Whether stationed in Sullivan or my home base of Delaware County, chances are you have passed a countless number of these every weekend throughout the summer. Perhaps you have even taken the time to stop at one or two. Until you’ve tackled one in the company of my sisters Lisa, Shelley and Heather, however, you will be considered a mere Private in “The Battle of Lawn Sales.”
Preparation of forces begins will in advance--at Mom’s H.Q.—when First Lieutenant Lisa is given charge of intel. Scrutinizing local newspapers, clipping and organizing the notices of sales—or “skirmishes”—as we affectionately call them, near our hometown is her assignment. As per Lisa, clippings may not be loose, but should be meticulously taped to an 8 ½ x 11 sheet of paper with one copy made in case our original is lost—or captured.
While Lisa gathers intelligence, Sergeant Shelley is given command over a litany of street maps. Maps are carefully organized alphabetically and placed in plastic sheet protectors in case of accidental stains.
Our destinations are clearly strategized, with rendezvous points mapped out along the route in case our troops are separated, or a sister, God forbid, becomes m.i.a.
Having the correct change is a key tactical game plan. Sister Heather, a.k.a. Corporal Keesler is given strict orders to ensure all soldiers have a significant amount of one-dollar bills and quarters. Corporal Keesler also hosts snack rations detail. Her years of KP duty in her own home helps provide our squadron with the appropriate fuel needed for anticipated extended hours in the field. The day of the sale, we are dressed and ready early.
Eating a healthy breakfast, wearing comfortable, “standard issue” sneakers and one last latrine visit is the responsibility of each sister soldier. A rendezvous of oh-eight-hundred hours is met, our vehicles given one last inspection, and our company sets out.
As is standard operation procedure, I, “Hawkeye Hulse-Hodges,” a senior member of our squad, am sent on ahead as reconnaissance. “Bad sales” as they are known in combat, can be easily spotted by veterans such as ourselves and must be thoroughly investigated prior to our initial offensive. Often times, we sisters known the signs, but many a lawn sale rookie has fallen prey to sales full of nothing but toys and surplus sales stocked with baby items. Choosing our battles carefully, we recognize those sales that are camouflaged in an effort to lure us in. Undaunted, we pass by, knowing that the real triumphs lie ahead.
Finally, our mini-van-convoy sees the enemy and he is ours. Parking quickly and quietly, we are prepared for a stealth invasion. Pocketbooks at the ready, we encroach. Shelley, who is able to do a quick scan of the perimeter, leads us in a frontal attack, followed by Heather and Lisa. I flank the rear. We have arrived. Our mission is clear—search and seizure. Now is the time when seasoned veterans such stand apart from mere trainees. “Stand fast girls! Hold your positions!” I yell as a rival lawn-saler tries to hone in.
We stand strong—pillaging and plundering. Books, clothes, furniture, they are ours for the taking. Our acquisitions include a Hall China antique bowl, two Barry Manilow CD’s—one his greatest hits—and a Whisper 2000 Treadmill for which back up troops had to be called in. Victory is ours.
Later that day we retreat to Mom’s Headquarters. After a careful inventory of items, a little R and R is in order. Exhausted and weak, our troops head home. Confident that they have served well and that even though this battle has ended victorious, we must be ever vigilant should we be called on again.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
My Sisters and I
Whether stationed in Sullivan or my home base of Delaware County, chances are you have passed a countless number of these every weekend throughout the summer. Perhaps you have even taken the time to stop at one or two. Until you’ve tackled one in the company of my sisters Lisa, Shelley and Heather, however, you will be considered a mere Private in “The Battle of Lawn Sales.”
Preparation of forces begins will in advance--at Mom’s H.Q.—when First Lieutenant Lisa is given charge of intel. Scrutinizing local newspapers, clipping and organizing the notices of sales—or “skirmishes”—as we affectionately call them, near our hometown is her assignment. As per Lisa, clippings may not be loose, but should be meticulously taped to an 8 ½ x 11 sheet of paper with one copy made in case our original is lost—or captured.
While Lisa gathers intelligence, Sergeant Shelley is given command over a litany of street maps. Maps are carefully organized alphabetically and placed in plastic sheet protectors in case of accidental stains.
Our destinations are clearly strategized, with rendezvous points mapped out along the route in case our troops are separated, or a sister, God forbid, becomes m.i.a.
Having the correct change is a key tactical game plan. Sister Heather, a.k.a. Corporal Keesler is given strict orders to ensure all soldiers have a significant amount of one-dollar bills and quarters. Corporal Keesler also hosts snack rations detail. Her years of KP duty in her own home helps provide our squadron with the appropriate fuel needed for anticipated extended hours in the field. The day of the sale, we are dressed and ready early.
