Thrifting

I always love to point out how much I hate to shop.  And I do... for new things. Give me access to pre-used, bargain deals, then my mouth salivates at the thought of going store hopping. It's to the point where I can't even stand being in regular stores, because I think, "Oh I'm sure I can find a better deal on this." or "Who would pay that much for this?!"

In effect, I've become a snob. A reverse snob, I guess.



There's a thrift store trifecta that I hit every time I'm in the neighboring town. Even if it's for a quick run-through due to limited time, I cannot not stop. They all help satisfy my different needs, so the steering wheel literally takes on a life of its own and plops me right in front of the door. It can't be helped.

First stop, Goodwill.

Here I get clothes, books, bric-a-brac, and occasionally a piece of furniture.

It was at this place that I landed on a pile of discarded Eddie Bauer sweaters. If you know me or R, then you know of our love affair with EB (or Ed, as he likes us to call him.)



Then onto the Salvation Army.

Here you can find a great piece of furniture and bric-a-brac. The clothes are still too pricey (can you believe me!?), and the kitchen ware is slim.

Okay, I'm not a complete imbecile.. where I refuse to buy anything new. It's just become a knee-jerk reaction to question the need to pay such inflated prices. I mean, yes, I will buy new and unused underwear. (However, I did buy and wear a vintage 1940s swimsuit for a summer. Discuss.)

A hairbrush? New. (This has especially been cemented in my head after working in an elementary school where those insects whose name rhymes with 'mice' tend to congregate. Shudder.)

If I were to jump out of a plane, then yeah, I'd pay extra to make sure the parachute was new and in working order.

See? I'm not demented.



The last stop on the holy trinity trail is just a generic THRIFT STORE (per the sign). I found this puppy while getting lost one day.

It feeds my do-it-yourself projects, my kitchen ware, knitting, and occasional piece of clothing.



It was there that I bought these bushel baskets. R thought it was a great idea, since we have an orchard not growing anywhere near us. (He never appreciates my purchases).



And who could forget the great book buy of 2010: a Gardening Encyclopedia set. The cashier rang up each book at 25 cents when I thought they'd be a dollar. Will I read them? Probably not. But I saved almost $14 people.

And I love how they look in our eames style TV stand. We found that curbside in our old KC neighborhood and I made R carry it three blocks home. You know, instead of me running ahead to get the car. I was afraid it would be snatched.

Yes, I am that person. A dumpster-diver.

There, I said it. I'm a dumpster-diver and I love it. During my sister's annual neighborhood large-item pickup day, she and her husband would grab a six-pack, sit in their screened porch, and make fun of my fellow divers.

They don't understand.



Then what about the Shack's mini, almost microscopic wine (and champagne?) cellar. With my $4 wine rack and $2 carafes. I bought the carafes back when we lived in KC and they were next to 12 mini wineglasses of the same decor. Those glasses still haunt me to this day. Why I didn't buy them, I'll never know.

I think I didn't want everything to be mitchy-matchy. I still get queasy about mitchy-matchy, but in this case I would've come to love the matching set eventually.

Note Klimt's and my mutual friend, Judith, gazing longingly for a glass.



And then my 'Medicinal Plant's' poster. At the checkout line, a lady said that she was this close to buying it.

Half of the fun is the competition. There are not several of these in the store, with more in the back storage room. It's a one and done deal. Who knows when you'd see it again, if ever. So you have to grab fast if you like it, because others are just as quick.

For the record, I have no idea which plants these are, as they are all written in the latin names.  I know one day I'll see something outside that looks similar and then end up with poison ivy on my tongue.



But when you live in a Shack with limited storage, you have to be creative. So when I found this 60s (maybe earlier?) laundry basket, I immediately thought where it could go.

In front of our kitchen window, where I am desperately trying to revive my grandma's plant. Remember? I said I'd baby this one forever here. Turns out I'm a liar. It's hanging on by a thread. Sorry Mary Margaret. I'm trying.

It also holds the cute set of vintage mixing bowls, one of which holds our compost goodies.



You need storage, Carolyn? Then voila! That little guy opens up to find all of my awkwardly sized bottles. These have been stashed randomly in the kitchen, bedroom, and who knows where else.. so it pleases me to have them all in one place.

The Shack's wallpaper & white linoleum, on the other hand does not please me. Oh well. I'm blessed to have a roof over my head.

Happy Thrifting everyone!

Dancing Wedding

Dancing Weddiiiiing - Young and Sweet only seventeeeen. You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your li-i-ife.

Wow, this was a fun one. I've been to some where I stay for the meal and slip out the door; others where I sit at the table all night talking with friends without even so much as a glance to the dance floor; and still others where I play whiffle ball and serve guests bbq from a gas station.

Okay that last one  was my own wedding. Yikes.

