A Tale of Two Giraffes

Before I began curb-shopping and trolling the yard sales of Westchester, I didn't recognize a key component of my identity: I am a Magical Badger. I always find what I'm asked for.

Friends ask me if I can find them high-end cast-offs: golf clubs, Kettler tricycles, wicker chairs. Not even a challenge--I usually cross paths with those things on a weekly basis.

But rarely, I get a really strange request, something so unlikely that I hesitate to commit myself to the quest. Of course, those requests come from my children.

Here's a story.

"Playdate 2013" led us to the doorsteps of many friends who fled Westchester for the more temperate lifestyles of Northern Europe. Steph, a dear friend from Webber Park in Sleepy Hollow, was planting roots in Ijburg, one of the newest, man-made islands of Amsterdam.

Photographer: Michiel van Raaij. He has a helpful blog entry about the recent creation
of this suburban Venice-meets-Bauhaus...the movement, not the Goth group.

We immediately understood why she loved her family's new home. 20 minutes on a clean commuter train dropped us in the heart of old Amsterdam, ready to explore.


Photo from the blog Utrip, which shares a nice plan for an Amsterdam weekend trip

There was nothing my kids didn't love about Amsterdam. It is the most welcoming city for children I have seen yet. Of course, global weirding weather helped--those first days of May, we enjoyed serene blue-skies and 70 degree Fahrenheit temperatures, a whole country deliciously in bloom.



My picture from Keukenhof

Anyway, back to Ijburg, which was itself a dreamland of playgrounds, cafes, and shops, all within easy walking distance of any apartment block.

While out searching for my bank's ATM, I made another discovery. These people curb Good Stuff, too. I felt a wave of glee: could I make a curb find sale while on a trip funded by curb find sales?

Immediately, the really annoying voice of Respectability clawed its way to the forefront of my consciousness: "Thou shalt not bring Good Stuff into a friend's house wherein your family crashes." I sighed, relenting to the power of the super-ego. Also, I had to admit that it would be awkward to lug a dresser down Ijburg's alleys all by myself.

Then, I saw it: a carved wooden giraffe, dropped on top of a pile of black trash bags. The giraffe stood a meter high and looked mighty good, except for one broken horn, which gave it a rough-and-tumble, piratey charm.

I didn't take a photo of Pirate Giraffe. These are from Pier 1--$99 on sale?!
What IS money, I ask?

Dang it, I just couldn't leave that giraffe to be destroyed in the Trash Heap of Respectability. I carried it by its neck back to Steph, who cheerfully cussed me the way you cuss your cat when she brings something dead to your door. Her boys, however, loved it, which made my girls insane with jealousy.

They became genuinely weepy when the time came to leave Pirate Giraffe behind. My little one forced her hand: "When you find another giraffe, promise me you'll bring it to our home."

"Um, sure, I can promise that," I mumbled.

A month ago, looking through our photos of tulip fields, the little one suddenly demanded, "Did you see another wooden giraffe yet?"

"Nope," I said, thinking, But I probably will now.

Two weeks ago, on my way home from a Saturday tutoring appointment in Pleasantville, I passed several signs that shouted "Blazing Hot! Yard Sale!" I am robotically obedient to all yard sale signs, so I gave myself over to the power of this one, which featured hand-drawn chili peppers and bold, perfectly legible directions.

I trudged up the 1/4 mile long driveway (think about shoveling snow off of that thing, Californians: bleh) and saw It.

Giraffe #2. I'll never doubt my Magic Badger powers again.

Five minutes and $3 later, she--for undoubtedly, this one is a lady giraffe--came home with me to meet the kids.

And here she is, looking like someone painted her with Marshmallow Fluff...

So, ask me for something. I need a new challenge.



Copyright 2013, Tanya Monier