Eating a healthy breakfast, wearing comfortable, “standard issue” sneakers and one last latrine visit is the responsibility of each sister soldier. A rendezvous of oh-eight-hundred hours is met, our vehicles given one last inspection, and our company sets out.
As is standard operation procedure, I, “Hawkeye Hulse-Hodges,” a senior member of our squad, am sent on ahead as reconnaissance. “Bad sales” as they are known in combat, can be easily spotted by veterans such as ourselves and must be thoroughly investigated prior to our initial offensive. Often times, we sisters known the signs, but many a lawn sale rookie has fallen prey to sales full of nothing but toys and surplus sales stocked with baby items. Choosing our battles carefully, we recognize those sales that are camouflaged in an effort to lure us in. Undaunted, we pass by, knowing that the real triumphs lie ahead.
Finally, our mini-van-convoy sees the enemy and he is ours. Parking quickly and quietly, we are prepared for a stealth invasion. Pocketbooks at the ready, we encroach. Shelley, who is able to do a quick scan of the perimeter, leads us in a frontal attack, followed by Heather and Lisa. I flank the rear. We have arrived. Our mission is clear—search and seizure. Now is the time when seasoned veterans such stand apart from mere trainees. “Stand fast girls! Hold your positions!” I yell as a rival lawn-saler tries to hone in.
We stand strong—pillaging and plundering. Books, clothes, furniture, they are ours for the taking. Our acquisitions include a Hall China antique bowl, two Barry Manilow CD’s—one his greatest hits—and a Whisper 2000 Treadmill for which back up troops had to be called in. Victory is ours.
Later that day we retreat to Mom’s Headquarters. After a careful inventory of items, a little R and R is in order. Exhausted and weak, our troops head home. Confident that they have served well and that even though this battle has ended victorious, we must be ever vigilant should we be called on again.
Preparation of forces begins will in advance--at Mom’s H.Q.—when First Lieutenant Lisa is given charge of intel. Scrutinizing local newspapers, clipping and organizing the notices of sales—or “skirmishes”—as we affectionately call them, near our hometown is her assignment. As per Lisa, clippings may not be loose, but should be meticulously taped to an 8 ½ x 11 sheet of paper with one copy made in case our original is lost—or captured.
While Lisa gathers intelligence, Sergeant Shelley is given command over a litany of street maps. Maps are carefully organized alphabetically and placed in plastic sheet protectors in case of accidental stains.
Our destinations are clearly strategized, with rendezvous points mapped out along the route in case our troops are separated, or a sister, God forbid, becomes m.i.a.
Having the correct change is a key tactical game plan. Sister Heather, a.k.a. Corporal Keesler is given strict orders to ensure all soldiers have a significant amount of one-dollar bills and quarters. Corporal Keesler also hosts snack rations detail. Her years of KP duty in her own home helps provide our squadron with the appropriate fuel needed for anticipated extended hours in the field. The day of the sale, we are dressed and ready early.
Eating a healthy breakfast, wearing comfortable, “standard issue” sneakers and one last latrine visit is the responsibility of each sister soldier. A rendezvous of oh-eight-hundred hours is met, our vehicles given one last inspection, and our company sets out.
As is standard operation procedure, I, “Hawkeye Hulse-Hodges,” a senior member of our squad, am sent on ahead as reconnaissance. “Bad sales” as they are known in combat, can be easily spotted by veterans such as ourselves and must be thoroughly investigated prior to our initial offensive. Often times, we sisters known the signs, but many a lawn sale rookie has fallen prey to sales full of nothing but toys and surplus sales stocked with baby items. Choosing our battles carefully, we recognize those sales that are camouflaged in an effort to lure us in. Undaunted, we pass by, knowing that the real triumphs lie ahead.
Finally, our mini-van-convoy sees the enemy and he is ours. Parking quickly and quietly, we are prepared for a stealth invasion. Pocketbooks at the ready, we encroach. Shelley, who is able to do a quick scan of the perimeter, leads us in a frontal attack, followed by Heather and Lisa. I flank the rear. We have arrived. Our mission is clear—search and seizure. Now is the time when seasoned veterans such stand apart from mere trainees. “Stand fast girls! Hold your positions!” I yell as a rival lawn-saler tries to hone in.
We stand strong—pillaging and plundering. Books, clothes, furniture, they are ours for the taking. Our acquisitions include a Hall China antique bowl, two Barry Manilow CD’s—one his greatest hits—and a Whisper 2000 Treadmill for which back up troops had to be called in. Victory is ours.
Later that day we retreat to Mom’s Headquarters. After a careful inventory of items, a little R and R is in order. Exhausted and weak, our troops head home. Confident that they have served well and that even though this battle has ended victorious, we must be ever vigilant should we be called on again.
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