Word One

Raise your hand if you saw the Northern Lights last night.

Just checking.

I decided to start this blog as one more in an ongoing series of lifelong attempts to replace one of my plethora* of constantly shifting addictions. These days: Free Cell, running, “Project Runway,” reading, Pinot Grigio, sleeping, all of the above, other.

And yes, I did. See the lights.

I'm holding my second annual garage sale in less than five days, so I've gotta make this quick. I call my souk the Bizarre Bazaar. I'm addicted to creating a non-garage ambience, I've got my work cut out. I stapled white sheets to the ceiling all along the side and back walls, strategically draping them to hide the usual garage flotsam. I've tossed throw rugs about, hooked up satellite Lite Classical via a 900 megahertz wireless to my old ghetto blaster, plugged in an oil-filled faux radiator spaceheater, outlined the multi-shelving unit with a string of white sparkle lights. I found the shelving unit curbside down on Glenwood last summer with a FREE sign attached, while heading for my daily four-mile run along the shore. I found the ghetto blaster at Hy's Loan down on Hennepin in Minneapolis in the 70's, along with a couple of mikes, two mike stands, two speakers, and a Kustom amp. Maybe a ring, too, but I can't remember. Oh yeah, I burn incense when I shut the garage door and close up shop each night.

The incense is pine-scented, in keeping with the Northern Lights thing.

The shore refers to the North Shore, as in Lake Superior.

More on all this later, I've gotta run. Literally.


(*I still hold a certain affinity for the word “plethora,” even though my hairdresser used it at least four times during one hair abuse marathon about a decade ago. I can’t recall the context.)