. She's been a joy ever since.
When she had just turned 2 years old, I turned to get her as she was running towards a pool with no life jacket. I twisted my back and got some numbness in my leg. When we got home from our trip I saw my chiropractor and he started working his magic.
I got pregnant again, my numbness went away and all was well until I miscarried at 7 weeks. I went numb from head to toe on the right side of my body. I underwent various tests including an EMG, spinal tap, evoked potentials, MRI and lots of blood work and was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis right around my 28th birthday.
Before long, it was obvious that I was never going to be in the workforce again. I was never going to use my degree outside the eBay realm. What else was I never going to be able to do? Ah, more to come!
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