My trash might just be your treasure, Part 2
I am underwhelmed to report that last weekend’s garage sale achieved a status of extreme mediocrity. However, I am thrilled to report that my garage sale is over! Money has been deposited in the bank. Unsold items have been donated to the Goodwill. Lessons have been learned:
Lesson 1: Three days of sitting in your garage may cause irritability, overeating and stupidity.
Lesson 2: All existing math skills disappear under pressure when people are standing in front of you with arms full of your crap trying to negotiate a lower price for the $1.00 espresso machine.
Lesson 3: Rain may be a garage sale’s worst enemy, but wind is a close second. The fluffy pink bear still airborne on West Chicago Street would agree.
Lesson 4: The garage sale business is dog eat dog, as evidenced by the ruthless sabotage of my neighborhood signs in an attempt to redirect customers to the north side of town. Seriously, I’m not kidding.
Lesson 5: Craig’s List can increase your blog traffic, but not necessarily your garage sale traffic.
It’s true. Although 58 people read my blog because of the ad posted on Craig’s List, only three customers admitted to coming as a result of the blog. It appears that the biggest and boldest signs on the corners of every major intersection in town are truly what draws the most garage sale traffic. I’ll remember that little golden nugget of information, but it’s unlikely that I will ever need it. From now on, my garage is reserved for parking only.
We did actually make some rainy-day cash, so it wasn’t all bad. Last Thursday morning I went around the breakfast table and asked everybody to place their bets as to how much money we would make from the sale. The winner would receive a super duper ice cream sundae from Culver’s. The following bets were placed:
Jon — $310; Jess — $460; Noah — $360; Lia — Banana
Well, nobody offered us a banana, but our grand total was just shy of $400. Since we were playing “The Price is Right” style and the winning bid could not be over the final tally, Noah was the clear winner. I’m thinking that banana splits would be an appropriate reward for the entire family this weekend…extra banana for Lia, extra everything for Noah.
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My trash might just be your treasure, Part 1
Just one of the many tables filled with toys.
More than two full racks of clothes for kids organized by size and season!
Garage sale season has officially arrived as evidenced by the slew of signs on every corner in my small town. Do you love them or hate them? Do you find them dirty or intriguing? Do you stretch your neck when driving by in hopes of spotting that Blatz Beer sign you’ve been missing since you were 17? Or do you avoid them altogether for fear of finding that creepy plush Ronald McDonald doll that your mom taunted you with for years?
This very weekend I am playing hostess to the most epic of all Tiede garage sales. I have teetered down the attic steps with arms full of boxes, I have climbed up from the basement dragging comforters, luggage and home decor galore. But mostly, I have shed tears sorting through toys and clothes that my children have outgrown. As I mentioned in a previous blog, I welcome the maturing of my kids. I am not crying because they’ve outgrown the beautiful dresses and coolest toys ever. I’m crying because I’m cheap and I can’t believe we paid $25 for the Zhu Zhu Pet and Fun House that Noah played with for five minutes and now we’ll be lucky to sell for $2.00. What the pickle?!
I’m so cheap, in fact, that I refuse to pay for a classified ad in the local newspaper. Do you know the going rate for classified ads? It costs $16 for 10 words and 60¢ for each additional word. I can’t even get my street address and hours of operation in the ad for under $20 and that doesn’t allow me to begin describing the sheer awesomeness of my garage sale!
Then I remembered that I AM A DIGTAL MARKETER. I am a blogger. I am a tweeter. I am a Facebooker. I use Craig’s List. And I pin pins on Pinterest!
