I’m planning a garage sale. For real this time. It had better be for real – half the garage is already full of crap – sorry, gently used treasures – looking for a new home.

Do I have to provide shopping bags or wrapping for breakables? Do I have to make change? It’s been a long time since I’ve had a garage sale, mostly because I hate them. Usually, I give up and turn it into a donation free-for-all. But my culling has turned ruthless and I don’t think they welcome U-Hauls.

Sale it is.

I’ve let go of more than I thought I could, and still more is coming. I’ve even added stuffies to the pile. I’m okay with letting go of some of this possession weight.

I’m even enjoying it.

I’m also getting better at deciding what needs to go to the dump. More things than we like to admit, most of the time. The stained stuffy, the shirt with a ripped seam, and the food storage set missing most of the lids will be loved only by us.

Thrift stores don’t want your garbage, so if junk is what you’re sending, gut up and throw it out yourself, accepting the truth that burns us all: we buy too much stuff. We buy too much of what we don’t need, and most of it’s crap that comes at a high social cost.

Don’t take offence, unless your stuff consists of Birkin bags, Victorian furniture, and a classic Rolls Royce. In which case, you have awesome stuff that was manufactured well. Mostly ethically, in fact, so take all the offence you like at the cheap stuff crack.

Once upon a time, about fifty years ago and back, what people bought was intended to last, if not for a lifetime, then for a long time. And last it did. There was none of this replacing a broken fridge or dishwasher every ten years. None of this biannual furniture exchange. No seasonal décor. No annual wardrobe refresh.

It was a simpler time. It’s why the houses could be smaller – no one had special occasion place settings for eighteen to store.

It’s not entirely our fault. It’s our economies – we went with consumer-based capitalism, back in the day. You can buy less and use less, but it’s hard to fully opt out of the system one inhabits. Nor do most of us want to. We like our stuff. The mindset about replaceability, however, needs to shift.

As does our attitude about sharing the wealth.

I have some lifetime kitchen pieces, different from the things in my kitchen that I’ve had forever. The difference is originating quality, and those of mine that fit the bill include a rather fabulous stock pot my mom gave me when I was twenty-one (to much disgust though revered now), a multi-generational carving set, and a cast iron skillet. If I take care of them, they’ll never need to be replaced. Not for generations.

I have a couple of knives that also fit the bill. They’re things of beauty. Sharpening, however, is a lost art.

Some things I use rarely but still made the keep-for-a-lifetime cut. The turkey roaster, for instance. The pressure cooker. The candy thermometer. I don’t use them very often, but when I have a need, there’s no substitute.

The things making their way to the garage are the things I take care of and rarely if ever use at all. The cost per use is high, not worth it even if it was a steal. They take up mental space, let alone valuable kitchen real estate.

It burns a little when I think about how long I’ve let them weigh me down. I’d think about letting them go, before promising myself I’d do better by it in the future (while knowing I wouldn’t). Still, my late-stage loss is someone else’s gain.

A word of wisdom – if it’s a single-use, gimmicky kitchen gadget, and you take it off the counter to make space, it’s as good as gone. Save time and donate it immediately.

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Things I didn’t need.

Rice cooker.

This one was a gift. I make excellent rice in a pot on the stove. Perhaps one day I’ll share my secret. It mostly involves reading the directions. Some people say rice cookers are multitaskers because you can steam veggies. No. Going.

Waffle iron.

There are some people who legit use it every weekend. They’re an inspiration and I will never be them. My people are the ones who keep the iron tucked in the back of the cupboard, never to be used, but preserved just in case. Get rid of it. And, if you haven’t acquired one, don’t bother. You can always find waffle irons in thrift stores. Gone.

Apple peeler.

Once upon a time, someone looked at a paring knife and said, “Hold my beer.” Then people like me, who hate peeling apples the three times a year I do it, buy silly gadgets to peel said apples. The setup is annoying, the procedure isn’t particularly fast, and the clean-up is annoying.  The people who make a lot of apple pies are probably good with paring knives. Knives are easy to clean and easy to store. Going.

Bread maker.

This one stings. I used it for quite some time after it came home. I got it with grocery store points. It has a timer, so I could wake to fresh bread in the morning when I wanted. I used it for about a year. But then, about seven years ago, I put it away. I’ll get it out when I want to make bread. Nope. On the bright side, I still have the manual to sell with it. Going, but I’m sad about it.

