Hieroglyphics along Salmon River, Idaho
Suddenly I find myself like the pig in the title of this blog and am suddenly committed for breakfast. My wife and I enjoy going to garage sales around town. Being a Filipina which means very thrifty, she loves being able to search among things that are prices a quarter or fifty-cents. She will spend several hours some weekends looking for two or three things that cost her less than a buck out right but six dollars in gas for the car. I make up for that by picking up things that I find, mostly books and carting them home to stash on my four built in bookcases full of books to read at some point in my future. It is like shopping at a small bookstore every time I finish a book and need another one to read. Lately though I have picking up things for my four-year-old daughter which I would never pay for new in a store.
On a recent outing, I dropped my wife and daughter off at a large garage sale being held in one of the county fairgrounds buildings while I went to get the oil changed in her vehicle. When I got back, I found my daughter the star attraction of the place marching around with a drum strapped around her shoulder banging away while wearing my wide brimmed river hat at a right saucy angle. She looked every bit of being a little drummer girl. Inside the drum were a pair of moroccos, a tambourine and a set of bells. Everything you needed to outfit a percussion section of a band. I knew my daughter was smitten with it and their would be no taking it away now without serious repercussions. When I finally found my wife looking over a table, I learned that even had I wanted too it was too late because she had already paid for them. One dollar is what she paid but I'm not sure she figured in the price of a bottle of Excedrin for the inevitable headaches to follow.
So a few garage sales later when my daughter picked up a kids guitar that had lost of buttons, strings, and knobs that played kid's songs for a dollar, I said we might as well since we are already committed. So overnight, my daughter has most of the trappings of her own band and I don't know if this will foster any talent or just induce parental headaches. I guess only time will tell. I did however impress my daughter, wife and an onlooker or two by belting out the drum cadence from my marching band days before drifting off into the drum beats of Eleanor Rigby and coming to a screeching halt when I forgot the rhythm. I'm a little rusty after all these years. If only I had gotten a gig on some rock-n-roll band....