I guess it was fitting that there was a slight nip in the air all weekend, because it was my last one out East. I am headed to Spain later this week so it was a long goodbye to fresh corn and outdoor showers and everything I love about the East End of Long Island.
Saturday afternoon I spent an especially satisfying day at the Persky's. As I drove home, I did that thing that my dad used to do which is drive about 21 miles an hour - not because it was the speed limit - but because it was a beautiful day and I wasn't in any damn hurry, and the temperature was perfect and why rush through it? Feel it. I happened upon a wee Shelter Island yard sale. As I slowly drove by the sale, I thought "you've been driving by yard sales all summer long. Stop at this one! It's your last chance..."
I flipped my car into a U-turn and felt like I was being guided to unknown treasures by fate and karma. Jameka on "Big Brother 8" thinks that the Lord has determined her fate on that show, and I felt like the Lord was holding my marionette strings, guiding me into that yard sale. When I parked the car, I noticed that the sale was hoppin'. There were only about 15 people but they seemed...loud. I don't know how else to explain it. I grabbed my wallet and bounded into the sale, and I mean I BOUNDED into this thing like I was going to CONQUER and DESTROY it. I guess I noticed that something was terribly wrong when I actually looked up from my feet and got out of my deep karmic thoughts to see the lawn people frozen and staring. At me. This was no wee yard sale. This was some wee lawn party. Not only was it not a yard sale -- it REALLY wasn't a yard sale. I stood, frozen, wearing a bathing suit, a t-shirt, and gripping my wallet. The guests - all around my age - stood silently staring at me wondering about the stranger bounding into their party.
"Want to play pin the tail on the donkey?" Some lady asked, breaking the moment of terror... "I actually thought this was a...yard sale," I spoke both confidently and like I was mentally challenged. (Not retarded though. You can't say retarded.) "Some of us ARE for sale!" My girl had a sense of humor! I couldn't even see which one was talking to me - they all looked like one mob, moments away from busting out in hysterics at my expense. "Well then lemme have a look at you," I at least mustered that wee joke as I began backing out of the wee lawn party that was absolutely not a yard sale.
"You really CAN stay" the ladyvoice called, as I now galloped to my vehicle. As I drove away, I felt something. I was actually embarrassed. It doesn't happen often, but there it was. I began wondering wtf it was about this wee yard party that made me think it was a wee yard sale. There was, near the driveway, a table with a couple pitchers on it. And some glasses. I know now that it was the freakin' BAR, but at that early, hopeful moment, I read it as "kitchenware for sale". That bar is what brought me into the lawn.
And so I have learned: not to jump to conclusions, to only stop at yard sales with signs, that there are things in this world that actually can embarrass me, and that Jameka is not going to win "Big Brother 8". And that I already miss the Hamptons.