I Hate My Teef!

Don’t be alarmed if you see me listing a lot of items for sale on MH$P in the next few days; I have a rather large dental bill coming due soon, and while I can pay it, I’d rather not pull money from the savings account to do it.

But I’m not selling the Glossy All Glory. Selling it would just about cover the cost of the bill, free and clear, but that’s not something I’m even going to contemplate. I don’t enter contests like that for the money. I do it for the satisfaction of accomplishing something. Period. The money will just have to come from somewhere else.

That somewhere else is… my BreyerFest leftovers. Not a lot of excitement there - some nice pieces, but nothing that’ll generate a lot of cash quickly. One good Chalky, some decent reference material leftovers, a few okay bodies, some TRU Specials and not very recent regular runs. Sigh. Maybe I’ll get lucky at the flea market this weekend. (Yeah, that’s it, let’s think positive!)

Actually, I don’t mind dwelling in the "bottom" of the OF Breyer market. There’s a whole lot less chance for fraud there. Sure, I’ve had my share of scammers - like the lady who faked a near-death experience to get out of paying for a measly $17 horse on eBay - but nothing that’s risen to the level of out-and-out grifting. Which I think might have been going on with that whole Glossy Prize Nokota nonsense being discussed on Blab recently.

The thread, if you want to read it: Glossy Nokota Transaction Gone Bad

And if you can't or don’t want to read it, the summary: very young girl with obvious limited knowledge of the hobby and of Glossy Prize Models attempted to scam several hobbyists, simultaneously, with both real Glosses she scammed from other hobbyists, and with Fakes. Possibly in collusion with her father, whose attempts at recompense may or may not have been intentionally ill-worded.

Every once and a while I’m going to "get lucky" and find something pretty sweet that I can make a lot of moolah on, but the lower end of the market is my bread and butter. Five dollars here, twenty dollars there: it doesn’t seem like much, but I make it up in volume. I did pretty well at BreyerFest this year with my sales - the best sales in several years, in fact - and I don’t think I sold any individual item for more than 50 dollars. I managed to cover most of my expenses, and if it wasn’t for my dental issues, the remainder of those expenses would have been paid off by next month.

While I’d like to get as much money as I can for whatever I find in the secondary market, I’d rather just take a smaller cut and rotate the stock out. Nothing irritates me more than seeing some of the same horses listed over and over on eBay or MH$P. The word "shopworn" comes to mind: not the physical damage done to merchandise while it sits on the shelf unsold, but to the perception of the item in the marketplace. Some shoppers may start getting the impression that there must be something wrong with it if it hasn’t sold yet - above and beyond the price, which is the usual reason a good model doesn’t sell in a timely manner.

I’d rather take a smaller profit or sell it at a loss. If someone else wants to try and get the rest of the value out of it, they can be my guest.

On a more personal note, I’d like to note the passing of one of our "part-time" kitties. His "house name" was Jasmine, but we called him Sumo, for rather obvious reasons:


Teeny head, big body! (With an adorable, tiny kitten voice to match.) He and his little brother Hoover technically lived next door with the neighbors, but spent so much time in our yard - either hanging out on the porch, or cruising for vermin in the garden - that we always referred to them as our "part-time" cats. (Our neighborhood is fairly secluded with low traffic, but they never ventured very far. There was no need: the squirrels and chipmunks were fat and plentiful.)

He was the most lovable cat in the history of cats. If you were outside for more than five minutes, you’d be greeted with either a vigorous leg rub or a head butt that would just about knock you over from the 20 pounds of weight behind it.

I had been so wrapped up in my own issues that I hadn’t noticed the lack of recent personal appearances, and the neighbors hadn’t been super social lately. I’d seen Hoover sunning himself on the driveway, and just assumed all was well. I knew he had been getting up in years - 15 or 16 years old or so - and was not as nimble as he once was, and just assumed for those reasons that he had been made a permanent indoor kitty.

Goodbye, my happy Sumo. May the squirrels and chipmunks be fatter and even more plentiful in the afterlife.