So I present to you, my faithful readers, a brazen and bold digital plug for the sale of my Tiede Treasures:
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
This Thursday beginning at 4:30pm sharp, you are all invited to attend the garage sale to end all garage sales. There will be more toys than FAO Schwartz. There will be baby essentials like wipe warmers, bouncy seats, and changing pads. There will be racks of clothes organized on hangers by size and season. There will be nursing pajamas with only minor Lansinoh stains…c’mon ladies, don’t judge — you know it’s inevitable. There will be a pink motorized jeep for your little princess. There will be an infant carrier for your newborn bundle of joy. There will be a Kelty backpack for your slightly older bundle of joy. There will be a One Step Ahead Sit n Stand stroller for your second bundle of joy. There will be home decor that I can no longer bear to look at on my walls and shelves, but there’s no shame in admitting that you can’t live without them. There will be beauty supplies. There will be one kick-ass pair of boots. There will be an interview-ready suit that I clearly don’t need because my job rocks. There will be kitchen rugs. There will be bathroom rugs. There will be shower curtains. Hey! I just realized that you can redecorate your entire bathroom at my garage sale!
Stop by and check out all of the goodies you will find in my garage and on my driveway this weekend. The children are not for sale, but almost everything else you see can be yours for a small price. The sale of my husband is negotiable.
Tiede Treasures Garage Sale • 300 West Chicago Street • Stoughton, WI
Thursday, May 10 (4:30–7:00pm)
Friday, May 11 (7:00am–5:00pm)
Saturday, May 12 (7:00am–12:00pm)
*Everything 50% off on Saturday!
Disclaimer: I apologize in advance if you attend my garage sale and recognize any of the clothing or other items because you gave them to me. Whoops! 
Lia, my bringer of good news
This morning at approximately 12:38am my precious baby girl turned three years old. Like most parents, my husband and I enjoy reminiscing about that perfect day when baby Lia came into our lives. Oh wait, did I say perfect?! Crying, screaming, cursing, bleeding…maybe not so perfect. But damn, she was the most beautiful baby girl I had ever laid eyes on. Still is.
While I have cherished (almost) every stage of Lia’s three years, I don’t relate to those parents who struggle to accept the reality that their babies grow more independent with each passing day. In fact, I welcome the independence. When we had finally chosen a name for our unborn baby girl, we considered three spellings: Leah, Lea, and Lia. Our online research revealed that the first two had meanings associated with weary and dependent. The latter meant bringer of good news. Not much deliberation needed after that little discovery! Lia was the clear winner and this girl could never be mistaken for either weary or dependent! It was an added bonus that Lia was the Italian spelling for my favorite name and a special tribute to my ancestry.
Yes, there are certainly times when I love a good snuggle in the glider singing “You are my Sunshine” to this baby girl of mine. But better yet, I love when she sings it right back to me. Or she sings new songs that she learned at childcare. Or she tells me that I’m her very best friend. Or she puts her jacket on without my help. Or she blows her nose. Or she climbs up to the table without a boost. Or she picks up her toys. Or she makes a new friend. Or she tinkles in the toilet. Or she eats a cheeseburger instead of a cheese sandwich. Or she slips on her own shoes. Or she slips on my shoes. Or she pedals her tricycle. Or she washes her hands. Or she turns off her bedroom light. Or she pumps her legs on the swings. Or she tells me that her tummy hurts rather than making me guess. Or she puts her dirty clothes down the laundry chute. Or she calls me pretty. Or she does a perfect forward roll in tumbling class. Or she prefers walking to being carried. Or she tells her brother that Olivia is better than Sponge Bob. Or she kisses her dolls goodnight. Or my all-time personal favorite…she says, “I love you mommy!”
Happy Birthday to my one and only baby girl. May you grow big and strong, but always need your mommy for the most important days and moments in your life.
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Am I birthday diva?
Birthdays. Love ‘em or hate ‘em, they are destined to arrive every single year on the same day of the same month. Mine was yesterday and I am a lover of all holidays, including my very own birthday. I must confess that I’m one of those people who will stretch my birthday out as long as possible, which is typically about 4-5 days before my family is ready to toss me out with the trash. Am I too happy? Too bossy? A birthday diva? Perhaps.
When my mom asked me what kind of cake I wanted for my birthday, I replied “I like pie.” Commence the first awkward silence and never spoken but quite possibly noted, “Who does she think she is?” For the record, we settled for both. In fact, my family was so generous that I enjoyed two kinds of pie and a slice of the gorgeous birthday cake made by a family friend.
