Why I love my neighborhood

We're having a garage sale today. Right now, in fact. Been going since a little before 9, will keep going until 3 or so.

It's an exercise in a dozen little reminders of why I love this place. There's a great community spirit bubbling up in our neighborhood, getting stronger all the time. At least 24 other households called Amy to say they wanted to be part of the neighborhood gig that she organized. And it appears that some other families who didn't call are having sales, too. So there's all sorts of foot traffic on our street, on every street it seems, today. We were up early and posting sale signs all over the neighborhood. People were out. Full of energy. Making things happen. Even on four hours of sleep after a bar-hopping sendoff for Speed, my co-worker who is moving to San Jose, I could feel it. Another of those little turning points in the rejuvenation of a neighorhood.

A couple down the street brought their stuff down so that together we'd have a good size sale. They're probably about our parents' age. Great fun. Very Northwest. Back when Amy and I would have been toddling around, they sold all their stuff, built a boat and sailed south from Seattle, down to Mexico, across to Australia and up into Asia before running out of money, selling the vessel and coming back to the States. I mean, really, how can you not like folks who do something like that?

So the neighborhood is hopping. And the diversity of people coming up just excites me. We've had everything from the sketchy BMX-riding 40-something dude who had customized his hat with paint so it says, loud and proud, "FUCK YOU". He was buying Dale and Kathy's bag o' flashlights. He even gave us a polite, "Thank you." Our BMW-driving neighbor down the street, who is saving another house around the corner, bought our jute rug and some other stuff. The neighborhood co-president and his wife dropped by to say hi, then came back with a giant sideboard piece for us to sell, with all the proceeds going to the neighborhood association. (We're thinking the next neighborhood picnic could become a kegger.) I just carried an old TV and DVD player to the car for a pregnant woman who spoke only Spanish. And a Russian couple swung by, interested in a fax machine but wanting to know whether it doubled as a printer. (Nope. No sale.) We met a woman about our age who moved back to Washington from Alaska. It just goes on and on. Old hard-core yard sale junkies. Hipster types. Trendy chicks. Cars. Bikes. Walking. Kids. Dogs. Canes. Some dude bought a Zeppelin box set and a collection of classical music.

And Amy's channeling her dad's salesmanship, wheelin' and dealin' left and right. And having fun all the while.

We're not making a ton on it, but we're meeting neighbors, having fun and contributing a little something to part of what makes this place special. Good Saturday.