Sons were then willing to abide my foray into thrift store dress racks for much longer than was reasonable to expect of them. They both gave a pleading nay to my favorite find,
and I suppose the fabric was a tad on the clownish side, so I grudgingly put it back on the rack. It was one of them who said, "Hey look!" when he spied a carbon copy of my favorite slouch-around t-shirt dress. Just last week I'd noticed it's beginning to fade, and I'd wondered how much longer I'd be able to wear it in public, so this pristine copy became mine for $5, which was a bit high for thrift store prices, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. For $2.99, I found a soft knit skirt (with pockets -- pockets are wonderful, especially in the absence of an apron) for OAO daughter, and if she can't abide it, she's agreed to mail it back to me, so I can cut it up and make clothes for Granddaughter.When Son3 said, "My head's starting to itch," I knew these patient boys had reached their clothes-shopping limit, since that itching head is Son3's stress meter, and I quickly assured him we would leave now.
"But what about those chickens?" said Son3, reminding me he'd spied some poly chicken something-or-other across the room, so we made our way to the chicken-thing, and even though it was ugly as homemade sin, I lifted it to look at the price sticker.
"Whoa, I don't think so!"
I didn't think I'd said it very loudly, but about 5 seconds later I heard a voice ask, "How much?"
I turned toward the voice, saw a nearby shopper looking at me expectantly, and I answered, "$8.99."
She glanced at the chicken, said not a word, and turned back to the rack she'd been browsing, which made me feel a little uncomfortable, so I said, "They're thinking pretty highly of that chicken," and made haste to the check-out counter. We left the store with 3 me-dresses, 1 daughter-skirt, 2 dresses for Granddaughter, and my purse lightened by a-twenty-and-change. Not too bad.
We wound our way around the slow-moving train in the middle of town and pulled into the antique mall parking lot on the other side of the tracks, only to discover they're closed on Mondays. Uh-oh. It was Sons' favored destination for the day, their prize for watching me finger dresses 'til they itched. Bummer.
I made a screeching stop at a roadside sweet corn stand, and we had our vegetable for dinner.
On to W*Mart, where everyone can find something they want or need. I returned to the service desk the bottle of foundation I'd bought the day before. "I need to return this. I didn't notice until I got home it has sunscreen in it, and most sunscreens contain caustic petrochemicals and increase cancer risks, since they also block the absorption of vitamin D, and it's one of the best cancer fighters." *kidding* I stopped after I said it had sunscreen in it, but I did get my money back and chose a health-friendlier brand.
We ate (mood-friendly) orange creamsicles and Butterfinger ice cream bars on the drive home, where we put said treats in the freezer, then struck out for the post office and library in our little no-horse town. I picked up the first in a series of books containing pioneer women's blogs (formerly known as diaries) and plan to read women's takes on Wagon-Ho! Oh. Moving right along...
We had just enough time to unpack sacks, cool off, and flip a few library book pages before Charles was home early for dinner. Granddaughter can nibble every kernel from an ear of corn. We're impressed.
It was a good day.
From the rising of the sun unto the going down of the same
the LORD'S name [is] to be praised.
~Psalm 113:3
1 comment:
They don't make many days like that any more. BTW, Happy Monday!
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