Kittehs Love When Mama Goes Thrifting

But the Big B dreads when I go shopping.

Why?

It's nothing that bad--after all, it's not like he's typically required to *gasp* go with me or anything horrifyingly inhumane like that. I have my own allowance, so it's not like he's going to see a surprise credit card statement in the mail. I don't call or send picture messages of what I'm considering purchasing to get his opinion. In fact, me going out shopping is usually a bonus benefit for him since I'm usually gone for hours and he gets free range of the house.

I should clarify that it's not really me going shopping that he dreads, but me returning from shopping.

Because bargain-shopping and thrifting just isn't as satisfying to me unless I can share my finds when I get home. One at a time. Exclaiming over each one in an almost super sonic squeal or at the very least some excited hopping. While holding it out and extolling the benefits. And then triumphantly telling him the price until he gives some sort of acknowledgement of how great it is that I found a $200 suit for $10.50.

So you can't really blame him if he shudders when he hears the garage door open after I've spent a long day of digging through the racks.


The kittehs, however, are a different story.

I think they greet each new piece just as eagerly as I do.

New smells! Must claim new territory!


They certainly got possessive enough with the new items when I put them the couch. Both cats had laid down on the pile within minutes of each other.

Another favorite part about Mama's retail therapy for Gizmo?

He gets a new posh hiding place for himself.


The clothes I found were awesome (a heaping pile for less than $80!) but a couple of non-clothing finds were a nice touch.

Had to switch out to this purse immediately, it was so cool. It'll serve double-duty in a steampunk outfit no problem, especially if I keep the cell phone pocket out of sight.








An impulse buy I don't regret was this treasure.

You can't beat that for 99 cents, even if it is VHS. It's in such good shape!
I loved that movie. My first memories of it are being scared out of my wits by the Skesis, grossed out and frantic by the draining of the podlings, awed by Kira's ability to fly, and delighted by Fizzgig.

I had no idea, not a single inkling, that they were all puppets.

Mama loves when she goes thrifting too.

I Scored Once More at the Thrift Store

I guess I'm in a rhyming mood today...

Is there anything in the world like the high you get from scoring super expensive stuff for pennies on the dollar?

Not everyone is a thrift shopper, sadly. But wouldn't we all be happier if we were? My momma will readily agree. We discuss this often when we're out thrifting together--how some people are disgusted at the thought, others have never done it but are not opposed necessarily, some have thought it was for them and discovered they didn't have what it takes, and then the final category where I fall, those who LOVE it and are in danger of becoming addicted.

Thrifting takes WORK. It's not like going shopping at the mall, where you might find a cute top and then be bummed to realize they don't have your size left on the rack. No, thrifting involves rolling up those sleeves and digging through racks and racks of clothing.

I learned at my mom's knee. In fact, for my golden 11th birthday, I asked that she take me thrift store shopping and my present was that she bought everything I saw that I wanted. What a glorious birthday!

When I go thrifting, I know it's at least a couple of hours per store. You never know what will be found on any given day, but you're sure to find something you like. But you must WORK for it first!

The tactics I was taught are simple--look through EVERYTHING! This does not mean a half-assed paw through a couple of racks. This means planting yourself in front of a rack and combing through the clothing, one hanger at a time.

It doesn't require spending a large amount of review time on every item, but in order to find those $120 pants priced at $5.99 and currently on sale for 50% off, you may have to look at 100 other icky pairs of pants first.

But getting that $120 pair of summer-weight wool Banana Republic pants for $3.00? What a rush!

Although I like to think I'm hardcore, my mom has a thrifter's heart through and through. We shopped together on Monday because our local Arc was having a half-off sale on all clothing items. As I was slapping through the dress pants section hoping to score another pair of Express pants, the light grey wool pants caught her eye.

The test of course is finding out whether they will fit or not. I eyeballed them, took them off the rack, held them up over my hips and did the test. I put them back because it did not seem like it was meant to be. Mom gave me the hairy eyeball and told me I should try them on.

"These would be the find of the day if they fit!" I can't disagree, but...I look at the cart chock-full of clothing for me to try on and think about the long line for the dressing room and my budget for the trip. I say no thanks and try to ignore the determined look in my mother's eye that signals she thinks I'm being silly and may try to convince me of it.

Then I find them...the pair of Express pants I need to feel like the trip was a success (since the last several times I've been out thrifting I've found a pair). They are one size smaller than I've been wearing lately, but I MUST make these pants mine. I grab the other pair because as Momma said, if I'm gonna try the Express ones, I'd better try these on as well if I know what's good for me!