While the icing on that cake was decadent, the bonus icing on a figurative and 21st century birthday cake is Facebook! Birthday wishes from 80+ of my closest friends — how awesome is that?! Not only birthday wishes too, but birthday flair from Maria, a virtual cake from Tony, and an electronic card from Carrie. So! Much! Fun!
In true Jess style, I am now headed out to meet my gal pal for a day of coffee talk, retail therapy and Jon Hamm at the movie theater. Afterall, it is my Birthday Week and sadly this will be the last day of my personal holiday celebration. Next year is a milestone birthday for me…hmmm, how long can I make that one last?!
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Tweeting for comfort
Sitting on the tarmac
It has been 12 days since the worst flight delay in my travel history. I fully intended to blog about it the day after my return, but I couldn’t even bring myself to put fingers to keys (so to speak), until now. While I sat on the tarmac for one long delay, I closed my eyes and thought of all the witty things I would write. As the day wore on, the wit turned to sadness turned to anger turned to relief and then apparently I needed some time to chill out.
Rewind. I had just spent three awesome days in the great state of Utah with my colleagues at the Adobe Digital Marketing Summit. The sessions were amazing and the keynotes were unforgettable. The highlight for me? Listening to Biz Stone, co-founder of Twitter, who is just a regular guy and wondering, “Why didn’t I think of that?!”
I made it safely from Utah to Minneapolis on Friday morning. Seems like an easy task, but Utah is a state of many laws and we managed to almost break a lot of them…only one spirit can be served to a patron at a time, no spirits allowed “to go” from the hotel lounge to another area of the hotel, no double spirits, and no hailing a taxi. Okay, so most of the laws we almost broke revolved around alcohol, but I come from a state that lets you bring your kids to the bar, so this was foreign territory for me.
At the Minneapolis airport, I lunched at a painfully slow restaurant with a colleague from Indiana who also had a connecting flight. The bill came and we parted ways, both sprinting to our respective gates. I arrived to find a full gate of people. We were waiting for the previous flight’s passengers to deplane. Delayed 30 minutes.
On board the plane, we moved slowly across the tarmac and stopped. The pilot announced that the computer wasn’t functioning properly and the mechanics were on their way. Delayed two more hours, so I tweeted about my boredom.
The computer refused to cooperate and our plane headed back to the gate. We deplaned. Delayed two more hours.
On board the plane for a second time, things were finally looking up for us. The plane left the ground for a short 40-minute flight back to Madison. Approximately halfway into the flight, I felt the plane making a very obvious 180-degree turn. The pilot came back on the radio and announced that the landing gear wouldn’t retract and we were headed back to Minneapolis. I could practically see the Capitol and taste the cheese curds, but we were turning around?!
I think this is when the tears really started flowing. Crying when I haven’t gotten enough sleep is a little habit of mine that started around…childbirth. The man sitting next to me was incredibly nice, so I tried my best to keep it together in case he offered me a ride to Madison. I know, don’t take rides from strangers! But he looked just like my cousin, Barry, and flying seemed very unlikely at that point. I tweeted about my misery.
We deplaned and were advised to head toward a new concourse and await further instructions. Delayed two more hours and yet another tweet hits the Twitterverse.
As we boarded the shiny new plane that would eventually take us back to the land of rolling hills and recalls, I heard a familiar voice behind me. I turned around and a few people back was my favorite local news anchor, Eric Franke. He had been on this journey with me for the last six hours but I was too busy tweeting through tears to even notice. So, I didn’t get to have any long conversations with Eric Franke (lucky for him), but now I wonder if Biz Stone would be impressed by the comfort I found in Twitter on that very very very long day. Maybe I’ll tweet him and find out!
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St. Patty’s Day for an Italian English German
Now that spring has arrived a little early in the Midwest, you might notice some of my blogs changing from slightly Geeky Chic to a bit more Sporty Spice. I love biking in Wisconsin and I was especially psyched for my first ride of the season this St. Patty’s Day weekend.