But this one. This one will be the dancing wedding.

We all knew K & D loved to dance, for them to see this all night:



It must've just made their day.

It made mine too, because I'm re-entering the world of dancing without caring.

R thinks he's been duped. You see, in college our circle of friends would go to a place with a dinky dance floor. And while everyone else was bumping to the music, R and I would stand flat against a wall getting to know each other all the while avoiding drinks getting sloshed into our face by someone's bad dance move. It was fun. Kind of like dodgeball meets dating. So, he thought I didn't like to dance, which meant that there was no pressure on his end. And there wasn't. Truly!

Until recently. If there is a packed floor and good music on, then I'm psyching myself up to get out there if I'm in the mood.

And I don't care if I dance a little Elaine Benes-esque with my one-handed train conductor move, because if you can't hear... Journey's playing and it's time to move.



So when R went MIA after seeing a good dance crowd, I turned around to find my good ole standby. Mom.



Whaaaaat? What is she doing all. by. herSELF?

Something drastic needed to be done.



So I ran to the DJ and requested Backstreet Boys, stat. HURRY. This is an emergency, my mom is sitting all by herself because she's not really into House of Pain.

He gave me a sidelong glance and hesitated in the B section. "Are you sure it will go over well with this crowd?" I didn't care, we had to pump some dancing blood back into Momma Pat and this was the ticket.

As the song started, I ran away from him so no one would know who requested the song. No offense, mom. But could you believe that people gave a loud whoop and clapped?

I grabbed mom and drug her out with me.



She was only a little excited.

By the way, nice bra, Carolyn. Jeez. I'm the classy cousin at the wedding with my unmentionables hanging out in every photo. Sigh.



We slow danced... Still couldn't seem to find R, so had to make-do with taking photos of my sister and her husband.

And then there were dance-offs:

My nephew, W, partook in one and apparently won?



But grandma was cheering a bit too hard for little W, because the dance-off moved onto her:



And she was booty-ed off the dance floor. No one is safe during a dance off, my friends.



But not to be outdone, my brother-in-law (aka "roommate") had one out with a groomsmen.

I don't think anyone can compete with suspenders. Sorry N.



Oh, K & D. What a great wedding! I don't know who this girl is nor why I took the photo, but I think it had to do with the drawing. Does it seem familiar to this old blog post? Click here.

Discuss.

And Dance. Discuss and dance. That's pretty much how life goes anyway.

My Kind of Medication

I really wasn't in the mood to go out and about tonight. I've been sick the past few days and a night of watching movies and laying around sounded ideal. However, we had spent the majority of the morning organizing our dorm room sized apartment and decided a Sam's Club trip was necessary.

So I bundled up my snotty nose and off we went, half hoping they'd be serving their samples like our last Date Night there. Along the way, R caught a sign for Chick-Fil-A and murmured how nice it would be to stop there. But free is free and we knew we could count on ole Sammy.

As we piled up our cart, something was blatantly missing from the store. There were no hair nets around! And you know what that means. No samples, people.

R took that opportunity to drop a giant hint that if I loved him we'd go to Chick-Fil-A. And, for once, I agreed; instead of dragging him somewhere that I wanted to eat.



And boy did it pay to be unselfish! We walked in and noticed a sign stating there was a 'Pre-Valentine's Day Dinner'. We looked at each other, then ordered our food.



As we turned the corner with our tray, we saw an entire room filled with fresh flowers, lit candles and tablecloths! So we sat down in our little nook and even put napkins on our laps.

A few minutes later, two dressed-up people walked in...



...and they started performing for us! They sang Italian ballads sprinkled with American music like Stand By Me, which of course made me well up. Love that song.

R asked me to wipe my tears away along with the booger in my left nostril.

It was such a nice surprise and gave a me an extra boost of energy, which was needed because across the parking lot was a Barnes & Noble. And we all know the pull books have on me and R.

So we popped in and within 5 minutes, heard the sound of instruments.



I weaved myself among the shelves of books and finally found them. A saxophone quartet! Complete with chairs to listen.



R went off to buy some coffee and I sat there, the lone person in a chair, listening. I closed my eyes and let the music work over me.

One of the players asked if I played, and I said, "No. I just appreciate." Which is going to be my motto from now on.

I don't act or sing or play an instrument. But I appreciate those who do. And even if I'm the only one in the audience, I'll still clap heartily to show them how much.

Two performances in one night. I'm going to bed with a smile on my face. And this time it's not because of Nyquil.

...And the curtain rose....

For me, sitting in front of a closed curtain gives as much pleasure as watching the actual production.

I get giddy waiting for the moment when it opens up and I can dive into another's world unabashedly.

Black and White Play

Another interesting outing we had in Dallas was attending a black and white play, done in a 40s type style. The director (and main character) has made this his signature style.

