It was that time of year. We’ve all been there where we dream of actually housing a car in the garage instead of “stuff.”
It’s not an easy feat. It takes hours, days of preparation. Sorting, tagging, labeling of tubs, “boys size 9-month jeans.” You all know what I’m talking about unless you’re a Marie Kondo junkie.
And then there’s which thrift store to submit the random leftover treasures to? Hey, I didn’t need doubles, much less triples of everything, so out the door, those humongous bags went. (I’m putting in a plug here for Hope Thrift in Kalispell because they can always use more donations; they don’t require masks, and they are a Christian-based charity that receives no government funding.)
With 7 kids and 10 grandkids, keeping a clear garage is an ongoing process because now not only do we STILL have size 10 women’s sorels, plus snowboarding boots, ice skates, etc. stowed away in the garage for our grown kids who live in warm weather climates in case they come to visit during winter and heaven knows they don’t want to bring ice skates on the plane, well, you get the idea.
In a big family, you just need a lot of stuff. Forever.
Our grandkids are mostly 3 years old and under. I literally purged tub after tub of size birth to one-year baby girl clothing. Hmmm, how did these all get here, and yet not one of our 4 little granddaughters ever wore them? The grandgirls are now all too old for these items. My conclusion was that my daughter, 24 years of age, bootlegged them in and forgot about them, and her baby girl never even wore them. As we just had two new baby grandsons born in the last 7 weeks, these baby girl’s clothes had to go.
And this is just one example of items stashed throughout the garage (and house, mind you). The kids always say, “Oh mom, you’re such a hoarder,” right up until they need some random roaster pan to borrow for a chili cook-off or a pair of ice skates when they live in Texas and want to come to visit for Christmas. You get the idea.
So the day finally came. It was a chilly morning, about 49 degrees to be exact, but hey, it was sunny, and in Northwest Montana, that’s a miracle, so we went with it.
I am married to a remodeling contractor who does wonderfully stunning work. However, the “cobbler’s children are the last to have shoes,” so our garage is insulated but only one-third of it. Needless to say, our garage was freezing that morning, and a few die-hard “salers” entered shivering while asking if we had an extra set of Tupperware from 1989. Sorry, fresh out.
The sale was advertised to go from 9 to 1. In garage sale language, that means the actual sale starts at 8 and ends at 5, which is precisely what happened. This sale was mostly in the garage, with some items sprawled out onto our spacious front lawn.
Lots of breathing room for everyone, which leads me to the actual topic of my story.
The first couple of garage sale junkies arrived promptly at 8, as stated. The third person came in WIDE AWAKE at approximately 8:07. For those of you who know me, I go to bed about 1 AM and get up about 10 AM and start functioning about noon after a double shot coffee latte and a hunk of dark chocolate.
But here he came without his mask and announced loudly in my garage, (thankfully there was only one other person in there at the time besides my husband and myself).
DON’T WORRY, I JUST GOT MY MODERNA VACCINATION!!!
What exactly are you trying to tell us? My husband’s take was that he was a bit proud and braggadocious. That, however, was not my assessment of the elderly gentleman. I truly felt he was genuinely concerned for my/our (meaning anyone in his path’s well-being), and he was gonna make darn sure that if he was mask-free, there was a reason! And that reason was that he’d been recently “vaccinated” and by Moderna no less! I didn’t have the heart to go into detail with him about how he’d just been injected with a pathogen creator infused with mRNA, and it could make him horribly sick and possibly kill him as he was so excited that he’d just gotten his shot, thrilled in fact. Plus, he was madly rummaging through our store of goods, and I didn’t want to distract him.
Often I will share with people my research and findings and beg folks not to get the second jab; however, it seems that especially older people are totally set on going all the way to make sure they are doing their “part for society” by getting the injection, along with the fact that they’ve been heavily ”vaccine indoctrinated” all the way from smallpox and tuberculosis to polio vaxxes they received as children; even I got 2 out of 3 of those as a kid.