A friend of mine who recently found out about my two-wheeled hobby asked with a mildly judgmental tone, “You’re not one of those bikers who rides in packs out in the country and doesn’t move over for cars, are you?” Well, I have to admit that I’ve been known to ride in packs, always ride in the country, but pride myself on being a courteous biker who does move over for cars. I have ridden one foot practically in the ditch to avoid the traffic behind me and I never ride two abreast despite the fact that the law allows it. The way I see it, I will always lose in a “car vs. bike” battle of the wills and I’m not interested in that type of challenge.
This afternoon I eagerly suited up into my favorite biking gear and headed south hoping to start the season with about 20 miles. The smell of fresh farmland leaves a lot to be desired, but it was still awesome to get out from the dark basement where I usually exercise. Almost halfway into my ride, everything changed. I rode up to a stop sign and, in preparation for crossing a major highway, I shifted down to ensure for a swift crossing when the time was right. What I didn’t realize is that I was still between two gears so when I started moving again, my bike sputtered, the chain slipped off, my right foot got caught in the pedal clip, and down goes Tiede.
I picked myself up and removed the gravel that was embedded into my knee, my elbow and my shoulder. Then I noticed the blood. Ugh. The first thing that crossed my mind was that I needed to turn around and go home to clean up. My second thought was anger at myself because I had plans to wear a cute halter top to a party later in the week and I wasn’t intending to accessorize with road rash! A girl has priorities, you know.
After examining my bike for damage, I realized that the chain was pretty messed up. I walked awhile hoping it might jump back into place, but no such luck. It is Saint Patrick’s Day after all – where was my luck?! Oh crap, I’m not even remotely Irish so this day doesn’t give a hoot about me. Well, I didn’t see rainbows or leprechauns, but apparently you don’t have to be Irish because a few moments later, a dark handsome stranger in an Audi pulled up and asked if I needed help. Ummmm, YES!!! He effortlessly flipped my bike upside down, tugged on the chain, and I was back in business. Except for the bleeding, of course…geez, I hope he didn’t notice the bleeding!
So, my 20 miles turned into only 14.5 and my arm is slathered in Neosporin but I feel pretty good. Not good enough for a ridiculous green beer, but I may just reward my efforts and soothe my bruised ego with my most favorite and timely sweet treat of all, a Shamrock Shake. I hope your St. Patrick’s Day is luckier than mine!
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Laughing at technology (failure)
Sometimes I laugh at inappropriate times. I’ve been known to get a case of the giggles in the middle of the night when I recall something that happened to me during the day. Or in a crowded movie theater when everybody else is silent. Or in this morning’s instance, the giggles came in the middle of a church hymn. It wasn’t my first time giggling in church. When I was younger, my brother had a habit of leaning over and whispering things in my ear during a long Catholic Homily that would make me giggle until tears rolled down my cheeks.
What made me giggle in church this morning? A mere 10-second glitch in technology. You see, my church prides itself in the audio visual features of a “hands-free service.” This includes a Madonna-style headset for the pastor and no more thumbing through a 600-page hymnal to find the right song. Now the lyrics are projected on a large screen for all to see and sing along. Today in the middle of Here I am, Lord the screen went dark for 10 seconds. For those 10 seconds, Here I am sounded like a remix of the kindergarten choir and gasps of uh oh’s. The man in front of me almost dropped his glasses while fumbling to find the thick green song book. A baby cried. Looks of panic were exchanged. I giggled. The projector lights came back on and everybody relaxed. I was still giggling.
Technology is awesome, but every single day it fails somewhere in the world. Why are we so shocked and unprepared when it happens? My day job revolves around using new technologies to convey a message, strengthen a brand, and ultimately to make money for the company. But you can’t rely only on the technology because it’s just not a sure thing. You can spend $25K on a cool Flash video for your website and then find out that Flash technology will no longer be supported by any mobile operating systems. Oh wait, that did happen!
You need to be an innovative thinker and not just a user of innovation. Be smart, be creative, and be flexible. You never know when the screen will go dark in church or the DVR will malfunction and you’re forced to pull yourself away from the television and into a book, a board game, or maybe a puzzle. No batteries required.
