Wednesday, January 30

risky biscuity business going on...

last night i got a calling, it was most inconvenient for several reasons. firstly it was cold, wet and dark outside and secondly i was cream crackered. however, there is something about the call of the thriftstore i am unable to ignore. i looked at the clock and the clock face looked back at me. 6:55pm. i dug deep and rustled up all of my super thrifty energies, told my clan i must leave the shed due to 'a calling' and promptly gathered up my bag, clog boots and newly finished crocheted scarf. 

what i truly love about shopping in our thriftstore is, basically it does not matter in the least what you look like, does not matter you have been up over 12 hours, look like you have been dragged through a hedge backwards and are indeed doing a jolly good job of looking like an old bag lady. no, indeed i find myself feeling far more at home wandering the aisles of our thriftstore any day or eve of the week as opposed to the aisles of the local shopping mall.

upon entering the thrift store i decided to throw caution to the wind and change up my usual route. now this route is one i have done for donkeys years and so it was rather a risky biscuity sort of thing to do. however dearest reader, that is the kind of gal i have become of late! 'taking risks such as these as one never knows where they may lead', is my new motto...

this risk led me first to the jewellery department, feeling sure a granny brooch or two had sent out the calling. after perusal of the bling area, this appeared not to be the case. i went on my way to clothing, i doubled back on myself just in-case i had been negligent in spying a frock on the rails of despair. alas no again. i pottled through bags, on towards shoes, visualizing the most peachy pair of clogs waiting for me, having sent out the signal earlier that eve. again, nothing. i began to wonder if my risky ways of changing my usual route had cast a terrible curse upon my thrifty luck. i told my inner voice, to bugger off and carried on. through linens, towels, doilies via pictures onto vintage books, round the corner to the final 3 remaining aisles. wooden delights lacking, vases quite frightening, crockery most lacking and the forsaken ceramic souls, all forlorn in a row. 

i stood for a while, took stock of the situation i found myself in and pondered my next move. surely i had not been mistaken, surely the call had come through loud and clear. had i lost the plot completely... in all my born thrifting days, a night such as tonight had never happened before. then i cleared my mind and i listened and there it was, a little call. i retraced my clippity clopping clog boot footsteps, took a left down the cook pot and plastics aisle and there it was, tucked under several layers of friends, hidden from view, a most perfectly peachy tray of the most perfectly peachy floral design 

with the most perfectly peachy label,

now doing a perfectly peachy job of jollying up our table and our shed

proving to me, my new motto is a mighty fine one to adopt and one i will keep for a while....