wish list and names

Here are the items I am looking for on Saturday: metal fish-cleaning sink for Kris' cabin, birthday present for someone who may or may not be a regular contributor of this blog, old drinking fountain because Samantha suggested it would be cool and she is always right, lotion (new, of course-even I have standards), laptop holder since I have broken mine too many times schlepping it places, manly dumbbells for my husband (my 15 pounders are not cutting it anymore), a chinup bar for same husband, and anything weird and wooden and junky.
Also, in researching our adventure for this weekend, I have noticed a disturbing trend that I have already blogged about, but it is so disturbing it merits another discussion: saddling subdivisions with stately-sounding monkiers. The Estates at Plum Hill has had mention before, but here is a new one: Hopp Hollow. Sounds delightful, yes? You may imagine a midwestern, picturesque farming community oozing junky random crap, complete with weathered barns, cows, and farmers named Rusty with back issues of farm magazines dating to the Eisenhower administration. You would be an imbecile. Hopp Hollow is a vinyl village, from what I could tell from the satellite map. Yes. Nothing remotely junky or dirty here, unless they are one of the increasingly frequent houses we happen upon at which there are 30 years worth of Playboy. Developers, please do us at YSA HQ a favour (notice the fancy British spelling. We are class. Notice I did not write "classy". That is how classy I am): name your subderision (ha! Get it?) an appropriate, adjective-intense name like "Square-yards-no-trees-a-looza" Then the crack R&D team wouldn't be forced to spy on the area, stalker-like, to see if it is up to my level of (also previously ruminated upon) yard sale snobbery and exclusivity.