Needless to say, after trying on multiple items and winnowing the pile into keeps and discards, both the Express pants and the BR pants made the final cut.

I've heard it said that many women shop for the rush and I completely get that. The bummer being, of course, the monetary payment that must be made to receive that rush, and the accompanying guilt if you just bought stuff you couldn't afford.

That's why thrifting is better--I was walking on air the rest of the day, knowing that I had scored three pairs of nice dress pants that probably totaled almost $300 when brand new, along with two cute tops and two pairs of jeans, all for less than $25.

Now THAT's a guilty rush I can live with!

It's just too bad that the Big B must put up with my enthusiasm when I get home. When you get such great deals you must share the joy with another, even if that person doesn't share your passion for fashion.

"Look at what I got sweetie!"

He shakes his head and refuses to look, even though I'm holding up the pants and shaking them to get his attention.

"LOOK! How great are these? Only $2.50! Look at ME!"

His head slowly turns from the TV and he hits the pause button on his controller. "Why do I need to look at them?"

"Because, that's part of the deal when you go shopping--you come home and show off your spoils!"

"Isn't that why you go shopping with your mom?" he asks, all innocence. I can only shake my head.

"She was there when I found them! You're the one who has to Oooh and Aaaah when I get home." He dutifully looks at each purchase, nods his head and agrees with me that my finds are awesomely cute and I'm a great bargain hunter.

I laugh and add, "Dry cleaning the pants I bought is going to cost more than what I paid for them in the first place!"

He shakes his head. Poor boy, he just doesn't get it! Doesn't he realize I'm saving us money?!?

Bless You, Thrift Store Donator...

...whoever you are, for donating all of the wonderful Express pants to local thrift stores in my area.

They're just my size! They're 10% of the cost if I were to buy them myself brand new.

I don't know if you've just grown tired of these styles or if you've changed sizes. I cross my fingers that you lost weight and went down a size and that's why I'm able to delight in buying your gently used clothing.

I hope it isn't the opposite, in which case I sympathise even while I cackle with glee at my good fortune.

Seriously...I have yet to walk out of a thrifting weekend recently without finding a pair of gorgeous Express dress pants for under $10. Considering that they can cost seven times as much brand new, you can see why I'm elated.

I'm in heaven!

So please, young-professional working-girl who conscientiously donates to her local Arc, keep up the good work!

You'll get great tax deductions and I'll get great dress pants for work.The world will be a better place and I'll certainly be better dressed and gleeful at my savings.

I'm a Geek, but I'm Also a Girlie Girl

Sort of girlie anyways.

How do you know you're a girlie geek?

You get over-the-knee leather boots and a D&D combat pad for Christmas and you're equally ecstatic about both presents.

This combat pad is such a neat idea. Ever since we met some new people who used one during combat for D&D, I've been coveting one. I even MacGuyver'd one for myself when I DM out of an empty 8.5 x 11 frame using wet erase markers. Extremely useful when you're juggling a lot of PC's and Bad Guys and NPC's.

I can't even remember what we used to do to keep track of initiative in battle before this little puppy was around. But obviously, it was nowhere near this cool and efficient.

This sucker is gonna make my life as a DM so much sweeter. It's madness, but I'm currently DM'ing a group of 7 PC's, with 2 major NPC cohorts. The kicker? The group's at 19th level, and we were given god-like stats to begin with. And along the way from first level, we got access to every skill trick, feat, magic item, and razzle-dazzle available in the collective D&D 3.5 edition books. Oh, and some artifact weapons.

Running a group this large with this much power is like herding cats, except the cats are saber toothed lions juiced up on steroids and hopped up on speed. But this combat pad will be like catnip-filled crinkley toys, my secret weapon.

Another really neat thing is that one of our D&D buddies knows the guy who invented this. How amazing is that? It's really a small world. Six degrees of separation and all that.

Sadly, I have not had a chance to utilize either of my wonderful new gifts. I haven't DM'd my big 7-man group since before Christmas, and the boots were the wrong size. Damn my muscular calves. I can put the suckers on, even zip them up, but then my legs look disconcertingly like sausage casings.

I blame driving a stick. All that pedal work is a workout for the calf muscles in stop-n-go traffic. Oh and walking, lots of walking. And possibly my tendancy to tippy-toe. I've heard that can work out your calves as well.

But Saturday! Oh Saturday. There will be a trip to Macy's, and I WILL find over-the-knee leather boots that will accomodate my well-turned calves.