Garage Sale: Limeade with fresh locally grown mint and Diabolo

These young fellows had three operations going. First they enticed us to stop with a box of free children's paperbacks. The first time we went by, they had a copy of Harriet the Spy. We stopped a second time because it had occurred to me that as someone interested in blogging I should have a copy of Harriet the Spy,^[note] but it was gone.

"Would you like a glass of limeade with fresh locally grown mint?" asked a young man in a red t-shirt.

"Limeade with what?" I asked.

"Fresh locally grown mint," he replied.

"Yes," I said, "I would like a glass of limeade with fresh locally grown mint."

His ball-capped friend poured me a glass and asked if I would also like a slice of lemon.

"Yes, please," I said. "Is the mint also organic? No pesticides?"

"Yup, it just grows out of control."

"Organic, free-range," said Manon.

That's when I noticed the diabolo sticks and spinner on the table. "Do you guys do this?"

"I'm learning," said the talker. "He's the diabolo-ist."

"Really?" I asked, "Any chance we could have a demonstration?"

Sure said the lemonade server. "I'm kind of rusty, but I can do a couple of things."

He got the diabolo spinning right off, and then threw it really high. But missed the catch. Still you could tell he knew what he was doing because the toss was straight and he almost made the catch.

He tried again. And again. And again. Just missing each time. It started to get awkward. Manon stopped taking photos and went to look at the books.

And that's when he made the catch. And after that he caught it every time and then did a bunch of cool things where the spinner travelled along the string, then along his arm and whipped around in cool loops.

We applauded profusely. I admire that kid. I would have given up after the third missed catch. It's because he didn't that he is a better diabolo-ist than I will ever be.

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^[note]Harriet kept a journal that was kind of like a blog where she wrote about all her friends and acquaintances. Everything explodes when her journal is made public. Kind of like when pseudonymous bloggers get outed.