Something Old, Something New

Nope. Nobody is getting married.

Just borrowing a catchy phrase reserved primarily for weddings because no other title could fit more perfectly.

I'm second hand rose. Goodwill, Salvation Army, and consignment shops are my frequent haunts. I enjoy the process of sifting through racks of second hand goods, and then rejoice when I find that Ann Taylor shirt, or those pants from the Gap for $2.99. I have a set of Christmas snowman dessert dishes and mugs (service for 8) for which I paid $6.00. Yes, it takes time to find items and one must really be passionate about the hunt. Yes, the items have been worn, or used by others (although not in the case of the Christmas goods), but I simply don't care.

It's fun. I always find incredible items. I think I like the thrill of the chase.

Walking down 3rd street the other day, I passed an empty store front that used to house a bead store. Since moving here, I've always joked that I would rent the space and open a used book store - Beaver needs one. So, surprise, surprise, when we walked by last weekend only to glance in the window and see Prada shoes. Prada? Beaver? Huh?

I looked at the display in the window and immediately started salivating. Ask Harper. She will confirm that Mom was panting.

The display not only had Prada shoes, but an eclectic mix of handbags, jeans, and some funky blouses. I sniffed the air. My spidey senses tingled. Can you say motherload?

Girls, there's a new designer consignment boutique opening in September and of course, you know who, marched right inside, introduced myself to the owner, shared my passion for consigning, and gave her my card. A very casual conversation followed. One that hinted of her hiring me for a few hours here and there.

Um, yes. And. Yes.

Something old. Never underestimate the power of older designer fashions!

Ok, now for some real honesty. I diversity stalked today. The place was Brady's Run. The creek. As we came off a trail on which we were hiking, the kids mentioned that they wanted to play in the creek. The place was packed, as the weather has been amazingly beautiful. I immediately noticed a black woman (yes, I said black, for how am I to know if she's from African descent) with great dreds playing with some children in the creek.

I sidled on up to her and made chit chat. The surfacy chit chat lasted only about two minutes by which point we were hooked and moved on to deeper conversation. She grew up here. Shared with us about some homes in Bridgewater that were on the underground railroad back in the day. Told us where we can get "soul food" and how I must get down to the Strip District - no, no, no, that doesn't mean pole dancers and pasties, but rather the international market scene. No naked flesh. At least I don't think.

We chatted about Beaver County and about race, both from her black and my white perspective - of which, interestingly enough, we had made similar observations. She shared how she can't stand being called "African-American" and prefers "black". I concurred. "Nobody calls me an Italian-American", I added. She confirmed, once again, that I am a cake-eater. We laughed as I shared that I must be the only cake-eater hunting under the couch cushions for quarters so that I can hit up Aldi! She mentioned her need to find a church and we talked about Four Mile.

And then I learned she works as a massage instructor where I take yoga.

She invited me to come in any day when she is teaching, as the students need to to get in their hours on, well, people. I'm people.

She also noticed my Mary Kay key chain and told me that she throws all types of parties for her students and wanted to book a Mary Kay party.

Something new. All it took was a simple introduction in a creek.

I am convinced, yet again, that when we stick to our comfortable circles we miss out on God's surprises for us.

My passion for "something old" may have just landed me a very small position at the consignment shop. Seriously, can you even imagine?

My passion for "something new" landed me a new friend today.

Who knows what's coming around the next bend.

Something borrowed? Something blue?

Penny in my new Prada shoe?

"Brother, can you spare a quarter?" and other thoughts from tonight's shopping adventure

In desperate need of groceries, I headed out to Aldi tonight, only to park and realize that I'd forgotten something very important.

No, I didn't forget my supply of reusable shopping bags.

No, I didn't forget my list.

What I had forgotten was much more dire, as had I forgotten my bags, I knew I could pick up some empty boxes in the store in which to pack my groceries. And my noggin had a fairly good idea as to what I needed, so I would have been fine without a list.

However, forget your quarter on a visit to Aldi, and you are toast.

Yeah, I forgot my quarter.

Dagnabit.

I needed to do a huge shopping, and without the quarter, I wouldn't be able to get a cart. I really don't need to explain this to those of you who shop at Aldi. Quite simply: no quarter, no cart. Unless you gain the sympathy of a shopper unloading their bags of groceries into their car by explaining that you forgot your quarter, thus inspiring them to sacrifice their quarter by graciously handing over their cart, there is no shopping to be done.

I just wasn't up for pulling out the tin can tonight and singing songs by the entrance in order to earn my precious cart.

Decided to hit Target instead. Just for a few staples.

While in the Target shoe department (yes, I got sidetracked after stocking up on discounted cans of tomatoes), I heard a little girl wailing. Wailing. Not crying. Not sobbing.

Wailing.

"MOOOOMMMMM! MOOOMMMMMM! MOM!!!!!!!!!! Why do I always have to get my clothes from Good Will and she gets to shop at Target!!!???"

She was mad. Her sister (I assumed) was quite gleeful about the new shoes she was getting.

Ouch.

It made me think.

When will my kids come to realize that what we call the "treasure store" is actually a second hand store? Will this scenario happen to me one day when my daughter, aghast, realizes that she's been wearing previously worn (hey, if this verbage works for car dealerships, it can work here) Abercrombie and Fitch t-shirts? Will she ever care, as this girl so, um, passionately did? Just a few days ago, I took Harper on an outing to Good Will, as she really wanted a sporty purse to hold her wallet. We walked away with a Ralph Lauren Polo bag for 3.99.

Will there come a time when this will bother her?

I wonder.

This is what I do while shopping.

So, then, in the clothing department (after I had picked up some Asian noodle dishes for the kids that had been marked down - see, I did get some groceries), I found an amazing black dress for $6.24. Seriously.

Only, I couldn't figure out how to put it on.

No, really, I tried three times to put the dress on, but couldn't quite make sense of the layers and straps and the zipper and the sash . . . sounds complicated, right? It was. I've been dressing myself for years and don't usually get so tripped up in this area. However, this joker of a dress completely humiliated my intelligence. It was like an Ikea project gone awry.

It looked great on the hanger.

What can I learn from my adventure tonight?

1. Keep an "Aldi" quarter in the car at all times.

2. Keep working the "magic" that is our "treasure store" and pray that my child grows up to learn the value of second hand and consignment shopping. Which reminds me that there is a new, designer, consignment boutique opening on 3rd street in September. I'm psyched. Maybe I'll offer to work there a bit.

3. Avoid dresses that require instructions.