Can you believe this? I was extremely impressed.

Thank you R for getting me interested in plays. Yes, you heard that right.. R did.

I used to require a song & dance to keep my attention, but R's not too crazy about those broadway shows (although he will sit politely through one). He does like plays, however, so I've been mixing them in to appease his taste. And now I'm really enjoying them too.

At intermission, you could fill out who you think committed the murder, throw it into box, and hope to win a prize.

The director played a bumbly, rambling detective who shows up in all of his plays.

At the end, his wife brought out the forms to pick a winner... and the burst of red was such a nice surprise against the backdrop and other characters.

But the weird part was seeing them after the show. You'd think that after the lighting was taken away, the characters would look completely superficial.
 
It was like walking out to a row of dead people. And so I of course had to get a photo with them.

This is the tannest I'll ever look. Let's all savor it.

Thank you.

Black & White Play

Another fun thing we did in Dallas was attend a black and white play, done in a 40s type style. The director (and main character) has made this his signature style.

Can you believe this? I was extremely impressed. 

Thank you R for getting me interested in plays. Yes, you heard that right.. R did.

I used to require a song & dance to keep my attention, but R's not too crazy about those broadway shows (although he will sit politely through one). He does like plays, however, so I've been mixing them in to appease his taste. And now I'm really enjoying them too.

At intermission, you could fill out who you think committed the murder, throw it into box, and hope to win a prize.

The director played a bumbly, rambling detective who shows up in all of his plays. 

At the end, his wife brought out the forms to pick a winner... and the burst of red was such a nice surprise against the backdrop and other characters.

But the weird part was seeing them after the show. You'd think that after the lighting was taken away, the characters would look completely superficial. 


It was like walking out to a row of dead people. And so I of course had to get a photo with them. 


This is the tannest I'll ever look. Let's all savor it.


Thank you.

Merry Christmas..

to ourselves. R and I spent Sunday christmas shopping. We ended up buying more things for ourselves than for anyone else it seemed like. Mama's got a brand new pair of shoes and a book for starters. I talked myself out of a second book, but don't breathe a sigh of relief. You just don't see my hand hovering over the "Buy" button on the keyboard. It'll come soon.

But this one! Oh, this one.

Fashion: A History from the 18th to the 20th Century.

Yum! I love the poses of the mannequins along with actual paintings of the clothing in question.

Candlelit Singing

R finally set up a double date with his co-worker. It took only 2 months, but that's okay. I felt like I had already been on a date with them (or at least his wife) when we watched her perform in a local play.

A thespian! A real life person, that I can actually touch and feel, who appreciates productions & art as much as me.

I didn't need to explain during the choir performance why certain notes made my throat hurt, or feel self-conscious for just barely holding back tears throughout others.

She got it. And that made me happy.

At the end of the concert, candles were passed around. R lit mine and I felt united with him for a moment.

And then the congregation sang Silent Night together.

All in all, a great date night. Not to mention the cheap white wine I brought over to their house. That's right, just keeping it classy.

But one other thing made me smile that night: finding a new song in which to indulge. Laudamus Te by Mozart. When the harpsichord starting playing, my heart lept and I thought, Oh my gosh.. is this Mozart?? But if you read the comments below, I was way off. This was not Mozart, but Vivaldi. Thank you, Hazel.

Note to self: Learn that the name written in a choir concert program is probably for the lyrics.

Below is Laudamus Te sung at the concert. These aren't the two girls who actually sang it. No, they were left in a pile of ashes after my eyes burned envy into them. Too beautiful, they were.

But this is still wonderful.

Turkey Giblets

We had a nice time over the Thanksgiving holidays. We slept in a half hour later each day, it was delightful.

On actual Turkey Day, the whole family (minus two lovlies in L.A.) came together. Here are some snippits.

:: coloring with my niece before the feast ::

:: my uncle bringing over some of mee-maw's oyster dressing, brought directly from her spirit apparently ::

:: setting out the glassware. Yes, the blue one was mine ::

:: catching my husband in awkward photo positions ::

:: hanging out with my sisters and posting a good-looking photo in hopes that one of them will forgive me for what is soon to come ::

:: holding hands and saying a couple prayers before committing gluttony ::

:: holding back on portion size ::

:: giving thanks to our hosts ::

:: also giving thanks that I don't have to look at this carnivorous activity straight on. A side view is plenty, thank you ::

:: going for a post stomach-suicide walk ::

:: watching home movies, including one in which my sister, L, asks a question on the Leeza Gibbons Show while in college. This one made our stomachs hurt we laughed so hard ::

:: watching a late night dance production ::

:: while Aunt Carrie played the piano ::

But I have to say there was one thing that most contributed to this being a great weekend. Not the family time, not the sleeping-in....

:: prunes, baby. that's all I need to say ::