Fennel Taralli and letting it all go

Some of these taralli turned out a bit funky. Shaping them was sort of a bitch, and it surely didn't help that I'd divided the dough inexpertly, and therefore many of the pieces were a hard-to-roll amalgam of a few little dough chunks. It all ended up well, since they're tasty. Apparently they keep forever, but I can't vouch for that--this batch will be gone by sundown.

Laura and I have started packing. We have just under two weeks before we move to Providence, and are trying to balance getting a head start with not wanting to have boxes everywhere for weeks. We went to Target and bought ten plastic tubs; they're full. It's always a funny exercise to examine all the crap you've accumulated and reassess how it at some point could have seemed necessary. I've been embracing getting rid of things. Farewell, 80's movie soundtrack LPs. So long, Beadazzler (we had a good run).

For much of this shedding, it is clear where an object should go. "The OC" board game: Goodwill. Three-year-old bottle of blowing bubbles: trash. But some items, some, tantalizingly hint at monetary value. And once in a while, something will emerge from under a pile in the basement and whisper, "I might be worth money!" Thus begins my tale of woe.

The autographed Tom Brady poster had languished in our basement for over a year, deposited there by a Brady-loving friend who was moving to California. It was a hideous thing: a large, poorly framed photocollage of Brady about to hand off the ball to an unseen running back, while his gargantuan disembodied doppelganger floated nearby, serenely observing the action. Swift, decisive Sharpie strokes announced "#12 Tom Brady". I couldn't wait to get it out of the house.

The Tom Brady poster's erstwhile owner had indicated that it cost a lot of money, and so I poked around on sports memorabilia sites. Why, such signed knicknacks were selling for hundreds of dollars! This is where I made my first mistake: I decided to sell it. I agreed to split the take with the Tom Brady poster's erstwhile owner, as technically I'd merely been babysitting it for her, and posted it on ebay.

I started the bidding at $10 (no need to get greedy, right?). Ebay helpfully had a shipping cost calculator, that asked me to input the Tom Brady poster's vital stats. It suggested shipping would cost around $18, and I added another five for handling. That was my second mistake.

There was but one bid, for $10, and a week later Paypal notified me that $32 had been deposited into my account (after ebay selling fees). A pastor from Maine had bought the poster to use as a door prize at his church Super Bowl party. So, my wallet fat with thirty-two clams, I dragged the Tom Brady poster to my nearby UPS Store. The gentleman behind the counter looked at the poster. Measured it. Tapped some things into the computer. Measured it again. Then he looked at me. Something terrible was about to happen.

"Well," he said, "to pack and ship this to Maine, well, that's gonna be right around $87."
"My god," I gasped, "you can't be serious. Eighty-seven dollars?"
"Forty to pack it and forty-seven to ship it. Look, I can sell you a box that it might fit in, and you can pack it yourself. That would save you some money."

Eighteen dollars later, I left with the Tom Brady poster and a large cardboard box. 32 - 18 = 14. On the drive home, I allowed myself a brief temper tantrum.

I packed up the Tom Brady poster, struggling to temper my desire to destroy it with my desire to have a good ebay user rating. Packed, it was huge. The box was the size of twelve large pizzas. I hauled this behemoth to the post office, figuring it would be cheaper than UPS. The people in line stared. The postal workers stared. I began to perspire. When it was my turn, the postal worker took the box. Measured it. Weighed it. Tapped some things into the computer.

"Forty-seven dollars. And it's gonna take ten days." 14 - 47 = -33.

But by god they took it.