Saturday, September 12, 2009

Methodists, Mexicans, and Medicine


Because of a horrible mattress and having my dog be my personal trainer in our home gym, I screwed up my back big time. But with 400 mg ibuprofen in me, I headed out to a rummage sale at a local church.

The first room I hit was the jewelry room. I had birthday money from a friend to spend on my wardrobe or whatever, so I decided to accessorize. The moment I walked in, a barrage of "sales ladies" offered me ugly scarves, watches without batteries, and a Methodist lapel pin. (Don't know how my ensembles have survived this long without such a pin.)

Then it happened: I spotted a bright striped poncho with matching sombrero. The teacher in me pictured dressing up in it when we study Mexico. I made the mistake of asking how much they wanted for it. They said ten dollars.

"Sorry, I"m a teacher. Has to be less than five."

One said, "Okay, 4.99," and I smirked. Methodist humor.

A third took it upon herself to make me try it on, slipping it over my head, adjusting the hat, and pointing me to the mirror. "You look wonderful in it!" she flattered.

"Ya'll are desperate for a sale, aren't you?" I asked.

"We sure are," she said. "How about 4.50? This is brand new, never been worn," and I was almost sold. Nothing like knowing you're paying good money not to contract head lice.

"Okay, 4.50," I agreed, and forked over my cash.

I peeked into a room marked "Better Men's Clothes" and asked where the Better Men were. An old codger piped up, "Right here, ma'am. I'm a Better Man." Those Methodists. Gotta love 'em.

I looked around in the Great Hall, as they call it. More like a Great Junk Room. A few vintage purses tickled my fancy, but my back pain was taking my breath away. Wondered if I could buy a hot dog and Advil both at the concession stand.

Then I remembered: at noon everything is marked down to a quarter. It was 11:35. On any other day I could've easily held out for a bargain, but I was about to double over and do some "hee hee ho ho" breathing exercises to relieve my back pain.
I got in the car and drove home with my "ola, senora" costume that I paid 9 times too much for.

How do you say "BUMMER" in Spanish?

PS Just to clarify: That is not me in the picture. Only the legs and new costume belong to me.

3 comments:

Danielle said...

Funny.

Laurie said...

Ha!!! You crack me up!
I'm not much of a "Rummage Saler" anymore, though, thanks to my Grandma, I used to get up ridiculously early on Saturdays to hit the sales! Oh the stories that come from these sales!
I so enjoyed yours! Ole!
(Let me know when you find out what "bummer" is in Spanish.!)

Rachelle said...

Thans for the early laugh...i needed that! Since 'bummer' is slang I don't think there is a translation...but you could say, "Ay-yie-yie!"