Smoothie machine.

I’ve had two. It’s always a pointless thing. I had an official Magic Bullet that I didn’t buy – a hand-me-down when a friend upgraded – and the current Starfrit model (Walmart, not thrift store) that I did, and both spent most of their time gathering dust. I kept thinking I’d make and drink healthy and delicious smoothies. I won’t. It’s why I got rid of the hand-me-down juicer a while back. That, and a juicer wastes food. Besides, a smoothie machine is redundant. I have a blender. Still, I’m probably going to hang onto it for reasons I can’t think of. Possibly going.

Ninja blenders.

Already gone. The lid design is bad. Food seeps into the cracks and moulds. Mine stopped locking as the first sign, and when we tried to fix it, the lid broke in half discharging fetid food. No more Ninjas for me. Those dual smoothie and blender stations are just a sexy-looking way to make you part with money while being hella annoying on the counter. Though I do miss my Ninja’s crunchy ways. I haven’t bonded with the new blender. Gone with prejudice.

Air fryer.

These exist because companies need to sell us more stuff. Plus, air fryers are a cop-out and that pisses me off (says the woman who only drinks diet soda). It’s like that fake fat they tried but abandoned because it caused explosive diarrhea. Olestra. Good times.

If you want deep-fried food, have deep-fried food. Just not too often. And not at home. Home kits aren’t as good. Our efforts to have our cake while eating it too is a big part of our societal woes. Don’t have, so not going, just a philosophical rant.

Side note: I loved the idea of an air fryer when my eating disorder was aggressive, so there is that.

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Things I didn’t think I needed but was mistaken about.

Food processor.

A food processor isn’t the cheapest of kitchen toys, and the mini ones with their almost-there motors and minimal capacity are a complete waste of money. False economy is almost always a bad idea. But, I don’t bake all that much, I don’t cook complicated things all that often, and grating cheese isn’t that hard, so I wasn’t ready to part with my cash. I liked watching them on cooking shows but didn’t see a personal need. And then I stumbled onto a brand new, still in the plastic, still factory-sealed food processor at the thrift store for ten dollars.

It turns out I do need a food processor. Onions in it are the bomb. And yes, I can grate cheese, but why would I when my processor takes care of pounds in seconds? Plus, it’s dishwasher-safe. I’ve yet to make pie crust in it, but I’ve big plans and high hopes. If I’d known then what I know now, I’d have had one at full price. Not right when they came out, there’s a cost to being an early adopter, but close.

Crockpot.

I can’t believe I was resistant. They’re the bomb. Especially in winter when stews, soups, and hearty meals are on tap. Plus, with the crockpot, there are usually leftovers, and leftovers are my happy place.

I think I was resistant because I didn’t like the way it looked. I found the colour and design of the original ones offputting. It’s strange, how big an impact presentation has.

Starfrit Spiralizer

There are a lot of commercials about the joys of spiralizing food. Spiralize your zucchini. Spiralize your apples. The list goes on: carrots, potatoes, radishes, pears. Skip kiwi fruits, even the firm ones. As a random example.

The point is, you can spiralize much. When I first heard about them, I thought “cute,” “why bother,” and “not my money.”  Enter my local thrift store and another brand new, still-in-the-box score. Five dollars for a spiralizer, why not?

I’d pay full price. I love my spiralizer. It’s so much fun. I make fun spiralized salads. I make spiral squash. The machine comes with three plates so I can choose the thickness of the noodle. It’s such a win. I still see them at the thrift stores semi-regularly, so they’re not that hard to come by if you’re inclined. Two thumbs up. All the recommends.

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Things other people don’t think I need, but they’re wrong.

The perfect pancake pan.

I bought this at the “As Seen on TV” store ten years ago when my son and I were camping and the day turned to rain. Rainy days in tents can suck, especially when it’s still hot, so we drove into town and hit the mall. Lunch, a movie, and then a wander. The Perfect Pancake Maker was in a clearance bin at the front of the store, a lure to bring us inside. It worked.  

My son hated it on sight, and he’s hated it ever since. He claims it’s because it’s a uni-tasker (we watched a lot of Alton Brown and Good Eats), but it makes great, hockey-puck eggs alongside perfect pancakes. He eats both without complaint, and everyone else has raved.

I’ll probably earmark it in the will.

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