Yard Sale Style: Key West or Bust

Every year Chop and I have at least one massive yard sale. We're addicts. Completely and totally hooked. For years I'd been doing yard sales with my mom, and the first year Chop and I were together I suggested the same tradition. He snorted. Yard sale? Ha! He has since learned the wisdom of clearing the clutter and cashing in on the serenity of a clutter-free home.

Doink! Did I say "clutter-free"?

The funny thing is that we've now had at least four or five yard sales since we've been married, and we still seem to have more crap around this house than Santa Clause. I'm not sure how the physics works, but one would typically expect to find less stuff after a good, cleansing sale than more, but it seems that our house just keeps growing to accommodate more stuff. Not sure how that happens. Regardless, this yard sale is very different. The vibe has changed. This yard sale is all about "letting go" ... and moving to Key West! And tomorrow we're back at it.

So, the first to go? Wool anything. Wool blankets, wool coats, wool scarves and hats. We have one winter left here in Virginia, and we can survive without wool. Funny thing is that I never wear it anyway. Too scratchy. Don't we all know that already? The idea that I keep hanging on to that "great" wool turtleneck is just comical. Really. Not to mention that it's a turtleneck.

Next on the list? The second of any double of anything. The second hand mixer, the second blender, the second set of everyday flatware that we always thought we'd need but have never used once. I'll keep the second set of bakeware because I actually do bake, but the fifth, sixth, and seventh cookie sheet ... really? Oh, and the fondue maker! I don't have a second one of those. I also don't need the first one. I always dreamed of a lovely gruyere and fruit ensemble that still hasn't happened in five years. Bye, bye fondue maker. Funny that none of the barware is making the cut list. One can always use 12 martini glasses, two dozen wine glasses and three bottle openers. My family is Slovak after all. And we're moving to Key West where we expect lots of company.

Speaking of company, however, reminds me of space. There is none. We'll be moving to a tiny, two-bedroom home in paradise. When you come to visit, we might ask you to bring your own pillows, but we'll have fresh limes and pretty margarita pitchers to make up for it! The limited space is certainly a driving force in our decision-making process. If we're going to live a simpler lifestyle, then it's time to spine up and let it go. This is round one, mind you. The practice round. I'm trying to be graceful about giving up my nine bottles of red nail polish. It's a painful process, but I'm sure I'll be a stronger person in the end.

Simply put, as we snoop around our home looking for gidgets and gadgets for our driveway inventory, we ask ourselves two questions. One. Do we need really this in Key West? Eh, probably not. Two. Will this fit our Key West lifestyle? The moose figure? No? Sayonara moose. The family heirlooms? Priceless, of course. Some things will be with us always. Tomorrow morning, we'll be outside at 5:30 am trying to beat the early birds to our own driveway. Let's hope that sweet little moose finds a loving new home. I'm trading him in for a parrot.

If ... Then ...

Sometimes it's hard to place a neatly defined label on our frame of thinking these days and - if you know me - you know I'm one of those uber-organized Martha people who's greatly comforted when my days follow a categorical order. Yes, I have the notebooks, the files and the folders ... geek that I am! What I don't have are some significant and defining puzzle pieces that will determine some of our next steps. Oh, they're out there waiting for us, but how they fit into the grand plan hinges on a couple of key factors.

The whale of a piece right now is Chop's pending full-time activation with his Navy Reserve unit - possibly much earlier than expected - and we should have some answers in the next week. Quite honestly, our hopes are that this mobility order does happen ... and happens sooner rather than later. Two reasons: One (1). Chop has become more and more frustrated with his job everyday. It simply wouldn't break his heart at all to exit the arena for a few months ... or a year. I can assure you, I'd be just as happy if it would allow him the opportunity to pursue something he really loves. (2). The mobility would provide Chop the training and experience he needs to help oversee a rather critical inspection his unit is facing next year. Chop is fairly new with this unit. He's also like me: he thrives in preparedness. Every weekend that he heads out to drill is another weekend that he comes home energized and excited about his work. The more opportunity he has to train over the next year, the better for him - professionally and personally - the better support he can be for his Naval superiors, and the better leadership he can provide for his battalion. Now, before I am accused of being all pie-in-the-sky, I sincerely believe what I just stated. However, I wish I could honestly say that Chop's desire to mobilize was out of pure respect for Uncle Sam and not partially driven by the barrage of negativity he endures from nine-to-five. It's a sad day when one realizes he'd rather spend some time in the desert than to snorkel another day with the corporate barracudas.

But what about Key West?!

Here's the scoop. Chop would have at least 60 days notice before mobilizing, and word has it that it may still take another month or two before final decisions are even made. If Chop's orders place him on active duty for 6-12 months, he would still be local enough - at least for awhile - to come home on the weekends, we'd still be able to prep the house for sale, and I would still be able to fulfill some community obligations I have on my own plate. If this does indeed take place, he likely wouldn't come off orders until next summer ... only to turn around and deploy again in rotation as originally anticipated. That window in the middle would be our move date - provided my teaching position is secure (fingers crossed here!). Though he'd like to know that his current job is safe - and it is indeed federally protected - his heart clearly wouldn't be intent on returning to anywhere else other than Key West.

In the meantime, we hang tight for the final word. Chop's en route to the base as I write. He has a full week of training and, by the end of it, we should have some confirmation one way or another. In a way, I'm glad for the complementary drama. After all, this would be an awfully boring story if it were all too easy, don't you think?