Now, I confess, I am a garage sale junkie. I stop and shop whether or not I am in dire need of anything. It’s so fun to find key buys and treasures and wonderful toys and books for the grands to play with at Gramdee’s house. Labor Day weekend in Plymouth, IN, is an overwhelming zoo because of the Blueberry Festival, which, I’m happy to report, actually had some blueberries present this year! So, they say a bazillion people descend upon the small town of Plymouth for the festival, and “they” are right! What I didn’t realize was going to happen, this being my first experience of being a Plymouth resident during the festivities, is that every other block has a sale going on. Yard sales, garage sales, rummage sales, barn sales, flea markets, you name the title they give to getting rid of junk for change, and we’ve got it labeled that way here. But I had to laugh out loud when I drove past the sign that said, in big black block letters “OLD PEOPLE SELLING OLD STUFF”. I regret that I couldn’t stop to see who was old and what old stuff they had for sale, as I was on the way to the big city to help our local Covenant pastor’s family pick up a UHaul truck. On the way home it was looking like rain, and I had guests coming for dinner, so I missed it entirely. That evening they temporarily evacuated Notre Dame’s football stadium because of eeg sized hail and 65 mph winds, so I’m glad I didn’t give in to the temptation to delay my return home, but the curiosity still lingers. Smile.