Where my mind really went when the customer said that he had been vaccinated was, “Uh oh, I need to take a few steps away from this guy cuz what if that thing sheds.” That was my total first gut instinct. Looking back, I think I retreated about 6 feet away from him (maybe that’s what the social distancing stuff was really created for).
And come to find out, via Reagan Hall’s repost on Montana Daily Gazette, which came out a week or so after my sale and gained over 11,000 views (good choice Reagan) entitled, “Unvaccinated Women Report Miscarriages after Interactions with Vaccinated People” and talks about this very thing; the shedding of the Covid injections and the unbelievable harm they do.
Although this article focuses primarily on women miscarrying due to sloughing off of the fraudulent “vaccines,” there are numerous stories out there referring to migraines and other ailments due to the shedding of Covid shots. Infringing upon the health of non “vaccinated” individuals (who treasure their own health via wise choices) is a bad idea.
Submitting to the Covid injections is never a good idea and those refusing the shot should refrain from being around recent vaxxers at least for a couple of weeks if possible. Perhaps a paid leave of work absence is in order.
(To read Reagan’s repost, click here concerning vaccine shedding)
And so the day went. According to my calculations (and I’m no mathematician, mind you), I’d say at least 1/3 of the shoppers were muzzled. Usually, I try to let people know they have an option to mask or not when they are on my property. Occasionally I sell things on Facebook Marketplace, and when I share, “Hey, please don’t feel you have to wear the mask for me,” at least half the people are like, “Whew, thanks, I hate this thing,” then off it goes.
In a garage sale where many people were leaving or entering, I had to be discreet. I could sense who I could approach and who I couldn’t share their Constitutional freedoms concerning mask-wearing. Some simply are too scared to go maskless; others are too apathetic.
There were all types of masks present that day and personalities to accompany them. I knew better than to approach a patron wearing a very tightly fitting “generic Teflon coated light blue mask” (the kind Costco gives out or the doctor’s office makes you wear, or you can’t get your eyes tested).
Then there were the “half-committed maskers” these types are the most complex because they are so non-committal. “It’s Ok I’m used to wearing it.” Or, “It doesn’t really bother me, it’s not too uncomfortable, or it’s ok since there are older people here.”
Some folks have cute, fun designs on them (gag me), some are long, some are short, some hang from one ear (reminds me of Dr. Seuss, “One Foot, Two Foot, Red Foot, Blue Foot”) and so on.
But my absolute personal fave whacky mask comment came from a couple junior high girls fawning over my 3 dollar jewelry tray. “Oh wow, look at this cute ring! It’s so cool! I think I have a bunch of quarters; hang on!”
I couldn’t resist.
“Hey there, I want you girls to know you don’t need to wear your masks in here; I mean, I’m sure you get tired of wearing them all day in school.”
What came next I wasn’t prepared for.
“Oh, it’s ok, we’re used to wearing them,” they both agreed. Then one of the girls looked at me and stated, “Well, I just got a couple of piercings, and I think keeping the mask on is keeping them from getting infected.”
What? Wait, what? So in this girl’s mind, she’s thinking that keeping her freshly pierced lip, nose, chin, (remember she’s wearing a mask so at this point I couldn’t actually see the piercings) under her mask and over her fresh wounds was actually helping to heal those open wounds.
Not exactly sure what they are teaching these kids in school, but last I heard, wounds (open piercings) shouldn’t be under filthy bacteria-ridden, carbon dioxide waste infested masks.
I believe they would best be left to heal in the open God-ordained oxygen-filled air. Point made.
Finally, by 5 o’clock that night, we were ready to call it a day. It was time. The last person showed up on my lawn and went into all the folks dying of Covid and how great the vaccine was, and she was maskless. Why?
Because she obviously had been recently “vaxxed.”
We started the day out with a Covid injected shedder and ended with the same. I was done.
“Don’t shed on me.”